Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the universe.

A/N: Thank you to Cluen for beta reading for me again! This was just a little idea I had and I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, I apologize in advance for the 'over 9000' joke, it wasn't planned, but when the opportunity arose, I couldn't resist!

Warnings: Just some language in this chapter, but will be yaoi, so if you don't like that then turn back before it's too late.

Winner Takes All

Clutching a crumpled piece of paper tightly in his fist, Prince Vegeta strode angrily through the hallway leading to his father's office. Unable to control his tail when he became this irritated, it lashed like a whip behind him. The few people he passed in the hall quickly darted out of the way when they saw him coming. Glancing down at the paper again, he ground his teeth in rage. Reaching his destination, he shoved the heavy door open without ceremony and entered the room.

"What the fuck is this?" he growled as he threw the wad of paper at his father.

King Vegeta fixed his son with an icy stare, "You had twenty-five years to do things your way. Now we will do them my way."

"And if I refuse?" the young Vegeta hissed, folding his arms over his chest and holding his chin high in defiance.

"Then I'm sure Tarble will be glad to hear he will be the next to inherit the throne," the King stated with a slightly raised eyebrow. He turned back to paperwork, signaling that the conversation was done.

Gritting his teeth, the fiery Prince clenched his gloved-hands into fists and whirled towards the exit, his red cape billowing behind him. 'There's no fucking way I'm going to let that weakling take the throne from me. I will play along with this game, for now.' Vegeta's mind raced at all the different scenarios that could happen and exit strategies for each. He would find a way to outwit his father; he was a tactical genius after all. No matter what happened, Vegeta would adapt and find a way to benefit. Lips curling into a prideful smirk, he changed course to his private training facility.

"Vegeta, I just heard the news," a brash voice boomed behind him.

The Prince's whole body visibly stiffened. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the man approaching. He turned to see a broad chest covered, thankfully, by black Saiyan armor. Looking up with a slight curl of his lip, he saw the bald head of the strongest General he had. Vegeta didn't respond to him, instead letting his gaze of thinly-veiled disgust do the talking for him.

"I plan on entering and winning," he man continued, not the least bit cowed by the glare he was receiving.

Vegeta's eyes widened in a split-second of horror, and then quickly narrowed again—hiding all other emotions behind his anger. He wondered how angry his father would be if he blasted this oversized brute right now. The Prince knew something like this would happen. 'Fucking, Nappa! There's no way I can allow him to win!' He wasn't exactly sure how he could keep the man from winning yet. Maybe arrange for him to be off-planet that day? Break his legs? Have him assassinated? The large man was grinning eerily at him, which only triggered an increase in his anger.

"You can save your excitement for the big day, Vegeta. I'll certainly be looking forward to it," the mountain of a Saiyan flashed an oily grin and walked past Vegeta.

Shuddering in revulsion, Vegeta watched him go until he was out of sight. How had that idiot heard so quickly? He had only learned of the King's plans this morning when a servant had brought the announcement decree with the Prince's breakfast. Cursing under his breath, Vegeta ran down the hallway until he reached a balcony exit. Stepping out into the cool morning air, he peered down at the lush palace grounds beneath him.

He didn't immediately notice anything, so he jumped over the edge of the balcony railing and flew toward the training arena for the royal guards. As he drew near, he could make out several papers fluttering by the entranceway to the large amphitheater. Running over to the target of his ire, he snatched one of the papers up and read it again.

"By order of our noble King Vegeta, a tournament open to all citizens of Planet Vegeta will be held on the twenty-fourth of Standa at 08:00. The victor, having proven themselves the strongest Saiyan on the planet, will become the betrothed mate of our Prince Vegeta."

The rest of the text blurred as the aura of power swirled around Vegeta. An arranged mate. This was what the Prince was reduced to. Since the day that Vegeta had passed into manhood, the King had been urging him to find a mate and produce an heir. The Prince had steadfastly refused. Feeling that the bond of a mate would only weaken him, Vegeta had isolated himself from all potential suitors. There had certainly been no shortage of them either: many powerful, attractive, and influential hopefuls had stepped forward only to be hastily denied in turn.

Now a small nagging voice in his mind told Vegeta that he should have just picked one of them that he could have easily controlled instead of leaving it to chance. He guessed that these flyers were covering the planet by now, not that anyone outside the Elite had a chance. His father's illusion of fairness, Vegeta assumed. And worst of all, Nappa had declared himself as a participant already. A shiver of panic ran down Vegeta's spine and he quickly wrapped his tail around his waist for comfort.

Nappa had been making passes at the Prince for years now, ever since he had reached maturity actually. It had started with small hints of attraction, but as the years went on, the older man had become more and more aggressive with his attention. Vegeta took any excuse to avoid the man when he could, but Nappa's strength was well-known and if he won the tournament then it would signal the start of Vegeta's worst nightmare. The large Saiyan was boorish, hot-tempered, and seemingly only interested in making Vegeta his personal sex toy. Just the thought of being pinned under the hulking man was enough to make his skin crawl.

Cursing his father, Vegeta vowed that he would take Nappa off-world the first chance he got and kill the older Saiyan if he won. No matter how strong he was, Vegeta was still the more powerful of the two. Just because he was allowing his father to continue with this plan, didn't mean he would sit idly by and accept the results. 'But why stop at just Nappa?' Vegeta though with a cruel smirk. He could kill whoever won the contest if they displeased him. Or his father. A dark chuckle escaped his lips at the idea. With the King out of the way, there didn't even need to be a tournament, mate, or heir yet. The younger Vegeta would become King and his future secured.

Looking down at the pristine, white gloves on his hands, he decided against it. He had too much pride to take the throne that way. Other than the current situation, he didn't harbor any ill-will towards his father either. Even though Vegeta had already surpassed the King in power, he still respected the man that had trained him and taught him military strategy. To remove him from power in cold blood was beneath the Prince. 'He did let me go this long without forcing me to take a mate after all,' Vegeta thought with a roll of his eyes.

Checking the date of the tournament again, he frowned that it was only a week away. That didn't give the Prince much time if he wanted to increase his training. Vegeta wanted to be able to easily handle any threat to his autonomy and that meant being the strongest and sharpest Saiyan on the planet. Even if in his mind he already was the strongest and sharpest, he knew he would not remain that way if he slacked even the slightest amount. Doubling back in the direction he had come from, Vegeta decided to completely immerse himself in training until the dreaded day arrived. His only thoughts being that there had better be enough Saibamen to keep up with him.

The days of training passed successfully and Vegeta felt stronger after the grueling conditions he put himself through. It wasn't a big leap forward, but it was more than he had before and that was what mattered most. The Prince knew even the tiniest difference in power could become an ocean of difference if the fight dragged on long enough. The tournament would be tomorrow morning and he was as ready as he could be.

Stepping into his shower, he was surprised he felt so at peace. Tomorrow all the hopeful Saiyans would be fighting over him and one would become his betrothed. A slight smile tugged at his lips, it did amuse Vegeta that this was the way his father picked a mate for him. The King knew his son wouldn't accept someone weak at his side. King Vegeta had opted for beauty over brawn in his own mate, but the Prince needed someone who could keep up with him, needed a challenge. He was actually starting to become quite curious as to what would happen in the morning.

If there was a Saiyan stronger than Nappa, he would very much like to meet this person. The smile left his lips. It was highly unlikely anyone would best the towering beast, but perhaps someone had been training to beat him. There were other strong Elites, of course. It was not impossible that one of them could have surpassed Nappa during their missions. Vegeta sighed, there was nothing he could do but wait. Turning off the hot water, he quickly dried himself and slipped in between the silk sheets of his enormous bed. Willing himself to sleep, he sent one last silent prayer out to whatever god may be listening: 'Anyone but Nappa.'

Staring at the back of his eyelids, Vegeta wondered how long he could put off the inevitable. He could already feel the warmth of sunshine creeping across his face, indicating that it was time to get up. If he wasn't up soon, there would be a small knock at the door, followed by some servant coming in and apologizing for waking him. Groaning, he tossed the blood-red covers off his naked body and opened his eyes. Better to wake on his own terms, rather than have to deal with some boot-licking weakling. Stretching his muscled arms high over his head, he arched his back and neck, feeling the small pop of bones resettling after his slumber. Then he reached down to touch his toes, his nose touching his knees easily. Finally standing back up straight, he walked to his dresser and flung it open.

Deciding to dress the part today, he pulled out his finest ceremonial armor. It was a blue spandex suit with full legs and long sleeves, donned with golden gloves and boots rather than his usual white. His chest piece was mostly white, with golden accents in between the panels and golden shoulder pieces, and the red royal crest prominently featured on the left side of his chest. The last piece was the plush velvet cape, golden on top with red on the reverse side. Smirking at his reflection in the mirror, he knew he looked good no matter what he wore, but today was a day to stand out.

Opening the door to his room, he found a servant patiently waiting outside. The diminutive woman stated that the King had gone ahead to the battle arena and would be waiting for the Prince there. Only nodding in return, Vegeta strolled off at a casual pace towards the proving grounds.

"Arena" seemed too little a word for the massive construction. Saiyans loved to watch fights, almost as much as participating in them. To that end, this huge coliseum was the result. In the center was a wide, round platform that was served as the battle ring. Surrounding it were rows upon rows of benches in an open stadium. All types of exhibition matches were held here, not only with Saiyans, but also with strong aliens they had encountered and captured. The stadium was absolutely buzzing today and as large as it was, it still could not contain all who had shown up for the momentous occasion. Every seat was filled and the walls were covered with Saiyans perching themselves there in order to get a view.

As he walked to the private balcony where his father would be waiting, Vegeta wondered how so many of his race were gathered in one place without killing each other. Pushing aside the heavy door, he walked over to stand next to the King.

The ruler eyed his son with curiosity, "I was beginning to think I would have to call Tarble home."

Vegeta scoffed and crossed his arms over his pristine armor. "Not likely. Let's get this over with."

"Getting impatient to meet your new mate?" the King chuckled at his son's discomfort. "Don't worry; you'll get to see them soon. They are having the proving matches now and the real tournament will begin shortly after that," he explained.

Sitting down in an oversized chair, Vegeta let out a huff at having to wait even longer. 'Why didn't they have these damn proving matches yesterday so that we could be on with it?' All the calm he was feeling earlier had begun to melt away now that events were in motion. His knee began to bounce on its own accord and he struggled to stop it, hating to show any signs of unease. His guts were twisting at images of Nappa trying to hold him close and kiss him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. There was no need to panic yet, what if Nappa didn't even make it past these preliminaries? He forced himself to stay calm and open his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his father looking at him with curiosity. Straightening up in his chair, he would look the part of regal Prince—not some nervous bride on her wedding night. "How many participants?" he asked calmly, not turning to look at the King.

"I believe it was over nine thousand," King Vegeta stated while stroking his goatee in thought. "Personally, I'm offended more didn't come forward. But there will be only eight in the actual competition."

Vegeta's eyes widened in shock at the number of entries. 'Nine thousand?! Good fuck it will take a week just to get through the elimination rounds! That has to be over half of the fucking planet!' He tapped his fingertips against the arm rest of his chair in a rhythm of annoyance. Would he really be forced to sit here and do nothing for however long it took to whittle it down to the best eight? A soft growl rumbled in his throat at the thought of sitting still that long for anything besides space travel—and even then he got to sleep through that!

King Vegeta clapped a hand on the Prince's shoulder and laughed. "Relax, you just have to wave at the crowd a few times for the opening part. After that you are free to wander around until the actual bouts begin."

Vegeta breathed a sigh of relief at not being captive here. He wondered if he should go take a look at the fighters. Glancing down at the empty ring however, it occurred to him that he didn't even know where they were. There wasn't anywhere in the coliseum large enough to hold that many fighters. They had to be somewhere else outside, and far enough away as to not interfere with the gathered spectators. He scratched the idea off his list; he was only really interested in the fate of one fighter anyway. Doing some quick mental calculations, he felt like he had a solid five days at least before anything officially began. With nothing better to do, he decided he would go back to his training after whatever opening ceremony they were holding was over.

Finally a tall, lanky Saiyan, with black hair flowing down to his shoulders, strode into the center of the ring and raised his hands. Pushing a few buttons on his scouter in order for it to work like a microphone, he waited for the crowd to quiet down before speaking.

"Welcome all to this unprecedented event! With as many fighters as we have gathered together, it is sure to be an amazing display of power!" his deep voice boomed across the stadium.

King Vegeta nodded to his son and they both rose to stand at the edge of the balcony, observing the throng of spectators with a regal air.

"Out of the many participants, only eight will compete on this stage for a chance to become the mate of our powerful Prince Vegeta!" the tall Saiyan announced, pointing at the royals.

Vegeta smirked down on the crowd as they cheered and waved at him. Giving a small nod and a slight wave, he felt that he had fulfilled his obligations and crossed his arms again. The announcer droned on about the rules and how the matches were to be decided, but Vegeta had already stopped paying attention. None of this pomp interested him; actually none of it truly interested him except the last battle. The one that would decide his mate was the only fight worth watching in his opinion.

Turning to leave, he felt his father's strong grip on his shoulder. "The matches should begin around noon, don't be late," King Vegeta said with a smirk.

"How could they eliminate that many people so quickly?" Vegeta asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion. For nine thousand people to fight one on one would take time no matter how many different matches were being held simultaneously.

"Didn't you pay attention? The elimination rounds are being held as melees. The groups will get smaller and smaller until the last sixteen standing advance to the next round. Then those will be one-on-one matches to determine the top eight," the King said with a devilish grin. "I was going to go see the spectacle myself."

Pursing his lips, Vegeta thought about going to see it as well. The idea of watching a giant free-for-all did seem amusing. The tip of his tail twitched in excitement and part of the Prince wished he could partake in the fights. Testing himself against all comers in a no-bars-held contest sounded exhilarating! But obviously he couldn't fight alongside them if he was the reason they were fighting. He deflated a little at the realization and decided not to go. Watching would be too disappointing if he couldn't let his own primal side loose.

Without answering, Vegeta watched his father leave the private box. Once alone, he slumped back into his plush chair and crossed his arms. His father had said he was free to go, but there was nothing for him to do except wait. Waving at a servant who was practically hidden in the far corner, he ordered for some food to be brought up. He wasn't sure how much he could actually eat with the anxiousness settling in his stomach, but he needed to be at full strength today. Fighting while hungry was like fighting with a hand tied behind your back for a Saiyan.

When the food arrived, Vegeta tried to eat as slowly as possible in order to kill more time. Every so often, the lanky announcer would reappear at the stage and give updates on how the preliminaries were going. They were down to seven thousand, five thousand, three thousand, and so on. Days like this were the worst for being a Prince. He wanted to leave and go back to his training; but with the small window of time he had left, he would be barely finishing his warm-up when the matches started. So he was forced to sit and strive to look regal, and not completely pissed off with the world.

Hours of boredom passed and the King returned with a grin on his face.

"Vegeta, I think you will be pleased. There are some fine specimens amongst the contestants," the King leered.

Sitting up in his chair, Vegeta bit his lip to keep from asking about Nappa. He knew the moving mountain had to have passed the first rounds. He also didn't want to show his dread in front of his father. So instead he let out a little grunt and kept his eyes focused on the ring.

"It won't be long now. They are going to get a short rest and a meal, then start the fights. How are you feeling?" King Vegeta pressed him.

"Fine," retorted the Prince. He was far from fine, but complaining now would not help the situation. Again he mentally cursed himself for not taking a mate prior to this point. He should have followed his father's lead: taking a beautiful woman, who posed no threat to him, and letting her produce offspring for him. Now he was going to be stuck with an unattractive idiot who craved mindless destruction and depraved sex. Remembering his plan to eliminate Nappa if need be though, a smile tugged at the corner of his lip. 'Not stuck for long.'

"Don't sulk like a child, Vegeta. You're twenty-five years old now. It's past time for you to have taken a mate. We need to ensure our bloodline carries on," the King lectured him with a hint of disapproval. "You can't stay alone forever, and we don't need bastard children muddying up the succession."

Rolling his eyes at the thought of having secret children, Vegeta didn't comment on his father's words. Instead he just sat straighter and tried to put on an uninterested air. King Vegeta frowned, but left him alone. They passed the rest of the wait in silence; it felt like an eternity until the announcer reappeared and beckoned for everyone's attention.

"Everyone, thank you for your patience, the matches are about to start! First we will bring out the final eight fighters and congratulate them on getting this far!" he shouted while beckoning the competitors on to the stage.

Vegeta looked them over in mild interest. Of course Nappa stood head and shoulders above the others and was easily picked out of the lineup. There were four other males present and three females. Truth be told, the Prince preferred a woman to win only for the ease of producing heirs. The female Saiyans were all Elite-class fighters judging by their armor. There was a tall one with intense eyes and her hair piled into a bun on her head; one with a cocky grin and her hair shaved on the sides leaving only a wild spiked mess on top; and the last one with a medium length hair cut and a large scar crossing her cheeks and nose. Beside them stood the oaf Nappa, practically dwarfing even the tallest of them. Next to Nappa were the remaining men: a burly looking man with a mustache and bowl cut; a well-muscled one with a crew cut; a man with a thin frame and hair reaching all the way down his back to his waist; and the last one had hair spiked in all different directions and a grin stretched across his whole face.

Vegeta stared at the last man with an arched eyebrow. The man was clearly a third-class warrior, how had he made into the final round when everyone else was Elites? He frowned in wonderment, not wanting to ask his father and seem interested all of a sudden. Based on the difference in power levels, Vegeta could only conclude that he had waited out all the battle royales: letting the much stronger opponents tire each other out and then coming in at the last second to win. 'But he had to have beat someone in the one-on-one matches as well,' Vegeta mused. But again that was easily solved: he must have had a partner in the other battles. Then they happened to be pitted against each other and this one came out on top.

Part of Vegeta was amused by the cunning plan. A mate that was a good strategist might actually come in handy one day, even if he wasn't that powerful. Seeing how he was destined to lose against the others though, Vegeta wondered if he might offer him a position in his personal counsel. It took serious confidence to compete against that many stronger opponents and careful planning to avoid making any errors on the battlefield in order to progress to this round. Smirking at the idea that at least something good had come of this ridiculous tournament, Vegeta's mood was visibly lifted.

He was summoned out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder and his father motioning him to acknowledge the fighters. Standing slowly from his chair and walking to the edge of the balcony, he peered down at the warriors for a few seconds before bringing a fist to his chest and bowing his head ever so slightly. The contestants answered by dropping to their left knee and bowing their heads. Vegeta noticed that the third-class male was noticeably slower than the others to return his salute. 'Hn, he would challenge me so brazenly in front of all these witnesses?' Vegeta chuckled to himself; this low class man was getting more interesting by the second. The moment of satisfaction was ruined however, when he caught a glimpse of Nappa smirking up at him. Turning quickly from the balcony, he resumed his seat next to the King. The announcer then droned on more about the rules of the fight and the order in which they would face off.

"Which one caught your eye, Vegeta?" the King asked with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

"Tch, it doesn't matter to me as long as they can hold their own in a fight," Vegeta answered calmly, not allowing his father to rile him up any further.

"If you say so, my son," the King snickered under his breath.

The first match was beginning and Vegeta was thankful for the distraction. It was between the scarred female and the feminine-looking male. Neither of which particularly interested Vegeta, but he pretended to pay attention to the match anyway. It wouldn't look good for the trophy to seem bored. He reminded himself that these would be his loyal subjects one day and they were some of the strongest on the planet. Surely that warranted a little attention from the Prince.

They both seemed to be strong and fought well against each other. 'They're too evenly matched, this could take forever,' Vegeta thought while trying to look stoic. However even in strength they were, the woman seemed a lot more experience in battle. The male was starting to get winded and made a tiny mistake in his guard that allowed the female to knock him unconscious. Vegeta gave a small clap to the victor and then crossed his arms again. 'Only six more to go,' he choked back a groan of disappointment.

When the fighters of the second match were announced, Vegeta's blood almost froze. It was to be Nappa versus the female contestant that had her hair pulled into a bun. He knew that it was inevitable, but each time Nappa fought only brought him closer to winning the whole tournament. And closer to being Vegeta's proclaimed mate. Letting out a shaky breath, he was glad the hulking Saiyan was battling another Elite and not the Third-class man. At least the woman had a fighting chance; the man would probably be killed in one hit from Nappa. The fights were to be purely physical; no ki techniques or blasts allowed. Even with the restrictions though, Nappa was a force to be reckoned with.

Vegeta watched as the stern-looking woman battled the huge Nappa fiercely. She had more speed, but instead of giving her an advantage, it merely helped her fight at his same level. 'Make him angry! He's sloppy when he's angry!' Vegeta wanted to scream at her. He wanted to shoot a ki blast at Nappa's head or do anything that would turn the fight in her favor. Realizing that he was griping the armrests of his chair tight enough to leave dents, Vegeta folded them over his chest hastily.

"Do you favor the woman, Vegeta?" the King asked, having noticed the Prince's reaction. "I didn't realize she was your type."

"At this moment, anyone other than Nappa is my type," Vegeta snarled lowly, even as he was trying to look calm.

"Oh? I thought there had been something between you two," King Vegeta leaned back in his chair and frowned as if deep in thought.

"Never," Vegeta was able to say with only the smallest trace of anger in his voice now.

"The winner hasn't been decided yet," the King said with an almost reassuring tone.

Vegeta looked at him in astonishment and nodded in reply. Was this compassion from his father? He felt a little guilty for thinking of killing the King earlier, even if he would have never followed through with it. His father was often strict, but never unfair, and Vegeta cherished rare moments like this where the King's warmth shone through in his words. The Prince recomposed himself in his chair. His father was right, the winner was not yet decided and Nappa was only in the first round. Nothing was certain yet.

Nothing except for that fact that Nappa had just swatted the woman hard to the arena floor, a sickening thud signaling that she would have a hard time recovering from the blow. She was trying to sit up, but even that seemed a struggle. Vegeta could see Nappa grinning in the sky above her and already knew what was coming next. The hulking Saiyan didn't stop until his enemy was dead, which served well in their conquest of other planets, but was not an ideal trait in a sparring partner.

Scowling as he watched the bulky Saiyan quickly plummet from the sky, driving his knee into the downed woman's stomach as he landed on top of her. Vegeta decided it was lucky she had passed out from the blow, as the blood leaking from her mouth indicated that she'd be in a medical tank for at least a week. Vegeta's eye twitched at the sight of Nappa's pompous display of victory, wishing he could blast the idiot right now. Instead he had to be content to hope that someone else did to Nappa what the braggart had just done to the last contestant. It took all the princely strength in his body to applaud the winner.

The next bout was between two more of the unknown fighters to Vegeta. Glad that he could relax for a moment, he stared at the ring, glassy eyed. Technically he was watching as the two blurs clashed with one and other. This one ended much more quickly to Vegeta's surprise. He blinked to refocus on the contestants and saw that the mustachioed Saiyan had beaten the last female contestant. Vegeta applauded again, glad that it was over so quickly.

The last quarter-final match was announced, causing Vegeta to lean forward in his seat. Now he would finally get a chance to see the third class man in action. Wondering how long he could last against an Elite, Vegeta was extremely interested in this match. Not that he expected the lower class warrior to win, that would be ridiculous, but he did want to see what kind of strategy the man would employ against someone much stronger than himself in a one-to-one match. Not caring anymore if the King noticed his interest, Vegeta's eyes were locked on the fighters in the center of the ring.

The third class man was standing with his arms at his sides, a determined grin look on his face, as he sized up his opponent. In fact, it was almost like the man was excited to be in the match, even though he clearly was outclassed—Vegeta mentally praised the man's ability to put up a confident front. As soon as the signal for the start of the match was sounded, the Elite Saiyan rushed at full speed towards the man. 'Probably wants to end the match quickly, not much honor in beating someone weaker than yourself.' The man with spiked hair stood calmly in place as his opponent bore down on him. Peering closely, Vegeta wrinkled his brow at the sight. Did the man want to die? He wasn't even in a fighting stance!

The man with the short hair screamed out in anger at the supposed mocking and just flew at his challenger faster. It was just a blur, but at the very last second, the lower class fighter pivoted to the right and placed both his hands on the Elite's back, pushing him forward and down. In the next second, the man who should have easily won was sprawled on the ground outside the ring. There were a few seconds of stunned silence from the crowd, then a deafening outpouring of cheers and laughter. No matter how badly one was beaten inside the ring, a ring-out was by far the most humiliating way for a Saiyan to lose. But somehow this low class nobody had just caused an Elite-level fighter to do just that.

Vegeta's mouth hung open. Not only was it an extremely effective strategy for the man, since he didn't have to fight head on, but it was also expertly timed so that the Elite didn't have a chance to react and take flight before hitting the ground. The level of calculations that must have gone into the maneuver in order for it to work were staggering—something Vegeta would have expected from a hardened General, not a third class warrior. Applauding with a smirk, Vegeta watched closely as the man smiled at the crowd cheering him on. 'I can't wait to see his next match,' the Prince grinned and sat back in his chair. Things were getting more interesting.

"Ah, so he's your type then, Vegeta?" the King asked with a chuckle.

"Tch, I only admire his tactical proficiency in advancing to the semi-final matches," Vegeta retorted as he crossed his arms on his chest.

"Are you sure it was his tactical proficiency that you were admiring?" King Vegeta asked, not missing the rare opportunity to tease his son in matters of love and lust.

Vegeta answered with a disgusted snort, and turned to stare at the wall. Glancing quickly out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the man left the platform. He wasn't opposed to having a male mate, and the third class wasn't unattractive. But that didn't mean he was Vegeta's "type". The Prince of all Saiyans was above having a type. He heard his father snickering behind his back and he huffed again. 'Ridiculous!'

The match announcer reappeared in the center of the ring and notified them that there would be a short recess before the semi-finals started. Seeing the mood the King was in, Vegeta took the opportunity to leave the balcony and walk the private hallway that led to the outside. It felt good to stretch his legs after sitting all morning. Stepping into the afternoon sun, he held his hands high over his head, enjoying the feeling of the bones in his spine popping into place. He allowed himself the luxury of yawning and letting his tail hang freely behind his back. Grinning, Vegeta thought about the last match again.

That third class warrior had intrigued him beyond what he thought possible. Briefly entertaining the thought of going to meet the fighter now, he dismissed it quickly. Entering the area where the contestants were would mean seeing Nappa as well. If Nappa caught a hint that Vegeta was interested in the low rank soldier, then surely the giant Saiyan would break the man if they were in a match together. He had already performed overkill on his first opponent, who knew what Nappa would do to someone that he thought the Prince favored. No, for the man's safety, Vegeta would keep his distance. Just thinking of Nappa suddenly made the Prince wary that the hulking Saiyan would appear, so he wandered back inside.

"Vegeta."

The Prince's whole body tensed and he cursed his luck for being proven right. He could feel the man getting closer to him, until they were practically touching. He could feel the heat rolling off the body behind him and could smell the sweat and scent of the older man.

"Did you enjoy my fight, Vegeta? You know there was no way I would let that little bitch get her hands on you," Nappa whispered into Vegeta's ear, causing goose bumps to form on the perfect royal skin.

Vegeta growled lowly in his throat as warning, moving away from Nappa while also turning to face him. His hands clenched in anger at the gall of the general to seek him out in this restricted area.

"The winner hasn't been decided yet," Vegeta echoed his father's words back to the man currently in front of him.

They didn't seem to faze the older warrior in the slightest. Instead Nappa just let a loud laugh ring through the deserted hallways. "Don't play dumb, your highness. Between the woman, the weakling, and the trash, who is it that will beat me? None of them even compare to my power," he leaned down to be eye level with Vegeta, "Or my lust for you." He let his wander over the lean figure of the Prince, licking his lips as if in anticipation of finally tasting what had long been off limits to him.

Fighting to keep his body from trembling in anger, lest Nappa confuse it for excitement or fear, Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't think you will have your way, Nappa, even if you do manage to win this tournament," he warned, obsidian eyes narrowing.

Nappa leaned back and laughed again, "That's why I like you, Vegeta, you always keep things interesting!" Continuing to cackle, Nappa turned away from the slightly shaking prince and walked back in the direction of the contestants waiting area.

Once the giant oaf was completely out of sight, Vegeta quit the struggle to control himself and punched the wall in frustration. 'How dare he mock me! I will never allow myself to become mated to him, no matter what I have to do!' Punching the wall again, the concrete crumbled under his blow, leaving cracks spiraling outward from the new hole he had formed. Gritting his teeth, Vegeta cursed himself for allowing the other Saiyan to get him so on edge. He reminded himself that he was the Prince and that he had a plan, so there was no need to get worked up over the encounter with Nappa.

Exhaling a deep breath, he adjusted his gloves, straightened his armor, and held his head high as he walked back to the balcony where his father was waiting. Showing all outward signs of complete composure, he nodded politely at the King before taking his seat. Gazing out over the bustling crowd, he wondered how much longer the tournament would last. It was getting late in the afternoon already, but he had a feeling they wouldn't stop until a winner was declared. He hoped it was true anyway; he wasn't sure if he could undergo another day of this stress. There were only three fights left he reminded himself with a deep breath.

Before long, the first match started: Nappa versus the female with scars. Vegeta tried to concentrate on the fight, but with each blow that Nappa landed, he felt sicker and sicker. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be watching this, and he didn't want Nappa to win. But the idiot had been right. Who out of the fighters could possibly beat him? The General was merely toying with his opponent at this point; dragging out the fight, probably in some twisted attempt to show off.

Longing to call off the tournament and choose for himself, Vegeta knew it was impossible. He bared his teeth. It wasn't impossible; he was the goddamn Prince for fuck's sake! But to do so would invite public humiliation from the whole planet onto himself and the King. And to lower his pride to that level was indeed impossible.

Nappa now had the struggling woman in a chokehold from behind, her slender legs kicking wildly at empty air, trying to break free. Grinning up at the private box, Nappa locked eyes briefly with the Prince—already declaring himself the winner with that taunting look. Eventually the female's body failed her and her hands stopped clawing at the large arm holding her in the air, instead they fell loosely at her sides as she went completely limp. Dropping her to the floor carelessly, Nappa exited the stage with a cruel smirk.

"The one you favor is up next."

The King's voice was not loud, but it had the same startling effect on Vegeta as if it was a battle alarm. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts, that he had completely forgotten that his father was there. After recovering from the shock of the voice, his mind reeled to process what the voice had said. Grunting softly when the meaning came to him, Vegeta rolled his eyes at the notion.

"I do not favor him, Father. I merely think he possesses merits that would make him useful to me," Vegeta stated matter-of-factly.

The King leaned over slightly in his chair, "That's the definition of favoring him," he whispered with slight chuckle.

Vegeta ground his teeth together and willed the pink tinge on his face to disappear. His father meant only to annoy him and it was working surprisingly well today since the Prince was already on edge. Seeing the two contestants enter the ring, he let his gaze linger on the third class male. The oddly spiked hair, pale skin, bare arms, legs hugged by black leggings, and green and black armor all combined into a rather pleasing form. Considering the fact that many third class Saiyans shared similar traits, this man was lucky enough to get the good ones.

This time the lower class man did take an actual fighting stance, probably knowing that there was no way to get the same trick to work twice. His muscular opponent grinned cockily and leaned his head side to side, bones popping with a loud crack. Sizing up his opponent with predatory eyes, the non-Elite sprang forward and landed a quick uppercut to the mustached combatant's stomach. For a second the two paused in that pose, as if time had grinded to a halt. Then the third class male retracted his hand and stood up straight with a smile. The Elite stared straight ahead, unmoving for another second, before finally crumpling to the floor like a ragdoll.

Again the crowd burst into applause and cheers for the underdog, the deafening noise almost to the point of being overwhelming. Vegeta snapped his mouth shut and sat back in his chair, completely dumbfounded by what had just occurred. Not only did this warrior have strategy and speed, he also, somehow, had the power to knock out an Elite-level fighter in one blow. Vegeta heard his father clapping in the chair beside him and realized his own fists had been clenched in apprehension. Slowly uncurling his fingers, he joined in praising the warrior with his applause.

"Is he really a third class Saiyan?" Vegeta turned to inquire if the King had any information on the man.

The King only shrugged. "Looks like one, but fights like an Elite. Might be quite the catch, son," he added with clap on the shoulder.

Prince Vegeta didn't answer, still reeling from the shocking fight. How had this fighter managed to knock out someone far above his power level in one blow? Was it even possible for someone that low on the power scale to reach that level? Perhaps with enough zenkai power ups it was possible, but what had this man gone through to achieve that? Third class warriors weren't given the level of missions that would result in him getting beaten to the brink of death that many times. Had he been tested incorrectly at birth? Vegeta really wanted to test his theory and see the man's power level, but scouters were taboo in the fighting arena—if you already knew someone was much stronger than their opponent, it took the fun out of watching a fight.

Most importantly though, the last thought in Vegeta's mind was: 'He might actually be able to win.'