Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
-Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Bulma was doing all right with this pregnancy thing, and being more-or-less queen, pretending she had it all under control.

She wasn't entirely sure Nappa was buying her story, but he did not question her. She was too busy preparing everyone for the upcoming invasion to worry about it.

It took Bulma next to nothing to win them over. She'd had their obedience in an hour, their loyalty in a day. All they seemed to need was someone to feed them, lead them, give half a shit about them. Vegeta was not the only one too long in a soulless military.

The two newest members of her household gravitated toward their home language with the same badly-hidden wistfulness as Vegeta, seeking her out at all hours, clearly missing conversation in it with someone other than each other. They devoured the books she offered, and Nappa poured through the image and text archives she'd amassed in her search. She pretended not to see the naked sorrow on his face, and brought him a bottle of whiskey to keep him company as he looked through it all.

They treated her with a sort of reverence after that.

Vegeta's gravity room became theirs, though she monitored them much more closely with it, as Raditz in particular seemed more reckless and less self-aware of his limits. They argued with her a lot less than Vegeta about the idea of rest days, embracing her assistance with training data.

On their first day off, she took their samples for her blood bank, then took them shopping for Earth clothing. They had a lot more fun with it than their Prince had.

"I look awesome!" Raditz crowed, in a sleeveless tee shirt and ripped jeans, and Bulma had to agree, along with the rest of the fans he'd gathered in front of the three-way mirror.

"Here, try this on too," murmured a saleswoman, a little breathlessly, handing him a leather jacket.

Nappa was also drawing a crowd, in a fitted dress shirt and slacks. "Why did that woman hand me this?" he asked Bulma, showing her a folded piece of paper with digits on it.

"She wants you to call her," Bulma laughed. "Come on, let's get you guys phones."

She swore Nappa almost shed a tear when she took them for beers and joined in singing his favorite song. She'd thought he might be embarrassed when she told him how she'd learned it, but he'd only laughed, and then he and Raditz nearly pissed themselves when she said she'd sung it at Vegeta.

In her second trimester, when the nausea and exhaustion receded enough that she felt like eating and braving the wrath of Chichi, she extended the invitation to Goku and his family to come for dinner and meet some "friends".

She was getting a headache thinking about it. It was going to be chaos. Controlled chaos, or so she hoped.

"Remember," she hissed at them as she went to answer the door. "Gohan was not there when I brought you guys back."

"What's the big deal?" Raditz asked.

"There's going to be enough to talk about without getting Gohan in trouble with his mother on top of everything else."

"What kind of woman did my brother take to wife, anyway?"Raditz wondered.

"You'll see," was all Bulma would say, not wanting to influence their opinions before they met her themselves.

"They don't know about you and Vegeta, do they?" Nappa observed, not really a question. "Or–" he gestured vaguely at her midsection.

"No," she said, succinctly. There was a reason she hadn't invited Yamcha and everyone else.

"This is just to reintroduce you guys to them, and show that you're under my protection," she said, non-ironically, and then almost laughed at herself.

The literal meaning was more like to warn them that fucking with you is to fuck with me. Raditz was amused; Nappa looked almost touched.

Was that a weird thing to say? She was too harried to wonder further about it.

"Seriously, she's going to be super pissed, you threatened her son and got her husband killed."

"She's still just a human though."

"Do me a favor, and please don't say that to her face tonight."

Bulma got her guests settled, and served, and then removed the apron she'd been wearing, revealing the unmistakable swell of her pregnant belly as she seated herself.

All conversation stopped, though Goku kept eating.

"So…" Bulma began, absorbing their stares. Only Goku looked unsurprised. "Vegeta and I are having a baby. A boy, actually." She'd just found out that day.

"And I wished back Nappa and Raditz," she said, pointing at the duo hovering in the kitchen doorway. "Please pass the salt."

Raditz waved.

Goku waved back.

Gohan face-palmed, awaiting his mother's wrath.

No one passed the salt.

Chichi did not disappoint. "Are you fucking kidding me? You wished two Saiyans back to life without telling anyone?"

It was a really bad sign when Chichi swore in front of Gohan.

"I'm telling you now," Bulma said, sipping water from a wineglass.

Given the green light, Bulma's Saiyan subjects rushed to claim their share of food before it was gone, piling it onto plates, eyeing Chichi warily as they ate but not slowing down.

Goku tried. "Chichi, it's fine, I don't think there's anything to worry–"

"Son. Goku. Don't you dare interrupt me, and for fuck's sake finish chewing first!" Chichi raged, night-dark hair blowing in its own ominous wind, her fury white-hot along the table's surface, even to Bulma's ki-numb hands.

"Shit," Raditz said, awed. "Earth women might be cool after all."

"No Saiyan at the dinner table," Bulma chided, a made-up-just-now rule she had broken countless times herself. "Not with guests, anyway," she amended.

Goku was frowning, head tilted, like he almost understood, but not quite. "You're speaking Saiyan."

"Yeah."

"Did Vegeta teach you? Where is he?"

"Sort of. And he's in space," she said. "Training."

"Training in space? While you're pregnant with his baby?" Chichi was appalled.

"The androids are coming whether we're ready or not, Chichi," Bulma said, as though her heart didn't cry the same thing every morning without him.

Nappa somewhat won Chichi over by complimenting the pork buns she'd brought, evidence that at one time he'd been a statesman as well as a warrior. The rest of dinner went a bit more smoothly. It was clear that Bulma's new charges respected and obeyed her, and the longer the evening went on, the more comfortable everyone seemed to be.

For his part, Goku was delighted to have more partners to train with, and made plans with Raditz for the following week. Chichi left with worry in her eyes, but a list of herbal remedies and exercises that had eased her own half-Saiyan pregnancy, and made Bulma promise to call her.

The next few months were surprisingly uneventful, given the roller-coaster of events Bulma had almost gotten used to. Her Saiyans spent most of their time at Capsule Corp, but occasionally left to train with Goku, or just go exploring their new planet. Never at the same time, though; one of them was always near enough to guard their sort-of-queen.

She'd gotten them phones because she wanted them to build their own lives. They'd always have a place with her, but it would be good for them to have other ties to Earth. Friends, dates, whatever it took for them to see humans as people and not prey. For them to feel at home somewhere again.

With their input, she began reverse-engineering a regeneration tank prototype. But they weren't scientists; they could only describe the mechanics and the experience, the smell and the taste of the blue – No, you moron, it's green! – solution, the way the oxygen mask felt, the buoyancy of floating. It was going to be a lot of trial and error to even come close.

She was getting too heavily pregnant to work on it much longer, and feared it would never be done in time. At least there are still senzu beans,she thought, and replenished her stock, just in case.

Bulma planned to give birth at home, with a midwife, though she had her personal doctor on retainer in case things went south.

Surprisingly, when the time came, it wasn't her mother she most wanted nearby, though of course she was there. It was Nappa and Raditz.

These were men who'd known and endured pain, who'd kept Vegeta alive in the face of suffering, and soothed his hurts as a child. It seemed fitting for them to see her through this, to see his son born. They weren't squeamish about blood or bodily fluids, either.

It was effortless for them to hold her up when she tired, supporting her as she labored. Their iron fingers withstood her brutal grip, and applied wonderful counter-pressure to her lower back when she asked.

It was the hardest physical thing she'd ever done, and she wanted Vegeta more than she could bear, but she felt supported, safe, cared for.

Sometime in the wee hours, something changed, felt off. She'd finally been able to start pushing, but it felt like she wasn't getting anywhere.

The midwife fretted, "You're not progressing as much as I'd like. We might need to call your physician."

Bulma tried not to panic, panting.

Nappa frowned. "Raditz, here," he ordered, the younger man switching places to take Bulma's weight.

The bald soldier came around, his eyes serious but calm, holding Bulma's gaze. She found the lines around his eyes comforting, the greater age and wisdom of someone that had seen things.

"The babe's resisting," he said. "He just needs to know it's all right." He reached forward to touch her belly, waiting for her nod to proceed.

His huge palm felt warm even to her hot skin, a faint glow around his hand. The baby immediately relaxed, stopped fighting her, a blockage she hadn't even known about suddenly dissolving as her whole body fought to bear down with renewed vigor. She groaned in relief and agony as she finally felt the child coming, nearing the end of her ordeal.

With a shout to rival any battlefield, the newest prince of all Saiyans entered the world at last.

He knew, somehow, even training in deep space. He felt her fear, her triumph.

It was the last push he needed, a final spike of panic, knowing it was real – and then everything exploded, caught fire.

He was the fire.