Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or its related characters. All is the property of FUNamation, Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Toriyama Akira. I'm just borrowing them for some light-heated entertainment.

Water Sharing

Chapter One: The Evil King

Prince Vegeta went flying across the throne room, hit the solid stone floor hard enough to fracture its chiseled surface, and rolled several more feet before finally coming to a halt. Picking himself up off the ground and climbing to his feet, the Prince wiped a tickle of blood from his mouth and glared up at his father.

King Vegeta glared back down at his eldest son. Matching the younger man's ebony stare, glare for glare. "I would have expected an indiscretion like this from Tarble, he is weak and lacks the pride and dignity for his station. But you, my namesake, I never would have imagined."

The Prince just continued to glare. He had nothing to say. Words of defense were as pointless as they were beneath him. Nothing would sway the King's opinion. Vegeta studied the older man, face so much like his own, but many more years along, a thick but well trimmed goatee hiding his chin and upper lip, armor polished to a shine, dark cape -blue on the outside, red on the inside- falling from his shoulders in ripples of fabric, arms draped over the armrests of the Cairngrom Throne, hands gripping the ends of those armrest tightly. Almost tight enough to crack the cairngorm stone from which it had been cut. The King was either beside himself with abject rage, or else, tense with nerves.

"The mongrel must be dealt with." He continued. "As all his wretched ilk are disposed of. To think, such an abomination within my own House!"

At his sides, the Prince's hands balled into fists, his body shaking with more emotions than he could readily identify, let alone examine. Not breaking eye-contact with his father, he asked, "And if I refuse?"

Now the King stood from the Throne. "Do not test me, namesake!" He snarled. "If you deal with the mongrel right now, I might allow you to keep the woman. …Call it a compromise."

The Prince repeated. "And if I refuse?"

The King growled. "Then I shall dispose of both of them."

Bitting the inside of his cheek, the Prince considered his options. He told himself several times over the past nine months that he didn't care about the woman or her little bastard. Attachment like that -especially attachment to a lowly slave- was a weakness and he was not weak. He was a Prince! Heir to the greatest race in the galaxy. Yet… nine months ago, when the woman's scent first changed and he learned of her pregnancy, rather than getting rid of the unwanted half-breed right then and there as it slept in her womb, he instead allowed the woman to keep it and hid her away. The Prince didn't know what he was thinking. He wasn't thinking, plain and simple.

"I am willing to forgive your transgression as nothing more than the foolishness of youth if you deal with your mistake right now -as you should have done nine months ago."

Behind him, the Prince heard the tall double doors of the throne room open and close. But he didn't dare look away from his father to risk a glance at whomever had entered. His ki sense was not yet as sophisticated as Kakarot's had been, but really, who would be foolish enough, or suicidal enough to dare barge in on them when the King was in this state?

The Kings eyes shifted from his son to the newcomer. "What is it, Nappa!?"

"Sir." The larger man fidgeted under his King's scrutiny. "Its a boy."

There was a beat of silence in which the King's eyes locked back with the Prince's. A boy. A son. Had the brat been a full Saiyan of proper pedigree that would have been good news. A new Prince. But a hansaiya boy was not something to be celebrated. The hansaiya were dangerous. A threat to the monarchy, the cast system, the very Saiyan way of life. The mingling of Saiyan and human blood created an unusually powerful offspring. One would think that a race that valued power above all would welcome such a mingling, but that is a false assumption. Saiyans did not show it often, but they were a xenophobic bunch. They valued power within their own race, raising those of strength into higher casts. But non-Saiyan strength was not something to be admired, non-Saiyan power was viewed as a threat. Non-Saiyan strength had to be destroyed.

No one knew that better than the Prince.

But the woman had been so captivating. Exotically beautiful. Wildly intelligent. And fearless. Above all else, she was fearless. Fearless and stubborn. Two traits almost never found in slaves. Also bold and shameless. All the qualities Saiyan men sought in a mate. She must have been born into the wrong race. She did not belong in the human race, or in the slave cast. She was better suited to be a Queen. If things were different, she might even have been his Queen. But that could never be. She was lowly and wretched. Their offspring, a forbidden abomination.

"Well, namesake, what is your decision?" The King pressed. "Will you dispose of the mongrel yourself, or shall I?"

Suppressing a snarl, the Prince turned his back on the King, taking one step towards the doors. "I will take care of it."

Had he still been looking, he would have seen a smile of satisfaction cross the King's lips. "Nappa, go with him and witness. Make sure its done."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The larger man bowed and followed the Prince out.

With each step the Prince's mind screamed for him to think of something else. Do something else. He didn't want to care about the woman. It was a weakness. But he had grown rather attached to her, and by extension, their offspring. He would have preferred things happen differently for them. If the woman hadn't gotten with child quite so soon. If he had already been King, his father's pyre already burnt out and cold, nothing but wet ashes. He could have changed things. Maybe not made the woman his Queen, nor her child his heir, but at the very least allowed them to live. But still under his father's rule, that would never be an option. The child had to die. The woman… well, Father said he would allow her to live, but… The Prince's chest felt tight and constricted. She would never forgive him if he killed her offspring. One way or another, he would lose both of them. His father would win.

"Nappa…" The Prince ventured, grasping out for a lifeline, any lifeline. The House of Cabbage had served the House Vegeta for generations. Nappa had been his guardian and teacher growing up. Sometimes, the man was like a second father to the Prince.

"I am sorry, Your Highness." The older man offered, for whatever comfort it was worth. Which was none.

Then, the Prince got an idea. "Nappa whom do you serve?"

The older man raised one quizzical eyebrow at the Prince. "I serve the House Vegeta, Your Highness. As I always have, as I always will."

"And, is my… son not also a decedent of the House Vegeta?" He continued.

Nappa was a long time in answering. He crossed his arms over his chest as they walked, his eyes looking far ahead and unfocused as he thought. Finally, "I know what you are trying to do, Your Highness. You're not the first warrior to grow attached to an alien lover or sire a hansaiya bastard."

"That does not answer my question. Is my son, hansaiya or not, a decedent of the House Vegeta?"

Hesitantly, and with great reluctance, Nappa answered, "Yes… I suppose he would technically be a decedent of House Vegeta."

Got him! "Then, do you not also serve my son?" The Prince did not wait for him to answer. Instead he forged on, they were almost to their destination now and time was of the essence. "Will you do a service for him? One service. For the bastard of House Vegeta."

Once again, Nappa took his time in answering. Finally, "Not for your bastard, Your Highness, but for you. I will do one service against my better judgment for you."

That was good enough. It was all the Prince needed to hear.

They rounded a corner and found two guards flanking the door. They straitened when they saw the Prince and Lord Nappa approaching, both giving carefully practiced bows of submission to the former and saluting the latter. One held the door open and the two men stepped inside.

The room stank of sweat and vaguely of blood and other scents the Prince couldn't identify. There was a reason men did not traditionally sit in with women in labor and the Prince quickly decided that the near-overpowering smell was one reason.

The woman sat up in the bed. Her aqua-blue hair plastered to the sides of her head with sweat, her face tight with nerves and exhaustion, her limbs sagging with fatigue. But in her arms… the Prince's breath caught in his chest. In her arms was a small bundled up blanket, a fluffy lavender tail poking through to wrap around her wrist. Their child. His son.

Behind them, the guard closed the door, giving the Prince all the privacy he needed to execute his hastily conceived and thrown together plan. Extending a hand, he demanded, "Give him to me, Woman."

She clutched the bundle closer to her breast, summer-sky eyes glaring daggers at him, promising to fight tooth and nail to her own death before she handed her child over to be killed and discarded. She knew, just as well as he did, what the fate of hansaiya children were.

"Do not make me ask again." Vegeta warned. He wanted to promise her that the boy would be fine. But that was both a promise he could not make, and also words he could not say allowed, lest the guards outside might be eavesdropping and overhear. For his plan to work, everyone had to believe that he was, indeed, going to fulfill his father's command. Perhaps the woman sensed his intensions, or could read his silent pleading in his onyx eyes. She always did have an uncanny ability to decipher his moods better than he himself could.

Reluctantly, she passed the bundle to him. "If you hurt him, Vegeta, I will never forgive you!"

"I wouldn't expect you to." He informed her honestly.

The child was so light in his arms. Light and small. He knew babies were supposed to be small, he wasn't an idiot. But the Prince had never really seen a newborn up close before, never mind actually holding one. Was he supposed to be this small? Small and fragile. So light in his arms. The slightest wrong move could break him in half a dozen ways that would end his life. But now holding him, the Prince was sure that he couldn't do it. He hadn't planned to anyway. But now that he held his son in his arms, he knew that it wasn't a choice anymore, he simply could not.

Bending his head down, the Prince inhaled deeply. Memorizing his son's scent.

"Your Highness…?" Nappa questioned.

Right. They hadn't much time. This must be done quickly and carefully.

Reaching a hand inside the swaddling, the Prince found the base of the child's tail. Giving it a twist and one solid yank, the limb snapped off and the boy started crying. Loud, screeching wails. He definitely had his mother's lungs on him. Blood flowed from the now open wound, staining the blanket. Good. The blood was good. The scent of blood would help convince his father that it was done. The scent of blood… and the boy's tail.

Without their tails, the hansaiya could pass for perfectly ordinary humans. It was the Prince's hope that, that would be just as true for his son as it had been for Kakarot's brat.

Using his ki to caurterize the wound before the boy could bleed out completely, the Prince passed the bundle to Nappa. "Take him out of the Palace." He commanded. "Wait for me by the servants' gate off the south wall. No one goes through there anymore. I'll bring the woman when it's safe. This is the one service against your judgment that you can do for me, Nappa."

The older man looked at the bloody bundle of blanket the Prince held out to him. "No one will believe its dead when they can clearly hear it screaming."

The Prince looked pleadingly back to the woman, thrusting the bundle towards her. "Make him quiet."

She gathered her son in her arms again, unwrapping the blanket which the Prince had just ruined and re-swaddling him in it. She held him against her chest, rocking him back and forth while she cooed softly. After this went on for several moments and the boy showed no intention of quieting down, she glared up at her lover. "You just ripped one of his limbs off! How am I supposed to calm him down from that?"

"If you wish him to live, you will find a way." The Prince told her flatly.

The woman doubled her efforts to comfort the boy. The Prince cast furtive glanced at the door as the brat's wails continued. If this continued much longer it would become apparent to those guarding the door outside that the hansaiya bastard was not being disposed of as he should be.

"Damn it, Woman!"

At his rough shout, the boy's sobs paused just long enough for him to blink summer-sky eyes, the same shade as his mother's. He couldn't turn his head. Not this young. But it was clear that he was responding to his father's voice. The Prince wasn't quite sure of his opinion of that. The realization that his son already knew him at such a young age did something to his chest. Made it swell with something that felt similar to pride, but also tighten with something that felt suspiciously like a relative to fear. But he had neither the time, nor the inclination to examine these feelings now. Other things needed doing and time was of the essence.

"Give him to Nappa." The Prince commanded, now that the boy was quiet.

The woman glared at him, suspicion back in her summer-sky eyes. But after a hesitation that lasted long then the Prince felt it should, she eventually passed her child off to the old warrior.

"Go now." The Prince ordered. "If anyone stops you, say that you are making sure his body is disposed of properly."

"Your Highness, you are making a big mistake." The older man argued.

"You said you would do this for me, Nappa." He remind him. "Do this one thing for me and… and I will gift you with whatever payment you wish of me."

Nappa looked from his Prince to the human woman sitting on the bed. He felt the tiny bundle in his hands. He was just a tiny baby. Newborn. Harmless, one would think. But he was hansaiya. A half-Saiyan, half-human mongrel. Hybrid. That meant he was dangerous. Perhaps not now, not yet. But if allowed to live… All hansaiya were dangerous if allowed to live. But… but this hansaiya was decedent of House Vegeta, which Nappa swore to serve. Torn between conflicting loyalties, the old warrior only nodded.

"Nothing good can come from this." He warned. "But for you, Your Highness, I will keep him safe until your insane plan is through. …And I shall call in my payment at a time of my choosing."

"Fine. Now go!" Snapped the Prince.

Nappa left, trying to hold the bastard in a way that didn't obviously show that it was alive.

The Prince turned back to his woman. "Your whelp's survival depends on your acting, Woman. Make it convincing."

"What?" She blinked at him.

"I just killed your brat!" He clarified.

In truth, the Prince didn't know how convincing her acting might be. They had never really dabbled in role-play, it not being something either of them subscribed to. He was expecting her to give a wail of anguish and cry how cruel he was. It was just a child. How could he. Etc. He was not expecting her to throw herself out of the bed and attack him.

"You son of a fuck!" She screeched, launching herself at him, hands and fingernails outstretched.

So surprised was he, that the Prince didn't even have time to register that he was being attacked before two of her nails gashed his cheek. His ki instantly snapped up, forming a skin-tight shield around himself, reenforcing his skin, making him invulnerable. Tiny drops of blood formed in the scratches she managed to make in his cheek before his defenses went up and the Prince had to suppress the small smirk of pride that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Yes. That was his woman. His feisty, blue-haired, razor-witted, woman.

"He was your son too!" She continued, pounding her fists on the polished breastplate of his armor. "How could you! How could you! I hate you, Vegeta!"

The two guards stationed outside the room peaked inside.

The Prince schooled his features into an impassive mask. Not giving anything away. The woman sank to her knees, crumpling to the floor in sobs. Her words becoming incomprehensible. It was quite the convincing show. In fact, the Prince began to wonder if she didn't actually think that he -or perhaps Nappa- had actually killed the boy. But then, he reminded himself, she had been in the room the whole time, watching their every move like a hawk, listening to their every word, scrutinizing them with those sharp summer-sky eyes that missed little and hid a keen intelligence far beyond her station.

She sat on the floor, shaking now. Hugging herself. Rocking back an forth as if unsure what to do with herself.

The two guards slowly backed out of the room, neither ever having seen a mother in grief before, nor knowing what to do with one. They left the Prince to deal with his distraught slave-girl. She was the Prince's problem, after all.

Once the door was closed behind them, she looked up at the Prince, those beautiful summer-sky eyes piercing. "Can you trust Nappa?" She asked. "Can you promise me my baby will be safe?"

"For now." He assured her, grabbing one of her slender arms and lifting her back to her feet. He helped her back into the bed. She had just squeezed a small person out of her body and then gave a fantastic, if a little showy, performance. She was well past exhausted and she looked it.

The Prince picked up the lavender tail from where he'd dropped it during her well played tantrum. "I have to take this back to my father as proof. When its safe, I'll come back for you and together we'll leave. My brother has an estate on planet Gyu. We can go there."

"You're coming with us?"

The Prince looked away, averting his eyes. That tightness in his chest was back. Feelings he didn't understand and had no desire to examine. But he did know that he wanted his woman and his bastard to be safe. The best way to assure that was to run away with them. He would be leaving his title, his crown, and his family's dynasty behind. But… he wasn't sure what. He wanted to? He had to? Neither seemed to fit. He didn't want to leave the comfort and power he'd grown accustom to as Crown Prince. He didn't have to guard and protect his hansaiya abomination of an offspring. And yet… that was the course that seemed… right.

Damn it all! This must be Kakarot's influence. That damn Third Class defector! Was this how he felt when he smashed his pod, cut off his tail and chose to live as an Earthling? All wound-up and knotted inside. Damn him! The Prince hoped he was writhing in agony in Hell right now. He deserved it. This was all his fault to begin with anyway. His son had been the first hansaiya. The one that started it all and showed them just how dangerous the mingling of human and Saiyan blood could be.

"I have to return to my father now." He did not answer her question. He still wasn't sure of the answer himself. But… "I'll be back for you when it's safe. Rest until then. You will need whatever pathetic strength you have."

For a moment it looked like he was about to say more. He paused there, at the door, their son's bloody lavender tail dangling limply from his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but no more words came out. Finally, he turned to leave. Wrenching the door open and putting the appearance of an angry storm into his step. The woman was obliging enough to offer another grief-stricken wail of anguish as the door was open and shut. A little extra flair to convince all that might fancy themselves witnesses that the Prince had actually disposed of the hansaiya abomination as he was supposed to.

Back in the throne room, standing before his father, the Prince was at a bit of a loss as to what should happen next. He felt like flinging his son's tail in the old man's face. Smacking him in the nose with the bloody appendage. But that would earn him nothing. But kneeling and presenting the tail as his proof, almost as a trophy felt worse. It made the Prince a little sick. So, he just stood there, arms at his sides, tail hanging in his hand. A few drops of blood still trickled from its end and were the only sound in the wide stone chamber.

Then, "So. You actually went threw with it."

The Prince looked up at his father, hatred clear and fierce in his obsidian eyes. "I have taken care of it."

It was not a lie. He just hadn't taken care of his son in the way his father wanted.

"Excellent, namesake, you have restored your honor and that of our House." The King stood, stepping down from the Cairngrom Throne. He clapped the Prince on the shoulder. "Now lets put this whole mess behind us. We'll call it an indiscretion of youth. Everyone makes mistakes when they're young. But you have proven yourself a responsible man by taking the correct action. You'll make a good King yourself one day." His eyes fell to the tail on the Prince hand. "Give me that."

The Prince looked down at his son's tail in his hand, running a thumb through the lavender fur. It was much softer than the fur of a pure-blood Saiyan. Fine and soft and purple. Wordlessly, and reluctantly, he extended the limb to his father.

"An interesting color." The King remarked. "Very distinctive. Even if you had succeeded in hiding the woman until she came to term, you would not have been able to hide the bastard. Its coloring would have made his heritage obvious."

The Prince remained tactfully silent.

"Oh, stop brooding!" The King slapped him on the back. "I have a surprise for you. I said you can keep the woman if you did away with the brat and you have. So, your slave can stay. But you may not want her after you see what I have for you." Turning his head, he called over his shoulder, "Come out, my dear."

From a side-door of the throne room entered a woman. Saiyan, obviously. Around the Prince's own age. Long ebony hair and obsidian eyes as all Saiyans had. A petite body with a trim waist. She wore her armor with a low collar, showing off more cleavage than would have been practical in a fight. She smiled a ruby-lipped smile when she joined them and went to one knee, bowing before her King and Prince.

"Namesake, this is the Lady Soy of House Legume." The King introduced her. "She is an Elite warrior, First Class. She would make a much more fitting mate for you. A much more appropriate vessel for continuing the Vegeta Dynasty, don't you agree?"

The Prince's stomach did knots. His eyes flicked from the woman kneeling at his feet to the lavender tail in his father's hand. He felt bile rise in his throat and found himself fighting the urge to spit in his father's eye. Instead, he said, "Yes, Father, you're right. I have been foolish. But I think my time bedding slaves is done. I'm over that phase."

"Glad to hear it!" The King smiled, and it looked like he was actually pleased with his son. Not just pleased, but actually proud of him. That was impossible of course, that meant that the man actually cared about his son, which the Prince seriously doubted. After all, Tarble was his son too, and the King still banished him for no better reason than he did not adhere to their warrior codes. "I'll leave you and the Lady Soy to get better acquainted with one another."

It was all the Prince could manage to crock out a hoarse, "Thank you, Father."

Soy rose to her feet, wrapping both hands around the Prince's arm, she pressed herself against his side, his shoulder brushing the soft flesh of her great that climbed up out of her low-cut armor. "Shall we take a turn about the Square, Your Highness?" She asked. "Or would you prefer a spar?"

The idea of beating the coy, playful smile off those red lips did sound appealing. The Prince liked the idea of that pretty face bruised and bloody. But he didn't know if he might need all of his energy for later. For when he took the woman and the boy and ran. For now it was best to conserve his strength. So, he replied, "Lets walk the Square. I haven't been down there since the execution."

'The execution' was, of course, referring to the execution of the Third Class defector Kakarot. The Prince still wasn't clear on all the details. But as he understood it, the story went like this. Kakarot was the low-born son of the Seer. His power level was to low to have allowed him to remain on Vegeta-sei to train without first proving himself, so he was sent on an infant mission. That was where the story became confusing, with conflicting accounts. From what the Prince was able to piece together from the short time he spent with him, Kakarot had met an old man on that far off and distant planet in the backwaters of the galaxy. An old master.

In some versions of the story, there were two old me. One as father figure, the other as a teacher. Whether they really were two or one in the same didn't matter. The point was that by the time Kakarot grew into his manhood, he had been indoctrinated into their philosophy of fighting only in the protection of home and country -or whatever. So that when another Saiyan arrived on the planet to do a routine follow-up on the infant mission, Kakarot's own people and culture became the enemy. He fought off the warrior sent to collect him and finish the job if he'd failed. After the battle was fought and won, Kakarot came to a decision. He smashed his original pod and the pod of the other warrior and cut off his tail, quite literally severing the last ties to his heritage, and chose to live as an Earthling.

It was Kakarot that first brought Earth, and by extension the human race, to the Saiyan's attention. It was Kakarot's son that was the first hansaiya and showed the rest of them how dangerous breeding with other races could be.

For his crimes, for failing his infant mission, killing the warrior sent to retrieve him, defecting to an alien planet, and creating an abomination with an alien woman, Kakarot was executed.

The Prince paused in front of the posts in the middle of the Square. Salaad was the capitol city of Vegeta-sei and in the center of the city, just outside the palace walls was the city's Square. A large open area with only one single structure in its center. Two tall stone posts that stood upon a raised dais. It was between these posts that Kakarot had been strung. His arms puled tight until they popped out of their sockets. His scream of pain had little effect on the crowd that day. They were all warriors that had proven themselves in their own purges. Wails of excruciating anguish were nothing new for them. Neither were they effected by his final words before the death-stroke fell.

"I am Son Goku. I am an Earthling!"

But the Prince was affected. He didn't know why. He had only known of the lowly Third Class defector for a short time, and known him personally even shorter. But his words stuck in his mind. No… not his words, it was his attitude. He didn't whine, or plead, or beg for mercy. Most defectors deserted because they were cowardly. They didn't want to fight because they feared death, or had no stomach for carnage. But that wasn't Kakarot's reason. It was something else, something indistinct and ephemeral. The Prince didn't have a word for it. But on that day, Kakarot met his death with honor and dignity -or, at least, as much honor and dignity as one condemned to execution can have- and defiance. Most of all defiance.

"I am Son Goku. I am an Earthling!"

That was also the day the Seer disappeared.

Bardock, the father of both Kakarot and the other warrior who'd been sent to follow up on his infant mission, Raditz. He lost both his sons to the scandal. Some wondered why he hadn't tried to prevent it. He was the Seer, after all. Did his powers not predict it? Did he not try to stop any of it? Or was his clairvoyance nothing more than exaggerated cold-reading. Smoke and mirrors. Was he just a fraud?

The Prince didn't know.

But that was the last day anyone ever saw the Seer. That night, was also the night Kakarot's son and the human woman he took for a mate escaped. It was generally decided that the Seer must have orchestrated their flight. No other explanation made sense. The Prince has his suspicions that his own woman might have had a hand in it as well. Bardock not being known for his subtlety, must have had some help of his own. But the Prince had no proof of that. Just his own gut feeling and hunches.

It was not that long ago. The execution and the escape. Just a few short weeks… Kakarot's hansaiya brat was still missing and unaccounted for.

They had probably gone to ground somewhere. Not back to Earth. The Saiyans kept a carful watch over it. Not yet purging it, having found the humans to be useful as slaves, the planet was not purged. The people were used to the best of their abilities and limited strength. Those with intelligence were made to develop better technology fro their Saiyan master. Faster ships, more efficient healing tanks, stronger armor, etc. Those without much brains were put to work on their own planet, farming resources. Mining ores, iron, steel, and copper were always needed. Cutting stone. Growing food. Above all else, food. The Saiyan metabolism demanded a high caloric intake. Occasionally, after a purge whole planets were terraformed and converted into farming worlds to feed their armies. Earth didn't need to be terraformed. Earth was almost as perfect for Saiyans as Vegeta-sei.

So, Kakarot's woman and brat would not go back there. Could not go back there.

Another planet then. One sympathetic to their plight. Or perhaps one of the Saiyan's enemies… the Ice-jin perhaps? No. The the Seer -if in fact he did orchestrate their escape- would not risk his grandson and only living relative there. Somewhere else. The galaxy was a large place. Plenty of planets, habitable moons, asteroids and space stations to hide on.

"Something troubling, Your Highness?" Soy asked by his side. "You seem preoccupied."

"No. Nothing." The Prince lied. "I think I've had enough mingling with the commoners for one day. Lets return to the Palace."

…

Oca, Vegeta-sei's large red giant sun had long since set over the horizon and Romanesco, the blue dwarf was just finally sinking below the horizon. It colored the sky in off shades of red and purple, making the Prince think of his son's bloody tail and he hoped the image was not prophetic. He was not usually given to superstition or the reading of omens. But he was also nervous and edgy. That tight feeling in his chest making it hard to breath.

As agreed, he collected the woman the moment he decided it was safe enough to flee and met Nappa at the agreed upon location.

The woman could not get her baby back in her own arms fast enough. Rushing up to Nappa, forgetting her earlier suspicions about the older man from earlier today. Over his shoulder, the Prince carried a bag. He wasn't quite sure what they might need. He'd never exactly deserted before. He knew that he didn't really need much of anything. Just some water and pro tine bars for the ride in the pod, once he got to his location, he would be able to find anything else he might need on whatever planet he chose to go to. But the woman was not him. The woman was human and weak and they would be traveling with a child. So he threw together a few things. Mostly guessing on almost everything. He knew less about children then he knew about any other subject he was ignorant of.

Turning to Nappa, the Prince shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other and asked, "What do you want for your payment?"

The older man looked the Prince up and down, noting the bag over his shoulder. His eyes flicked to the woman and child behind him, then back to the Prince. "You're not leaving with them, are you?"

The woman asked him the same question. He didn't answer her. He didn't know his answer then. But at some point in the day, the question became irrelevant. It didn't matter what he chose. The Prince found that he had no choice at all. "Yes."

"Don't." Nappa said. One flat syllable. He was speaking above his station and they both knew it. But Nappa did not apologize and the Prince did not call him out on it.

"I have no reason to stay."

"My payment." Nappa reminded him. "You said you would give me whatever I wanted as payment for helping you save the life of your bastard. For payment, I choose you, Prince Vegeta. I want you to stay here. Become the King I trained you to be. Buy your bastard's life with your service to your race and your crown. I trained you since your boyhood and I did it so you could be King. If you leave, then all my work and devotion will have been meaningless. So, as my payment, I want you to stay and collect your birthright."

All there of them remained silent for one… two… three beats. The silence filled only by the sound of the child cooing in the woman's arms.

The Prince looked at her. Aqua hair shining in the raiding light of Romanesco, eyes studying him. The child in her arms gurgled and cooed, content to finally be back with his mother. If he didn't go with them, who would ensure their safety? But… if he did go with them, then his father would hunt them until the end of their days…

A few moments ago, the Prince decided he had no choice at all. But now, he was finding that the choice was even harder than before.

He turned his back on Nappa. Crossing the small space between them, he asked the woman, "What will you name him?"

"I don't know…" She answered honestly. "I haven't had the chance to think that far."

"Don't…" He paused, his throat suddenly tight. "Don't name him 'Vegeta', its an evil name. In fact, don't give him a Saiyan name at all. Without his tail, and with that coloring he could pass for any number of races in the galaxy. So long as know one knows he's Saiyan, he should be safe."

"You're not coming with us after all." She translated his own feeling or him, far better than he ever could himself.

There was a beat of silence between them in which all they did was stare into each other's eyes. Summer-sky to infinite ebony.

Finally, the Prince shrugged the bag off his shoulder and draped it over the woman. He didn't know if anything he put in there would even be useful to her or if it was just dead weight. She would know. If it served a purpose, she would keep it. If it was useless, she would dump it and not look back. She could be coldly pragmatic when she needed to be. Another trait of hers that he found so attractive. She would have made a fantastic Queen.

"Go to planet Gyu." He said. "My bother lives there."

She shook her head. "I won't trust any Saiyan."

"You can trust Tarble."

She just shook her head again. "I know where to go."

That right there was all the confirmation he needed that she did, indeed, help in the escape of Kakarot's woman and brat. She helped them get out and she knew where they had gone. She would go to them. That was fine. Kakarot's boy was old enough and skilled enough to protect them. It wasn't the Prince's first choice, but it would do. He nodded, ceding to her.

He wrapped his arms around her. The Prince wasn't really one for displays of affection in general, and especially not displays that could be witnessed. But this might be the last time he ever saw her, so he pretended Nappa wasn't there and hugged her. Nuzzling her shoulder and neck with his nose, shifting the material of her shirt to expose the skin there. "Listen." He whispered in her ear. "Whatever you're told, whatever you hear… you are my mate. Do you understand? I will take no other woman but you. You are my true mate."

"Oka-!?" She was cut off abruptly when he sank his teeth into her shoulder, treeing the flesh and leaving a bloody ungle shaped bite mark that would heal with a scar. "Vegeta, what…?"

The Prince pulled back, licking her blood from his lips.

"Your Highness!" Nappa exclaimed.

"You are the one, Bulma." He repeated. "It will always only be you. Take our son and go."

Carrying the baby on one arm, her other and covering her bleeding shoulder, the runaway bag thrown over the other shoulder, she paused only long enough to meet his eyes one last time. Then she ran.

The Prince waited until he couldn't see her aqua head anymore. Then he turned back to Nappa and they both went inside.

…