Chapter 36

As the Prince's entourage entered the royal wing of the palace, various guards split off from the group to resume the posts they manned when not on escort duty. Soon it was only Radditz, Tamane and the two children. As the foursome continued the trek to the Royal quarters, "You still scared of Nappa?" the Prince queried.

Although there was no hint of accusation in the question, Zenza glared at the boy. "No!"

Radditz repressed a grin. While it was true that Zenza and the Prince were always at loggerheads, it was also true that, as they grew older and the power gap between them widened, Trunks demonstrated an advanced protective streak where she was concerned. The recent confrontation with Nappa was not the first time the Prince placed himself between Zenza and the Commander, just as it was not the first time Nappa had found an excuse to usurp Trunks' training regimen.

And nothing, nothing bothered the little noble more than having the Prince act as a shield for her.

Radditz did not make the mistake of thinking that Trunks cared much for Zenza one way or another; rather, it was an example of those curious human morés pressed upon him by both Bulma and Gohan that caused the Prince to automatically protect his weaker playmate. Like Gohan, Trunks didn't believe the weaker should be sacrificed to facilitate the survival of the stronger. And like his powerful but sentimental nephew, thought Radditz with a touch of scorn, the Prince was developing a habit of actually protecting those weaker than himself.

Zenza was going to be strong herself in time, so it hadn't caused much comment (and the Prince's enjoyment at Zenza's irritation was no doubt seen by most as his real motive for stepping between her and danger). But Radditz knew he wasn't the only one in the palace to notice, and the un-Saiyan habit was likely to cause concern should it ever manifest itself around someone other than the child of a powerful noble.

Trunks brought the party to a halt by turning to give Zenza a questioning look. "If you're not scared of him, then what's your problem? He said you were going to the camps. Would you rather not go train there?"

The honest answer was 'yes.' Zenza wasn't that good at hiding her true emotions yet and Radditz could see it in her eyes, but what she said was, "Bah, as if they can train me any better than Zarbon does!"

The Prince looked thoughtful as he nodded. "That's a good point," he said. "I'll mention it to your mother."

"Don't you go bad-mouthing me to my mother!" Zenza flared. "I can handle the camps!"

"You're right," said the Prince, sounding impressed by her vehemence. "It's Zarbon that's too much for you."

"I can handle Zarbon!" snapped Zenza in the exact same cadence as her previous statement.

"Almost," the Prince agreed with a shrug.

Radditz had to admire the neat box the boy created for his erstwhile playmate. His tactics were a strange melding of Vegeta's bullying and Zarbon's slyness. Throw in the basic unpredictability of his alien mother, and it was little wonder the Guards assigned to the Prince's detail were hard-pressed to keep up with him.

And certainly his tactics were beyond the fuming Zenza, who could tell that she was somehow being mocked without knowing what, exactly, she was being mocked about. It was sometimes very hard to believe the children were the same age.

"You two can argue and walk at the same time," Tamane told the two children. "Your mothers are waiting for you." He was grinning as he spoke, however, and there was no hint of rebuke in his words. Tamane was good at dealing with the children, better than the stoic Negin, which was one reason he was assigned more and more often to the Prince's detail. Certainly his power was a valuable asset when it came to making sure Nappa's attempts to provoke the Heir did not escalate beyond verbal bluster into physical confrontation. As he had shown on that long-ago day when Bulma had demonstrated her first combat drone, Tamane's loyalty was to the Queen and her Captain. He was not intimidated by any antiquated ideas of hierarchy. Not that Negin was especially intimidated by Nappa either, reflected Radditz as they resumed their journey towards the Royal suite, but his fighting power was significantly less than the Commander's, which as far as Nappa was concerned made him a non-entity.

"Zenza doesn't want to train in the West any more," Trunks announced as soon as he got into the royal chambers.

Their mothers were near the back of the antechamber, evidently having just entered from the private quarters. Nira raised her brows in question, while Bulma rebuked her son for not properly greeting her guest. Sighing, the Prince said, "Good-morning-Chieftain-Nira" all in one monotone breath before rushing on. "She says she gets more exercise from deer and from Zarbon than she going there."

"I said," snapped Zenza, "that I can handle it!"

"And she's still scared of Nappa," sniffed Trunks.

And sometimes, thought Radditz with a grin, the boy was as vindictive as any Saiyan. Right now he was certainly acting his age, his desire to show up the other child in front of their respective mothers making the Prince unaware that he was setting himself up for something he wouldn't like at all.

"I'm not scared of anybody!" Zenza declaimed.

"Of course you aren't, not when I'm around. He can't do anything with me around." The little boy puffed out his chest as Zenza visibly fumed.

The two women exchanged glances. Nira's mouth twisted into a wry expression; Bulma chuckled. "Must be love," she said lightly.

Trunks blinked and scowled, protesting that he didn't even like Zenza, while the little girl appeared to reach new levels of speechless fury at the suggestion. By now inured to the peculiarities of human speech Radditz didn't even wince at the sentiment. Tamane also maintained a blank expression — two years as the main barrier between the Prince and Nappa had exposed him to a desensitizing amount of Earth parlance — while Negin never had much expression to begin with. Some of Nira's tribesmen in attendance couldn't quite disguise their discomfort with the casual reference to such a non-Saiyan emotion. Radditz saw Trunks giving them a sidelong, appraising look, his thick brows drawn together in puzzlement.

Although their reaction was strong enough to attract the Heir's attention, Radditz thought that the members of Nira's retinue still behaved better than half the King's Guards would. Although it's a good thing Chishan isn't here. He'd faint dead away if he heard Bulma say that word out loud!

Nira, curiously, appeared amused rather than insulted on her daughter's behalf. "Zenza's far more exhausted after training here than anywhere else, so I must conclude that Zarbon's teachings are more thorough. If the Prince wishes all my daughter's physical instruction to be with him, I cannot object. I'll be happy to have her train here rather than the Western Continent."

Too late realizing the trap he set was for himself, Trunks exclaimed in alarm that was not what he meant at all while Zenza appeared not only furious but murderously angry. Bulma, however, announced that she thought that was an excellent idea, and Radditz found himself in charge of two surly, snarling children as their mothers once again retreated to the inner chambers to break out their respective schedules and arrange even more visits between their offspring.

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The King stopped by his quarters on the way to his own training session, ostensibly to switch out his chestplate for one without shoulder guards, although Zarbon was convinced it was really to make sure Bulma knew no harm had come to the Heir during their 'bout' earlier in the day. To his surprise the Heir was there rather than at the stadium continuing his evasion practice. "I had to see Zenza off," the little boy protested as soon as he saw the suspicious expression on Zarbon's face. "Mom gets mad when I don't."

"It's rude when you don't," said Bulma firmly. "That's why I get mad."

"Well, she's gone now." Trunks' relief was palpable. "So we can get back to training again."

Bulma looked at Vegeta. Actually, thought Zarbon, it wasn't just a 'look;' it was a demand that required a response.

"I'm done with the brat for the day," the King drawled.

"Are you training with him again?" persisted Bulma.

The King glanced at his son from the corners of his eyes, smirking. "When he learns to do more than dodge, yes."

Trunks' gaze darkened, but to his credit he didn't rise to the bait. "I'm ready to train again," he repeated to Zarbon firmly.

Trunks never shirked training, but he especially looked forward to stadium days since he could practice his stronger ki attacks without blowing up too many buildings. The King's visit had thrown their usual schedule off-kilter. "You'll still have to be back in time for your afternoon classes," Zarbon told him, "but we can make sure you get off a shot or two before then, if you like."

There was a perfunctionary nod from the young Prince. Zarbon gave him a quizzical look as the two walked out into the corridor together. The boy appeared less than enthusiastic despite the resumption of the training being his idea.

The King's Guards were a literal lot, thought Zarbon as he brought the Heir back into the stadium. Since the King had refused to let them accompany him during his talk with Zarbon, and without any contingency orders, most of them were still at their posts in the arena even though there had been nothing to protect in the past ninety minutes. There was a scramble to snap to attention and resume the usual guard positions. The Prince ignored them, marching purposefully into the stadium. When they reached the center, however, the Prince didn't start charging his ki. Instead, "I have a question," the little boy announced. He looked very serious.

Zarbon raised his thin brows. "And that is...?"

"Why is love a bad thing?"

Oy. Zarbon cast a quick glance around the arena. They were well away from most of the Saiyan guards, but some of the monkeys had decent hearing for mammals and this didn't sound like a conversation that should be held in public. "Whatever it is or isn't, we shouldn't spend training time on it."

"But everybody jumps when Mom says she loves me," protested the boy. "And just now, Chieftain Nira's guards were weird about it. Mom wasn't even serious!"

Zarbon raised a hand to his brow, covering most of his face. "What did Bulma say this time?" he asked, speaking wearily through his fingers.

Trunks pulled a face. "She said I wanted Zenza around more because I was in love with her. It's not true," he hastily assured his trainer. "I don't even like her."

Zarbon, who spent more time with both children than anyone else in the capitol, responded with perfect sincerity, "I believe you, my prince."

"But Nira's guards were just weird," the boy insisted again. "It was like I used one of those really bad words Mom tells Papa he can't say around me."

Sighing, Zarbon dropped his hand. Folding his arms across his chest, he regarded the little boy, small lines folding between his brows.

"You don't know either?" asked the Prince, sounding resigned.

What Zarbon didn't know was how to explain species hard-wiring to a five-year-old mammal, especially in a public area where members of one of the 'species' concerned might object to his terminology. The question of how Saiyan the boy was also occurred to him. Trunks, unlike Vegeta or Radditz, understood the concept of 'love;' did that mean the child's hybrid nature leaned more towards the human than the Saiyan? I hope not; that would mean I have to explain sex to him in five years rather than twenty-five! "There's nothing wrong with 'love' per se, my prince."

"If there's nothing wrong with it, why did you just get all quiet?"

"That's the 'per se' part," said Zarbon dryly. "I don't want to be overheard, that's all." Although Trunks demonstrated an advanced sense of sarcasm (no doubt, thought Zarbon, derived from listening to both of his parents), more subtle irony was beyond him. Trunks gave him a very blank look. Zarbon sighed again. "Humans understand love and, like your mother, even discuss it publicly," he told the Prince. "Your father's people are different. They don't think; they react based on instincts. Since they can't comprehend higher emotions themselves, Saiyans dismiss such things as irrelevant weaknesses, which is why they act, er, 'weird' when the word comes up. And, yes, Saiyans do behave as if even the mention of the word 'love' is foul, so your swearing analogy is spot on as far as I'm concerned. Around here, it's best to treat it as if it really is one of the words your mother doesn't want you to say." He tilted his head. Trunks looked like he did sometimes when Bulma threw some advanced mathematics his way, as if he were mentally working through the problem before committing it to paper. "Are you sure you understand what love is, my prince?" Zarbon asked gently.

Still with that abstracted expression on his face, Trunks nodded impatiently. "I love Mom. I love Gohan. I love you. I understand it," he said matter-of-factly.

Zarbon's mouth dropped. Kneeling, he held his arms out to the boy. After a surprised blink, Vegeta's son grinned and ran into them, wrapping his wiry arms around his trainer's chest as Zarbon enclosed him. "I love you, too, little Prince," whispered Zarbon. "But don't say anything like that to any Saiyan, especially your father. I can't imagine what he'll do."

The boy chuckled. "I think I can. That's why I won't say it to him." He pulled back, touching one blue cheek lightly. "But you love Papa, too. The way you love me."

"The way I'll love your children and their children, little Prince."

"Won't you have children of your own?"

Zarbon smiled, wryly. "Our kind take a long time to raise, a couple of human generations. I don't think I could stand to be gone that long."

"I'll be here when you get back," the boy promised. "With kids of my own."

"We're getting entirely too sentimental for warriors," said Zarbon, pushing the boy lightly away. "Show me how your Gamma Gun attack is coming."

Placing his feet apart, Trunks charged up effortlessly, the white aura flickering and giving his non-Saiyan eyes and pale blue hair a glow that the darker-toned Saiyans did not possess. Zarbon stood well back, watching with eyes he had to rapidly blink. Is it possible; the best of both species in one package? The boy reared back, his hands pulling apart over his head as he pushed energy into them, then ejected it in a rapid fire motion that split the sky. He grinned at Zarbon. "How was that?"

"You are a very frightening little boy," Zarbon replied frankly. "And I've met another very frightening little boy in my time, so I know whereof I speak."

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Other eyes watched, ones that were hard and unsentimental. "Did you see that?" Shiruko asked. He turned his head and spat in disgust.

Youkan was looking up into the sky, mouth open and eyes wide. "Wow. What is the reading on that kid? That's amazing!"

"That's unnatural," muttered Shiruko, regarding the Prince grimly. "I meant that revolting display earlier."

"What? Zarbon had some private instructions he didn't want us to hear, that's all. Pretty good ones, I'd say."

"You can't be that much of an idiot."

Youkan replied, coolly, "I saw him whisper something in the Prince's ear, and then the Prince did that. Anything else is rumor and speculation, Shiruko. In fact, anything else is close to treason."

Shiruko regarded his younger brother narrowly. "Ah. You are not such an idiot after all."

"One of us has to take after our mother," Youkan pointed out.

At that Shiruko grinned finally, the hard lines of his face relaxing. "True enough," he agreed, and the two were able to finish their shift without any more sharp words uttered between them.