Chapter 3

So much for sleep.

Crossly Zarbon pulled his still-too-short hair back into a pony tail, eschewing armor entirely for a plain sleeveless bodysuit, snagging his scouter on the way out. There were advantages to being the primary aide of the new King, he reminded himself as he sprinted down the hall past the guards into the rounded center of the palace's public area and headed outside into the black, black night. Just because he couldn't remember any at three in the morning.... He lifted into the air, flying at top speed toward the training rooms in the military compound, fitting the scouter over his ear, crossly blowing air out in little puffs as he tried to force his bangs out of his eyes. They were just to the length where he could brush them back from his forehead, but they whipped around like crazy when he was in flight. Landing in the courtyard in front of the compound, he tore up the marbled stairs, past Domestic Guards who held doors open to speed his progress. He skidded to a halt in the widened hall outside the practice areas, breathing hard.

"What the hell kept you?" groused Vegeta from the open doorway of one of the larger practice rooms.

"A little matter of waking up, my King," said Zarbon, a touch edgily.

"I can help you with that, baka."

Zarbon clicked his teeth together, choking down an absolute barrage of insults. Undoubtedly well aware that the presence of surveillance equipment and quite a few guards had just saved him from a tongue lashing, Vegeta smirked and crooked a finger. Zarbon stalked after him into the shielded chamber. Inside, he took a second to breathe in and calm down, absently tapping the scouter to see what the King's ki claimed to be tonight. Anger fading, he gazed at the number with interest. Vegeta's ki had taken an impressive jump lately, and was continuing on its upward climb. The young King had finally obtained a power reading that put him in the lower reaches of the Ginyuu Squad...

"Sometime this millennium?" suggested Vegeta, heavily sarcastic.

Zarbon set himself. These nighttime bouts became common after Vegeta became King, since Kings had busy schedules that did not always accommodate a warrior's training regime. Zarbon hoped that Bulma's arrival would lessened their frequency; if anything, he found the bouts moved to even more-ungodly hours, since Vegeta was likely to spend the early evening with his bride. Humans required far more sleep than Saiyans, so Bulma rarely even noticed if her husband vanished for a couple of hours at night. While Zarbon's kind didn't require as much, it seemed they still needed more than the average Saiyan King—

SWAT.

"Baka." Zarbon heard Vegeta's annoyed voice as from a distance. He pried his head out of the padding covering the practice rooms wall to hear the King continue with, "Will you pay attention? I could have killed you."

You certainly could have, agreed Zarbon as he began to tug the rest of his body free from the padding. I'm insane to even spar with you unless I'm at full power any more. Shaking his head to clear it, he regarded Vegeta in puzzlement. I expect you to get much stronger in the next few decades, but why the sudden leap in ki now? Normally he would be worried about the physical stresses the abrupt increase in power might put on Vegeta, but the King was exhibiting perfect control over his new capabilities. Zarbon found himself absently thinking that the control he spend years lecturing the Heir about had finally been realized in the young King. Indeed, 'control' was a major force in Vegeta's life now: control containing his increasing ki; control holding his temper in check (well, most of the time) when dealing with the various dignitaries that populated his court; control during his private moments with his spouse, who was ever so fragile... In fact, the first evidence of Vegeta's new-found ki precision came right after his marriage, when he impaled Nappa without imperiling a non-shielded portion of the ship. Zarbon tried to bring himself back to the moment, but some small puzzle piece suddenly clicked into place. He found himself staring at Vegeta as amazement washed over him.

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Stupid idiot human...

Vegeta swung at Zarbon, a bit wildly; his aide caught the fist against his palm easily, but missed the knee that drove into his stomach. Vegeta waited while Zarbon pried himself out of the padded side of the chamber, crossly tapping a finger against a bicep while he considered the latest spat with his wife. Concerned over how pale she had been lately (which, considering how pale she was normally, was really rather alarming), all he did was suggest that perhaps the gravity was getting to her, that she might want to postpone her public debut for a while. Bulma flared up at him, snapping that she had been to dozens of tournaments on Earth, she was fine with the gravity, and if he wanted to continue to hide her from the Saiyan people he would have to do better than that. Bulma normally possessed a hair-trigger temper, but lately a strange moody element had crept into her behavior that was keeping Vegeta off-balance. He did not mind the occasional blow-up; the one over the slaves, in fact, promised to be an enjoyable contest of wills. A few days earlier, however, her resistance abruptly collapsed. Except for her usual sniping, even her righteous indignation all but evaporated. Vegeta wondered if the near constant pressure against her encasing gravity bubble had caused some sort of brain aneurysm. Not that anyone would be able to tell. Humans are more than just idiots, they're erractic idiots. I never know what she's going to do next...

Vegeta scowled. Figuring out this marriage business was hard. Or maybe figuring out Bulma was the difficult part. "Will you pay attention?" he said crossly to Zarbon, who was shaking his head as he tried to set himself again. "I could have killed you."

Zarbon looked at him with a slight frown pulling his brows together, bent his knees deeply and held one hand up, across his chest. Vegeta launched at him, but Zarbon abruptly tucked his arms in and keeled over, holding his ribs. Pulling up sharply, Vegeta looked at him in astonishment. What the...? Delayed reaction to serious injury? He hadn't hit Zarbon that hard...had he? His ki had jumped recently, but he thought he had a good grip on a power level that put him in the lower ranges of the Ginyuu Squad. The King knelt next to his aide, starting to put a hand on the other man's shoulder then, remembering their audience, pulling back. "Are you all right?" he demanded. Making strange noises, Zarbon rolled to his back. Vegeta stared in disbelief into the contorted blue features.

Zarbon was laughing. He was, in fact, close to hysterical, gasping and wheezing for breath, struggling for enough air to laugh some more.

"What the hell...?"

"Sorry," the alien gasped. "I — just had an — epiphany!"

"And it took the form of a seizure?"

Zarbon howled. "No — no — I just suddenly realized — why your control — has improved so much — since your marriage!" Then he howled some more.

I am surrounded by idiots, decided Vegeta. Alien idiots.

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I'm going to be late for the opening ceremonies, thought Miso crossly. Nira will kill me...Eh, no matter. I'll just take the shuttle, and I'll be in the capitol in no time. Pulling the cape across his shoulder pads, Miso considered going without it. The new King only wore the awkward things during formal ceremonies; during even semi-public audiences Vegeta otherwise dressed like the soldier he was. While some decried Vegeta's lack of respect for tradition, Miso approved; it was good to remind the Associate Worlds that all Saiyans, even their King, were warriors first and foremost. Then the Chieftain of the Southern Continent pulled a face. This was a formal occasion, and even the King would be fancied up. He finished fashioning the cape to the studs, taking a minute to smooth the folds across the pads, and was almost out the door when his personal comm station beeped at him. Mentally running through excuses for his tardiness that Nira might find acceptable, the Chieftain answered. For a moment, he marveled at the impudence of a third-class Squad Commander (especially this one) daring to contact a noble. Then he noticed the smooth skin, the lack of any scars, and felt his jaw slowly hang loose.

"Father," the image on the screen greeted him, the voice cool and slightly sardonic. "It's been so long, no?"

After a moment of complete shock, "Where the hell have you been!?" Miso roared, as if the boy had just missed curfew rather than disappeared on scout duty nearly three decades earlier.

"Oh, you know me. I crave excitement. There wasn't much on the homeworld. Or anywhere else in the Empire." The dark eyes gazed at him steadily, looking at him through the spiky bangs, the same way Nira did. "Although I hear things have livened up a bit since I was there."

"Where are you now? Nira just had Bardock—" Miso cut himself off, mentally cursing.

"Yes, I heard that Bardock was among those tracking me," acknowledged the warrior. "Do have Mother call him off. If we end up in the same galaxy, things are likely to get ... unpleasant."

"Careful, brat. He had his mate with him. You know she can take on anyone short of the King."

Nira's eldest paused, eyes lowering. "Of course she can," he said. "What was I thinking? I'll be careful should I meet up with her, Father."

Awkwardly, "If you want to meet with Bardock—" Miso started. "Or if you want to issue a challenge—"

"I don't." The tone was still politely sardonic, but there was a note that indicated a closed subject.

"If you're ready to return to Vejiitasei, I'm sure Vegeta would be amenable. He needs Elites of your caliber. More than usual were lost during the Battle of Succession. It's too late for this tournament, but there's bound to be another next year."

The warrior raised his eyes again. "The new Vegeta would be willing to forgive my errant scouting reports?" he asked, dryly. "Then again, I suppose he might, seeing as they led him to his new Queen. How very...odd that all is. How unexpected that the King would risk so much by taking any bride, let alone an alien one."

Miso blinked. "Risk? There's no risk. She has no ki to speak of; no fighting skills at all, in fact."

"I meant, after what happened the last time," said the warrior, a touch impatiently.

What happened last time when? wondered Miso, running the statement through ponderous thought processes. "You mean, the war?" he finally said, incredulously. "That was a long time ago. Anyway, part of the problem then was that the Queen forgot her duty and fought against the Heir. She was a formidable warrior. As I told you, the Earth woman is no fighter. Even if they have a mess of brats and Bulma favors one other than the Heir, she'll have no way of effectively interfering."

"Still, to go against so many centuries of tradition, to overset a breeding system that worked effectively..."

"Eh, the King is the King; he does what he wants," Miso shrugged. "And the House of Vejiitasei managed to breed just like the rest of us for two millennia before the war and the establishment of the royal gene bank. Having things shaken up on the homeworld itself is good, once in a while. Keeps us from getting too complacent. You know," he added, trying to steer the boy back to more important matters, "we have all been searching for you. Youkan was just speaking of you, not long ago."

"He can hardly remember our last meeting, then," dryly remarked the other man. "Of course, he was very young."

"And your mother," continued Miso, ignoring the comment, "has been desperate to find her heir."

"You may tell her I spoke to you," her son flared, his voice suddenly harsh, "but I have nothing to say to her." Miso didn't know how to respond to that, and remained silent. "Eh, never mind," the brat said after a moment, quietly. "Let her know that I'm fine, but remind her that I am not her heir."

That sounded like a dismissal. "Wait," said Miso, urgently, "where are you? Are you coming home?"

"I may come for a visit, eventually," the warrior granted, "but I have duties to my employer, and he shows no inclination toward releasing me. Saiyan mercenaries are hard to come by," he added, ironic once more, "and we are a rather valuable commodity. I promise I will not let another three decades pass before I call again. I may even communicate more often than once a moon." The dark head with its cluster of thick spikes inclined, with just the right touch of mocking respect one would expect from a dutiful son. "Good bye. Father."

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Leaning back in his chair, shrugging his cape carelessly over one shoulder, the Saiyan warrior looked up at the ceiling, brows drawn, expression contemplative. "I confess," a voice remarked after a pause, "to a twinge of disappointment."

The warrior glanced toward the milk-white figure in the hovercar, which was flanked as ever by Dodoria and Yuzun. "Eh, immediate success would have been too easy," he said. "It will take time to implant the idea that Vegeta is a traitor into my father's thick head. And if it begins to take too much time, my lord; well, my little brother may be more...amenable. He'll be able to get closer to the King and his alien consort, anyway."

"I find all these little set-backs quite invigorating," Freeza responded with his charming smile. "Baata, for instance, did not even tempt Zarbon. In fact, he managed to make the dear creature quite cross, which is not all that easy to do."

"Zarbon has his moods," murmured Yuzun, amused.

"I had hoped to entice him back to this sector of the Universe, Yuzun. But if he chooses to remain with the Saiyans...well. There is always collateral damage. And it is not as if your race is dependent on him."

"Oh, hardly. They do have me, after all."

"Zarbon does have his uses where he is," said Freeza. "He likes to talk about Vegeta. Although he never gives away information that is sensitive, it is still faster to find out what the new King is up to through him than through any of our other sources. The Saiyan ruler," he added to Nira's son, "has finally surpassed you, warrior. So it seems he will be the strongest of your race in the last three millennia, after all."

The Saiyan cocked an eyebrow but did not respond.

"I never quite understood," continued Freeza after a pause, "how it was that you became so strong. You were very near death when my scouts brought you to me, my friend, with a ki that barely registered; we certainly did not expect such an impressive power level when you finally emerged from the tank. It was what made me keep an eye on the little Saiyan prince as he grew. Especially when he also began to have unexplained leaps in his fighting power."

When it seemed Freeza required a response, "It must have been something I ate," murmured the warrior.

After a moment, Freeza's dark mouth curved. "Keep your secrets, then. They do not concern me, as long as they do not interfere with my own plans. Indeed, a high-placed ally in Vejiitasei would be useful in my attempts to negotiate an alliance with the Saiyans. Although we still have to deal with that annoying little King, and he is proving to be as intractable as his late father." Freeza nodded politely at the Saiyan. "I wish you luck in your endeavors to claim the House of Misei for yourself."

There was a subtle smile from the warrior at that. He stood and bowed as Freeza and his aides left the room. Yuzun turned his head at the doorway, brows slightly raised, but the Saiyan shook his head and Yuzun shrugged gracefully and continued on his way. Alone, the man turned his thoughtful gaze back to the ceiling. There is greater resentment of Vegeta's dependence on aliens than you realize, Lord Freeza. I may be able to grasp far more than just the House of Misei before this is over.

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Bardock found his seat in the ancient arena, chasing away two young Palace Guards who evidently thought any places unclaimed half-an-hour before the tournament's start were up for grabs. One of them started to challenge Bardock for the spots, but the other flicked a glance at him, evidently warning the young man as to whose spouse he was about to fight. The Guard went puffy and defiant, but finally tramped away, muttering about low-level off-worlders who didn't know their place. Grinning—being mated to the second most powerful person on the planet had its advantages—Bardock settled on the stone bench, arms crossed and head lowered, contemptuously ignoring the pre-tournament entertainment that had those around him roaring raucously. Saiyans, he often thought, were far too easily entertained.

After a moment he turned his head a fraction, sliding his eyes just enough to gaze into the royal box at the arena's north end. It was currently empty of dignitaries, although the first two of several Elites had arrived to take up stations at the entrance. Bardock narrowed his eyes slightly; Nappa's son Chishan, and a gray-hued Northern warrior whose name escaped him. The next Captain—the old one had died with the King—would likely be among those in the Royal Box today. Attending the King on such a public occasion was an honor. More than an honor when one considered the Earth woman. The Queen had been present at the tournament's previous bouts, and was supposed to show up for the tournament finals on this day. The King was very particular about who had close access to her. As he and Riiki had quickly discovered...

The shadowy box held strong memories for Bardock. The first time he ever laid eyes on Riiki, she had been standing there just behind the King, scowling equally at everything around her. She was young for the Captain's position, not much more than forty, but it was a post she had held for more than five years. Her ki and fighting skills more than entitled her to the position, and the King had not hesitated in offering it to her. Bardock thought her attractive, in that very muscular, half-wild way females who carried the taint had about them. He promptly forgot about her.

He had been sent here by his chieftain after a nagging, low-grade injury landed him for a longer period of time than usual on his native planet. Time in the regeneration tanks was expensive, reserved for the seriously injured, the high-born and the high-ranked. Bardock was none of these. It was cheaper to furlough him for a while. Reporting to his chieftain, he had promptly been sent back to the capitol as a companion-slash-guard for Nira, the chieftain's young daughter who had decided to challenge for one of the Elite positions. Nira had gone from her father's territory, where other members of her tribe threw themselves on their faces whenever she entered a room, to the capitol, where the lesser offspring of minor chieftains were common and even the shopkeepers snorted in derision at the thought she had any special standing. She had been badly rattled by her experiences leading up to the tournament, and her father was concerned she would disgrace the line by getting killed. Since he was stationed there, Bardock knew the capitol well; since he was a tribal member, he knew to accord the daughter of his chieftain the honors she had been raised to expect. So it was perhaps not surprising that Nira demanded a great deal of his time before the tournament and, after she was awarded a spot in the King's Guards, demanded that he finish his leave in the capitol rather than return to the Eastern Continent to see what other chores his chieftain might have for him.

Shortly after Nira formerly swore her oath to the King, Riiki invited her and the other new recruits on a hunting trip. Nira insisted he come along as well. It was more of an endurance trial than a hunt, Bardock remembered. The Captain was testing her new Guards and, since he was in Nira's service and occasionally got caught up in some of the trials, Bardock ended up being tested a bit himself. It was during that trip that Riiki invited him into her chamber the first time. Astonished, and reminding himself he knew better than to have anything to do with one of those semi-feral, moody creatures however high her rank, Bardock stammered out a graceless refusal and fled. He spent most of the night in a nearby lake, sitting under a running waterfall as he first wondered why the hell he hadn't said 'yes' — recent events aside, sex was a rare occurrence for warriors of his class and he was an idiot to turn down what was freely offered — before beginning to calculate the number of ways the Captain could utilize him for ki sphere target practice.

Riiki, however, treated him no differently the next day, or the next week, or after their return to the capitol. And, right when he was beginning to think he imagined the entire episode, she propositioned him again.

This time Bardock said 'yes.'

Then, not long before Bardock was scheduled to rejoin his squad, word came that the battle of succession between his chieftain and his chieftain's heir had gone awry, that both had been killed in the conflict. Nira was suddenly gone to assume her unexpected duties, Bardock stayed behind to prepare for his return to his squad, and Riiki remained...available.

He well remembered when he realized it. He supposed those Saiyans who bonded, even those like his father who seemed to do it several times, never forgot the moment when the mental barriers went down. The knowledge that he was soon to go off planet again put him in an unusual, reflective mood. He began to spend more time with Riiki, tagging after her during her off hours, coaxing her to go with him to some of the more interesting Halls, even staying to sleep in her chambers some evenings, although he usually found himself awake, watching her sleep. One night, feeling strangely tender, he wrapped himself around her as she dozed, his tail across her hip, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. And, for the first time, the unconscious barricades in his mind...cracked.

He was so startled he bit her, rather hard. Riiki jerked awake, backhanding him off the bed and into the wall. "What the hell's the matter with you, you in rut or something?" she yowled, sitting up and rubbing her wounded shoulder. "Dammit, you can go sleep in the barracks like the rest of the peasants! Bastard."

Bardock stared, his mind completely open before her, feeling a kind of primal terror and hope that he had no immediate word for. She scowled back, then suddenly color washed across her torso and face, and Riiki turned her gaze away. "Eh, you caught on," she grumbled after a moment, looking embarrassed and relieved all at once. "Took you long enough. You should have realized it when I let you drag me through all those boring Halls, though. Who friggin' cares what people were flying around in a millennium or two ago?"

Totally awed, Bardock crawled back into bed and rested against her, barely feeling new injuries that would likely keep him planetside a week or two longer. "What do we do now?" he wondered after a moment.

"Nothing. Who needs to know?" asked Riiki, rhetorically. "It's not anyone's business."

It was not long after that that Bardock discovered his choices were not so simple, that simply deciding that he would take a mate could not undo that which had been previously done. But, despite moments of strong temptation when he realized he could have a position that he was not born to and a rank that his power did not entitled him to, he resisted and stood with Riiki. He did not regret that decision, nor the near-constant exile that eventually came of it.

"You look a few light years away," remarked a rough voice. Bardock jerked back to the present. Riiki stood over him, scowling, her broad shoulders blocking out the hazy stream of light from the binary stars.

"Just amazed our brat got this far," replied Bardock with long-practiced aplomb. "He's barely an Elite, after all, and he had to defeat stronger warriors. All that off-world training must have been good for something, eh?"

She glared at him a moment longer, then the side of her mouth tugged up. You are such a liar, she thought to him. But she sat down and folded one of her big hands over his thigh, scowling at everyone equally around them, the way she always did. Her gaze caught the Royal Box, as his had earlier, and the scowl coalesced into a full-fledged glare. "It will be good to have one of my line in the King's Guard again," the former Captain said. Apropos of nothing, she asked, "Will the Queen be here, do you think? I heard she looked a bit pale after yesterday's tourney, although I suppose it's hard to tell with her."

Bardock glanced at her sideways, faintly alarmed. Rumor had it the new Queen knew their other son on Chikyuu, even that she was a close friend of Kakarott's much-wondered-about Earth family. They had sued for a meeting with her, but Riiki's blacklisted position made it nearly impossible for her to get into the Palace's public rooms, let alone meet with a member of the royal family. Radditz had not been interested in helping his parents out in the least, although the brat did come through with prime seats for his final bout, so it wouldn't do to be too angry at him... "Riiki, don't do anything that will get us both permanently exiled."

She widened her eyes innocently which, since 'innocent' had never been a word that applied to Riiki, resulted in a rather frightening expression. Bardock, mentally sighing, reminded himself that he liked being off-world.

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It was really not a question of what to wear, thought Bulma as she pressed the buttons that rotated the massive quantities of formal wear through her closet. It was more a question of what would be comfortable to wear. She brought so many sequined gowns with her that her father became concerned about weight limitations for the space craft. It was not only that she wanted to make darned sure no one forgot her origin — no chance of that, Bulma admitted wryly, since Saiyans looked far more alike than she realized from the half-dozen or so she met before coming to Vejiitasei — but that one of her childhood dreams had been to be a Princess, and dressing like an Earth Princess seemed like it might be fun. She never knew how heavy those sparkly gowns she admired were, especially after being worn for nearly ten hours straight. She was going to have to think of some way to make the gravity harness controls subtle enough to compensate for forty pounds of beading.

She finally settled on one that was fairly short, a straight white sheath with sparkly shreds at her arms that her father's cats would have loved to play with. The next step was picking out one of the two dozen tiaras to top the outfit off with. Bulma turned one of the diadems over in her hands, watching the rhinestones catch the light. This was part of her childhood fantasy, too, she remembered; wearing crowns after marrying Prince Charming. Her mouth quirked. One out of two wasn't bad...

Despite the tension and nervousness she experienced leading up to the event, so far Bulma found her public debut to one of the more boring things she had done since her arrival on Vejiitasei. There were no formal duties. She put on one of her sequin dresses with a matching harness and picked out one of the nifty tiaras. Vegeta remarked that the things made her look like Zarbon, to which she retorted that monster stone he wore in public made him look like the King of Disco. He scowled at her, determined not to ask what 'Disco' was, but clearly understanding he had just been direly insulted.

They made a grand entrance into the royal box, with Bulma smiling brightly and giving little waves the way royalty on Earth did while the crowd stood up and roared their allegiance to her husband. Then the fighting began, and everyone lost interest in whatever was going on in the royal box which, while it was big and roomy, was almost too high up for her to see much more than blobs moving around on the field. She hadn't thought to bring field glasses — heck, she hadn't thought to pack field glasses. Vegeta's Saiyan eyes had no difficulty with the distance. He spent a lot of time muttering about how pathetic the current crop of Elites were and how fortunate it was he could protect himself, dammit, because this group of motherless losers wouldn't be able to defend itself against Earth kindergartners. Bulma considered pointing out the only Earth kindergartner Vegeta had actually met was Gohan, and Gohan put up a more-than-decent-fight against the King, but held her peace. One public brawl a month was her quota. So she sighed and grumbled and wished she had brought a book to read.

The highlight for Bulma came at the beginning of the second day. She managed to embarrass Radditz almost to death by waving madly at him at the start of his first match and calling down that her mother said 'hi.' Vegeta put a gloved hand over his eyes and muttered that he had married the most vulgar creature in the entire Universe, while Radditz went beet red and finished off a stronger opponent in record time, practically running off the field of battle amidst hoots of derision from the Saiyan spectators.

There had been one lowlight as well, a very, very bad moment in the second round when the world suddenly started spinning and she had clutched her husband's arm, afraid she was going to do something really vulgar in public. "What's your problem?" demanded the King in that especially-angry tone he used when she had the nerve to make him concerned about her. "That diadem thing on too tight? You're greener than Zarbon's hair."

Bulma gulped in air and closed her eyes, and to her relief Vejiitasei's orbit returned to normal. "Must have been whatever that thing was I had for lunch. The one that kept looking at me. I really have to stop eating things with eyes, especially lots of eyes."

"Hmph. You don't eat enough as it is."

Actually, that was not true. Vegeta commented just a few nights earlier that she was finally beginning to eat like a Saiyan, a statement that made her lose her appetite on the spot. She folded one hand across her tummy and glanced surreptitiously at the square-faced contraption fastened to her wrist. It told her lots of useful things; the status of the gravity harness as it compensated for local fluctuations, Vegeta's schedule, the time of her own meeting later that evening with her remaining engineers; but there was no indication the message she really wanted from Earth had come in yet. Sighing, she squinted back into the depths of the arena, listening to the roar that told her something interesting had just happened, then hearing her husband remark that the final bout of the day had been even more lackluster than the others.

I have to design a big screen for the stadium, Bulma decided, so next time I can see what the heck is going on. Mom's going to want a blow-by-blow of Radditz's final, and the most I'm going to be able to say is 'it sounded like he got in a couple of solid punches.' Then she set the diadem down, grinning ruefully. The damn things did pinch after a few hours. Today the Saiyans were just going to have to settle for seeing their queen in long, dangly earrings. Sparkly ones.