Because I'm too attached to my ideas to give them up, even if they suck and are horribly unoriginal.

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For Want

a rewrite of _Nakaruru_ by Dot

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Prelude: Marks of Royalty

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        Of all the things that worried King Vegita, two were constantly on his mind.  One, the Saiyajins had been in a state of war with the Haimien-jin for nearly five years now, but a clear-cut victory was nowhere in sight.  The treasury was steadily draining, as well as manpower and supplies.  If the army didn't make a decisive move soon, it would only be a matter of time before the Saiyajin wore themselves out.



        The second problem was a little bit more difficult to resolve: his only child.  There was absolutely nothing wrong with her except for the fact that she was female.  Even though the Princess--who would not be named until the official ceremony 6 months from now--was as competitive, fierce, and skilled as other high-classed children her age (and perhaps even more so), it would be completely unacceptable for a female to assume the throne of the Saiyajins.  Females weren't worth the honor, glory, history, and prestige associated with the name "Vegita".



        If only he had a son and not a daughter! But he could no more change her sex than he could make Vegitasei change its spin.  Had he known that his mate carried a mere girl, he probably would have made some sort of 'accident' happen to her--the laws which had been passed down for generations prohibited him from actively terminating an innocent life.  But his mate had died giving birth to his daughter, and he was loathe to see more death, even though the baby was female.  And now, because of his weakness, the throne would probably go to one of the other royal families--whichever one his daughter would be mated into.  Unless...



        Unless he could find himself another 'son'.



***



        The capitol of the Great Saiyajin Empire, like the Empire itself, was a study in paradox.  Nowhere did lavish extravagance existed side by side with sombre austerity so strikingly than here, where the slums of the poorest dredges of society wandered streets that were a mere pebble toss from the King's palace.  Naturally, the King considered his "neighbors" an eyesore, but most of the time he was too busy worrying about other things to do much about them.  Besides, if anybody was sick of living in that horrid dump, there were a few options.



	The first was death.  This, naturally, was viewed as the way of the coward.  The Saiyajin clung to life with a tenacious ferocity that was only rivaled by their love of battle.  And desipte having very little means of income, nearly nonexistent hygene, or any sort of civilized social behavior, it was possible to survive in the mean streets.



	The second was slavery.  This was the route taken by those on the border between a simple case of hard times and true proverty, since there was always a market for cheap, dependable labor.  A variety of men, women, and children sold themselves as servants and maids.  The truely desperate further risked themselves by entering into prostitution, which was legal only for the King's men (not, thankfully, the King's horses).



	The third was to become a soldier in the King's army.  In truth, it wasn't that much better than the first two options, since at any moment one was subject to both humiliating treatment and life-threatening situations.  The pay, however, was enough to support oneself, along with a small family if they stretched a bit.  And, of course, there were the _perks_...



	And then, for one day only, there was a fourth option.  The soldiers, who until now had only gone out of the dumps, returned briefly, removing every young boy they could lay their hands on.  Some went quietly; some did not.  Some had to be dragged, while others were chased down.  Some fought back, with variable success.  But even the entire city's worth of children could not stand up to the might of professionally trained solders, much less a handful of orphans who nobody cared about.



***



	With one glance into the filthy bunch and Vegita had already categorized the large majority to be unsuitable.  There were the weak ones, both those whose scrawny bodies would soon be crushed beneath the chaos that he was about to set in motion and those whose feeble minds were already overwhelmed by their sudden transplantation.  And then there were the wild ones, whose ferocity would help them through the fight alive, but whose utter lack of focus and discipline made them unsuitable.



	All too soon, the chaos had ended, and a handful of brats covered in their own blood and the blood of their fellow scum emerged from the pile of bodies.  An aide took notes on the survivors, speculating on what rank they could achieve if they were placed into the military, occasionally showing it to Vegita for his approval.



	The arena was cleared, and the next group was shoved in like the chaff they were.



	Vegita sighed and downed the rest of his drink.  It was, as he more or less suspected, a complete waste of his time.  But if he wanted things done without the wrong people asking too many questions, this was the only recourse.



	Vegita scowled.  He should have been able to declare anyone his legal heir, and no one could so much as make a single peep.  And yet, here he was, as one group of riffraff after another paraded in front of him.



	Another slave refilled his cup, just as a new bunch filed in.



	Vegita played with his wineglass idly.  Maybe this time, he would get a show worth his attention.





***



	Breathe in.  Breathe out.



	Leg wobbled.  Steady.



	Blink.



	Red.



	Blood...?



	Clapping, slow and sharp.



	"Bow in the presence of the King!"



	Pressing downwards.



	Don't touch me!



	Eyes met.



	Fear.  Fear.  Fear.



	Don't look away.



	"Very good.  Very good indeed.  A little proper instruction, and you would make a halfway decent son."



	Breathe.  Breathe.



	_Breathe_.



***



        "You don't seem angry."



	"Why should I be?" Nakaruru shrugged, then winced as the hairbrush caught in a particularly nasty tangle.  "Why should I care that because I'm a girl, I have to be engaged to some stupid Prince?"



	A light sigh.  "You _are_ mad at him..."



	"What, you expect me to be _happy_ about this, then? Ow!" Nakaruru pulled away, holding her head.  "Forget it! Go away! I'll brush my own hair!"



	"Very well, then."



	Nakaruru grabbed the brush, and began yanking it through her unruly mane, hating every strand of it.





***



	Walls.  Walls.  More walls.



	"Please, stop, Highness!"



	Hands grabbing, reaching.  Feet running.



	Have to get away.



	Have to get away!



	Door opened.



	"What's all this ruckus?"



	Her.



***



	"Oh, _you_." Nakaruru sneered at the creature before her, her conclusions once again confirmed now that she got a good look at the supposed future lord and master of Vegitasei.  "I thought my father had better taste than to pick something like _you_, but..." She frowned at the crowd gathered in the hallway.  "And you! What's the big idea, running around shouting like the palace is about to burn down?"



	A resounding chorus of thuds echoed as they kneeled as protocol demanded.  The Princes' intended, even if she were a woman, would still rank higher than all of them combined.  "The fault is ours, Lady.  We did not mean to disturb you."



	Nakaruru scowled deeper.  "What did you mean to do, then? Wake the dead?"



	The one in the front bowed until his forehead touched the ground.  "I beseech you to be merciful, Lady!"



	"Whatever." Nakaruru waved carelessly.  "Get out of my sight, before I decide to change my mind."



	"But, His Highness--"



	"His Highness may do whatever he wishes, does he not?" Nakaruru glared at the upstart who dared to question her.  She punched at the wall, designed both to hold under the fists of the stoutest of Saiyajins and yet ring loud enough to drive the point home, and was pleased to see several jump.  "Now, scram." She took a single step forward.  "Don't make me say it again."



***



	Eyes met.



	Look back.



	"Now, then, little Prince...what in the world am I supposed to do with you?"



	Stay.  Don't move.



	Her lip curled.  "Pathetic.  Absolutely pathetic."



	Stand.  "Wait!"



	She turned back.  "Oh, so you _can_ talk." She bowed.  "So, then, what does His Highness want?"



	"Out.  I want out."



	Eyebrow raised.  "There's somewhere you'd rather be than enjoying the royal life?"



	Nod.  "Home."



	She shook her head.  "You still don't get it, do you? _This_ is your home now." She faced the other way once again.  "Even Princes have to obey _some_ rules."



	And then she was gone.



***



	Aspa paused briefly, waiting for her daughter to eagerly question him on what happened next, as she always did.  The story of her namesake was Nakaruru's favorite, and she demanded it to be read to her every night, and despite being able to recite it forwards and backwards from memory, she responded with the same excitment and anticipation as if hearing it for the first time.



	He was rather surprised, therefore, to find Nakaruru curled up against her mother and sleeping quite soundly.



	"I didn't think she was this tired..." he murmured, setting the book down.



	Ruby smiled sadly.  "It's been a long day for her."



	"As it was for all of us." He ran his hand through Nakaruru's dark, wild spikes, the undeniable stamp of Saiyajin heritage.  He wondered if one day she would come to be ashamed of it.  There certainly was no pride in it, now.  "I'm sure she understood what was going on at some level."



	"Does she?" Ruby sighed.  "Even _I_ can't stop myself from having second thoughts.  What if--"



	Aspa shook his head.  "We've always had suspicions.  _Always_.  Bardock merely confirmed them."



	Ruby looked at the clock on the wall as it mercilessly ticked off increasing moments from their life.  "So, tomorrow..."



	Gently cradling Nakaruru in his arms, Aspa rose to his feet.  "Come, Ruby.  The launch window has opened."



	Ruby, however, remained seated.  "You go.  I...I don't think I have the strength to say goodbye."



	"You're not changing your mind, then."



	"I'm just as much a member of the Royal Guard as you are, Aspa.  I cannot abandon my King, or my people, in a time like this." Ruby forced a smile.  "Besides, she's been overdue for a Sending already because I didn't want to part with her."



	Aspa contemplated the child in his arms.  His heart ached at the thought of never seeing her again, but he was not so selfish as to ask her to die with him.  No, he loved her far too much for that.  One way or another, Nakaruru would live, even as all of Vegitasei perished.



	He steeled himself and walked towards the door.

---

Long and Tiresome Authoress' Notes:

This is the new version of _Marks of Royalty_ (http://www.dotchan.com/dball/nakpre.html), rewritten to reflect changes in Nakaruru's backstory.

The story of Princess Nakaruru has now been downgraded to a mere legend whose historical accuracy is highly questionable, and Nakaruru's parents are now properly aligned with their King, instead of being "foolishly" against him.  (Although I suppose it's slightly more accurate to say that it was King Vegita's position that has changed.)



I'm also contemptlating one more scene where Nakaruru gets picked up by some Characters of Shady Motive (tm), but I'm not sure if it's entirely "necessary".



And yes, I'm quite aware of the parallels to a certain Kryptonian.  They're intentional.

---


-"Dot"

http://dotchan.com/



The only difference between a madman and myself is...I'm just plain crazy! ;p

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