A/N: First Dragonball fic, multi-chapter… Pretty AU and Dark!Vegeta for sure… There's going to be a lot of fill-in-the-blanks. Needless to say, at the beginning of this fic, Vegeta and Bulma have met before, and that portion will be told in flashbacks. Also, Vegeta-sei is very much intact. So anyway, here you go! Make sure to review if you liked it. Or if you didn't.

The blood of the Legendary Warrior must be fulfilled. From a young age, Prince Vegeta's objective remained unchanged. First, it was whispered down the halls of his father's palace, whispers of awe and promise. Largest power level at birth in recorded history, they would say. The king had tried to mask this from Lord Frieza, who had eyed the young prince with a little more than interest. The blood of the Legend was carried through the royal line, and the youngest Vegeta would be the sure fulfillment of it…save that he stayed alive and free.

But the youngest Vegeta never wanted for intelligence, and he quickly realized that these quiet voices that spoke of his potential spoke of a far darker threat. And his destiny needed to come all the more urgently as he saw Frieza sit upon his father's throne, spit upon his Saiyan heritage as a heritage of monkeys, and flex the tiniest finger to the tune of an enormously powerful flare of ki. He was dangerous, not only to Vegeta personally, but to his people. Frieza needed to be eliminated.

The prince trained himself to unconsciousness, he devoted himself to it, he destroyed even the most powerful Saiyan warriors without failure…and it was never enough. Never enough.

Had he wanted to kill his father and assume his place as King of All Saiyans, he would have done so years ago. As it was, the prince had no time for it. His objective remained unchanged, and he sought personal power over the power of the monarchy. There were times when Vegeta quite thought that his father wanted him to commit patricide and take the throne…but he would never give the old man the satisfaction.

"You can train here, become stronger here," his father had growled.

"There is nothing for me," Vegeta sneered. "Our warriors are not good enough to overthrow the Cold Empire, not good enough to bring me my dream. They are good-for-nothing as they are and I will not rule them until I achieve the call of the Legendary Warrior and can lead our race to eternal freedom."

"You dare to speak so foully of your own people, you heedless boy?" his father had roared. But the prince remained unmoved, staring down his father with slight distaste.

"If you can suffer Freiza's language for the Saiyan people, you can suffer mine, old man." He did not bow before his father. Owning his arrogance, Vegeta left the royal presence and searched from world to world for the answer—for strength, for the key to unlocking the Legendary Warrior. Because the prince felt it within him. He felt the supposed "myth" of the Super Saiyan living in his very soul. And he would show the world and rip Lord Freiza to shreds in the process.

So, over years of travelling, his objective remained unchanged… but how he reached it was constantly changing.

"My prince," Nappa announced himself from the doorway as Vegeta watched the window and the world just in sight. "We are close. Where will we make landing?"

"Capsule Corp. You will stay in the ship." There was a minute, barely detectable hesitation in the prince's voice…but it was also sure. As sure as he heard Nappa snarl behind him. But despite his absolute loathing of the destination, his second would not breath a word of disobedience. And when Nappa disappeared to follow through with his orders, Vegeta smiled at the mudball planet below.

Kakarot's son's battle power was unusually high compared to that of Saiyan children. Apparently, when our blood is mixed with an earthling's, it results in a hybrid with mighty power.

And how powerful was that?

VBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVB

The foolish woman hadn't changed, Vegeta noted. Mulling around her lab obliviously with so little awareness that if an intruder broke through her so-called "state of the art" alarm system, he could probably slaughter all of her little tech assistants without her looking up from the microscope she was bent over right now. Speaking of bent over…he looked appreciatively over her form and had to admit that the years had been kind. And it was likely those eyes burning into her back that finally prompted her recognition. She slowly straightened, and then with reflexes that were still pathetic (but again, he had to admit, surprisingly alacritous for an untrained human), he found himself staring down the business end of a ki gun. And that made him chuckle.

Her jaw dropped, the gun tipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor. "Vegeta," she exhaled. It wasn't a question.

"Woman."

Of course, he felt no need to expound upon his presence there. He stood there, arms crossed, watching her watch him and her brain finally caught up with the situation.

"You jerk! What are you doing here now anyway?! Leave, go back to your stupid planet or wherever you've been drifting for five years or I'll make you sorry!" She ripped her measly weapon off the floor and leveled it at him again.

"Ms. Briefs…" one of the other humans timidly broke in to their standoff, "should someone call security?"

Only belatedly did either of them realize (and Vegeta, of course, didn't care) how the scene had unfolded before a bunch of people that wouldn't know any better and Bulma's eyes darted away from the Saiyan to her very startled lab technicians, clearly thinking about how ineffective security would be against this particular intruder.

"Take lunch, all of you," she said, and Vegeta recognized the woman's ludicrous but effective 'don't mess with me' tone. He couldn't suppress a smirk as her little underlings scattered away despite their apparent concern for the woman's well-being, leaving them very much alone. Her chest was heaving with newborn adrenaline, her blood pumping to her cheeks, and ki gun trained on him with a purpose, she looked very alluring—wrapped up in shades of blue, pristine lab coat, porcelain skin…always, for a second, he imagined the beauty of her blood decorating that lovely outer shell. But he stayed his hands and smirked at her threat, infuriating her further.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vegeta?" she demanded. "Last I checked, you didn't think this planet or anyone in it was worth so much as a 'good-bye'. And if it did, you're about five years too late!"

"Are you going to use that toy, woman? Or are you going to lecture me to death?" Vegeta rolled his eyes at her.

"You sneak out in the middle of the night—"

"I didn't sneak out," Vegeta snarled, outraged by the implication of cowardice. Saiyans were no cowards. "I happened to leave. After your moon rose."

Bulma scoffed, tossing her ki gun on to the desk at her side. It's not like she was going to use it. "After we slept together and you waited until I fell asleep, Vegeta. You snuck out!"

"Call it whatever you want, woman," Vegeta snapped impatiently. "I didn't come here for this!"

"Then what did you come for?" Bulma gave him that haughty look that so often had given him the urge to wrap his hands around that beautiful throat and never stop squeezing. "Besides to waste my time."

He stopped briefly and wondered if he should be honest with her. She was very close to Kakarot, her best friend…a point that she brought up a few times whenever he felt particularly murderous towards her, not that Kakarot would have been able to save her had Vegeta had any real intent to end the little female. But she was also a researcher, a scientist who had shown a deep interest in the biological Saiyan makeup—one of the main reasons he had tolerated her alarming lack of respect at times.

He decided to appeal to her interest as a scientist. Perhaps she could even help him.

"Kakarot's brat."

The woman blinked and little space between her brows crinkled in confusion. "Gohan?"

That blow he dealt Raditz… Surprising it had taken Vegeta this long to realize the possible significance.

"What would you want with him?" To her knowledge, Vegeta had never displayed any interest in Gohan beyond a desire to kill him along with the rest of their planet. And it had been years since he had last been here or had contact with anybody. She would know, as she was the only one with the technology that would have allowed such contact, unless there was some freaky Saiyan mind-read thing that could go across huge distances that she didn't know about.

Vegeta frowned at her mouth, slightly slackened in thought. "You know my goals, woman."

Bulma stared at him, then sighed, sitting back at her desk chair with no more threats of violence to his person for the time being. Her mood swings were both strange and annoying. "Of course…the whole…Super Saiyan thing."

He scowled. Always with the disrespect. "That thing, as you call it, is the only reason you or anyone else on this mudball is still breathing."

"I'm sure," she said, unfazed by his temper. "You told me often enough the last time you were here. Of course, what was the saying? 'The Saiyan doth protest too much'?"

"What?! Stop babbling." He had forgotten how insufferable she was beneath the good looks with her nonsensical talk. Even worse that she had the gall to wink at him! "That brat, Gohan… I think there may be something to his half-breed status."

There was no limit to the nastiness that Vegeta had shelled out on Gohan being half-human before…but this time, his voice was speculative, thoughtful. He was looking at her expectantly, then his frown deepened. "What's wrong with you, woman?"

He smelled the fear on her. Her heartbeat had slowed as they had begun to converse civilly, but now it had picked up again. And the color on her face had drained. She smiled, but he could see the lie in her eyes. He wasn't sure where this behavior was coming from, but his curiosity was piqued.

"I don't plan on hurting the brat," Vegeta said, though he had no direct intention of assuaging any doubt in the woman's mind. He smiled, showing all of his teeth as she continued to pale. "Much."

"You're going to bully a little kid?" Bulma shook her head, eyes glancing off to the side. "How honorable of you."

"I said I don't plan on hurting him much," Vegeta returned dismissively. "It's only that in my travels, I've noticed something."

"What?"

"Well…the genetics of certain half-breed Saiyans." He was loath to admit this, the pride in his heritage, for all the pain he gave his father, was still strong within him. "They may make for an unusually potent ki that is not present in full-blooded Saiyans. Or perhaps there is something else that makes them strong. Whatever it is, I plan to find out."

"Oh…" Her small, weak hand was gripping the side of the table next to her with enough force to whiten her knuckles. Something was definitely wrong with the woman. He sniffed condescendingly. Was she not going to ask him another million questions? What was this behavior? He watched her carefully, unsure about this…tensed for any attack she might unleash on him. He wasn't a fool and he had learned never to underestimate her. She tilted her head to one side with a nervous energy. "Well, shouldn't you get to it, then?"

He paused uncertainly for a moment. Was she sending him away without question? No insisting that she involve herself? No scientific babble and shining eyes? No warnings against murdering Kakarot? Had something changed since he had last been here? He didn't dare ask lest she get the mistaken idea that he cared.

"Fine, female!" he hissed. "Just tell me whether Kakarot still lives in that hovel out in the woods and I'll—"

"MAMA!"

He hadn't noticed the little monitor sitting on the desk next to her, or her hand creeping towards it. Nor had he noticed the burning flame of ki that was clearly coming from upstairs. Bulma's hand flinched back from the crackling object as a child's voice repeated its demand. He squinted at her, realizing the pained, horrified look on her face. And again, he realized that the ki in this house was too strong for a mere human.

"What do you have hidden in this house, woman?" he questioned slowly, the wheels turning in his mind in a direction that was spreading numbing cold to his every limb. She couldn't have…

"MAMA!"

Now he was gone, the speed of him rustling her hair as she finally took a breath. "Damnit, Vegeta…no!" she protested uselessly, before getting up and running after him, her mother's instinct sounding every alarm in her body.

The ki signature wasn't hard to locate, in a colorful, atrocious bedroom. It had purple hair and it was small and frowning. Vegeta frowned right back as he strode towards the child's bed, heart pounding fiercely in his chest.

"Who are you?" the child, a boy, demanded. "Where's my mama?"

The brat continued to scowl as Vegeta lifted him up by one leg and hung him upside down. Most children would be shrieking in alarm if a stranger walked into their room and handled them in such a way, but this boy seemed more irritated than anything. Fearless.

There was no tail.

"No!" the child said and one of his feet struck out with a speed that had Vegeta ducking, a speed that wouldn't have been possible from an untrained, human child. Vegeta dropped the little boy unceremoniously and the child floated in the air to right himself, before drifting to the ground.

"MAMA!" he yelled angrily. "Where is my mama?" He was looking at Vegeta as if he expected some sort of response. Vegeta, however, was staring at the kid before him in disbelief.

It was his own face, painted in pastel hues, the woman's colors.

"Trunks!" He hadn't registered the woman pounding like an elephant up three flights of stairs, but now she was panting desperately against the door. And the child took his eyes off of the stranger to look at the woman, Bulma.

"Mama, who's he?"

He had already known, but the confirmation that Bulma was the boy's mother had him turning to glare at her so hard the walls around her may have started melting. If she could have breathed, her mouth would have been gaping open like a fish. This had just been a normal day! And somehow, her life was coming down around her in mere minutes, dread had spread to every inch of her. She didn't know what to say.

Trunks, clad in dinosaur pajamas, walked up to his near-catatonic mother and took her dangling hand, jostling her gently though she wasn't looking at him. "Who's he?" he asked again.

Outraged, Vegeta looked down at the boy. "I'm your father!"

"Vegeta!" Bulma snarled, the announcement knocking her out of her state. "Don't!"

The little boy glared at the man in confusion. "I don't have a papa, though. Mine left."

"Well, then couldn't I be him?" Vegeta argued, crossing his arms. That left the four-year old speechless with doubt, so Vegeta slowly raised his eyes to the trembling woman before him.

"You," he drawled, "have some explaining to do."

He was angry. He could barely reason to himself why that was, but it didn't matter. The brat was obviously his, unless Kakarot had abandoned his intolerable harpy. And that thought really made his blood boil. But he knew the boy was his, he could see it in the bearing. That royal blood pumping through his veins and the scowl etched into his expression as he continued to swing his mother's hand back and forth, looking to her for answers.

"We aren't doing this here," Bulma said, gesturing to the child. She swallowed hard and he watched her throat move, suppressing the urge to wrap his hand around it and snap her slender neck. "I will speak with you down the hall."

She bent down to Trunks level. "I'm going to talk to this man for a minute and then I'm going to come right back and talk to you. Can you wait for me to come back?"

"Mama, is this guy my papa?" He crossed his arms. "Gohan said my papa was a Saiyan and that's why I was like him and I was so strong and fast."

"Woman," Vegeta grunted, growing restless. He didn't have the time or the interest to watch this conversation. She clearly was getting ready to coddle their brat, but whether it was going to be with truth or lies, he couldn't be sure. But he wasn't going to stand there and wait to hear it.

"I know!" Bulma rounded on him, eyes fierce. "Hold on a minute, he doesn't understand!"

"I'll make him understand if you don't hasten yourself right now," Vegeta said dangerously. And Bulma knew that he wasn't joking. Gentility wasn't his strong suit and he probably didn't see the point in any of this. Bulma turned back to Trunks and enfolded him in her arms.

"Trunks, baby, I'm going to explain everything about your papa once I talk to him, okay? Just give me a minute."

Trunks broke from her arms and eyed the prince suspiciously with his mother's bright eyes. "You won't hurt my mama, will you? Because I will hurt you back if you do."

Well, if Vegeta had been in any other frame of mind, he would have smirked at the boy for being so Saiyan… as it was, he couldn't pretend that he wasn't thinking of throwing the boy's mother off the roof the first chance he got for such betrayal. And if Bulma's face was anything to go by, she was thinking the same thing. She grabbed Vegeta's arm and ignored his growl before pulling him out of the room.

"I'll be fine, baby. Everything's fine," she called back to the brat.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Vegeta murmured. "Isn't that what you used to say?"

He felt her puny ki flare in anger, but she kept her peace until she had brought him to her own room and he had ripped his arm out of her grasp.

"What exactly did you expect me to do?" she raged. "I didn't hide this from you! You weren't around to hide it from, so you can just knock off the death threats, buddy!"

"You were certainly in no hurry to tell me when I got here," Vegeta said evenly. He was keeping his rage under a lid. "In fact, you were about to send me off to Kakarot and his brat without a word, weren't you? When my own hybrid Saiyan son was sitting just floors above."

"Trunks is not your science experiment," the woman cut across him, her cheeks red with anger. "I won't have you treating him like one, or beating him up for—!" Her words cut off as she was suddenly pinned to the wall, Vegeta's hand to her throat, not squeezing but unbreakable. He dipped his head to her ear, his lips fanning his hot breath onto her skin, making her flinch and rising an attraction she had completely forgotten about.

"And here I thought I could trust you," he whispered, and she felt his lips lay a kiss on her ear lobe that sparked. "I thought I could tell you my desires and you would help me. But I was mistaken." Worryingly, his hand began to tighten on her neck and her heartrate picked up. He felt the brat's ki spark in alarm, so with control that even he wasn't sure he possessed, he stepped back away from her. He wanted to continue this conversation alone without the little hybrid becoming something he would need to swat away for the duration.

"You weren't mistaken," Bulma said. Her hand rested carefully where he had clutched her before. "But not at my baby's expense."

"Well I don't need Kakarot's brat anymore," Vegeta said. "I will do just fine with my own brat."

The woman's face was like stone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm taking that boy back to Vegeta-sei. And nothing you say is going to stop me." And as she came off the wall and closed in on him with ferocity, because this woman never learned, he looked her up and down and his plan came to him full-formed. "You aren't going to stop me, because you will be with me."

That stopped her dead in her tracks. "What?" she shrieked.

"You were never useless enough to kill," Vegeta said. "And before I found out the depth of your betrayal—"

"I didn't betray—"

"—I was going to ask for your help in discovering what the root of a hybrid Earth-Saiyan's power is."

"I can't just leave my home!"

"You're acting like you have a choice."

"I'm not your slave, Vegeta," Bulma said, disgusted. In her anger, she had gotten too close and he was able to snatch the back of her neck and pull her in to his body. She gasped as her body pressed up helplessly against his and the urge to kill her, as always, intermingled with the urge to take her brutally so she would know nothing except to cry out his name like she used to.

"I can arrange for that," Vegeta breathed against her lips, before pulling away slightly. He kept her in his grip to remind her of his power. "You forget yourself, little female. Kakarot isn't here. That fool you used to bed isn't here, and that's lucky for him because had he been here, the walls would now be decorated with his blood."

"You're disgusting."

"It doesn't matter what I am," Vegeta whispered, too close. "It only matters what you are… Trapped." He dragged a finger down her perfect cheek, tauntingly. "You've tried to play me for a fool. Now you will be mine. You and the brat."

She was clenching her fists against his Saiyan armor, trying to put space between them to no avail. "Capsule Corp is—"

"Your sire is still alive, is he not?"

"That's not the point! He's on vacation with my mom."

"Think of this as a vacation," Vegeta sneered. "A do-or-die vacation. And don't pretend that you have the power to destroy me. I will squeeze the life out of you and the brat if you don't give me what I want."

"Okay!" Bulma hissed, still struggling with their proximity. "Now let go!"

He did, but mostly because he heard the brat at the door. And moments later, a knock sounded. "Mama?"

The woman's face looked truly heartbroken and had Vegeta cared at all, it may have brought on guilt to see her look so. Instead, he gave her a pointed stare. "You will tell him who I am. You will tell him that he will be traveling to his father's planet today. And if you leave my sight for a moment, I will kill you where you stand and take the boy away from all he knows."

Tears filled those blue eyes as she cast a glance toward the door. "Come in, Trunks."

The boy obeyed and padded into the room and Vegeta reminded himself to burn any clothing the woman might bring for the boy as soon as he could have him fitted for Saiyan armor. "Are you done with your talk?" Then the child grimaced as he smelled the tears. "You're crying." Accusing blue eyes went to him. "Were you mean to Mama?"

"Baby," Bulma knelt and one of her hands gently fisted in the boy's ridiculous shirt to keep his focus on her. "We're going to go on a trip." It was halfway interesting, Vegeta noted, watching her talk to the boy. There was a tenderness in her that the prince was sure hadn't existed before. He wondered if that was something that normally happened to Earth women when they bred.

"A trip. With him?" Trunks demanded.

"Yes…with him. Because he is your dad, okay? I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just that you're so young still and there's a lot that I can't totally explain…about your father. And Gohan was right… you are like him because your dad is a Saiyan. But while Goku has lived all this time on Earth…your father…he's…"

"I'm the Prince of All Saiyans," Vegeta announced with no small measure of smugness. "And you and your mother are coming with me to live on my planet."

"For a little while," Bulma broke in, tugging on Trunk's shirt to bring his attention back to her. "Just for a little bit so you can see what it's like. And then we'll come back."

Vegeta could have said that she was nothing but a delusional wench that was lying to their flesh and blood, but to avoid an altercation with either mother or son and to speed this whole ordeal up, he decided to let the woman tell the boy whatever lies she wanted. For now.

The brat scrunched up his face skeptically. "A prince? Does that mean—"

"You are of the royal line, yes." Vegeta said. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you inherit anything. Simply be proud of your blood, boy."

Trunks turned back to his mother seriously. "He's nuts. I don't want to go. I want to stay here with Gohan and Grandma and Grandpa! They can't come, so I don't want to."

What a bunch of sentimental bullshit. Vegeta would not stand for this type of coddling once they were off this chunk of floating space debris. His son had been raised like some weakling Earthling for four years and he'd be damned if that were to continue. Had Vegeta whined about staying with his family as a child, his father would have booted him through a palace window. He gave the woman a significant glance that said: turn this around or I blow up the planet.

"Baby," the woman was stroking the child's sleeves in an effort to soothe him. "It's only for a little while. I'll be there the whole time and think of how fun it will be! You'll get to go to a whole other planet that none of your friends have ever seen and you'll get to tell them about it!"

The boy's mouth twisted into a thin line of thought, an expression the prince had seen on the human woman's face before. It meant she was turning this around.

"You'll be there the whole time?"

"Of course, Trunks," Bulma said. "I'd never leave you for any reason. You know that."

The purple haired boy blinked and then smiled sweetly at his mother, an expression that looked almost wrong on a face that was a miniature of the Saiyan prince's.

"Okay, Mama. I'll come!"

Vegeta snorted. As if he had a choice. As the boy skittered down the hall to change his clothes and gather his things at his mother's encouragement, Vegeta watched the woman rise slowly, her back rigid.

"You got what you wanted," she said and he could hear the tears again in her voice.

"Not quite, woman. But it's a good starting effort."

His mockery was met with eyes that burned with hatred, but she didn't say anything about it. She didn't rage. And that was more worrisome than anything else. "So tell me, is there any way to contact Earth from your planet? So I can at least communicate with my friends here so they know why Trunks and I mysteriously disappeared?"

Vegeta knew this woman. And so he knew that she would not let this go to rest. He had won a battle…but the war was far from won. The woman's mind was dangerous and he could see it, even now, spinning and preparing for more. She was an asset. And with her at his side, he would become the Legendary and defeat the Cold Empire…whether it was through his half-breed spawn with the terrible name or through her non-human inventions, she would be a boon for him. And he wasn't going to let her win. Because if she won, she would run as far away as she could from him. She was smart.

He smirked.

"You're the genius, woman," Vegeta said. "You figure it out."

A/N: Let me know what you think, good or bad!