Last Hope: It Begins



Times have changed. Years ago, before I was born, peace reigned over the earth and the colonies. However, it was short lived as people found themselves defenseless against each other. Though weapons were destroyed after peace had been attained, there was a contingency allowing swords and daggers to be used for personal protection and keeping the peace. A lot of people decided to train in hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, and swordplay. Whilst others resorted to more drastic and unconventional methods of protection. For years the colonies and earth lived in peace with each other, the only war being against criminals. People where relatively happy. That is, until a tiny vessel fell to the earth, carrying with it a being with immense power. That tiny spaceship brought with it the realization that, though the people were protected against each other, they were defenseless against outside invasion. This brought about the invention of the ki-blaster, made with the help from a small group of fighters who where able to use their own ki when fighting.

Years later, after the threat of invasion had diminished, a king and queen were blessed with a male child. At the same time, a force, calling themselves Oz, had formed, and war was eminent. A year later, Oz attacks West Capitol City.

This is my tale. It begins with the battle to end all battles. The battle that ended my parents life and started mine. The battle that brought an end to the world.

And so, my story begins . . .

~*~*~*~

"Sire! Oz troops have broken through the barrier!" Yamcha shouted as he ran towards the king, yelling over the sounds of battle. They were in the war room, the king and his guardsman pouring over strategies and maps of the city. Both were in full armor, reminiscent of ancient times of castles, knights, and chivalry. Vegeta looked up at Yamcha's words, a fearless expression etched on his face, but a twinge of fear in his eyes.

"Rally the rest of the troops! I want half of the men guarding the palace, the rest will follow me into battle!" Vegeta ordered him.

"But Sire!"

"No buts! Just do it!" Vegeta growled at him. Yamcha left as quickly as he came, calling for the alarm to sound.

"Are you sure that's wise, Vegeta?" Goku, the king's most trusted guard and right-hand man, asked, worry filling his voice and features.

"I can damn well fight my own battles, Goku! This one's no different." Vegeta stood firm in his decision. "What kind of king would I be if I did nothing while my people are being butchered? I stand a better chance than any of them, and you know that! I am not going to run when I can fight!"

"But . . ." Goku couldn't even say what he feared would happen if Vegeta were to go into battle. The worry in his eyes softened Vegeta's features.

"Kakkarrot." Vegeta whispered softly, reverting to his pet name for his best friend, and place a hand on his shoulder, "I need you to stay here and protect my son."

"What?!? No! Let me fight with you! Chichi won't let any harm come to the prince! Please!" Goku couldn't have been more surprised or hurt if he'd been run through with a dull spoon. His world crumbled at those words and fear filled his heart even as it sank.

"Even as good as your wife is, you are still the best warrior we have. His safety is what matters most right now. Besides, if the worst should happen," Vegeta removed the royal signet ring from his right middle finger and placed it into Goku's hand, "I'll need you to rule in his place till he can assume the throne." He closed Goku's fist around the ring, his own hands clasping Goku's. Despite his best efforts, a tear fell down Goku's cheek and his bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. He tried to say that won't happen and to return the ring, but words failed him as his emotions surged. Vegeta cupped Goku's cheek and wiped away his tear with his thumb.

"Don't cry, Kakkarrot. Everything will be fine." Vegeta found it hard to try and comfort Goku, as he too was filled with dread and fear. The doors to the war room opened just then, and Yamcha once again raced in.

"The troops are in position and awaiting orders, Sire!" Yamcha as he discretely dropped to one knee and bowed his head. He griped the hilt of his sword tightly, nervous of what the king would do to him for disrupting.

"Yamcha."

"Yes, Sire." He kept his eyes on the floor.

"You will be taking Goku's place as my guardsman. Go to the troops and see that they're ready. I'll be there in a minute."

"Yes, Sire." Yamcha rose, bowed briefly, then turned and rushed back out of the room. Alone again, Vegeta turned from Goku.

"Go now. My son needs you." The tears Vegeta was fighting evident in his voice. He hadn't fought without Goku by his side since they joined forces. He was not looking forward to doing so again.

"Vegeta . . ." Goku placed his hand on Vegeta's shoulder, trying to get him to face him.

"I said go, Kakkarrot."

"I can't . . ."

"Go!"

"But . . ."

"Damnit, Kakkarrot!" Vegeta turned quickly and grabbed Goku by his shoulders. He pulled him down till they were face to face, their noses nearly touching. "When your king gives you an order, you better well do it!" With that said, Vegeta kissed the man before him fiercely, as if for the first time, and the last. He pulled away reluctantly and saw the glazed, deliriously happy look on his partner's face.

"Go." Vegeta commanded softly as he looked in Goku's eyes deeply. He had learned long ago that his kisses had a hypnotic quality, and he was quick to use that to his advantage. However, he did not want to have to use it against his own lover.

Goku nodded and quickly left the room. Vegeta walked out onto the balcony adjacent to the war room. Below him, the troops were marching toward the gates, Yamcha leading them into battle. Vegeta flew down to his substitute guard with a blast of Ki, his cape fluttering behind him.

Goku was halfway to the throne room when he realized what had happened.

"Shimatta! How does he do that?!?" Goku reluctantly continued on his way, his heart heavy with dread and fear, leaving his love, perhaps, for the last time.



Next time on Last Hope:

Desperate Measures . . .