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Going Native: Sounds of the Future (ch. 44)
🕑 Added 2020-07-27 15:00:58 +0000 UTC"I've sent you the data file -- I want you to jump on it. His ratings are going to jump through the roof and I don't want any steam being lost because we were caught flat-footed. Call the producers, get another season of Hero-force in the works now. I'll talk to Prince Tarble about maybe doing an interview," Ada'la, Prince Tarble's agent, spoke into her communicator as she compiled clips and videos of what had transpired on the Shield Worlds.
The pieces were hard to watch, knowing that they were very much real and not paid actors reenacting a scene. The one thing that remained constant was that the clips revolved around Prince Tarble and his downright heroic efforts. The Prince didn't understand the weight of seeing him fight dozens of Scarabs had on others. For most, the weakest scarab was a certain death sentence. They could devastate entire armies.
And seeing him defeat them with ease, a stalwart defender to the weaker aliens behind him -- to some races, especially the primitive species uplifted by Lord Frieza, Prince Tarble would appear as a god to them. A promise of victory in any battlefield that he fought on. Actually…
“We need to think of a title. Something short, rolls of the tongue, but still has an impact,” Ada’la coordinated her team to churn out the next wave of Prince Tarble’s brand. She could do without the rather harsh restrictions that Prince Tarble placed on her in terms of what he was willing to do, but the more time she spent around saiyans, the more reasonable those restrictions seemed. The other saiyan children were little psychopathic monsters that didn’t understand high fashion. “Prince Tarble the...Breaker? No, not that…”
“I’ll have a team on it,” one of her aids responded dutifully. That was good. Ada’la wasn’t any good with names. What she was good at was making brands known and with this latest stunt, Prince Tarble’s brand would be the most popular in the entire galaxy if she had anything to say about it.
Prince Tarble was a known entity in some circles. His show, Hero-force, was holding strong at the tenth most popular streamed show that the Trade Organization offered. His Hero-force related toys were selling very well -- Prince Tarble was a known entity and had been for some time. His deeds at D’xe and Rench got his name out there, the show and the toys spread his name further, but this?
Four Shield Worlds taken out nearly simultaneously? With a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the expected forces to conquer one? Not to mention the comparatively low casualties?
Prince Tarble had just made his mark on the war. The Frieza-force was flooding through the opening that Prince Tarble and the 501st had made.
And, as his agent, it was her job to make sure that everyone in the galaxy that was capable of receiving a Trade Organization transmission knew it. Prince Tarble would be a household name by the time she was done. That much, Ada’la swore.
“We need to think of spin-offs as well. The 501st is a diverse cast and we should utilize them as much as we can. Have a singular narrative and have other spin-offs that flow into the main narrative… though, that means we should look into having a second show about Prince Tarble. One with a much grittier, harsher view. Keep the Hero-force for children, but for young adults, they can get hooked into the expanding Tarble-verse.” Ada’la said, making notes.
“We could use a Saiyan’s growth spurts as a way to do it. With Hero-force, he’ll remain a small relatable child, but in the other series, we could aim them towards older children and young adults. Once he reaches adolescence, romcoms become a possibility and if we cultivate his image-”
Then every teenage female in the galaxy would be drooling over Prince Tarble. If his father was anything to judge by, he wouldn’t be lacking in the looks department. He was royalty with a tragic story and a life filled with adversity. Honestly, it wrote itself.
“Do it. Tell the writing team I want tight narratives for the main story and the branches. We're thinking long-term here, and I don't want any plot holes-" Ada'la started, already plotting the next ten to twenty years of Prince Tarble. Movies, shows, books, documentaries, and hologames.
“We have a Slurm Cola offer that just came in -- they want Prince Tarble on the face of the can and a short promotional commercial!” Her aid shouted in her ear, his voice climbing higher with every word. Ada’la couldn’t blame him for that. Slurm Cola was an absolute powerhouse in the Trade Organization, meaning that they could be picky on who they advertised.
And there was absolutely no way that she was going to be able to get Prince Tarble to do it. Everything that he was willing to do always had to have a direct contribution to the war effort. An angle that she had used to spin his image, but with a giant like Slurm Cola, that wouldn’t work. If they missed this opportunity then they were likely to just withdraw the offer or leverage their hesitance for a better deal. Contracts and additional promotions…
"Lord Frieza has made contact with the ship, Prince Tarble is in a call with him," one of her agents amongst the flagship informed her through another line. If there had to be a silver lining to being surrounded by slaves, it was that they were rather simple to motivate so they were quick to bring her news and gossip.
That was absolutely perfect timing.
"Tell Slurm that Prince Tarble is currently in a call with Lord Frieza himself, so he'll have to get back to them at a later date," Ada'la informed, a smile tugging at her lips. A perfect power move. She got out of her chair, already planning to leverage the time that was opened up for her to somehow convince Prince Tarble to do the promotion deal.
"Happily," her aid on the other end said before she ended the call. Her quarters were conveniently close to the command deck, little more than a closet, but that was the price of convenience. Walking out without so much as looking at her full multi-angled mirror, Ada'la rushed towards the command deck.
She made an attempt to straighten out the few hairs that were out of place before the large bulkhead doors opened up. On the other side was Prince Tarble kneeling while Queen Teach, Avery, the current admiral of the fleet along with the commanders for the magic and technology support, Narra and Technician. All would be receiving high honors.
Above them was a hologram of Lord Frieza himself. A sinister-looking alien that was stark white, the same color of a bone bleached under the sun and dark purple around his shoulders and head -- the leader of the Trade Organization. And one of the most powerful beings in the universe. If a primitive alien could look at Prince Table and see a god, then Lord Frieza would be what a god would pray to.
"It seems every time we talk it's because you've done something to impress me, Prince Tarble," Lord Frieza said with a pleased tone, but there was an edge in it that almost sounded sarcastic. "Four Shield Worlds… if I didn't know any better, I would think you were attempting to show me up!" He said with a delighted laugh, closing his eyes and he let out a laugh, but he was undoubtedly aware of the slightly panicked expression that passed over everyone's face.
"I don't think I could do that even if I was trying," Prince Tarble responded with a naive honesty that Ada’la learned to trust. No double-speak, no secret meanings, or battles with words. Just direct honestly. It was refreshing.
Lord Frieza thought so well by his chuckle.
“I had a tactic that had a short window to be effective so I made the most of it while I could. But it wouldn't have been anywhere near as effective without Narra and Technician." Prince Tarble shared the same with the ease of someone who couldn't care less about it.
"Indeed. You chose well with the 501st -- some have taken to calling them your fist," Lord Frieza remarked and an odd look of incredible pride passed over Queen Teach's face. "A nickname well deserved. The Reach has been pushed back substantially and they won’t recover from this easily.”
“I was unable to destroy their fleets entirely, and what was left of them are currently missing. We’re hunting them down now, but they’ve had enough time to regroup. We’ll have to deal with them before we can sweep up their undefended planets.” Prince Tarble said seriously and Ada’la knew that was going to be a part of his charm once he grew older, and he had the excuse of being a child, but could he really not see that Lord Frieza was attempting to reward him for this deed?
“I trust that you can handle whatever the Reach throws at you, Prince Tarble,” Lord Frieza stated, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. “But, I must say, I hadn’t expected secrecy from you. I didn’t know you Saiyan’s had it in you.”
If Prince Tarble heard the accusation in his tone, then he didn’t react to it. “If I caused you any trouble, Lord Frieza then I apologize. I was too worried about what would happen to my plan if the Reach found out about it.” He explained, bowing his head in submission. Which was the move he could have done if Lord Frieza was angry with him.
Ada’la hadn’t seen it in person, but she heard rumors that Lord Frieza killed those that did their jobs. And those that had earned his ire… death was a mercy.
“Oh, there’s no reason to apologize,” Lord Frieza dismissed the issue with a lazy swipe of his hand. “All things considered, a problem of too much progress is a rather welcomed change… I would actually like your opinion on something, Prince Tarble,” Lord Frieza said, his lips curling into a smile that was sharp enough to cut. “What do you believe is the biggest problem my armies are facing? In your personal opinion?”
Prince Tarble clearly had given the question some great through prior because his answer was swiftly delivered. “The vast majority of the Frieza-force, as in the soldiers all the way up to those that command them, are reluctant to fight. They coast on the success of others and are far more concerned with living than they are pushing the Reach back and ending this war.”
“Hm… I’ve noticed much the same. Unfortunately, not all of my slaves possess the urge to fight like you Saiyans,” Lord Frieza said, sounding ambivalent, but Ada’la heard the slight in his words. A reminder that the Saiyan race, despite what they had accomplished, was still a slave race.
Prince Tarble simply nodded, “They lack motivation. In the time I’ve fought with the 501st and the armies, I’ve found that most of them… don’t see a point in fighting. In their eyes, they have lost everything to the Frieza-force -- their homes, their families, and now they’re being asked to give up their lives. And when their lives are the last thing that they have left, they are reluctant to take any risks with it.”
And Prince Tarble had just rebuked Lord Frieza. Questioning his method of enslavement-
“An interesting point,” Lord Frieza contended, making Ada’la release a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Lord Frieza wasn’t going to fire one of those… ‘ki blasts’ from halfway across the galaxy and wipe out their fleet for a thoughtless remark. That, Ada’la noted, showed that Prince Tarble truly did have Lord Frieza’s personal favor. “I do believe you’re right. I’ve relied too heavily on the stick to keep my armies in line… I do suppose that it’s time that I tried a carrot… is there anything that you would recommend?”
He was asking Prince Tarble for advice. Acknowledging his opinion. What’s more, it was difficult to tell, but it sounded like a genuine question rather than a sarcastic rhetorical one.
“I’ve heard that most aliens like money. Or perhaps if they perform well they could be reunited with their families and race?” Prince Tarble hedged slightly, sounding unsure what most aliens would like as a reward for fighting. Ada’la supposed, to a Saiyan, the fight was reward enough for him.
“Doable… Those in command are far more important than the rank and file -- I believe I have just the thing,” Lord Frieza said with a smile that could be mistaken for kind. “Perhaps a reward is due for each planet taken? The tariffs of the planet could be divided between the armies and fleets for a period of time. The commanders would take a larger portion, naturally, but the ordinary soldiers would be entitled to a diminished percentage of the tariffs as well.”
That smile widened a fraction as he narrowed his eyes at Prince Tarble, “But you are due a reward, Prince Tarble. To this, I grant you this special privilege -- any planet that you conquer will become your personal property. You can decide what to do with them -- from how they’re governed, their taxes as well as their revenue. Your agent will be able to make recommendations on what they’re best suited for.”
There was a sinister edge in that smile. Ada’la saw even as Lord Frieza bestowed what must be one of the greatest gifts he could bestow that outstripped her wildest expectations. But not one that couldn’t be taken away. Prince Tarble was still a slave, and any possession he owned was indirectly owned by Lord Frieza. Masterfully done. “And you will serve as an example -- I believe that you will do your best work as a mobile force. An army and a fleet will be assigned to you, Prince Tarble. I expect you to lead them well.”
Things had taken a very wild turn. Prince Tarble had just became a general and a fleet was assigned to him. But, more than that, Prince Tarble was going to firmly be in the public eye within the Frieza-force. How he did things would become the expectation. He was now the bar that had to be reached.
All of that responsibility shoved into those small shoulders of a child… it would have terrified her, but Ada'la had little doubt that Prince Tarble could carry that responsibility well. But it also painted a very large target on his back.
Prince Tarble seemed caught off guard for a brief second before he nodded, “I will, Lord Frieza. I swear it.”
“I believe you,” Lord Frieza said, smiling, and with that, the hologram winked out. And without his presence looming over the command center, it was like a weight lifted off everyone’s shoulders. Even when he was praising someone and rewarding them, it felt like an execution.
"Ha! So you're Prince General Tarble now," Queen Teach exclaimed, sounding overjoyed with the promotion. Saiyans seemed to care little about the responsibilities of a prestigious position, but they placed great value on the prestige such a promotion would bring. She walked up and rubbed Prince Tarble's head hard enough that a lesser species would have been beheaded.
Prince Tarble seemed to have barely noticed, lost in his own thoughts as he realized the implications of what had just happened. It was a puzzling situation, in truth -- the Saiyan race was still a slave race, but Prince Tarble alone was being allowed to own property. Anything he conquered would be owned by him and if his previous progress was anything to go by, he will have conquered hundreds of planets by the time the war is done.
Yet, those planets were his and his alone. King Vegeta, and other members of the ruling family, were unable to expand their property beyond the Planet Vegeta.
The Saiyan political hierarchy just got very… messy. Prince Tarble was second in line for the throne, yet he was already personally more powerful than the current King. With this special privilege? Not only was he stronger, but his power base would far outstrip not only the King but the Prince Vegeta as well.
With this act of generosity, Lord Frieza made a civil war for the throne an inevitability.
"This is going to be a problem," Prince Tarble muttered to himself.
"Eh?" Queen Teach responded, clueless when it came to politics. Which was so… incredibly jarring at times.
"Commanders are going to try to check my power, so they're going to rush to take high-value targets. And the more planets that I take, the more they're going to feel threatened by me. With those aliens attacking Planet Vegeta, it's clear our race already has enemies amongst the Frieza-force. We become threatening enough and they'll unite against us," Prince Tarble thought out loud, proving that he at least had a rough understanding of politics.
What he said was a near certainty. The Saiyans, despite being few in number, had a poor reputation due to copious amounts of friendly fire and their willingness to eat the dead of either side. And those with power were always wary of those that rapidly acquired it.
"So?" Queen Teach dismissed, sounding like she welcomed all challengers.
"It's not a problem yet, but ambitious idiots are going to get in my way to end this war," Prince Tarble explained. "Weak cowards that are unable to face me themselves so they'll send millions to their deaths and attempt to sabotage me every step of the way."
That will be a real issue-
"Ada'la? Walk with me," Prince Tarble ordered as he turned around- a gasp left her throat as the blood-red cape that hung off his shoulders flared out as he turned. The cape flare was perfection if she had ever seen it. How the bottom of it spilled out, dramatically revealing his figure behind the red fabric -- it was absolutely everything a cape flare should be.
"Of course," Ada'la agreed, giving everyone in the room a slight bow to display her respects before she fell in line behind Prince Tarble as the bulkhead doors closed behind them. "Congratulations on your promotion," she said, already thinking of ways to leverage the newest events.
The biggest issue was that they were almost too unbelievable to be used in a story. The truth was often stranger than fiction, as they say.
"Thanks. As things are, I'm going to have to expand tactfully into the Reach. I have to be mindful of others willing to attack me from behind," Prince Tarble said, sounding like he was talking to himself. Ada'la didn't respond, letting the Prince think his way through the dilemma that had been thrust upon him with no warning. Lord Frieza was perhaps a tad too fond of rewarding work with more work because now Prince Tarble found himself surrounded on all sides. "I'll prioritize defensive planets first. I'll send you a list of planets that will be taken along the way to decide what they're best used for. After they have been restored with terraforming technology."
"A wise decision," Ada'la stated. "It may be prudent to also make alliances within the Frieza-force. Slurm Cola has requested that you perform an ad campaign with them. It would be a good start to establish inroads with the company."
Ada'la didn't need to see his face to know a sour look passed over his features but he didn't immediately shoot the idea down. Instead, his shoulder slumped ever so slightly before he squared them with the resolve of a person willing to do something that they really didn’t want to for the greater good.
“Fine. I’ll do the campaign,” Prince Tarble and Ada’la couldn’t stop the small smile of victory that tugged at her cheeks. It was rather odd that Prince Tarble hadn’t tried to argue the point to bargain down to a simple photoshoot, which Ada’la was more than happy to accept. But it seemed that Prince Tarble was finally starting to accept that appearances were important and expanding his influence could only help him in the long run.
“Excellent! Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to ask where you learned that cape flare? And if you would be willing to do motion capture to replicate it for your show?” Ada’la questioned, deciding to push her luck while Prince Tarble was recovering his balance.
Prince Tarble glanced at her with some reluctance, “It’s an ancient skill passed down from our first King, King Vegeta the First.” Again with the name Vegeta. “I’m not really a fan of capes, but Mom made me practice the move since mastering is mandatory for a member of the royal family. I just got used to wearing it eventually.”
Prince Tarble was still a child. An extraordinary capable child, enough so to the point it was easier to think of him as a grown adult that just happened to look like a child. Especially when he was now a general in charge of possibly millions of troops and an entire fleet.
But, in the end, an extraordinary child was still a child.
…
“Is it true?” Nakka asked Narra quietly, having entered her room without a sound. Her youngest sister-... daughter was rather adept at sneaking up on others, even if it wasn’t a planet given talent.
There was no question what Nakka was asking her about. A conversation that Narra expected and dreaded ever since her magic was used to purge Shield Worlds. A gift to her bestowed by the planet used to perform unspeakable deeds. Those that had accompanied her to the Shield Worlds had not spoken to her, hardly even looking at her.
Narra was the Night Mother but she felt little more than an exile.
“It is true,” Narra said, not facing Nakka, and slowly set down a small cup of tea that she had been drinking. With Nakka’s gift, there was little point in trying to deny it. Or trying to hide what she felt. “I crafted a spell to destroy the souls of our enemies and with my magic, this war will plunge itself into further madness.”
Nakka was silent for a long minute. Then another. And another. And it was only after the silence dragged on and on that Narra dared to look over her shoulder to see that Nakka was gone. Unable to so much as stand in her presence. Emotion clogged at Narra’s throat as grief savagely squeezed her heart, the ache in her chest almost enough to drive her to her knees.
With a trembling hand, Narra raised her glass of tea to her lips. The sweet flavor tasted like ash in her mouth. Her emotions ran wild, her control slipping, and the glass cup flung across the room and shattered on the wall. Shards falling to the ground while a dark purple tea dripped down the wall in slow-moving beads.
That… had been her favorite cup and the last of her tea from home.
Narra sat in a chair, burying her face into her hands and shook with emotion as she tried to fight back tears. Never before had she felt so alone before. Not even when her sisters- or daughters, or whatever were scattered across the galaxy and she had served on a nameless ship with no familiar faces. At that time, she thought nothing could be worse than that intense sense of loneliness, but she was wrong.
Being surrounded by her family and those she loved with all of her heart, yet still feeling utterly alone and lost was worse by far.
A message beeped on her scouter, forcing Narra to look up. Despite every odd, she harbored a hope that it was from Nakka. Desperately hoping that it was a message from her youngest and dearest sis- daughter, and that it was filled with words that Narra desperately needed to hear. Instead, she saw that it was a message from Prince Tarble. Requesting her presence in a cargo hold that he used as a training room.
Narra looked at the scouter and the message for a long minute, suppressing the urge to throw it across the room as well. Instead, Narra let out a shaky breath as she stood up and wiped whatever wetness had managed to gather at her eyes. Once she calmed herself, Narra stepped out of her room and saw that no one was outside. Swallowing thickly, she began making her way down the hall, letting her feet carry her to her destination.
It took her some time to reach it, but Narra had no reason to care about that. Since the Shield Worlds, she was left spending time alone in her room or avoiding Nakka to pushback the inevitable disgust that Nakka would feel towards her. Now Narra could not go back to her room for days and she doubted that anyone would notice.
Arriving at the cargo hold, a door slid open to reveal Prince Tarble standing alone at the center of it. Two disks floated over and beneath him, both made of ki. There are several sensors running around the two disks that were in turn connected to a sensor that read 10g. The Prince went through several motions, fighting against an unseen enemy.
It was unworthy and undeserving, but a pang of hatred echoed in her chest at the sight of the Prince. Hate for making her craft that spell, to making her use it, to making her coven turn their backs on her, to being rewarded for the atrocities that stained her soul itself. He had offered words of comfort and reassurance, but in the end, it was her that suffered consequence for what happened on the Shield Worlds. And he was simply an easy target to direct her anger towards.
The disk pulsed as she neared before the sensor display read 11g.
“Hm,” Prince Tarble grunted, sounding dissatisfied as he looked down at a hand that he curled into a fist. “It’ll do as a proof of concept,” he decided before he turned around to look at her. His visor was on a table, revealing normal black eyes, so he wasn’t in the Wrath State. “Sorry for calling you on short notice and making you wait. I wasn’t sure if you got my message.”
Because she had neglected to send a confirmation.
“It is no trouble, Prince Tarble,” Narra dismissed evenly. She swallowed her anger and grief simply because she was the Night Mother. Even if every member of her race resented her for her deeds, she would do what she could for them and if that meant standing in the presence of someone that she was beginning to loathe, then that was a sacrifice she had to make. “Is there something you need?”
Like another curse of mass destruction?
“I was thinking about magic and how I have no real defenses against it. Something like the flames you made -- I can’t just tough that out. So, I was wondering if you had any leads on a way to make me… immune to offensive magic, ideally,” Prince Tarble questioned, the two disks above and below him fading into nothing. The request caught Narra off guard, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. Prince Tarble, no matter what she might think of him, was rather aggressive in attacking areas he believed he was lacking.
Narra had once asked his younger sister, Princess Elery if she was taking math lessons like her brother. Her response? ‘Math? What’s math? Does it taste good?’
After giving the question a moment of thought, Narra gave a slow nod. “There are talismans that I could craft that could protect your soul from direct attack, but make you immune to hostile magic…” Narra considered it for a long minute, her lips tugging downward. “There are runes that would have a similar effect, but they would have to be tattooed onto your body. However, when you grow they will be rendered null.”
“So I would have to wait until my final growth spurt. And make sure that I don’t pick up any scars,” Prince Tarble said, sounding like he didn’t care for the option. Most likely because it would take years to do and he wasn’t likely to avoid scars forever. And perhaps it was only because of what the Prince made her do, but an idea struck her.
“There may be another option,” Narra said, wondering if she was really about to suggest what she was about to say. “My magic, my gift from the planet, allows me to interact with souls. It’s what allowed me to craft that… that spell. What I could do is engrave the runes directly into your soul -- due to the nature of the canvas, the runes will remain effective as you grow and ‘collect’ scars.”
Prince Tarble perked up, apparently liking the idea, “And it doesn’t have a point of weakness like a talisman. Alright, if you think it’ll work, then let’s go with that. When can we start?” He asked, almost looking excited at the prospect.
“We can begin now,” Narra said, making a decision in her mind. “I have the materials for the necessary ritual in my room.”
“Lead the way.”
Narra did. They walked back to her room in silence, only her heart seemed to make a sound on the way back. The door slid open, revealing her precious few possessions. Ancient books that she had salvaged from the destruction that Frieza had rained down upon her home. Instruments of magic and, most importantly, ingredients.
Prince Tarble glanced at the broken cup and the drying tea on her wall. He said nothing, but she could feel the question in his gaze. “I… lost my temper. Please forgive me for the mess,” Narra said as she fetched a ritual knife. The blade was a faint green and the metal it was made of seemed to shift the more that Narra looked at it. Its grip was made of bone, but it felt comfortable in her hand.
“This is nothing compared to Elery’s room. You have nothing to apologize for,” Prince Tarble said. Narra knew it was an attempt to put her at ease, but it only made her more nervous. Doubts tugged at her thoughts, second-guessing her decision.
“Please take a seat. I will have to light some candles. I will have to warn you that the process will be a long one. To fully engrave the runes into your soul, it could possibly take years,” Narra informed but Prince Tarble didn’t seem concerned as he took a seat. He looked incredibly small in it. His legs barely reached the end of the seat with his back touching the support.
“That’s fine,” Prince Tarble decided. “The Reach is unlikely to use magic offensively. This is more of a preemptive measure for other enemies.”
Narra nodded, lighting a few candles as she looked down at the slender blade in her hand. She opened her mouth to tell him that she was about to begin, but the words caught in her throat. She stood there, looking at Prince Tarble, and only then did it really settle in what she was about to do.
Anger and spite made a fool out of her.
No matter who she might blame, at the end of the day, she was responsible for her own actions. It was unbecoming to make another suffer for petty gratification.
“I must also prepare a tea,” Narra added, rushing to prepare the ingredients.
“Why?” Prince Tarble questioned, a sharp edge in his tone. He undoubtedly noticed the sudden change in behavior. Narra stilled for a second, her eyes closing and wondered if she had just doomed herself and others with her thoughtless actions.
“I…” Narra started before a quiet sigh of defeat and exhaustion escaped her. “The engravings will be painful. Extremely so. The tea will render you unconscious for the duration of the engraving, so you won’t feel a thing.”
“So, you thought since I can handle the Wrath State I could handle the engraving but figured better safe than sorry?” Prince Tarble questioned, but his eyes were hard and sharp. He was giving her an out. An excuse.
Narra knew she should take it but everything settled so very heavily on her shoulders and she felt something deep inside of her crack at the weight. The loneliness, the horror of her deeds in killing billions, and now attempting to… to torture a child in an attempt to vent her anger. As much as she hated Prince Tarble, Frieza and everyone responsible for this horrid war, it paled in comparison to how much she hated herself in that moment.
“No. I… I blame you for… everything. You said that my hands were clean because you gave the order, but that doesn’t change the fact that my kind, my sisters and daughters, they all despise me for what I did on the Shield Worlds. I hate myself for what I did. And… I… don’t even know. I wanted you to suffer, but… for what?” Narra admitted her guilt, accepting that the outcome was completely out of her hands.
Prince Tarble stared hard at her for a long few seconds and Narra couldn’t help but wonder how many had seen that hard gaze before they died? Prince Tarble might be a child -- those eyes, however, they were of a hardened killer.
“Can I really be made immune to hostile magic with these runes,” Prince Tarble questioned. Narra gave a nod. She hadn’t been lying about that. The runes were used to protect sacred sites from disruptive elements. At that, Prince Tarble settled in his chair. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Narra questioned with a frown, expecting death as her punishment. Or worse.
“Okay. You had your chance to do something, but you didn’t. Then you admitted your guilt,” Prince Tarble stated, the hard look in his eyes softening ever so slightly. “So, you’re forgiven. But, I will be awake during the engravings. Just in case you change your mind again.”
“I-” Narra started to argue, but Prince Tarble silenced her with a look. He had absolutely no idea what he was saying. What she had tried to inflict on him. But she knew that tone meant that the topic was not up for discussion. She closed her eyes for a brief moment -- she was alive and there would be no punishment beyond a loss of trust. And that made her feel that much more guilt. “Very well…”
Narra stepped forward, kneeling as Prince Tarble stuck out an arm after taking off a glove and pushing back his undersuit. “Please brace yourself,” Narra warned before she summoned upon her magic, her lips moving as she uttered a spell and flames covered the knife and her hand. Then she reached out, grabbing Prince Tarble by the arm and gently lifting his part of his soul out of his body.
A pale white arm lifted out of his physical body, her fingers sliding through the physical flesh to keep his soul arm in place. Prince Tarble made a noise of discomfort as his arm flopped to the ground, unresponsive for a few seconds before feeling returned to it. She could feel his eyes on her and it seemed while he was willing to trust her with this task, that trust did not come without reservations.
With a steady hand, Narra moved her other hand to begin engraving a starting symbol at the tip of his middle finger. The moment the tip of the blade touched his soul finger, Prince Tarble sucked in a sharp breath but he remained still. And more than anything, that terrified her. What had he endured that he could have his soul mutilated and he could suppress every scream?
“Do you wish to continue? It will become far worse as the symbols grow more intricate,” she warned, hoping that he would call off the idea. Or, at the very least, drink the tea so he would be unconscious for it.
“I do,” Prince Tarble said, and she had never heard more pain in two words in her entire life. It was like there was a barely suppressed scream in each letter. Narra had her doubts, but she paid no mind to her question and fears in favor of focusing on the task. A small symbol was engraved into the uppermost joint of his ring finger. All the while, faint memories tugged at her mind. Flashes of images.
Looking up at a blue scarab as a sword pierced his chest.
Narra moved onto the middle joint of the finger, the engraving flowing downward towards his palm. The runes were simple and elegant, beautiful in their own way.
A memory of crushing loneliness. Enough so that it nearly jolted her out of her trance. Memories of… years of forced silence, of captivity, floating in goop that slowly changed in color. Of standing on a building as he watched oozarus devastate a city, before he vomited in disgust and horror. Of looking down at his hands and seeing that they were covered in blood.
Quiet and sad, indeed.
The last joint of the finger was next. This time a memory was faded and disjointed. No, it wasn’t even a memory. It was too diluted to be called that. Faceless people in white moving around a bed, a high pitched noise echoing through the air and a crushing sense of loss.
“You…” Narra muttered, leaning back to look at Prince Tarble, whose face was covered in sweat as his chest heaved. He clearly felt the pain, but he remained conscious out of sheer force of will. It was truly, deeply disturbing. “May I ask… do you… have any memories of your previous life?”
Prince Tarble looked thoroughly caught off guard, “What?”
Ah, she forgot that not all species are as spiritually inclined as hers was. “There are times when a soul leaves behind stains when they undergo something called reincarnation. Nakka is such a case -- she possesses the soul of the First Mother, which is why she will eventually take my place as Night Mother. These stains can present themselves as an intense feeling of deja vu,” she explained.
Traces of memories were very common, more so for her race than others but it was undeniable what she had witnessed. She knew the touch of a faded memory. What’s more, it stood out compared to the others and how fresh and new they felt.
Prince Tarble looked hesitant to answer for a long minute. “I used to remember a lot more, but now… I barely remember anything,” he admitted to her.
“That’s because stains fade with time. Your experiences and feelings cover the stains until they fade from view entirely,” Narra explained. The memories were extremely faded, but the fact that they were there at all… likely explained why Prince Tarble hardly acted like a child.
Prince Tarble looked thoughtful at that. “Would… it be possible to do something about them?” He asked, looking down at his soul arm. Or, rather, her hands keeping his soul in place. She was the only one that could see the souls, both Prince Tarble’s and those of the dead back on the Shield Worlds.
“What would you like done?” Narra asked.
Prince Tarble answered.
She owed him, Narra decided. For his forgiveness and understanding. And it was hardly like her daughters or sisters could think any lower of her. “My people possess a ritual that can do what you wish. It will take time to prepare it, and we must do it before we complete these engravings.” Then she hesitated, “Are you sure you wish to do this?”
Prince Tarble’s jaw clenched as he nodded.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Comments
TheCynicalOne
The way I see it Tarble is pragmatic to a fault. In his perspective, his human morality is probably holding him back from doing what he needs to do with unnecessary guilt...I'm probably wrong though.
Aegorm
I think he wants to keep the memories tbh, I can faintly remember him thinking that the only reason he could manage the Wrath state so well is because of his rebirth. Don't think he'd throw away that advantage
Rockinalice
Nah I think he's going to refresh them he doesn't need to throw them away because they are already fading away
TheCynicalOne
He's going to throw away his last few scraps of humanity.
