The Nature of Moonlight

Chapter 1

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday. Whis delivered it personally to Vegeta in the middle of a spar with Goku. He held in his gloved hands a scroll of parchment, preserved in place with a blood red wax seal. The insignia on it wasn't much different from the one Vegeta once proudly displayed on his battle armor as a child. A small semicircle with sharp edges framed the bottom of it, followed by a small line leading north, two thick lines resting in the middle, equally distanced from each other. The similarities ended there though. Where 3 arrows would form a strong V, they now shaped a perfect S, presenting the illusion they created an infinity symbol.

Without even opening it, Vegeta knew what this letter meant, and most importantly, who it came from. He hesitated for a moment, holding it in both hands, staring at the insignia. A memory hit him hard, of his father receiving letters just like this, of sending letters exactly like this, watching the King of Vegeta write into the late hours of the night, dipping his golden-tipped pen in dark ink, performing art as he brushed his arm up and down the desk—a type of penmanship and stylistic choice that his father only chose to do for the most important of dignitaries. Otherwise, he wrote with whatever was convenient.

Vegeta pushed a finger under the wax seal.

The letter unfurled.

He pulled it apart with both of his hands. If they were shaky, he didn't outwardly acknowledge it.

Only two lines, written in deep black ink, rested on the parchment—words written with the flourish and the immaculate precision that looked eerily similar to his father's.

Goku, of course, chose that moment to peek over Vegeta's shoulder. "What's that?"

Vegeta ignored him and deciphered the Sadalan words in front of him.

A poke to his side. "Vegeta? What's it say?"

He looked ahead, out into the distance of the Earth's blue sky, the white clouds, and he grinned from ear-to-ear.

Twenty four hours. That was all Vegeta needed to prepare for the journey. First priority was to respond in kind to the invitation. He used the parchment itself to reply, his penmanship nowhere near as immaculate as the King of Sadala's. It had been much too long since he wrote in his native language, the complex symbols and confusing syntax nearly transforming Vegeta's resolve to clear-cut doubt. He wasn't writing anything complicated. It was a simple reply, a two word answer, but it mattered how long and short he drew the lines, how much time he spent resting his pen to create dots, how fast and light the slashes appeared on the paper as he brushed his pen across the parchment. Any seasoned royal would know so much about the person just by the way they wrote before they even met in person, a wise advantage to harness when they didn't know the other party. That was what his father taught him, and he assumed the King of Sadala would be no different. But he managed well and repressed the need to double check, to redo, by immediately handing the parchment back to Whis and saying, "Here."

The second priority: ensure Bulma and his children would be fine without him there. Without much prompting, Whis promised to stay on the planet under the pretense of that protection. Pretense, because Vegeta knew his teacher and Beerus well. The lure of Earthling food was all the incentive they needed.

Third, final and begrudgingly needed priority: convince Kakarot to come with him as well. By any means necessary.

"But I can't go," Kakarot said on the eve of receiving that invitation. They chatted in front of Goku's home on Mt. Paozu, standing outside the home as the smell and sounds of Chichi's homemade cooking drifted out into the world. "I need to take care of our crops. Our harvest is coming up and Chichi can't do it by herself."