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tenthgrove · 14 days ago

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The Moon Prince, Chapter Two

(Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67552426/chapters/179954321#workskin)

“Wait!” Talan screamed. Tarble nearly tripped over the desert sand as he collided with her outstretched arm. She leant down, gazing at the small, torso sized opening in the rocks under a mossy shrub. Tarble understood his own idiocy. The caverns in this area led straight to Penta’s Palace.

“Never blunder past an opening without looking,” Talan said. “But look, the tracks end here,” she shoved him forwards. They had followed these footprints, stained with small, clear drops of sweat or tears, all the way from Glasstown and deep into the desert.

“I wasn’t sure but it’s definitely a young kid,” Tarble noted. “Why would they run into the desert?” he asked. Inside, he was cringing at the thought of the poor child just looking for shelter, with no idea how much more dangerous it was inside the caves than out.

“Kids do stupid things, sometimes they try to play hero themselves. Stay sharp.” Talan warned him. She backed two meters from the cave and descended to her hands and knees, like a runner’s starting position. Tarble took note of how she improved her view while remaining agile and ready to run, and mirrored her posture.

“Knock knock! Is anyone inside?” Talan called.

“Are you a monster?” squeaked a small voice. It sounded young, probably a girl. In the thin gap under the shadow of the cave roof, two round red eyes met Tarble’s.

“No kid, I’m a friend who fights monsters. Have you seen any around here?” Talan asked the child.

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “They were chasing my brother. I tried to help but I got scared and climbed in here.”

Talan nodded. “We can go after him for you, but you should get back to town first,” she told the child calmly. “Is there anyone older who can look after you for a few hours?”

“Yeah, my brother has a friend who sometimes looks after me.” the child answered.

“Sounds like a plan kid,” Talan said. The girl crawled out, pale green, dusty and coughing. Tarble helped her up, brushing her off. “Can you fly? I want you to fly back to the city as fast as you can. We already made the path clear for you so you’ll be okay. Go straight to your friend, and if anyone else comes out here don’t go looking yourself. That’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tarble corrected. “Are you ready to go now?” he asked the child. She was shaky. Tears mottled aquamarine feathers under her eyes and her grip on Tarble’s hands was strong. She nodded.

“Good,” said Tarble. “Between you and me, I think you’re a really brave kid. We’ll bring your brother home safe and sound, we promise.”

“Promise? Thank you. I- I’ll fly away now.”

Talan watched her fly away long enough to be certain she wouldn’t turn around, then turned to her brother with a glare.

“Do not EVER make a promise like that to someone again,” she snapped. “You might not be able to keep it.”

A scream tore across the dunes. “That way,” Talan pointed.

With no time to be held back, Talan grabbed Tarble’s arm and launched into the lilac sky after the noise. Tarble scanned the horizon for signs of life even as the glare of the white sun half-blinded him, unsure how else to contribute.

“Shapes! Down there!” he pointed.

“Good catch, that could be them.”

They approached four Maenad figures, three with the dulled, patchy feathering of marionettes. The fourth, with the same aquamarine hue as the girl, was pinned to the ground as he flailed weakly. Talan dropped Tarble about 50 paces from the scuffle, entering the battle unencumbered. “Over here you freaks!”

Two of the marionettes, a one-eyed girl and a boy with bloody hands, heeded her call and intercepted her, before she could reach the living boy being strangled on the ground by the third assailant. Talan crashed into the girl, their hands locking. She watched conflicted as the boy ran towards a wavering Tarble.

“Think you can prove your worth?” shouted Talan.

“Possibly!” he squeaked as the male marionette knocked him over, tumbling down the dunes. It was unarmed, which was a stroke of luck as not all marionettes were so unguarded, but it was strong. Tarble grunted as it clawed for his face while he tried in vain to break its wrists.

Talan emerged over the dune, clutching a chunk of stuffing and woodchips. The other marionette was dead.

“I’m coming down!” she shouted.

“No!” Tarble pleaded. “The brother! He’s running out of time!”

Talan looked back grimly.

“Don’t die,” she ordered, disappearing out of view. Tarble did his best.

The marionette raked the sand and extracted a sharp, dead branch the size of a twig. He held it to Tarble’s throat and pushed. Tarble yelped, the skin of his palms bleeding as he tried to stop the wood sinking into his neck.

Talan made a running jump back into view, sliding down the dune and knocking the marionette off of Tarble. She plucked the branch from its hand and stabbed its chest with cold rhythm, once, twice, three times. The marionette stopped struggling. Talan helped Tarble to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” she panted.

“The brother, is he..?”

“Let’s find out,” Talan said, helping him up the hill. The third marionette and the boy it had been strangling lay motionless, the one on top of the other. Talan hadn’t even moved it off of him before running back to save her own brother.

“He’s breathing!” Tarble shouted, dragging the living boy out and checking his pulse.

“Wheezing pretty bad though, could be tracheal damage. Give him to me,” Talan held her hands out. Tarble placed the boy’s head gently in her lap as they both knelt down. “Oh my god,” she muttered. “You remember Mecuria? This is her assistant, Urmes!” Talan snapped like it was obvious.

“Oh?”

“Mecuria is the biggest journalist on Maena now and we just rescued her assistant! He can make her cover the Bakae!”

“OH!” Tarble realised.

“Exactly. Come on, we’re getting him back there.”

Tarble lifted the waist as Talan held the shoulders. They took off awkwardly into flight, Tarble flying backwards all the way to the city.

It was the force of landing that finally woke Urmes up, combined with how aggressively Talan threw open the front door.

“LEDA!” Talan yelled.

“Where am I?!” asked a frightened Urmes.

“Leda I need you now!” Talan dragged him into the building. Leda half tumbled down the stairs, bewildered and dressed in her house clothes.

“Talan, oh gosh!” she reacted to the scene. “What happened out there?!”

“Doesn’t matter, I need bandages and alcohol,” Talan commanded, as she dragged the now struggling Urmes through the bar.

“Right, for disinfectant,” Leda mumbled, running for the storage closet.

“No, get good stuff. I’m trying to leave a good impression.”

Tarble lifted the legs as they hauled him up the stairs.

“Um… I think I feel fine actually?” Urmes said. “I can go home, I think.”

“No you can’t,” Talan said. “You’re being nursed. Get nursed buddy.”

“We can use my room,” Tarble suggested in a hushed voice. They placed Urmes down on Tarble’s bed, just as Leda came back with the requested supplies. Tarble took the bandages and Talan poured the glass.

“Drink this, and make sure you remember it as you’ll be writing about it later,” she ordered, as Tarble felt around his throat to check the extent of the damage.

“Writing? Oh shit the story!” Urmes moaned. “I was supposed to write about the marionettes but I screwed it up! Mecuria’s gonna kill me!”

“Well, you have a new story now,” she put the glass down by the bed. “You just got saved by the best bar owners in Glasstown, you got that? I want your boss right here tomorrow night. It’s about time she paid her old friends their dues.”

Talan shot Tarble a glare and made a ‘help me out’ gesture.

“Oh, yeah! Best bar in Glasstown! And I’ve never spilt anyone’s drinks down their shirts and cried about it for an hour afterwards.”

“Can’t stay… gotta go home,” Urmes mumbled. Talan hushed him, snatching the bandages and tending to his wounds. Tarble remembered something, the little girl clutching his hands as he made a promise Talan would scold him for.

“Wait, I get it. Leda,” Tarble called her over. “Can you go out and look for a little girl that looks just like Urmes? She’s waiting to know if her brother is safe.”

Leda nodded, muttering some understanding as she ran back down the stairs. Tarble watched from the window as she sped into the street, no shoes. Behind him, Talan sighed. Urmes had fallen unconscious again.

The next day it rained and the people of Glasstown, so used to dry weather in their desert landscape, were all outside playing. Tarble had no such luck – Talan had ordered him to watch Urmes with his life. She didn’t think the trachea was broken, but someone had to watch his breathing just in case. Thirsty, he caught rain in his hands and drank. Talan had ordered him not to leave, and he wouldn’t risk her wrath.

The glass of spirits she had poured their guest still stood half full on the nightstand, though the ice had melted. He took another glance out the window and saw Talan race down the street, laughing with a group of children who were chasing her. Talan never let Tarble drink. She said if she caught him in the liquor before he turned eighteen, he would regret the day he was born. He lifted the glass, and drank.

“Oh god that’s horrible!” he exclaimed, breaking down coughing. “Tastes like varnish remover, who even invented that stuff?!”

Tarble opened his weeping eyes. His guest was sat upright, watching him suffer with amusement.

“Damn, pretty boy’s bed. Guess I died and went to heaven after all,” Urmes said. Tarble exhaled, and sat beside him. Urmes was far from unattractive, in that kind of puny nerdy way. It could almost be said he looked like Tarble, if Tarble were a Maenad. Not his usual taste in guys, but he would try anything once. He was also the same age, though Talan must have had reason to think he was slightly older, since she was so strict about letting kids drink in the Bakae.

“Pretty boy in my bed,” Tarble echoed. He held up the glass. “Maybe drinking this killed me.”

“Wanna come closer? I think warmth might help with my healing, and all,” Urmes offered. Tarble gladly slid up the bed, taking his hand. “Cute,” Urmes tutted. “It’s Tarble right? Sorry to ruin the mood and all but… are you an alien?”

Tarble chuckled awkwardly, looking down at his own body. He shrugged.

“Uh… yeah? Pretty obvious?”

“It doesn’t surprise you? No existential crisis when I ask? How are you certain?” Urmes tilted his head.

“Oh my mom told me before I could even remember,” Tarble waved nonchalantly. “She even met my parents once or twice. I’m a Saiyan, from Planet Vegeta. Or I was. It was destroyed while I was en route here, so I might be the last. And the best part? I’m a prince. Have you ever wanted to be a prince Urmes?”

“Maybe. But are you the Moon Prince, Tarble?”

Tarble paused. He had never even seen a moon. Maena didn’t have one, though other planets in its solar system did.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Did you bring my bag? It should have been with me when you found me. I have something to show you,” Urmes asked.

“Oh right, it’s over here,” Tarble crossed the room. He vaguely recalled a bag being strung over Urmes’ shoulder when they found him, and he had thrown it aside when they brought him to the bedroom. Tarble handed it to Urmes, who rummaged through the paper inside.

“You look quite similar, don’t you think?” Urmes suggested. He handed him an unframed photograph, creased at the edges. Tarble turned it over and forgot how to breathe.

It was a Saiyan. A lady Saiyan. She was clad in elaborate black furs, tapered to her tall, muscular form. On her head sat a spherical crown, pock-marked like a cratered moon. The crude camera flash, dazzled by the crown’s reflection, made the image almost monochrome, the other black-clad women around her fading into shadow. She looked aside, as though she didn’t want to be photographed. Her hands clenched the ornament of an elaborate, ceremonial staff.

“The Moon Queen, 727,” Tarble read breathlessly. “Urmes…” he reached for the framed picture on his dresser, knocked over in the earlier commotion, and showed it to the journalist It was an exact copy of the photograph from Urmes’ bag, albeit in miniature, without the view of her clothes or attendants and without the caption. “Urmes I’d like you to meet my birth mother, Cassava.”

“Fuuck!” Urmes gasped. “Oh my god, you don’t know what this means! I’ve been trying to get Mecuria to cover this story for months, but she said we needed direct testimony!” he shuffled to the edge of the bed, enraptured. “You’re the son!”

“What story are you trying to tell?” Tarble asked. “How did you get the picture?”

“Someone found it decades ago. It got passed around but that’s not the important part. There’s a very popular rumour in certain places, that this woman came to Maena a few decades ago along with a man of her species. Her husband they said. They visited several times but always went straight for Penta’s palace, never speaking to anyone else. They disappeared shortly before the war.”

Tarble nodded.

“I understand now. My mom Kibo always told me she wasn’t the one who was supposed to adopt me, but my parents didn’t have my best interests at heart, so she took me in herself. The person my parents intended must have been Penta.”

“Are you sure? Would your parents really be so wicked as to give you to her?” Urmes asked. He tore out a page of his notebook and started scribbling about everything they had discussed so far.

“I’m pretty sure. You’ve got to understand Urmes, that my parents were really not good people. The Saiyans were mercenaries by trade, and apparently they worked for some emperor named Frieza who rules, like, half of the galaxy these days. And apparently he might be an Arcosian, or a descendant of one at least.”

“An ice demon? They’re still around? I remember our old teachers saying the Arcosians went extinct the best part of a million years ago. Same time our kind gave up on space travel,” Urmes said, still writing.

“I heard that too. It was a big war, I believe. But I guess if we survived, they did too, at least if my parents were to be believed. Anyway, my parents worked for Frieza and they conquered planets for him. My mom said they even sent young children who weren’t wanted off to weaker planets to do it by themselves. That would have been my fate if I weren’t royal, but I guess I got special treatment.”

“Clearly, if they sent you here,” Urmes agreed.

“But actually, my parents didn’t like Frieza at all. It wasn’t that they minded the work, they just wanted that power for themselves. So when they crash landed on Maena one day they agreed to keep it a secret in exchange for Penta’s friendship. Someone as old as her probably had a lot of good advice to give.”

“You said they all died. It didn’t go well for them?” Urmes guessed.

“Yep,” Tarble concurred bluntly. “But it meant I got to live with my mom and grow up on Maena, so I’ll say I came out quite well from it. Is that enough for your story?” he asked.

“Plenty. This could have the whole planet going wild. Alien encounters, the return of the Arcosians, juicy gossip on what Penta’s been doing. This is going to rock people’s shit Tarble. And make my career!”

“Great!” Tarble clapped. He was always happy to help people. “But I guess you won’t have time to write about the Bakae then?”

“Probably not, but I’ll cut you in so your sister is happy,” Urmes stood up, packing his notes into his bag and taking back the complete version of the photograph. “Just wait a few weeks. I’ll need to word this very carefully before I publish it. The last thing we want is for you to suffer any bad rep because of what your parents did.”

“I appreciate it. Have a good day Urmes.”

Urmes nodded and shut the door behind him. Tarble fell back on his bed with a sigh. Maybe it would be better, he thought. To stop having to explain everything to everyone. The door flew open again. “Do you want this?” Urmes asked, holding up the photo of the Moon Queen. Tarble sat up.

“Won’t you need it for your story?”

“Maybe we can trade,” Urmes offered, gesturing to the miniature on the dresser. “Yours is almost as good. But it’s your mother so I think you should have the complete version. If I need it again, it gives me an excuse to come by.”

“Huh, good thinking,” Tarble blushed. Maybe he and Urmes could be something. Maybe he had found his great love. Urmes switched the photos on the dresser, waved once more, and departed.

Tarble kicked his legs like a school girl as he looked once more at the picture. It was then he had an utterly, utterly stupid idea.

He found his sister and Leda tending bar later that evening. It was a busy night – the rain had gotten annoying after a while, and there were easily fifty people in the smaller bar alone. He had to pull them into the storage closet to talk to them, much to Talan’s annoyance.

He told them everything that had transpired in the conversation between himself and Urmes, shaking the photograph in their faces.

“Aren’t you horrified?” Talan said sympathetically. “Kibo always said your parents were terrible, but working with Penta? That’s got to be rough to hear.”

“Nope!” Tarble smiled. “Well it is terrible, but I think I can use this! If Penta knew my parents and was supposed to raise me, I can probably visit her at her palace without much danger.”

Leda covered her mouth in shock. Talan looked incredulous.

“And you would do that why?” her eyes glared daggers.

“As a distraction of course, so you can go around the palace and take out a bunch of her marionettes at once.”

“Tarble no…” Leda squealed fearfully. Talan’s face was in her hands.

“Oh my good god- everyone knows you’re Kibo’s kid now. Her god damn shadow at that! Whatever Penta intended for you there’s no way she’ll let you waltz in for damn afternoon tea with her.”

“There is if she thinks I’ve had some sort of epiphany, that I want to be like my parents now,” Tarble suggested.

“And how would you convince her that?” Talan asked with exhaustion. Tarble stammered. He hadn’t thought it through that far. He was a bad talker and a worse liar. To convince Penta, he would need proof. He looked down at the only thing he had on him, the photograph.

“With this,” he handed it to Leda, shaking. “Do you think you can make me something like this? I know it’s hard to come by fur but…” he looked around wildly, and grabbed the black fur-lined coat hung up on the closet wall, Kibo’s present for his birthday. “I have some you can reuse.”

“Um… probably?” the seamstress said perplexed.

“Excellent!” Tarble thanked her. “I’ll pay, and- and,” another idea hit him and he gasped with excitement. “I’ll get good use out of it too! It can be my stage persona. My mother was the Moon Queen, so I’ll be the Moon Prince! Just imagine that on album covers! Actually don’t, I’ll go sketch one right now!”

Talan grabbed his arm before he could run. Her hellish red eyes bore into his soul.

“Tarble. I’ve met Penta. You haven’t. She is terrifying beyond measure, and she feels nothing for anyone. You do not have what it takes to face her.”

“I’m already terrified,” Tarble smiled, blinking. “But I’m also excited. This is the thing that makes us famous!”

“Dead famous,” Talan grumbled. Leda tried to talk but lost her voice. The siblings looked down at where she had slid down the wall.

“I’ll make the outfit,” she stammered. She whispered to Talan. “It will give him a few weeks to back down.”

“Ugh, fine,” Talan sighed. “I just hope to god prancing around in that ridiculous costume will satisfy him. But if it doesn’t,” she turned to Tarble, “I’ll go with you. I’d rather die myself than outlive your embarrassing death.”

Talan hugged them both, giggling, and ran outside to finally play in the rain.

#dragon ball #tarble #dbz #dragon ball super #fanfic #dbz au

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tenthgrove · 14 days ago

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The Moon Prince, Chapter One

This one goes out to all the Tarble fans. I started this fic a month ago but decided to redo it so I'm releasing it together with chapter two. Thanks for reading! (Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67552426/chapters/174592251)

“You should open your birthday gift now, Tarble.”

Up in the chill wind, ten thousand feet above Planet Maena, the blue veil of Tarble’s mother blew over his face. The boy made a quizzical noise, somewhere between a ‘huh?’ and a ‘wha?’ as he moved it aside, taking delicate care not to dislodge the black pins fixing the veil to her wide-brimmed hat, as he clambered up her warm chest to hear her better.

“The bag, can you reach?” his mother explained. She tapped the rattan bag which she balanced on her back as she flew, which to say something truly profound, was bigger than she was tall. Tarble wriggled up further, unlatching the metal button with some effort.

“Are you alright Tarble?” his mother asked. She tightened her arms.

“I’m fine, let me reach.”

Inside, everything was neatly boxed and labeled in her delicate script: music, photos, clothes, even the toys he thought he’d hidden. Sixteen was much too old to be bringing his toys, Tarble had thought, slipping them into the bottom of the trunk.

He found the box of birthday presents in gold wrapping paper, every edge folded perfectly as he would expect of his mother, and took it out. He closed the bag fast so nothing tumbled through the clouds.

“Alright! Let’s take a look!” Tarble gushed. He tore off the gold paper and stuffed it in his pocket. It gave way to soft, navy blue fabric with plush fur lining inside. It was the colour of his mother’s clothes, her veil, and the feathers that wilted from the face he had never seen.

All Maenads had feathers, they were an avian species, though they had long since lost the wings their ancestors had sung of in legends. All that remained was their soft, downy feathering around the face, shoulders and chest that came in as many colours as the sky had stars, and a hardening of the centre of the lips to a subtle point. Wingless flight came from their mastery of ki, a talent from the days they wandered the cosmos

But his mother Kibo was the only Maenad who felt the need to hide her face, and aside from the ruby red eyes that reflected the white sun, nobody knew what she really looked like. Not even her own two children.

Tarble was not a Maenad, nor was he any avian derived species. His mother had raised him to know that he was a Saiyan from the distant Planet Vegeta, a mammalian species. Hence, he had a dextrous, furry tail, a voice which changed with how he breathed (something he learned to use quite creatively in his music), and he nearly died when he tried to join the cool kids swallowing pebbles. Mammals were rare on Maena, though a few long-furred deer lived on Jay Mountain, where Madame Kibo had raised him. As a child he would stare at them and wonder how he could be more like them on the inside than his mother and sister, who he otherwise resembled so much more.

“Oh mom, it’s really beautiful. Nobody sews as well as you,” he praised her. He unfolded the blue coat, which was sure enough lined with the black fur of the deer on Jay Mountain, the warmest material on the planet. “But… you do realise I’m moving to Glasstown right? Glasstown is in a desert, mom.”

“Deserts get cold at night,” replied Kibo. “Did I never tell you that?”

“Um… probably,” he said sheepishly. Kibo was not a bad teacher, his sister was decently smart enough to prove that. Tarble was just kind of a bad student.

“I can make something else of the fabric if you prefer,” she offered.

“No! No, I love it, and…” he wrapped the coat around himself, only realising once he was warm how cold he had been from the wind-chill. “I’ll wear it every single night.”

Underneath the wispy clouds, Tarble could see the white desert that surrounded Glasstown coming into view.

“Argh! I’m so excited to see Glasstown!�� he raved. “I bet it’s even more awesome than the pictures Talan showed me. She says there are twenty thousand people living there now. Can you imagine, mom? Twenty thousand people all living in one place?”

“I’ve lived for over a million years. I’ve seen cities with billions of people Tarble,” Kibo sighed.

“Right right, you’ve seen stars encased in metal and ships that can fly planet to planet, and met ice demons-”

“Arcosians,” Kibo corrected.

“Them. And that’s cool! But Glasstown is the coolest thing that’s happened in my lifetime. A whole load of kids who didn’t know each other before what Penta did came out of the caves together and they found the glass that had been blown out of another city all pooled at the edge of an oasis, and it was so beautiful they decided to build their homes there. Together, helping each other!”

“I’m sure they didn’t stay because it was beautiful. It was probably as far as they could go and it made a convenient place to rest. Your sister is idealistic,” Kibo insisted.

“Idealistic? Talan? Have you spoken to her in the last year?” Tarble guffawed.

“No,” Kibo answered firmly. Tarble felt his stomach flip with embarrassment.

“Well… it’s still nice that they succeeded, yeah? Building a city with no adults to help them.”

“Yes,” Kibo sighed again. “I am glad they are all doing okay. And you’re a treasure. You really are. I wish I still had your… commitment to giving all stories a happy ending.”

“If a story doesn’t have a happy ending, I don’t think it’s over yet,” he quipped. Kibo gave a sad, soft laugh, and gently ruffled his hair.

Soon after this, the city of Glasstown appeared on the horizon. It wasn’t easy to stand out amid the glare of the white sand under the midday sun, but the tapestry of rainbow glass murals on every roof and building achieved that effect. The builders of Glasstown had dedicated murals to storybook legends and Maenad animals, some in incredible artistic detail. Those who hadn’t had the skill to create murals had written their names out of glass, presumably to signify residence. Tarble scanned the skyline for the names of those he knew: Talan, Leda, Mecuria, Hekat. He also looked for Bakae, Talan’s bar.

As they landed at the edge of the city, Kibo put Tarble down gently besides his trunk, and took a moment to tuck her veil neatly into the neckline of her gown. She stepped slightly out of view of the street, her reluctance to be seen in public after the civil war the reason for her isolation on Jay Mountain. It didn’t matter how much Tarble promised her that nobody held any hard feelings for her failure to prevent Penta’s final, all-destroying blast, or to save anyone other than Maena’s children who she had ingeniously stowed in the planet’s many caves a few weeks before.

Tarble ran without hesitation towards the elaborate glass arch that marked the city entrance, and the beginning of its outermost merchant’s district built to catch weary travellers before they retired to the hotels. People bustled about their business, stopping to stare and smile at the strange, featherless Maenad waving back at them. Young adults chatted idly with vendors at hole-in-the-wall stores, while adolescents painted on walls and children played ball in the open, dusty street.

“Hey mom, look!” Tarble beckoned his mother. “How old are the oldest kids who survived the war now? Twenty one? Yeah, Talan’s age. There are adults here! I’ll be safe!”

“That’s good, but twenty one is hardly an adult,” Kibo stressed. She jolted at the sudden noise of a woman shouting as she ran out from within the city, towards the glass arch. She wore a neat waitress’ uniform, with a tapered skirt and smart white apron. Her feathering was a paler blue than Kibo’s, and her curly hair was almost white. Kibo tutted, though seemed relieved. “Case in point,” she muttered.

“TALAN!” Tarble screamed. He jumped up and down like an idiot, waving and shouting ‘over here’ like Talan wasn’t obviously charging straight towards them. The siblings collided with a mighty thump, laughing and jumping together as they embraced. “Talan oh my god! It’s been months!”

“I’ve missed you so much little brother! I’m so happy you accepted my offer, And, you’re here too, Kibo,” she scowled suddenly.

“Not for long, daughter. You look… professional,” Kibo said carefully.

“Not your real daughter,” corrected Talan. “And I am a professional. The Bakae is a serious operation, Kibo. I’m making a profit and I’m sure I’ll make a lot more with this one on our stage,” she gestured graciously at Tarble.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that,” said Kibo. “And you are… set up to take him?”

“Of course!” Talan declared. “Our stage is solid, varnished hardwood. Six meters by two-point-five, with plenty of room for our star’s trademark theatrics and a back-up band once we reach that point,” Talan said proudly.

“The band! I want to talk about the band!” Tarble begged.

“I meant his room,” Kibo cut him off. He gripped his sister’s arm, unnerved by the sudden impatience.

“Of course he has a room,” Talan replied. “I’ve shown him pictures already, if you cared to ask.” Silence fell, colder than the high atmosphere Tarble had just descended from.

“Um… mom?” he found his voice, dry and nervous. “Maybe Talan and I should get going? I want to find all my friends, so we can make a plan for how I’m going to spend my first week here. Is that a good idea?”

“Very well,” agreed Kibo. She nodded underneath the veil. “But how about a hug goodbye?”

“Of course!” Tarble responded, his nerves evaporating. He ran up to her at once and threw himself against her warm chest. She lay her veiled cheek against his forehead, the ticklish linen reminding him of home. “I’m gonna miss you, mom.”

“Me too. And Tarble?” she asked quietly. “I just want you to know that… you can come back any time you want. You can be a rockstar for a few days and I can come and pick you up. It’s more than okay to not be ready to move out at sixteen.”

“Thanks mom. I love you but I am ready. I’ll visit often, yeah?”

“Please do,” Kibo said tenderly. It was another long moment before she let him go. “Goodbye Tarble, be safe. And Talan, please keep him safe.”

“Capiche. Have fun at the mountain,” Talan waved with her fingertips. Kibo touched her fingers to her covered lips and raised them out in a gesture of farewell. She launched into the sky.

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MOM!” Tarble screamed. A faint, ‘I love you too’ called back from the sky, followed by a fainter ‘happy sixteenth birthday’. Tarble felt something strange and uneasy in his chest, but forgot it quickly when Talan tapped his shoulder.

“Wanna see the Bakae?”

“The Bakae! Show me the Bakae!” he begged, running down the road before he knew the way. Talan smiled lazily, picked up his trunk over her head, and went to drag her brother out of the local baker’s alleyway.

After the initial excitement wore off, the walk to the Bakae was lazy. Talan showed him the stalls, clubs, and schools the children had cobbled together, a clique for every age group. There were no places for the under six, born after the blast. Not many survivors were having children yet, not even the eldest ones.

A lot of people waved at Talan, especially merchants. A few even called out to “Talan’s little brother,” who supposed he must have been easy to describe.

“What’s the new fashion?” Tarble asked, as some young girls ran by with more gemstones visible on their dresses than fabric.

“Eh, none of us really learned to sew before the war, so the current workaround is to stick gems and stuff everywhere to hide bad stitching on dresses. We’re still figuring out something for the boys, if you want to set any trends,” Talan explained.

“Maybe. How come your clothes are so neat?”

“Leda makes our clothes. She’s trying to learn to be a proper seamstress, like before the war.”

“Oh right! Leda!” Tarble remembered his sweet childhood friend, the little girl almost two years older than him who still hid behind his back inside the caves. “Can we stop by her house first?”

“That’s what we’re doing kid. She lives at the Bakae as my waitress.”

“Oh!” Tarble exclaimed. “So when you said she lives ‘here’ you meant ‘here, here’, and not Glasstown in general. Well, that makes things a lot easier. Let’s go Tal!”

“Easier?” Talan gave chase. He turned the corner and saw one of the largest buildings he had seen so far in Glasstown, decorated with a blue neon sign that was twelve foot wide.

“B, A, K, A,” He read aloud. “Talan what does Baka mean?”

“Oh god damn it!” Shrieked Talan. She gave the building a mighty kick by the door. The letter E at the end of the sign came to life with a pained delay. “It’s been doing that all week. I’m gonna fight the chick who does my electrics. Anyway, welcome to the Bakae. Here’s where you make me rich.”

Soft jazz played on the stereo inside the empty Bakae. There was space for two dozen in the intimate bar. Crude wooden chairs surrounded tables in groups of five or six, with a few wooden crates to fill out numbers. It was cool inside, dark with soft lighting, like a cave. A thin gold curtain sparkled above the doorway leading to what appeared to be a much larger room, at the back of which stood the promised stage.

“Oh my god, oh my god, this is gonna be amazing!” Tarble gushed to himself. He threw aside the curtain and shouted.

“HELLO!!!” his voice reverberated crisp and clear. The room was dark and not often used, but the blank walls were a canvas of opportunity. He laughed with excitement. “Incredible acoustics! I can’t wait!”

“Tarble?” Talan cleared her throat. He turned around to look back at the smaller bar. Next to Talan, a small girl with pale, freckled yellow feathering sat by the taps, an open sketch book in front of her.

“Leda!” he shouted. He went to hug her but stopped when it occurred he might still need permission. Leda had grown to the exact same height as Tarble, on the shorter end of normal for a Maenad. A cute spot of red feathering had bloomed on each cheek, and her curly blond hair was tied neatly behind her head. She was, and always had been, the prettiest girl on Maena in Tarble’s eyes, though she didn’t seem to think so herself.

“Oh my gosh, Tarble, hi!” Leda said shyly. She also took the moment to observe how Tarble had grown up, unable to resist a glance at his tail, which Tarble was used to. “I’m so happy you agreed to Talan’s offer!”

Behind them, Talan squeezed the trunk through the front door and heaved it towards the stairs.

“I’ll get this to your room for you,” she announced. “You two catch up or whatever.”

“So, hug?” Tarble asked the seamstress.

“Um, okay,” she nodded nervously. Sensing her unease he gave her a small, chaste hug.

“I’ve wanted to see you so bad,” he said softly. “Finding out you were in Glasstown was the straw that made me move here. I know we were young, but I never forgot about us. You’re my great love, Leda. Let’s be together again.”

Leda blinked, glancing at her sketches, then around the room, and everywhere else except for Tarble.

“Oh, that’s so sweet Tarble. I was very happy too,” she said, still not making eye contact.

“I live in hope then?” Tarble beamed

“I think so,” she agreed. She finally looked at him for the briefest moment but couldn’t hold her gaze. “But I need time to think. Find me after work okay?”

“Of course, take all the time you need,” Tarble stepped back and bowed. “I would wait for eternity for you, my darling.”

He walked backwards to the stairs, where Talan reappeared on the landing.

“Hey. Your stuff is in your room. We open in two hours so settle in quickly then pick your songs for tonight. I have to check stock but then I’ll show you how the stereo works. And Tarble?”

“Yes?”

“I’m limiting you to two songs by Hadeon’s Sanctuary. Everyone and their pigeon is covering Hadeon’s Sanctuary right now. You’ll never get famous by copying him.”

“But Tal, Hadeon’s Sanctuary is my main inspiration! Can’t I do, like, five songs mixed into the setlist?” Tarble pleaded.

“Three,” commanded Talan.

“Four?” he bartered.

“Four.” she conceded.

“Good luck Tarble!” Leda called as he went upstairs. He tried to thank her but he couldn’t find the words, so he waved and smiled silently.

Good acoustics aside, Tarble didn’t get the full benefit of his new stage on his first night. The stereo died twice in his 90 minute performance. The first time, he tried a few jokes and stories to fill the silence, which went down decently well. The second time, he decided to perform an acoustic cover of ‘String of Hope’ by Hadeon’s Sanctuary, until Talan fixed the stereo by punching it. In his first stroke of good luck all night, or possibly incredible planning by Talan, the music came back just as the guitars of the final chorus kicked in, and the crowd went absolutely wild.

“Hey, Tarble, Tarble!” a late-coming patron called out at the end of the song. He was a boy about the same age as him, unafraid to run right up to the stage. Tarble knelt down, balancing on his heeled boots so the microphone could pick up both their talking. “I remember you!” the boy said. “I was in the same cave as you and your sister. Man I swear your shows got us through that month! It’s so awesome to see you’re still singing!”

“Oh- wow-” Tarble gaffawed, standing up. “I’m glad to see you’re doing good. As it happens I’m a permanent fixture now so come back every night if you want to see more!”

And oh the crowd cheered. Tarble could have basked in that moment forever, so unaware of what to do with himself he just sort of stood there and let them keep cheering, but there was one more person he needed to hear it from too. Taking his final bow, he jumped off the stage and pushed through the jostling crowd to get into the bar area.

“Talan! Talan they love me! I’m going to be famous and you’re going to be rich!”

The front door was closed but through the glass, he saw Talan hand a set of keys to Leda, nodding to her. Talan had changed out of her waitress uniform and put on a practical one-piece, that reminded him of the matching outfits his mother had gotten them when he briefly, very briefly, expressed an interest in learning to fight.

“Talan, where are you going?” he ran after her, but she was already leaving. By the time he had thrown open the door, she had already disappeared into the crowd of revellers on the street.

“Where’s she going Leda?” Tarble asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I have to tell her something.”

“Tarble wait!” Leda grabbed his shirt, but he was resolute. He weaved his way between the revellers. As he pushed out to the edge of town, the crowd less dense here, he was getting extremely nervous. From the same place he had landed earlier that day, he saw a pale blue figure under the stars. Talan was moving erratically. A second figure, a girl with a white dress, lay in the sand as Talan, shins stained bloody, beat her brutally. She was hurting someone.

Tarble took off flying so forcefully towards them he almost slipped on the sand, and nearly crashed into the sand dunes half way across. He collided into Talan and held her down, staring into her red eyes with horror.

“Talan, what are you doing to that girl?”

She didn’t respond. She just pointed behind her.

The girl in white stood up. Her arm hung loose in its socket, almost severed entirely, but no blood spotted the sands. Stuffing and woodchips spilled out from the wounds, and in her eyes he saw no pain, or anger, or any emotion at all. No soul.

“Oh my god,” he quivered. “Oh my god! Is that an actual marionette?”

Talan threw him off of her and charged into the young girl with a scream. It snarled and bit at her neck, but Talan held it back with ease. Lifting it up by the torso as it kicked and growled, she hurled it as far as she could, and with a blast of white ki, set it alight. It fell to the ground, now motionless. Tarble could only crawl towards it, speechless.

“Why the bloody fuck did you follow me out of town?!” Talan demanded angrily. Her fingers traced a fresh wound on her collar, brushing clean feathers over a bloody patch the corpse girl had torn out.

“I thought someone was in danger!” Tarble said defensively. His chest always hurt when his family yelled at him, and he had a habit of saying whatever he needed to stop it.

“Yeah, you were in danger, you dumbass! If you ran up to that thing without me you would be dragged straight to Penta herself, so the mother fucking guardian can praise your stupid little high-heeled boots as she stares at your broken corpse!”

Tarble stood up, reaching back for his sister’s hand. He thought he might have died if she didn’t take it.

“Penta?” he repeated. “It’s true then? The marionettes are made by Madame Penta, the same person who killed everyone’s parents?”

“Who else would send them?” Talan asked bitterly. “Who hates Maena more than its our own blessed guardian? I guess she wasn’t happy we all managed to hide from her world-ending explosion and has decided to clean up her mess.” She looked at the burning body. “Luckily I didn’t know that girl, but when I first came here most of the marionettes were people from Glasstown. She kills you, she turns you into a monster, then she sends you back to kill your own friends. Of course it’s Penta.”

“I didn’t think there were marionettes in Glasstown,” Tarble said anxiously. The remote places, sure, but never this close to cities. They didn’t even try to get up Jay Mountain.

“There are marionettes everywhere. You just haven’t seen them because Mom doesn’t want you to know about all the ones she picks off while you’re sleeping safe and sound. I told you Glasstown was dangerous. I didn’t think I would have to say why.”

“I thought you meant because of the alcohol! Or… or the falling signs!” He defended. Talan sighed, seeming calmer.

“Damn it. This is the problem with moms like Kibo. They raise you to be afraid of everything and then you can’t pick out the real dangers.” Talan said.

“So, you’re protecting us, but who’s helping you?” asked Tarble.

“I have a few friends I call in if there’s a larger horde, but it’s mostly just me. I’m the oldest person in Glasstown, maybe even the whole planet, other than Kibo and Penta of course. And I’m the only one trained by the likes of Kibo,” Talan hit her fists together in a show of strength.

“But that sounds exhausting! You’re running a bar, and then you’re out on watch… all night? That’s insane. You should have time to have fun like everyone else. Or at very least, someone should watch your back,” Tarble put his hand over his chest. “Train me, please.”

Talan paused, looking at her brother intently. It seemed like she was about to agree.

“OW!” He cried as he was smacked face down on the ground. He spat out sand, eyes stinging. “That was mean,” he complained. “What did you do that for?”

“I love you, my little brother,” Talan stood over him. “But you are puny. Most Maenads are stronger than you at twelve. You couldn’t fly until you were fourteen.”

“Mom said I could learn!” he gripped his injured cheek.

“You could, but you didn’t. You never wanted to. Whenever we tried to give you lessons you said it was boring, or tiring, or painful.”

“But it is!”

“Because it’s meant to be! If you can’t put the work in, you’re never going to get to the level of fighting marionettes. They might not look tough, but a lot of strong Maenads have died to just one or two.” With a sigh, she sat down next to him, laying a hand over his as they looked up at the sky. “You have a lot of talent. I saw you on stage today and you were a little awkward, but you were leagues above most of the amateurs I see around here. Put your focus on that and I really think you can get famous. You’ll help me just as much if you make the Bakae filthy rich.”

“But I can’t just follow my hobbies while you’re out here,” Tarble pleaded. “I want to learn. Even if it’s hard work. I mean it this time.”

“Really? Even if it’s hard work?”

“I promise. Mom didn’t raise me to lie. I’m gonna help you.” He braced himself for another slap, but the way she stared at him, they could see each other’s sincerity.

“Fine. I’ll train you,” Talan assented, “and if it goes well you can become my apprentice. Come on kid, I’ll walk you home.”

They dusted the sand off their clothes and followed Talan’s tracks back towards the city. When they made it back to the Bakae, the crowds finally dispersed in the early hours of the morning, Leda was waiting for them outside. The feathers on her arms were dishevelled from nervous scratching.

“There you are! Gosh Tarble I was worried sick!” she fretted. Look, I’ve been thinking and I can’t date you just because we held hands when we were ten. Especially not if you’re going to scare me like this. You’re just too messy. Sorry,” she shook her head and went inside. Tarble’s jaw was on the floor.

“Oh my chuffing days,” Talan exclaimed. “Is this why you came back? So you could torment that poor girl with your bullshit?!”

“What? No! I don’t torment her! And I’m not messy! Am I?” entreated Tarble.

“Tarble, your love life is messier than the floor of a bakery if the baker dropped a hundred cakes outside the oven. The gods of messy bow at your feet and proclaim ‘Tarble, you have outdone us! We are forever in your service!’”

“But… Leda was my great love…” Tarble sounded on the verge of tears.

“What, your sixth?” Talan asked, counting on her fingers. She had to restart a couple times.

“No! More like… third,” He answered bashfully. He had to do his own maths. “Six…” he agreed.

“Well, you’ll get over her,” Talan comforted him. “I did.” Tarble broke down into a coughing fit, looking up at his sister in shock. “Relax, that was a joke,” she shrugged him off. “She’s too young for me. I only said that so you’d pine for her less. Did it work?”

“Now you mention it,” Tarble stood back up.

“Good. But seriously Tarble, did you come here for her?” Talan asked, looking judgementally. “If you’re going to home lovesick after a week, the training is off.”

“Partially,” he confessed. “She didn’t make me move, she just made me move now. Did you invite me to make money off my voice?”

Talan grumbled.

“Maybe. But I also missed my only sibling,” she answered. Tarble smiled, offering out his hand for her to shake.

“Same,” he agreed. “I guess we both had secondary motives, but we needed each other first.”

“Go to bed Tarble,” Talan pushed away his hand. “Training starts tomorrow, so enjoy your last full night of sleep. And I still expect you to perform at least three times a week. You’re earning back what I spent on that stage.”

“Of course,” Tarble held out his hand again, more insistently. “Riches and fame?”

“Riches and fame,” Talan shook it. “Now go to bed.”

#dragon ball #tarble #dbz #dragon ball super #fanfic #dbz au

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