Chapter Text
"Why the fuck did it have to be me?" Molly snarled as she angrily adjusted the crinoline of her dress.
Her voice echoed off the high walls of her chambers, heavy with pure frustration. The Northern princess paced back and forth in front of the massive mirror at her vanity, as if her reflection was personally responsible for the whole disaster. The custom-made dress fit her perfectly: elegant, imposing, radiating that aura of wealth and danger she was supposed to project. But right now, Molly just wanted to rip it off and set it on fire.
"Out of all the people in this fucking kingdom… IT HAD TO BE ME!"
Vegetta, her father, watched the scene with his arms crossed and that infinite patience only he seemed to possess. Beside him, Aldo leaned against the wall with a half-mocking smile—the same one he always wore when things got uncomfortable for everyone, including himself.
"Daughter…" Vegetta began in his deep, calm voice as he stepped closer. He placed his large, warm hands on Molly’s tense shoulders. They looked at each other through the mirror. "It was the most viable option to keep the peace between the factions. Besides, Asswag doesn’t seem like a bad man. He has his… flaws, sure, but you’ll know how to put him in his place."
Molly huffed, blowing out a sharp breath.
"Right. 'Flaws.' He already kicked Aldo’s ass once. What makes you think I’ll be able to handle him?"
Aldo let out a short, raspy laugh, ignoring the jab. He walked over with a casual stride and gave his sister a playful shove on the arm.
"C’mon, Molly. Plus… weren’t you saying you were really horny? I did you a favor, huh? You’re welcome."
She whipped her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t get whiplash. She shot him a murderous glare that would’ve made anyone else back off. Aldo raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never fully left his face.
Molly turned back to the mirror. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and fought back the childish urge to run away like some bad romance novel character. She let out a long, deep sigh, her shoulders dropping for a second before she pulled herself together again.
"What a shitty deal…" she muttered almost to herself.
Then, in a firmer voice still laced with annoyance, she said:
"Alright, let’s go. Let’s get this over with."
The office of the second-in-command was even more cluttered than usual. Though mess was the norm, this time the tension in the air felt almost tangible, like a dead weight pressing down on everything.
Ashswagg reclined in his seat with clear impatience, drumming his fingers on the wooden armrest. He’d been waiting for over ten minutes and had considered getting up to go find Vegetta several times. All while those noisy voices in his head kept fueling his thoughts about this sudden meeting.
"Sorry for the delay, my little friend!" Vegetta’s melodic and confident voice finally pulled him out of his head.
Ashswagg stood up immediately, forcing a polite smile that, if you looked twice, looked more like a grimace.
"Vegetta, good to see you again," he greeted, extending his hand for a firm, cordial handshake.
His gaze, however, instinctively drifted toward the young woman entering right behind him.
"Same to you, Ass," Vegetta replied with a wide smile.
"Ash," he corrected softly, keeping his composure.
"Ash, of course," Vegetta repeated, amused. "I’m sure you already know my daughter."
Molly smiled with practiced perfection, though her eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside her.
"Yes, I do," Ash answered, giving her a slight nod and an almost shy smile. "It’s a pleasure to see you again, Molly."
He then turned his attention back to Vegetta, trying to keep a respectful tone.
"I don’t want to sound disrespectful… but what’s this meeting about?"
"Ah, of course!" Vegetta snapped his fingers as if he had just remembered. "Please, let’s take a seat."
The three of them settled around the table. The silence grew thick, broken only by the occasional creak of old wood. Vegetta cleared his throat and leaned forward, wearing that confident expression he always put on before dropping a bomb.
"Well, my dear friend… I know the current treaty keeps the peace, but we both know it’s hanging by a very thin thread. That’s why I’m bringing you a more… solid proposal."
He paused deliberately, letting the words hang in the air. The glitch in Ash’s left eye flickered briefly.
"And what would that proposal be?" Ash asked in a calm voice, though he already suspected the answer.
Vegetta swallowed. For the first time, his tone faltered for a second.
"A marriage. My daughter Molly… is willing to seal a union with the Regime."
The silence that followed was different. Sharper. Heavier with implications.
Ash leaned back in his seat, slowly drumming his fingers. His eyes flicked toward Molly for a second, evaluating her with cold calculation.
"And what exactly do we gain from this, besides not killing each other?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vegetta regained his composure and spread his hands across the table.
"A complete alliance. Economic, military, access to the North’s resources and vice versa. Open doors on both sides. We’d be stronger together."
Molly kept her smile in place, but inside her stomach was churning. She dug her nails into her palm under the table until the pain grounded her. "My own father is basically trading me for this… Damn you, Aldo. You should’ve been the one offering your ass, you traitor."
Ash took a few more seconds to respond, weighing risks and benefits like he always did.
"I accept," he said at last, his voice firm. "As long as the princess agrees."
All eyes turned to her. Molly cleared her throat, lifted her chin slightly, and answered with a surprisingly steady voice:
"Of course. It’s mutually beneficial. I have no reason to object."
Vegetta let out a relieved laugh.
"Perfect then! The deal is done."
The two men stood up and sealed the agreement with a strong, almost defiant handshake.
Almost two hours had passed. The formal discussion about the treaty details had turned into a more relaxed and entertaining conversation between the two men. Molly had excused herself much earlier, muttering something about going horseback riding with Graf.
Suddenly, the office doors burst open. Juan and Foolish stormed in, arguing heatedly, completely unaware they were being watched.
"Uh… guys," Vegetta raised his voice to get their attention.
The argument cut off instantly.
"Sorry!" they said almost in unison, their tones exaggeratedly embarrassed.
Before they could start apologizing, Vegetta raised a hand.
"It’s fine, relax."
"We’ll leave, we didn’t mean to interrupt," Juan said quickly, already reaching for the doors to close them.
"Doesn’t matter," Ash cut in, standing up and straightening his clothes with an elegant motion. "We were pretty much done anyway."
He turned to Vegetta and extended his hand once more.
"Thanks for the chat. It was entertaining. I hope we can continue it another time."
Vegetta nodded without getting up.
"Same here, man. Hope you can show me that White House build you mentioned."
Ash gave a brief nod and left the office without another word. He walked down the stairs at a calm pace, still processing the earlier conversation. He had barely stepped on the second stair when he froze.
Down in the main entrance, Aldo and Molly were screaming at each other. Insults flew like bullets: "asshole," "bitch," "I’m gonna beat the shit out of you." Aldo gestured furiously, muscles tense under his shirt, jaw clenched, and that proud stare that never faded.
Ash couldn’t move.
It wasn’t because he cared about the argument—he told himself he wasn’t nosy. His body simply refused to take another step the moment he saw him. That loyal, stubborn, dangerously proud Mexican. He had never bowed, not even when the odds were against him. He had been defeated with his head held high, no excuses, no begging. And that… that had shaken something deep inside him.
It wasn’t love. It was something more visceral—an dangerous thrill that shot up his spine every time there was even the possibility of being challenged or beaten by that man.
Suddenly, Aldo looked up and spotted him standing there, watching them from the stairs.
"And what the fuck are you looking at, asshole?!" he growled, his voice thick with pure disgust and irritation.
Ash felt a hot shiver run down his spine. For a split second, he almost smiled. But he quickly regained his cold mask.
Aldo seemed to lose patience with the lack of response. Before Ash could come up with a decent excuse, the brown-haired man was already storming up the stairs, muttering insults. However, Molly grabbed his arm and yanked him back, dragging him out of sight.
Ash released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and tried to steady his racing pulse. Finally, he let out a long, resigned sigh.
"Everyone in this house has issues, apparently…" he muttered to himself.
With that, he continued down the stairs and walked out of the mansion.