Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ At Odds ❯ Exorcism ( Chapter 19 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ

 

Thanks to LisaB for her beta skills.

 

Chapter Nineteen

Exorcism

 

Goku shifted his weight nervously as he watched the scene around him. King Cold was kicking Vegeta like a stray dog, the kid was snarling like a wild animal making the two guards next to him very nervous, but it wasn't the chaos that held Goku's complete attention.

 

It was the woman. She was strung up by her hands, muttering to herself, her words barely a whisper. She was forgotten by everyone, including her mate. Only Goku heard her lonely mantra, but that was probably because she wasn't speaking a language that anyone else in the room understood. A language that Goku hadn't heard since his boyhood. In the secluded darkness of the night, he and Chi-Chi would whisper words of love, but it had been years since they had spoken their native dialect freely.

 

Goku's frozen heart swelled, and a longing that he hadn't felt in years bloomed in his chest, warming him from the inside out. The need to dogood. The need to fight for a cause, for the safety and protection of those he loved. He had turned away from the goodness in his heart; fear for his wife kept him cowering in the dark. Fear of King Cold claiming her as his concubine, to be used and tortured at his twisted discretion.

 

He had done his best to deny his heart, to ignore the destiny he heard calling him. He became Kakarot. A Saiyan warrior who did the bidding of his master. Every day a piece of his heart died, more of his love for Chi-Chi disappeared like sand to a voracious ocean. He wanted to protect her, to love her and their son, but he couldn't stop the resentment that festered in his chest. He wasn't supposed to be Kakarot. He was supposed to be Goku. A warrior, a protector---a savior.

 

The woman muttered, and Goku cast a worried look towards King Cold. She was talking to God now, asking him to let her come back so she could be with the man she loved. She was pleading, but she was ignored by everyone except Goku.

 

Goku's thoughts were interrupted when Cold landed a brutal kick to Vegeta's side, sending him sliding in front of him. He looked down at the man who claimed to be his king. Like himself, he was Saiyan, an enemy of the Ice-jin. Raditz, his own brother had come to him, asking why he defied his heritage, but Goku had no answer. He wasn't Saiyan; he was human.

 

Goku glanced back at the woman, the human woman, then back to Vegeta.

 

She had chosen Vegeta, an arrogant, deadly man, to be her husband. From the tangled words that she spoke, he was able to glean that she loved him very much. A humble human woman had risen to be queen of the Saiyan people, and if Vegeta had his way, she would rule the universe as well. A human as empress. A new start, a new beginning. Her blood would start a dynasty, guaranteeing the survival of the human race for at least a few more generations. They may eventually become extinct, but they would never be forgotten. One of their own would be immortalized in the annals of time as one of the most powerful, influential beings in the universe.

 

Goku watched as Vegeta struggled to his knees once again. Blood ran freely down his face, and both his eyes were tightly clenched to block out the pain.

 

When they had fought, Goku had sensed a great power within Vegeta that he had been unwilling to release. If he had given it his all, he could have easily defeated Goku, but something held him back. A sadness, a darkness in his soul. Now the collar around his neck stunted his power. While it remained firmly in place he would never be able to achieve Super Saiyan; he would never be able to rise up from the ground to beat King Cold to death with his bare fists. He was a prisoner, just like Goku.

 

King Cold stalked up to Vegeta, pulling his head back so he could look him in the eye.

 

“You're pathetic, Vegeta. You are nothing more than vermin that needs to be exterminated, but before I do that I will make sure that you suffer as I have suffered.”

 

King Cold pushed Vegeta's head away, to point at the dangling woman. Vegeta remained kneeling, staring blankly at the nearly lifeless form of his mate.

 

“You took my son away from me, so let me take something of yours,” Cold spat. “Lower her,” he ordered his man at the wheel.

 

At his command, an ungodly howl rose up from the cage that held Trunks. With supreme effort, Vegeta turned his head so he could watch his son. The feral boy was racing from side to side in the cage, rattling the bars as hard as he could while howling at the top of his lungs. His tail lashed angrily behind him, and his long mane of lavender hair was nearly standing on end.

 

“Mommy! Flower!” he screamed repeatedly as he paced the cage, looking for any exit.

 

Everyone's brow creased as they tried to make sense of the boy's ramblings, but in the end they turned away, unconcerned with a child that was trapped behind bars.

 

As the water crept up Bulma's legs, Trunks became even more frantic. His cries were deafening, and above the din Goku could hear Cold shouting for someone to shut the child up.

 

The two guards who stood next to the cage looked at each other sheepishly until the men who had dragged Vegeta into the room joined them. The four men converged on the cage, unsure of how they were going to accomplish their task, but determined just the same.

 

Trunks came to a standstill in the center of his cage, his head whipping back and forth between his mother and the men who wanted to hurt him. Goku gasped as he felt a spike in the child's power that made his stomach jump. Trunks hunkered down, baring his sharp fangs while clenching his hands into tight fists at his sides. From nowhere, an immense power rose up inside of him, bursting through his very skin.

 

There was a blinding flash of light, and Goku barely had time to brace himself before he was hit with a tidal wave of ki that nearly knocked him off his feet. The four men who were nearest to Trunks were thrown violently back, their bodies hitting the far wall, and falling to the ice, broken.

 

In that instant there was chaos in the room. King Cold was shouting orders while men were scrambling for safety. Trunks was still screaming for his mommy at the top of his lungs, and through it all both Goku and Vegeta sat unnoticed.

 

Goku looked at the man who was still crouched at his feet. He seemed to be in a daze, not even the ferocity of his son's power had attracted his attention. He was just staring blankly at the frozen ground.

 

Goku looked up, silently watching as King Cold marched over to the boy's cage intent on punishing him. Goku thought back to his childhood, and his days spent training with Master Roshi. Earth had been a beautiful planet before it had been conquered. The human race had its flaws, but it had perfections too. It hadn't deserved to be crushed beneath the feet of the Ice-jin like nothing more than a cockroach.

 

He tightened his hands into fists, and in the distance he felt the lingering caress of Chi-Chi's mind. It had been ages since they shared their thoughts. Both were afraid of the intimacy. She was afraid of what she might see, and he was afraid of what he might show her, but for just a moment he felt her. She was warm, loving and caring. Most of all, she was understanding. They could no longer live as slaves. Their first born was already training in the art of murder, and the child in her womb would be no different if they didn't risk it all to save themselves.

 

He had to choose. The ultimate damnation of his family or uncertain freedom, even at the cost of their lives.

 

Goku looked down at Vegeta again, the gray metal of his collar gleaming dully in the light. Without another moment of hesitation he bent down, wrapping his fingers around the clasp. With short jerk he broke it, watching mutely as it fell to the ground between Vegeta's bent knees.

 

Goku leaned down to whisper into Vegeta's ear. “It's up to you now. You have the power. Use it.”

 

Without looking back, Goku jumped into the middle of the fray, his black hair shining to gold as he lashed out at King Cold with a ki infused fist.

 

Vegeta stared blindly at the broken collar. Distantly he could hear the sounds of battle all around him, but it couldn't pierce his muffled consciousness. He had watched dully as they lowered his mate into the cold water once again. He was sure that this time she would not survive. Her slender body was fragile, and she needed to be handled with care. How he had come to love such a delicate being he still didn't know.

 

As the awesome power of his son had swept through the room, he knew that he should feel some sort of paternal pride. The toddler could quite possibly be the most powerful Saiyan born. Vegeta had no doubt that it was the mixing of his blood and the woman's that made it so. As the boy's power drifted away, however, Vegeta had felt nothing, no pride, no anger, not even the pain of his body, just emptiness inside and out.

 

He was broken. The evil Ice-jin had finally won. The woman was undoubtedly dead, and if she wasn't she would be soon. By the look of terrifying anger on King Cold's face, the boy would meet the same fate shortly. Vegeta had nothing left to fight for.

 

His race was dead, his home destroyed. From the corner of his eye, Vegeta watched as Kakarot was slammed into the wall, buried in a hole nearly six feet deep. By the end of the day, the last of the Saiyans would also be gone, becoming nothing more than a forgotten legend lost in the shadows of time.

 

Vegeta looked back down at the collar as more of his royal blood fell to the ice. Slowly, starting at the tips of his toes, his ki returned to his body. It climbed his legs, wound its way through his arms and infused his chest.

 

He should rejoice at its return, but he ignored it as it crept down the rocky pathway that led to the golden light deep inside of him. The dragon awoke, lifting its lazy head to open one teal eye and one black.

 

Why should he even bother to stand? There was no reason for him to fight. He had been defeated, getting up now would just make him a laughing stock on top of it.

 

“Yes, Vegeta. Why even bother?”

 

Vegeta lifted his head to stare at his tormenter. Frieza stood before him, healthy and proud, without a blemish on him. Vegeta blinked, willing the specter away, but it stubbornly remained. He glanced to the side, but Frieza remained unnoticed to everyone else in the room.

 

“Don't worry, my dear boy. It's just you and me down here.”

 

“Go away,” Vegeta croaked, revolted at the sight of the lizard who stood before him, a symbol of everything dark and terrible in his life. Yet at the same time, he reminded Vegeta of his greatest conquest. For a short time Vegeta had had it all. Victory, pride, honor…love. Then it was gone, slipping through his hands like blood from a wound.

 

“Oh, don't be like that, dear boy. You know that I only speak the truth,” Frieza said slyly.

 

“You never spoke the truth!” Vegeta spat, ignoring the blood mingled spit that splattered the ice.

 

Frieza crouched down until he was nose to nose with Vegeta, his thin purple lips stretched into a mockery of a grin.

 

“Oh, but I do. I speak the truth when it causes the most pain, and the truth Vegeta, is that you are a loser. You're worthless. Your father knew it, and in the end, even your people knew it. And that mate of yours…” Frieza trailed off as he peered meaningfully at the near lifeless body of Bulma. “Well, she eventually learned it too, didn't she?”

 

Vegeta had followed Frieza's stare, but as he muttered his last words, he could no longer find the strength to hold his head up. His head sunk to his chest, the feeling of a thousand demons on his back riding him hard.

 

Frieza was right. He was a loser. For a short time he had tasted victory, for once he had been the conqueror, the master, but it was all gone. He had turned into something that he had sworn that he wouldn't: a monster, and now he was paying for his sins.

 

“You're so sad. It is impossible to think that such a weakling defeated me in battle. Me! The most powerful being in the universe. It must have been a fluke.”

 

Frieza continued to talk, but his words were drowned by the rushing of blood in Vegeta's ears. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was the bright red blood painting the ground beneath him. The roar in his head died down leaving one sentence to echo in the darkness of his soul

 

It must have been a fluke.

 

Memories came flooding back to Vegeta. All the hours he had spent in the gravity room training, pushing himself to the limit, and then stretching beyond that, reaching further, digging deeper, until it was just him and the purity of his body.

 

How many days had he worked himself until it felt like his muscles would sear away from his melting bones? How many weeks had he spent just honing the perfection of his punches? As he strained under the increased gravity, everything had fallen away: the burden of commanding his last remaining brethren, the disgrace of serving his enemy, the forbidden passion for a single woman, leaving him an empty vessel to be filled with strength and conviction---the strength and conviction to free himself from slavery and become his own man.

 

He alone was the one who had worked towards the goal of bettering himself---honing his body to his weapon. Bulma had provided him with the tools, but he was the one who used them.

 

On Namek his mind had suffered a break from his body. For a short time, he had forgotten his quest for vengeance. He had been distracted by his grief, tortured by his memories ---thoughts of his annihilated race, of his recent agony of killing his mate, of the weakness that he perceived in himself ---these kept him from his goal. But in the end he had purged his mind of everything, becoming empty---pure.

 

In that moment he had achieved greatness. He had done something that no one in his race had done in thousand years. He alone had become the Golden One, ascended, untouchable---godly.

 

It must have been a fluke.

 

“No,” Vegeta croaked between bloody lips.

 

Frieza paused his tirade, peering down at his fallen pet.

 

“What was that, boy?”

 

“It was not fluke.”

 

It had been no fluke. Only his conviction to be the best, to be the strongest. He had overcome the adversity of his life, the travesty of the erosion of his soul, to become the most powerful being in the universe. Not Frieza! Him! He was a Super Saiyan. A ruler, a conqueror, a warrior, a god. No one was more powerful than he, and he had proven that when he ripped Frieza's head from his body.

 

“Oh really?” Frieza smirked, clearly amused. “Don't be upset Vegeta. After all, it's your destiny to fail. No matter how you struggle, you are nothing more than a miserable waste of flesh and bone. You will never be more than what you are. A piece of trash to be kicked around by someone more powerful than you.”

 

A cold wind swept across Vegeta's barren soul, shrieking an echo of Frieza's words. The demons of his sins stood at the edge of the last flickering remnant of light inside of him, frothing with eagerness to snuff the goodness from his soul. Everything that was dark, everything that was evil inside of him, screamed for him to believe the lizard's words, to accept them like a diseased seed into his already weakened heart.

 

A fluttering of a distant memory crossed his mind, whispering beneath the shrieking of damnation---its mere softness allowing it to be heard. He remembered his greatest accomplishment, the very thing that defined him. Becoming the Legendary was undeniably wondrous, but it was born from generations of breeding, years of training and countless affirmations that it was destined to be so. As fantastic as it was, it was not his greatest achievement.

 

He saw himself, standing over the broken body of Frieza, one foot planted firmly on his chest. After years of torture, bloody beatings and more dishonor than could have ever been born by any royal before him, Vegeta had finally succeeded where every other being in the universe had failed.

 

He had defeated Frieza.

 

With unabashed relish, he had reached down and pulled the still living head from Frieza's body. That was not the action of a hero, but it was one of a man. A living man, who felt pain, anger, and retribution. He was not some merciful, idyllic being that was happy with an apology and a promise to do better. He sought absolution through vengeance and he received it, but this didn't make him a tyrant either. It made him sane.

 

In that moment, when he killed his tormentor, he had been free. No longer was he a slave, and he was not yet a king. He was a man who had finally won. That was his defining moment. The moment he had been waiting his whole life for. In the following months, in the frenzy of ruling the universe and satisfying a mate, he had forgotten, but never again.

 

He had allowed himself to be put back into the place of a slave. He was man enough to admit that it was fear that had made him weak. He had coveted power for so long that when he had finally achieved his goal, it had overwhelmed him. It had been easier to succumb to the darkness of his soul than to fight it. It was easier to let his enemy destroy him rather than let his own tortured psyche do it for him. As a slave he didn't have to take responsibility for his actions, but now he had a choice. He could die as a slave or live as a king.

 

A ripple ran through Vegeta's body. It started at the base of his spine, working its way up to the scruff of his neck. Frieza saw the dance of muscles across Vegeta's naked, whip-marked back, and the smile melted from his face.

 

A second turned into an eternity as Vegeta began to rise. He stumbled at first, but he quickly caught his balance pulling strength into himself, pride straightening his spine. He was Vegeta, Prince of the Saiyans, Conqueror of Tyrants, Master of the Universe, and no one could take that from him, not even a bad dream.

 

“Yes, really.” Vegeta lifted his head, his piercing black eyes pinning Frieza to the spot.

 

Vegeta felt strength flood through his veins, infusing his cells and awakening his sleeping soul. It wasn't ki that flowed through him, but the power of self. For the first time in his life he knew who he was, what his purpose was. So long he had sulked, secretly ashamed, devastated by the sins he had committed to stay alive, but not anymore. He had finally accepted that he was who he was.

 

A warrior. A king. A man.

 

“I defeated you, Frieza, because I'm better than you. I worked for it, trained for it, and in the end, I buried you. You were nothing more than shit on my heel that I scraped off on the nearest rock.”

 

Frieza's jaw dropped open, and behind the gleam of his needle teeth, the gaping hole of his throat filled with blood.

 

“You are nothing. You may have ruled the universe, destroying everything in you path, including my people, but I avenged them. I became the Legendary. I…Defeated…You!” Vegeta spat the last words into Frieza's face, relishing the strength that saying three simple words gave him.

 

The blood boiled out of Frieza's mouth, staining his teeth and gushing over his chin.

 

“You're dead. I ripped your head from your body. You can't hurt me anymore Frieza; I won't give you the power. You are nothing more than a worm that crawled out of some icy, snake-infested hole, and now I intend to stuff you and your entire family back in it.”

 

The flesh blew off Frieza's bones as he crumpled into a heap and melted into the ice, but Vegeta had said what he needed to say. No longer would he allow himself to be haunted by some vengeful shade who sought to control his mind. He was Vegeta, not some weak boy who cried for his daddy. Only he controlled his destiny. Only he had the power to change his life.

 

From the corner of his eye, Vegeta focused his vision on the monster of his present. His master's father had made his life hell, and he had let him. He allowed himself to be weakened, by doubt and regret, but no longer. He would not stand idly by while some reptile came into his life, stole his empire and tortured his family. He would destroy anyone who dared to take what was his. After all, he was the most powerful being in the universe.

 

Vegeta turned towards the lizard king, squaring his shoulders with determination. His hands fisted at his side, and deep down, where the dragon coiled around his soul, he could feel power pulsing. The golden beast stared up at him from the darkness with two clear, jade eyes.

 

The demons of his soul screamed, but they did not run from the light. They stood their ground, adding their chaos to the purity. No longer would Vegeta live as a separated man, as either good or evil. He was both. He had been forged in the fires of hell, taught by monsters to survive, and he would be a fool to shut them away. The golden warmth of the dragon took that raw power, the pain of his soul and contained it, channeling it. Darkness became one with the light; they defined each other, fortifying their strengths.

 

“Cold.”

 

Vegeta's voice boomed across the cavern. It no longer wavered with weakness, but was powerful and confident.

 

King Cold turned towards him, barely concealing his shock behind a façade of nonchalance. Kakarot used the opportunity to pull himself from the wall, pausing in awe half way out. Vegeta stood before them, blood dripping from his wounds, his hair shorn, his tail cut away, but an aura of pride swelled the air around him. He had not transformed, but he didn't need to. The power that was encased inside his body was obvious to everyone in the room. He was truly the Saiyan King.

 

King Cold straightened his stance, refusing to be intimidated by a slave. He crossed his arms, putting on his best condescending smirk.

 

“Well, well. Did you finally find your dick, Vegeta, or are you just pretending for the kiddies?”

 

Vegeta's cold, emotionless face didn't even tic, and Cold shifted subtly as trepidation curled around his spine.

 

“Today is the day that you are going to die. Any last words?” Vegeta's confidence reached out, slapping Cold, and instantly infused him with anger.

 

“Listen here, you little runt. You are nothing more than a chained pet that dared to bite the hand who fed him. It's you who is going to be put down,” he bellowed.

 

Vegeta smirked in response, a lazy curling of his upper lip that sent chills down everyone's spine.

 

“We'll see.”

 

The remaining guards in the room quickly scrambled for the exit as a surge of power spilled out of both combatants, swallowing everything in its hungry wake.

 

In distant corners of the universe, the most powerful warriors raised their heads to the heavens, their hearts beating just a little faster as they felt the surge. And from the heavens, the gods themselves looked down into the icy room, watching as free will chose a path that could lead to the destruction of existence itself.

 

But no one watched more intently than a pair of blue eyes that were filled with tears of hope.