Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Reflections of a King ❯ Chapter 4

Author: Cleodasia

Summary: Vegeta no Ou's memories of Vegeta as a child; Vegeta has a birthday and another meeting with Frieza

Warnings: A/U; Vegeta no Ou's POV; references to male/male relationships

Archiving/Comments/Suggestions/Complaints/ Ideas/Flames: You can get in touch with me at cleodasia@yahoo.com!

Thanks in advance for reading/reviewing!

WARNING::: Extremely coarse language. I stand by the attitudes of these characters, so if you don't like swearing, please don't read this.

There are defining moments in the life of every being. The decisions you make, the actions you take in these moments, they will either define or destroy you.

I'm destined for Heaven, that's what they tell me. The thought astounds me. Looking back, I must have ordered the destruction of hundreds of planets during my reign as the Saiyan no Ou. I participated in many purges, and committed many atrocities, not the least of which was the horror I visited upon my own son. Despite all of this, I was given two opportunities to negate the evil done during the course of my life. The first test, it was to be my most exquisite failure…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The baby Kakarrot was only a few months old when his father sent him to Chikyuu. It was a simple mission, just a pathetic little planet in the middle of nowhere. Bardock was nearly mindless with grief, but nothing I said could convince him to let the boy stay. His older boys were taken off-planet, to a training station on one of Vegetasei's moons. I didn't realize the significance of this at the time. My mind was far too clouded by my overwhelming ambition. Bardock spoke with me only once about his fears. We argued heatedly, and it ended only after I pulled rank on him. Bardock realized that I could not be trusted to protect my own child from Frieza, much less his own precious offspring. He was taking no chances. I was laying it all on the line.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Russian Roulette. A gamble born on Chikyuu, but it is an inherently Saiyan concept. One bullet, one chamber, one gun. Put the gun to your head, and pull the trigger. If your brains aren't spattered all over the room, then you've won.

To a Saiyan, the closer you get to death, the more powerful you become. Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger…much stronger. My relationship with Frieza, it was like tight-rope walking without a net. Danger, the adrenaline that rushed in my veins, it was a potent drug. I was addicted from the very first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Young Vegeta had a new addiction as well-respect. For the first time in his life, the tiny Prince was looked at with something other than pity or frustration. Everyone who heard of his attack on Frieza was impressed. The little Ouji had won a small victory against the strongest fighter in the universe. He had landed more punches than any veteran soldier would have dared to attempt. The boys that had beaten him senseless before, they couldn't get out of his way fast enough.

Vegeta's growing power convinced his instructors to move him up a few levels in training. He was so proud of this achievement, I actually caught him smiling. It was so rare, I couldn't help but laugh. His face flushed with embarassment , and my heart sang. I loved him so much it hurt. It still does.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Vegeta grew and flourished. I am ashamed to admit it, but I used this to justify my continued dealings with Frieza. The boy was fine, it had been a misunderstanding, Bardock was being foolish, nothing was going to happen…denial can be a truly terrible thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We went on as usual, with hardly any changes. Vegeta had fewer tantrums, due to his being thoroughly worn out by his advanced drills. He left early in the mornings, and wouldn't return until after dark. We still managed a good knock-down drag-out fight about once a week. I never hit him, but we would scream at each other so loudly that we'd both be hoarse for days. It didn't do any damn good, and by that time, he was impossible to ignore. Vegeta knew more curse words, in more languages, than soldiers ten times his age. And he knew just about as many gestures to go along with them. I never knew where he picked them up from, and I doubt that I ever want to.

Our biggest fights were over his refusal to take the pain medications for the intense aching in his joints. He never gave a reason, only maintained that it was his body, and therefore his choice. I couldn't understand why a child would choose to be in excruciating pain. Now, I think that he didn't want to show me any weakness. Death before dishonor, I've heard that somewhere, and it fits Vegeta perfectly.

Another year passed, and Vegeta neared his sixth birthday. He was violently opposed to any type of fuss, especially parties. For some reason, he only approved of attention gained through his physical accomplishments or his bad behavior. Anything else, he despised with an unholy passion.

His mother's family always asked to see Vegeta on his birthday, and I always refused them. He didn't seem interested in meeting them, but I'm sure that this was only for my benefit. Years later, I spoke with his grandmother, who showed me a letter written to her by Vegeta. It was on my embossed stationery, and sealed with the royal emblem. In childish scrawl, the boy wrote, "I must apologize for the loss of your daughter. I take full responsibility for her death. I am very sorry. I hope that you will forgive me someday…Signed, Vegeta no Ouji."

I was astonished at the warmth of feeling expressed in the note. Vegeta appeared so outwardly cold, but he was also extremely vulnerable. In our years together, I had never once suspected that he had felt so keenly the absence of his mother.

The morning of Vegeta's birthday dawned like any other. I could hear him from my bed, he was cursing so loudly. He was in intense pain, and was struggling to stay upright. I can't remember ever seeing my son actually waking up. He never minded my tucking him in at night, but the morning pains were so fierce that he would come to breakfast with tears streaking his face. If I ever attempted to check on him in the mornings, I would get a book or shoe thrown at my head for my trouble. I just let him be, taking in those first few minutes in silence.

The cook had already set out our plates, and three urgent dispatches already awaited my perusal. Finally, Vegeta padded bare-footed into the dining room. He was still in his pajamas, and his unruly hair was sticking out every which way. I wished him a happy birthday. He looked at me with such disgust in his eyes that I quickly looked away. He hated everything and everyone in the mornings, especially me. Can't say I blamed him, it took a tremendous effort for him to just get out of bed. Still, he could be damned depressing to be with.

We finished our breakfasts in silence, and went to get dressed. Vegeta was gone before I even stepped out of the shower. The rest of my morning was spent in meetings, taking care of general affairs of state. A meeting with Lord Frieza was scheduled for late that afternoon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There aren't any road-signs to tell you when a redeeming moment is coming. You just look up and there it is. Sometimes, you don't even realize that's what it was until it much, much later. At that point, you've either done the right thing or you have totally fucked yourself. It isn't fair, but that's the way it goes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As always, I met with Frieza in the main throne room. We stood side-by-side in front of its' large windows, as he gave me our orders. Halfway through his lecture on procedure, I heard the doors slide open. I thought nothing of it, as people were always coming and going. Frieza, however, swiveled his head around immediately. As he began chuckling softly, I turned my head to see what was going on.

There Vegeta stood, in all his glory. His bare chest was gleaming with sweat and blood. The blood flowed heavily from several cuts across his chest and shoulders. His feet were bare, and his legs were covered only with a pair of black, stretchy shorts. His face was twisted in a scowl so fierce that if looks could kill, we would all have dropped dead on the spot. His tail began lashing wildly, striking his legs with some force. I had not allowed Vegeta to come into the throne room with me since his attack on Frieza, but this was the first time that I saw evidence of his extreme resentment of the exclusion.

Vegeta looked from me, to Frieza, and then back to me. "What the fuck is he doing here, " he hissed.

My little Ouji, with his big mouth, I wonder if he realized how much I hated him in that moment. I was the Saiyan no Ou, and I was being taken to task by a six-year old. And in front of the being I most wanted to impress. Bile rose in my throat, I was so embarrassed.

Vegeta just stood there, awaiting my answer, with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. His blood slid down his body onto the expensive carpet at his feet. I said nothing, just walked to a spot directly before him. I looked him squarely in the eyes as I slapped him across the face with all my strength. He had not been prepared for the blow, and his head snapped around on his neck. He lost his balance, nearly falling, and growled in pain. I grabbed him roughly by the chin and grated, "What the fuck is your problem now, little boy?"

It was a low blow, and he was severely pissed. Surprisingly, he did not strike back. Vegeta no Ouji stared into the eyes of Vegeta no Ou for what seemed like an eternity. Those deep obsidian orbs bored through to my very soul. Tears formed in his eyes and slid down his cheeks. For the first time, he saw me as I truly was. The madness that had already taken hold of me. "Well, tiny Ouji, what is it?" I mocked.

Vegeta's voice lowered and he said roughly, "I don't know, Father, perhaps I was hoping that you had grown some balls." I held his face more tightly, daring him to go on. My mistake.

Vegeta spat in my face, and as I jerked away he gripped both of my wrists. Crossing them, he pulled me down until I was in a semi-kneeling position, not close enough to the ground to fall onto my knees. He whispered into my ear, "It's my birthday, you sorry motherfucker. All I ask is that you bring your head out of that bastard's ass long enough to be a fucking parent. My problem… my tiny, small, miniature LITTLE problem is that I've been in the infirmary for the past two hours. Y'see they had to put twenty-eight stitches into this god-damned hole in my back. Stitches you just ripped all to hell, Father."

Fear knifed in my gut, and I craned my neck to see the damage I had wrought. "Oh my god, " I moaned. The jagged wound was nearly six inches in length, and fairly deep. The sutures had indeed been torn from his body because of my assault. The wound was bleeding profusely, and the pain he must have felt…not just physically but in his very heart. I was appalled and I could hardly speak. "Vegeta, I…"

He hauled back on my wrists, twisting them as he did so. I hissed in pain, and tried to get out of his grasp. It was impossible. My son smiled at me and said, "Oh, did I hurt you? I hope I broke your wrists, you bastard. Don't worry, I'm sure Lord Frieza will be more than happy to hold your cock for you."

Vegeta looked Frieza directly in the eyes and spat at his feet. He pushed me toward the changeling saying, "You can have him if you want him. He's not worth pissing on." Whirling on his feet, he powered up and blasted toward the doors. They barely opened in time for his exit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Addiction is an extremely powerful animal. You harm the people you love the most, and tell yourself that it's for their own good. You tell yourself that the ends justify the means. All that you love, all that you have is burning down around your ears. And you don't even realize it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frieza was no fool. It wasn't me he wanted. He wanted Vegeta, had wanted the boy since their first meeting. He used the situation to his advantage. Concern was evident on his face, and his voice was tinged with concern. I was still on my knees, holding my head in my hands. The changeling placed his hand on my shoulder, and his energy poured over me in waves. "Never mind, Vegeta, how could you have known? This is not your fault."

The guilt was already eating at my heart, but I didn't want to take responsibility for what I had done. It was so much easier to agree with Lord Frieza. He caressed my neck, almost lovingly, and said, "No, the boy is obviously unstable, and much too aggressive for you to handle on your own. I think that he would be better off being raised by a warrior. You're a king, you have far too many things on your mind. You mustn't concern yourself. You should let me take him for a while, I'm sure he'd make an excellent student."

I pulled away from his touch, and said quickly, "No, my lord, that won't be necessary." I stood up and as I did, Frieza took my chin in his hand, holding me as I had held Vegeta, "Hmmm. Well, you will think on it?"

And I said yes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frieza had won already, I just didn't know it yet. He saw, perhaps even Vegeta had seen, my love for my child warring with my jealousy of him. My son was powerful, beautiful, willfull, honorable, obstinant, noble, and beneath his arrogance, so very loving. I was none of these things. I would never have half the strength of will, the overwhelming pride, the insane courage that defined my son. And some part of me despised him for my weakness. He was everything that I could hope to be. And in that moment of hesitation, Frieza knew that he could take the child from me.

I fought the bastard for months, but he wouldn't give up. I loved my son desperately, even as I envied him, and I denied Frieza time and time again. It was only a matter of time. He just had to find the best way to convince me…

To be continued