Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Prince and the Pauper ❯ Ch. 4 ( Chapter 4 )

~~Chapter 4~~

Vegeta was amazed at the audacity of the radical.

No one to his recollection had EVER challenged a Saijyan noble, let alone one of the Royal Family.

It had simply never been done.

Such was his perplexity over the situation that he was at a momentary loss.

But it was only amomentary one.

He snapped his jaw closed, a frown marring the smooth surface of his forehead.

"You have either lived in a hole your entire life, sadly misinformed of your station, or you are mad. Whichever explanation it is, I do not care to hear. My conscience does not quibble over the state of your mental facilities. Guards, take care of this inconvienience."

Even as the prince's lackeys moved to obey his command, the stranger held up a finger, shaking his head in a reproachful manner.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you."

The guards hesitated, feeling some astonishment at the audaciousness of the individual before them. Were they, Imperial Elites, the finest to be had in all of Saijya, actually being warned by a ragged peasant?

One of the Elites - for Vegeta couldn't recall his identity, pressed foreward, headless of the fool's empty threat.

It wasn't until he lay upon the dirt, panting like a wounded animal at the loss of his left hand, that the prince found it not to be such an empty fulmination.

And there, in the cold silence that began to suffocate every onlooker, the rebel smiled. It wasn't a malicious smile, nay. One could presume that it wasn't even a full smile really, more of a brief twisting of lips.

It was just a half-smile. Yet by far, it was the most daring gesture thus far.

He was...amused.

The cloaked Saijyan was actually amused as he crossed his iron-like arms over his chest, studying the Prince as though he were a ridiculous toy.

Hypocrisy. Only one in the crowd spoke it, but they all knew it.

Not for the first time in his young life, the Saijyan no Ouji felt true and pure rage, unfettered by petty anger and fury. Simply a black, grinding rage.

And it made it all the more laughable in his mind, that it should be someone so worthless as this, to invoke it within his heart.

Violently the thing within his chest hammered, announcing and forcing his anger through his blood. He was fairly certain that the Royal Guards who flanked his sides could hear it. Certain that they could smell the fear clinging to his skin like the stench of decay.

There always is a fallacy to having superior senses, he mused.

Vegeta did not have to turn around and view his suspicions with his eyes to know that the Captain had a distinctly beastial expression upon his face. Lips pulled back and nostrils flaring at the scent of his Ouji's fear. It was not unlike scenting another that has gone into rut.

It made him want to wretch.

Yet the brazen fool still held his ground, and the Ouji gave quick thanks that at least his adversary could not realize his doubt from the distance that he stood.

Nappa walked foreward, feeling it was his obligation to speak for the Prince.

Unfortunately for Nappa, this infuriated Vegeta all the more.

"Who are you slime, and how dare you mock your Prince? For someone who seems to have such large balls, I truly cannot wait to see your face when our Ouji removes them."

Some of the elites and commoners smothered back a bark of laughter at that, giving Nappa all the more encouragement to press on, red face bloated like a sack of air and chest (or in Nappa's case, gut) puffed out like an overripe, gelatinous ball.

"Perhaps a name would be in order, blenjjo"

The black-eyed man smirked, full lips parting casually and without hesitation while all stood riveted to the spot, hanging on every carefully annunciated word of the mysterious figure.

"If you feel that you must have a title, I suppose that you may call me...Goku."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard from some members of the crowd, mostly coming from the elder generations whilst the youth grew skeptical at the blatant absurdity of a third class bearing such a name.

Nappa chuckled, a gurgling sound within his larynx. "Goku, huh? My, don't we think highly of ourself?"

This Goku smirked, sizing his opponent up. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. But enough with the small talk, I have a message to deliver to Vegeta the King."

"And what exactly would that be?"

As quick as the lightning that frequently lit up the planet's ruby skies, Goku struck, delivering a quick, insulting blow to the side of the younger Vegeta's face.

The next thing the Saijyan no Ouji knew was the metallic taste of blood and the merciless ground which came up to greet him.

What...?

He could hear the ruthless flood of disbelief and gasps of increduality from his people invade every pore and nuance of his mind.

Vegetacouldn't make out what all of their hushed, ferverent whisperings were, but he didn't have to. They were wondering how it was possible, how it was thinkable, that the son of the most powerful being on their planet could be struck down by the fist of a Third Class. Why didn't their Prince anticipate the blow? Why hadn't he put the arrogant shit in his place yet? Why was he so weak?

The mumurs steadily grew louder, glares of disappointment, confusion, shame, anger, and more confusion landing upon his fallen, unequivocating form.

The Prince Vegeta, future ruler of all Saijya, had never once believed that his promised position of power could be stolen out from under his feet one day.

But as the feverish cry of "Revolution!" was screamed with the passion of the savage, and long awaited cries of the truly suffering, he began to.