Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Thee Untamed Soldier ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

’s note: This is a Vegeta and Bulma Fanfic---my second attempt. Please Read and Review.
*I don’t own Dragonball Z.”


___________________________________________________ __________________________________


________________________________________________________ _____________________________


Again, the young prince found himself void of another endless night of sleep. He shifted uncomfortably upon his stiff cot, a militarized issued item. His cheek was pressed into it, listening to the snores of the soldiers about him---and the drunken laughter and conversation coming from the upper decks above him.

He had only been in the Kold Empire household for two weeks now, but it was not long enough for him to forget home and to cease yearning for the beauty of his home Planet, Vegeta. He missed the fruitfulness and warmth of freedom. He yearned for his escape from his enslaved state of bondage.

The six-year-old Prince shivered then, for it was dead of winter upon this planet all year round. It was always cold. He had yet to adapt to the climates freezing temperatures. He tried to snuggle more deeply into the stiff cot and the thin wool blanket he had been given. It was maddening how it licked at his skin with irritation. Itching, and irritating all in one. He didn’t want to think about home, for then he would think about his parents and his people. How sorely he had missed them. If only he could forget his mother as he had last seen her. Lady Veidre who had been very strong by his fathers side, both King and Queen watched there only son embark on his long journey to a distantly cold world. Away from there rule, and away from there lives. He was taken by King Kold’s men on the docking bay, her smile had been daringly brave yet forced, and he could see the tears that streaked her face as she wept without making a sound. It was a show of outer weakness, but one would never correct the Queen of Vegeta. Most curtain one being forced to watch there Prince being handed over to a cold merciless creature.

The young Prince gulped. Then, as now, the haunting image threatened to unman him. “Men do not cry, only cowards cry,” He recalled his father words that he had told him gravely yet sternly when he had taken him aside earlier on the day that he left to the Kold Empire. “It is a great honor, and I know you will do your duty as a Prince always does, and that you shall make me proud.”

“I promise, my lord,” Prince Vegeta said, his heart swelled with determination. His father only grunted his approval to his son. He could see that his words did not reach his fathers eyes though, his vivid onyx hues, which were inexplicably worried. Or was it regret that he red upon his fathers gaze. Tell this day he’d never know---what his father felt the moment he had been forced to hand over his only son, into the arms of wicked elite force of killers.

Prince Vegeta had not counted on the loneliness. He had not understood what separation from him and family truly meant, until now. He had never dreamed he would yearn so terribly, so secretly, for home. He felt as if he was weak, an emotion he was now being trained to forget. An emotion that even his father had instructed him was a pathetic act, and would not be tolerated. An emotion he wasn’t suppose to have, it was something that was being beaten from his body and mind.

Still, he had yet to give into the unmindful tears, and he would not. One day he would return to claim his patrimony, a man full grown, a elite soldier with great power, and his father and his mother would be proud of him---he’d become the prophecy laid out before his birth---preordained when he had only been conceived a couple of months still in his mothers womb. He’d become the Legendary Super Saiyan.

“Wake up, brat.” Prince Vegeta stiffened. Turtlas leaned over him, another boy fostering with the King, and a few years older then he himself, and in far graver circumstances. For Turtlas was not just fostering with King Kold, but he was a hostage as well. He was the son of Earths King from his fist marriage. In theory Earth’s King Son-Bardock would cease his vigilant warfare against the Kold Empire now that King Kold had his son Turtlas well in hand.

Vegeta felt not guilt for Turtlas, the boy had been so nasty that he could not like him. And Turtlas, for some reason, seemed to hate him. Warily Vegeta sat up, brushing the haze of sleep from his cheek and disheveled spiked hair. “Lord Frezia wants you,” Turtles said. “Have you been crying?” He sneered.

Vegeta stiffened. “I’m too old to cry!” He said stiffly, standing. After all he was six-years-old, in saiyan standards he was a man he was a soldier, and he‘d be the best. “What does Lord Freiza want?” Vegeta had snapped with irritation.

“Like I’d know?” Turtles sneered just the same, but he was smirking, his tone belying his words. Uneasy pricked at Vegeta, although there was no reason for it. He did not mind being summoned to the Prince of the Kold Empire. After all Lord Freiza had befriended him shortly after his arrival, and was his only friend amongst all the boys in the King’s household. Being the youngest and the newest boy, Vegeta was either ignored by the other boys, or bullied and teased. Vegeta had quickly learned when to fight back and when to retreat although in his stubborn state of mind retreat was only a last resort, if every other option had been closed. Now, of course, he was perplexed. He had never been summoned by Lord Frieza before, and especially not in the dead of night. Vegeta increased his strides to match Turtles’ as they slipped from he hall and outside.

Vegeta wondered where they were going but asked no questions. Before leaving home, he had been warned by his father to watch closely, listen well, and reveal little of what he thought or felt. He had been advised to trust no one but himself. So far, these past few weeks had underscored the value of his father’s advice. He understood now much of what his father had instructed him upon.

Upon the threshold of the dayroom of a ship (A hang out location with the for Entertainment .) Vegeta froze. Freiza was not alone; he was surrounded by a group of his elite soldiers, other young men close to his own age of what Vegeta suspected was sixteen at the time. They were all deeply in their cups. One of the boys was singing a stupid out-of-key song. A serving wench was amongst them, and two of the soldiers each had an arm around her. Her tunic was torn and gaping open, reveling taut nipples and lush breasts. For an instant Vegeta stared, then he flushed beet red and looked away as one of the boys fondled her.

Lord Frieza was staring at the six-year-old boy. For some unfathomable reason, Vegeta’s initial unease soared. Frieza was flushed from his drink and his eyes glittered wildly. He crooked a finger, calling softly. “Come here, Prince Vegeta.”

Vegeta did not move. Not only were Frieza’s eyes glittering and overly bright, he had his arm around a younger boy in a very intimate manner. Vegeta did not recognize the younger boy, who wore the shabby clothes of a servant and/or slave. Clearly he was not the son of a great lord sent to foster with King Kold. Vegeta felt a flash of piercing fear for the boy, as their gaze met.

His father had warned him that there were men at court who like young boys, and that he must be careful to remain aloof. Vegeta had vaguely understood. He had seen lust in most of its forms even if he had not comprehended it. Now there was sudden, startling, frightening comprehension.

But surely he must be mistaken! This was Lord Freiza. The King’s son. Vegeta watched in horror as Lord Freiza approached having forgotten the young boy that had been to his side. Vegeta’s tail began to twitch around his waist, as he could feel his bones turn cold like steel.

“Good evening, my little prince.” He said, smiling. When he smiled he was quite good-looking, despite his unruly flaming features of his alien race. He threw his tail around vegeta’s slender waist and pressed him close. “share my wine. It’s uncommonly good, from a planet purged years ago. It’s priceless in it’s quality.

Lord Freiza was his friend, Vegeta told himself as his heart began to race and pound. He had been kind to him since he had arrived at the Kold Empires court, he had helped aid Vegeta on purges---some of the more difficult ones. The only boy to be kind. But Vegeta did not like the hungry way that Lord Frieza was gazing at him, nor did he like the look of expectation and amusement on the face of all the other soldiers sitting amongst the table. He did not like the look of relief on the young servants face. Not only did Vegeta feel as if he was the butt of a vast joke, he felt as if it was a cruel one---a dangerous one. He felt trapped. He pulled away from Lord Freiza’s tailed embrace.

“No, thank you, lord Frieza.” It came out like a choke, he felt his breath catch in his lugs---it was an uneasy topic of discussion, and the proximity of both Lord Frieza and himself was discomforting. He felt claustrophobic all of the sudden, he felt very indifferent.

Freiza rubbed his back. “Why so formal this evening, Prince Vegeta? Come, sit with me, tell me why you appear so indifferent towards me all of a sudden.” Vegeta did not want to understand what was happening, But he did. He comprehended that Lord Friezas’s intentions were not simple friendship---or guidance in achieving the tile of an Elite Soldier. He comprehended Lord Frieza’s unnatural lust.

As he stood, torn, not wanting to believe the worst, not wanting to give up his single friend or was it a foe tainted in the image of a friend? Did he force his mind to comfort to the thought of being special, yet knowing he was in danger, knowing he must move, and flee, an unfamiliar young voice rang out.

“Leave him alone, Lord Frieza. Let him be!” Vegeta’s head snapped in the direction, at first he was confused, he looked so much like Turtles.

Vegeta started at the youth he had never seen before shouldered forcefully through the boys. In size he did not appear older then Vegeta himself, but there was shrewdness and authority in his tone. Although his features were far from more even, his hair was saiyan---spiked in onyx coloration, his resemblance to Turtles was unmistakable. This then was the King Malcolm’s youngest son, Kakarot.

“Who asked you to interfere, monkey?” Freiza said coldly. Kakarot’s smile was just as cold. “Are you stupid? Would you abuse the boy who would one day be the King of Vegeta? Who would one day be your greatest ally?”

Vegeta began to shake as final full comprehension sank in. His heart was pounding now in fright and anger. Lord Frezia’s interest in him tonight had nothing to do with friendship---had never had anything to do with friendship or leadership guidance. The betrayal---and disappointment---was vast.

“You’ll be sorry for this,” Freiza cried.

Freiza suddenly lunged at his allied foe, perhaps to throttle him, his face was red with rage. Kakarot ducked, and as one, Vegeta and Kakarot began to run. They raced out of the docking bay and into the long halls.

“This way!” Kakarot shouted, and Vegeta followed the younger boy back towards the donjon. A moment later they were safely in the main room where the rest of the lower leveled soldiers lay sleeping.
They both fell onto Vegeta’s cot, panting and out of breath. To Vegeta’s horror, he felt tears well. The same tears he had been fighting ever since he had ridden into the King’s household. He had the horrible thought that he wanted to go home.

But he would die before letting Kakarot see, so he turned his face away and regained control. When Vegeta could speak, he said, “Humph, thanks I guess.”

“Forget it,” Kakarot said easily, the cot rustling with a creek as he sat up. “Didn’t anyone tell you to be careful of Lord Freiza, who is far fonder of boys than girls Prince Vegeta?”

“No.” Vegeta stared at his hands. “He was considerate enough. I thought he could be trusted, I thought if I were to prove my loyalties to him now that I‘d be able to prove myself to be something more, perhaps a Soldier---an Elite.”

It hurt. He had no friends after all. Not here at court. He was far from home and alone. Then he glanced sideways at Kakarot, who had come to his aid without being summoned.

“Tell me Kakarot, why did you aid me?”

“Because I do not like Lord Freiza, I am perhaps in the same odd predestinate as yourself. Because one day you will be King of Vegeta---and we will be allies, after all you are of my race, my culture. I Freely and patriotically serve the house of Vegeta, I am forced to serve the Lizard Lord and kingdom. Even though my family was sent to take care of Earth, and it’s inhabitance---as well as it’s growth in technology when I was only an infant. My brother and myself were kidnapped---and forced into servitude of the Kold Empire.”

For the first time in his life, Vegeta had an inkling of the power that would on day be his. “And if I were not the Future King of Vegeta, heir to the thrown of kings, would you have done, what you have done?” Kakarot gave him a queer look, no longer smiling. His goofy features seemed to dissipate into a serious notion, Finally he said, “I would be a fool to prick at Lord Freiza if it did not serve me well.”

Vegeta could not help being disappointed. Lord Frieza had not been his friend, and neither was Kakrot. Kakarot had come to his aid, not in an offer of friendship, but for reasons politic. Vegeta was annoyed then. He seemed to take on a frown, much that he seemed to ware about much these days. His scowl grew deeper into one of deep council.

“You are no older than me.”

“I am seven. And I have been raised at court, both here and on Earth. I know of what I speak.” Then he smiled a goofy smile, a triumphant smile, his goofy cricked smile, that seemed so different from a forced smile he‘d seen from his planet, and his people. “ An ally is far better than a friend.” Vegeta’s temper unflustered and he thought carefully about it. Kakarot was right. Tonight had proved that. “Then we are allies,” he decided, his tone so firm that Kakarot slanted him a glance. “And I will stay away from your brother.” His lips thinned. He began to feel rage. How dare Lord Freiza treat him as he had the servant boy, one day he would be King Vegeta, of planet Vegeta. And one day Lord Frieza would rule as the Kold Empires King a forced alligance between two grate worlds, to incretable Empires. Vegeta sobered. One day Lord Frieza would be his liege Lord. Although, already he’d plot the death and destruction of his allied foe.

“Usually Lord Freiza is better behaved,” Kakarot commented, “But in your case, because you are only a hostage, he assumed no one would care if he did as he willed.” It took Vegeta a full moment to comprehend what Kakarot had just said.

“I am not a hostage. My father sent me here to assure the agreement---that both Empires made. The peace treaty.”

“Oh , come on! You mean, you do not know? No one told you? Your father did not tell you?”

There was only disbelief. “I’m not a hostage, as I have told you already. I am here only to assure the peace treaty between our Empires.”

“You are a hostage, Prince Vegeta. Just as Turtles is a check upon our father’s power, so, too, you are a check upon your own father’s power.”

“But---my father and King Kold---they are allies!”

Kakarot was grave. “Once they were allied acutance---far from foe. But both great kings, with great kingdoms. You see I have had an ear about the court---I hear much, and learn much. You see our race is powerful Prince Vegeta, we hold great power within us that it makes the Kold Empire fear what we could be, within a few years we could become or surpass even his elite armies. Maybe perhaps the Elite Ginyu Force. That is why, you are here. To assure that you father doesn’t phantom any ideas of going against the treaty.”

“How do you know all this Kakarot, for you are like myself a slave to that lizard. How then are you capable of gaining such Intel?”

“I know well of what I speak, I have heard King Kold and his eldest son Cooler rage about King Vegeta. He is afraid, for he has given him too much, and what he has not given, King Vegeta has taken. You are here to guarantee that King Vegeta continues to support the King against his enemies.”

Suddenly Vegeta felt even more alone then he had earlier. “He d-didn’t t-tell me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. Kakarot said nothing. Vegeta could not move, could not breathe. His father had not told him the truth! He was no fostering youth but a hostage, and that was no great honor!

Vegeta opened his eyes and clenched his fists. Rage engulfed him. How he hated King Kold and his Son’s, for they had forcing and subjected him from his home to coldness, for forcing his father to give him up! His father---whom he thought was dependable enough. Someone he consider strong, solid, like a rock! He never would think his father coward enough to subject to the Kold Empire his only Son, heir to the throne of Vegeta. His father, who had lied to him as well. Anguish ripped him apart. Now he understood his mother’s tears. Now he understood all. It was twistingly cruel how fate laid down the cards, how it would shuffle through undependable.

“I am sorry, my Prince,” Kakarot had stated, as if he truly meant it. Vegeta looked at him waily, then forced his anger down, at the same time smirk upon his lips. “It’s better you know,” Kakarot continued,” Kakarot shrugged. “What will you do now, Prince Vegeta?”

“Nothing changes,” Vegeta stated, his tone not that of a six-year-old boy, but of a man. “I do my duty.” but in that moment everything had changed, forever. He would have to grow up. He could no longer play the child anymore. He was going to have to be the Soldier, and he’d prove himself the Elite, no mater how many hours, or days it would take. He would train---and he would endure hell so he could become the best. The hell with being enslaved as a prisoner---he’d make it through these years. Yes. He was determined to do so.


************************
Remarks-Reviews. (Thanks)
************************