The Lion King and The Lion Guard, along with its general plot and songs are not owned by me. Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball z and Dragon Ball Super do not belong to me. Each franchise is owned by its respective people and companies.
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Trigger warning
This fic includes disturbing and possibly triggering content such as abuse, child manipulation, drugs, violence, manipulation and assault. You have been warned!
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1
Being a father was hard. Ever since dear, beautiful, harrowing Geden had fallen pregnant, life had been hard. Her eyes, once glittering with battle lust, food lust, and a lust for her favourite 'saiyan friendly beverage', spirytus rektyfikowany, had soon been reduced to glittering with a lust for nothing but her strange fascination with cutesy drapery around their shared bed cove and discovering new ways to make his life very deplorable. She made a new hobby out of switching Lord Glatagus' clear vitamin concentrate with sailor vodka, and made fun of his own disliking for fish.
Fish had no arms, no legs, they simply levitated themselves around with little eldritch eyes through the devoid blackness of a reality in which no mere mortal could breath! Though Geden became exceedingly pestilent when with-child, as he considered her personality, he realised that the exotic female had always been a sadist. She had always mocked his fear of the finny-things. She laughed with an honest-to-God smile on her face when he found three common breams wheezing in his boot, (he was certain that she had put them there) and she had purchased a black caracal named Guppy. They both regretted buying Guppy. Not once in the three years of their ownership over it had they seen it sleep. They had made an unspoken agreement against maiming or permanently removing Guppy from their presence because it looked like the type of creature that would find and terrorise you indefinitely, even in death.
Though he and Geden had agreed to keep away from the potential poltergeist that was Guppy, they hadn't always been able to read each other's minds, and they certainly hadn't always gotten along. The first time they met was during an evening service commemorating the War of Black Water, which the saiyans had deemed the final defeat of the Tuffles all those generations ago. No one really talked about the Tuffles any longer. Geden had been sold to a greedy Lord's son as a trophy courtesan, but she decked her 'owner' in the face and booked it. He, who had stormed away from a disagreement with his father, had ran into her while sulking in a verdigris alleyway.
He fell in love with her at first sight. She was sexy in both will, mind and body, and he found himself admiring her. Betas, male or female, had no authority over alphas as ancient law stated they were unfit to hold such an honour. They were owned by either their sires, the family patriarch, or finally their mates, yet this seemingly incapable third-class had defiled all that was written in her rights because she refused to allow herself to be controlled. She was also the first saiyan strong enough to injure him. She had broke his knee and disassembled most of his ribs.
All would soon change, however, as Geden's once lithe, curvaceous figure had swelled to support the small Ki flaring within, though King Vegeta was sure he could feel that strangely familial life force harden and expand at the hour. He was both proud and unsettled, because sometimes he would awake at night to a huge, sizzling burn in his cranium, suggesting a huge and unnaturally fast-rising power source was present. If he ever resorted to using his scouter as an alarm or simply leaving it on during the night, it would implode in on itself whenever these strange episodes occurred. A faraway part of his mind had always been weary that maybe the strange power pulses were related to Guppy.
He really didn't think Guppy was a caracal.
Sometimes he found himself wishing he was once again a young lad. Though he didn't age much physically, when all was quiet and he couldn't quell himself into the gentle grip of sleep once more he would let his mind drift to better places. He would imagine crunching sand grit between his toes, with fingertips pruned from a long day flying through clear blue oceans, over cavalcades of vibrant coral growth. He would then enjoy dawns of beachside views and complimentary pina coladas. Geden would stand by his side, laughing so hard her cheeks would be swelled with strain and his heart would be strained with joy. By nightfall they would bathe in moonlit knolls, listening to both the distant ebbing shore break and the sound of their voices. They would talk about their dreams, what they hoped for, what they hated. They'd talk about his future as King, and hers as queen, and they'd fall in love all over again.
King Vegeta always found himself fearing that his beloved Geden would perish during childbirth, but luckily, that had not been the case. Despite this, when her heart stopped beating for those few moments she had been giving birth to their cub, he had felt his world stop, and had almost crumbled at the news of his mate's temporary cardiac arrest. It was at that moment where he had stopped denying to himself that they were together only for sexual reasons and that she was literally the stitching that sowed the fabric of his reality together.
Yet, when his eyes fell upon that small body nestled unorthodoxy in his queen's arms, Vegeta really had felt that maybe, even if being a father was hard, it really was worth it in the end.
Wiping the sweat gathered on his brow and breathing in deeply until he felt as though his lungs had sponged up enough air to begin to burn, King Vegeta turned to the tiny, snoozing infant wiggling contentedly in Geden's slim yet powerful arms. His mate was smiling faintly, and his child was smirking relatively pleasantly, probably dreaming about violent hit man movies. Guppy's silhouette could be spotted amongst the luscious drapery. He was staring at the wall. Vegeta realised that life was perfect right now, and he also realised that he must be seriously drunk in his sleep deprivation if he was admitting that to himself. Life was too perfect to care, he realised, and while he was still thinking it over, he fell asleep.
2
"Did you hear, did you hear? All heed my yell, warriors, for the Prince his here!"
"After all this time- the Prince is finally born? I must see this for my self!"
"The Prince? How wonderful,"
"Brother, stop hurrying, must we get a good spot in the crowd?"
"Oh come now, of course we must! I want to see the young Prince!"
"The Prince, the Prince, the young Prince!"
There were many voices calling this one, claret dawn, some nasally, some husky, some scratchy, some heavy and some light. They came from bodies of power and of lithify, of youth and of age. They came from statures of nobility and crumbles of the third class, each character's yelling voice as diverse as the one that would call after, yet they all still called in celebration of a new era.
They rushed through posh street-sides and they hurried past homes, they cantered through the air like unleashed reindeer and they slithered through the urban valley like ferrets. The touring Yardrats filed from their hermitages, and the Clawfores flitted, tittering jollily from the banks. The Arlian's buzzed like beetles through the masses, tunics and cloaks fitted around their thoraxes to shelter themselves from the chilly morning breeze, and the Namekians docilely padded from their touring pods, carrying bassinets of Amaranth, Angrec and Amaryllis to pay tribute to the new heir.
The most prominent of the rushing masses were the Saiyans, shoving, yipping, speeding through the crowd in an anticipating, competitive manner. Their shoulder's were a flowerbed of scars, their hair a black-vaulted garth of wild locks, and each of their faces was alit with excitement. With their superior speed and agility, the Saiyans were able to manoeuvre towards the gates of a towering keep, it's doors hanging open like slack jaws.
Before the few lucky ones at the front of the crowds stood a magnificent sight; a flowing pillar of superiority bellowing like a crescent of light up to the heavens. The castle of the Vegetas stood before them, as mighty as the dynasty it cradled in it's craggy arms. Flags ribboned in the air and huge curtains of sheeny titanium hissed at any of the ill intended. Steeple tips as tall as mountain-tables were partly submerged in the clouds, and bottles of windows allowed only the briefest of peeks of deep, velvety curtains and hammocks of banners spiderwebbed from obelisks and spiralling columns. The palace was fit for a god, but all eyes were trained intently upon the elongated veranda swaddled around the largest of the towers.
"Look there, at the castle!"
"Oh my, what a sight!"
A sea of giddy, sun soaked faces drowned the ground from visible sight, whinnying like ponies and cackling like old men until a sacred, familiar sight piped up from seemingly nowhere. Like he was a plague, all parted until a carpet of access was presented before odd man, and onward moved quite the sight. He had spindly thin legs that looked as though they might snap as he moved, hobbling along stickily yet with an infectious, jovial twist. His face was as sunken as an old boot, and his long, spidery arms flailed around so loosely that one could read the wrinkles of his elbows. The fingers of his left hand reached up to adjust his unbecoming red sunglasses, which glinted in the light, while his right hand clutched at his wooden cane. All hailed with awe as Master Roshi trudged closer and closer to the palace. If you were looking to define his personality, it would be made clear when he, upon reaching the end of his walk of fame, twisted around to face the crowd and present to them a good-willed peace sign.
He disappeared into the castle.
He would soon find that the palace's majestical insides could not be seen as calm, with maids, drudges and servants scurrying around, all sweaty and fraughting, and with guards numbly and grim-faced as scribes each time a sudden noise was heard or an unpredictable movement was detected. They gripped stiffly at their spears and daggers until both their combatant implements and their palms were bruised. Roshi already missed his beachside views and his complimentary pina coladas.
All his worries dissipated when he had reached the higher levels of the castle and his eyes fell upon the little bundle of innocence and infant-like jubilance casketed within Queen Geden's arms. She and King Vegeta greeted him with knowing smiles and he thought that their cheeks were puffy and reddened from smiling so much. He also thought that the image of King Vegeta smiling was so unnatural it made him uncomfortable.
He nodded to them, for once ducking under the royal consort's chin to fetch the baby instead of reach for her chest. Said baby, much like his father, had long, thick strands of an identifiable windows peek, but a youthful fringe spilled over his large forehead which was quite unlike the receding hairline of his father. Roshi clucked when the new prince blinked his big, goggly eyes open, cautious to the pressure of the light, and laughed at the old master's goofiness.
With the reining King and Queen behind him, Roshi and his precious cargo strode forward, the golden gates of the palace's main balcony separating them from the watching eyes of the kingdom all but gone when the equerries pulled them agape. Roshi didn't squint at the sudden pulses of light that flooded the room. Prince Vegeta did.
With the baby settled in his arms and the royal couple nuzzling each other at the doorway, barely making themselves seen, Roshi walked forward, presenting both himself and the future ruler to the world. With two steps the gathered masses crowed in delight and joy, laughed in jest and dipped their heads in respect. Within eight steps the Namekians had raised their home-woven bassinets of offerings to the sky, and the hollering had ascended to levels that made his ears pop. As he reached the lip of the deck, adjusted his hold on the baby saiyan and reached out, dangling him over the kingdom, his kingdom, a whole nation dropped to their knees in veneration for him, a mere child of only two days.
The past looked upon the future, and it was bright.
3
The soggy brown sewer rat zipped cautiously from it's little cove, which consisted largely of a peeling crack in the beige wall. It tested the air with it's little, twitching nose, and, satisfied with the results, wallowed forward much like a rolling shallot. It stiffened for a short moment, ears twitching, before bringing it's pink pads to its face and nuzzling it's own thumb-plump head. It didn't get very far.
A calloused, clawed hand slammed it's force down on the rodent's far less durable body, letting it squirm in vain for a moment before lacing it's tail within his fingers and lifting it up to become level with his narrowed eyes. It squawked and shuttered as it twitched, suspended in the air.
"Life's not fair, is it?" His shallow eyes drooped with contemplation. "You see I shall never be King," he crooned, watching as his snagged prey crawled about his fingers skittishly, and he moved his claws accordingly to support it's trek. "And you shall never see the light of day, hmm?" He droned with an exaggerated shrug, snatching the mouse once more with his claws and gathering enough Ki to incinerate a fat tree stump on his fingertips.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with whatever you found alive and kicking on the ground?" A snobbish voice cut through to him. With a flat expression the sadist cupped the little creature crushingly in his hand, long, curvaceous nails acting as taunting cage bars to it's makeshift cell. It was so close to an unreachable freedom.
"What do you want?" He rolled his one reptilian eye.
"I'm hear to announce that King Vegeta is on his way," The large, burly advisor bowed, his smooth bald head glinting in the light leaking into the cave. "So you better have a good excuse for missing the ceremony this morning," He added pointedly, sending his company a tight lipped gaze as he retreated from his formal position and assuming a far less formal one.
"Oh now look, Nappa, you made me lose my friend," The portly rat once imprisoned by his claw-like hands had squeezed away, fleeing into it's receding crevasse, fat tail swaying along with it's body. The one-eyed saiyan gave Nappa a deflated scowl.
"Hah! You'll lose more then that when the King gets through with you!" The dry humour in Nappa's voice was clear as he leaned richly on his heels. "He's as mad as a super saiyan!" He sniffed self-importantly, eyes fluttering closed as he gave a factual nod.
"Oooh, I quiver with fear," the dark saiyan hissed forward, voice rasping and nefarious as he twisted his body to properly face his company, shoulders twisting with feline like grace.
He grinned meanly as Nappa's eyes widened. "Now Paragus, don't look at me that wayyy-Aargh!" Nappa rushed to avoid an onslaught of small, zapping Ki blasts that were sent careening his way from their former perch upon Paragus' unclipped fingertips. One of the blasts scored an oozing slice upon the advisor's cheek when a deep, angry voice defused the situation.
"Paragus..." It drawled, promising hurt from a beast that had been hurt himself. Paragus froze.
"Impeccable timing, your majesty," Nappa reached into his petticoat and pulled free a handkerchief from his tufted collar, dabbing it across his cheek crossly while Paragus rolled his shoulders uncaringly.
"Why... If it isn't my big brother, descending from up high to mingle with the commoners," he wheezed sweetly, greeting his kin halfway as the King strode into his room, plush, red carpet and gold tapestries glittering around the two siblings and their confrontation. Paragus' words sounded as though they were squeezed from his throat.
King Vegeta was frowning darkly, brows furrowed. "Geden and I didn't find you at the presentation of Prince Vegeta." He growled, spearing Paragus with his glower. Paragus slunk away to the far wall, which was decorated with rips in the paint and verdigris, face twisted in mock shame.
"Oh, that was today?" He arched his back, clapping his tensed hands atop the wall warningly, his tail, fizzling like smoke from a bonfire that had just had a fish tank of water pored upon it. "I feel simply awful," he grit, dragging his nails cloyingly down the ruins of the wall and adding another set of scratch marks. Nappa recoiled at the assaulting noise resonating throughout the room. Both brothers were left unfazed. "Must've slipped my mind,"
"Yes, well, as slippery as your mind is, as the King's brother you should have been first in line!" Nappa inquired with multiple unidentifiable hand gestures. Paragus clicked his jaw warningly at the advisor's antics, quickly reminding him which of the two was stronger.
"Well I was first in line-" Nappa retreated to the safety of being tucked behind King Vegeta, nervously fiddling with his stringy moustache. "Until the little hairball was born," Paragus sneered, only to be greeted with a warningly furcating rise in his brother's Ki. King Vegeta stepped forward and gathered the neck of his brother's toga, lifting him to his toes due to their difference in build. Paragus uttered not a sound as he was was pulled closer.
"That little hairball is my son, and your future king," he stressed, frown deepening as his brother pulled away from his grip lightly.
"Oh ha-ha, shall I practice my curtsy?" He did as mentioned with a curl of his pinkie finger. The scar on his left eye twitched, but his voice was airy and fruity. With lidded eyes he slid past his brother, heading for the exit to his large, spacious sweep, tail swaying behind him like an unsaid insult.
"Don't turn your back on me, Paragus," King Vegeta's eyes followed his brother's back retreating back, voice demanding and heavy.
"No Vegeta, perhaps you shouldn't turn your back on me?" He let the question hang in the air, continuing his leisurely stroll. King Vegeta bound forward faster than the naked eye could trace, dark, bulging black eyes wishing many untold curses.
The reining King roared, and Paragus was reminded just what made a King a King. An unknown force rustled his brother's chalky hair, electricity melting off his singed skin. Vegeta's maw was curled back into a threatening snarl, baring his razor blade fangs and Paragus felt glistening spittle land upon his bottom lip. "Was that a challenge?"
The sadistic saiyan, though taken aback at first by his brother's advance, quickly controlled his visible surprise. All that remained to be seen was a slight tightness around the lips and eyes.
"Oh temper, temper," Paragus scolded his brother. "I wouldn't dream of challenging you," he emphasised with a play of his lips, drunk on the excitement of getting his kin so riled up.
"Pity, why not?" Jabbed Nappa as always, popping the 'P' for added effect. The Lord spared him a nefarious, long side eye.
"Well, as far as brains go, I've got the 'saiyan's' share," he turned back to his brother appraisingly with an estranged look in his eyes. "But when it comes down to brute strength-" he slunk away slyly, removing himself from King Vegeta's proximity. "I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool." The mumbled self-deprecatingly, and Vegeta wondered how much of it was real. Paragus left the conversation at those ominous words, disappearing down the maze-like halls of the palace.
Nappa sighed. "There's one in every family, sire," he assured, slapping his King's back with his large hand. "Two in mine," he added grudgingly, but willed himself not to think about the subject of his family. "And they always manage to ruin special occasions," King Vegeta sighed, lost in thought.
"What am I going to do with him?"
"He'd make a very handsome throw rug,"
"Nappa!"
"And just so you know, every time it gets dirty, you can take it out and beat it!"
The pair had entered that room as king and servant, but had left as chatting friends.
4
"Ah, yes sire, I do believe I forgot to mention your get-together with Doctor Bardock. Said he had something quite important to say for himself. Probably some weird doctor stuff." Nappa listed off looking around the bustling marketplace they had found themselves sauntering through. King Vegeta always had an odd fascination with the old third class marketplaces, though he had always assumed it was related to a certain fondness the King had mustered for the the unlikely fruits one could find in places where you least expect it. He had met his mate there after all.
King Vegeta's eyes widened with recognition. "That old man- heard he had a second child recently. He's one of my old childhood friends, I should go pay him a visit soon, anyway." The King nodded the affirmative, and a quick glance around was all it took for him to identify Doctor Bardock's house, for if was very tall and identifiable. Bardock was quite the wealthy man due to all his medical, technological and Ki-offence breakthroughs. He had revolutionised the Planet Trade Organisation with his artificial moon, allowing Saiyans to undergo the legendary transformation of the Oozaru at will. They no longer had to wait for the appropriate lunar cycles of the planets they invaded.
"Indeed, sire. If I'm correct his name is Kakarot. The ripest fruits of the grapevine is that he was born with a power level of seven-thousand. Less than the little Prince's but far higher than that of usual elite offspring," Nappa complemented, and King Vegeta laughed, high on the excitement of meeting such a long time friend once more.
He could recall the mischief they had gotten into together quite clearly, weather it be to escape their problems and responsibilities or to simply appreciate having company. He new he could always trust Bardock. As a child he had been betrayed of his time, money and effort by a-many who had offered false friendship. Bardock had been different, and the fact that the special friendship they had fostered over the years was beginning to frizzle into the distance was something tragic. He new when to rekindle his ties, as trust was so hard to find in another these days. Saiyans had grown far to overbearing and fixed to focus on something as socially adept as friendship, after all. They had forgotten the impact a true ally could have on your life, wether it be to motivate yourself or to have someone to lean on when times happen to be tougher than usual.
The small trip to Bardock's house had been one of pleasant banter, though the King and his right hand man would stop occasionally to admire the scenery. Planet Vegeta may not have been the greenest, most leafy of planets, and it's red, foreboding atmosphere way have been quite unwelcoming to some, but there truly was a morbid beauty in everything. Prince Vegeta simply wished the lower classes in the streets would stop bowing and cowering in his shadow as he passed by them.
Once they had arrived, Bardock had been quick to let them in, and they were greeted with quite the pleasant, humble homage for someone as plentiful as Bardock. The doctor's mate, Gine, was nowhere to be seen, but little Raditz was flitting about the sweep like a little grasshopper, clad in basic trainee armour and stuffing in his suitcase three pairs of differentiating socks that he had pulled out from behind the dining quarter's island. The tyke looked to the visitors with surprise, quickly bowing before trotting up towards the old family friend of his father's.
"Hey your majesty! Guess where I'm goin' tomorrow," Raditz yipped in a typical thick streeted accent. When he was a couple years younger the King had visited quite frequently, as did Nappa. He quickly brightened at the sight of the advisor. He had always admired the huge soldier. "Hey Nappa, I could use your advice for something, actually!" He added, stuffing a croissant he had snuck in the chest plate of his armour into his packaging. Bardock rolled his eyes, but ushered his two old friends in instead of questioning his first born son's gluttony.
King Vegeta reached forward and rustled the tween's huge mane of hair. "So, where are you going, brat?" The King prodded with a majestical air, though he supposed he had a good idea. Raditz beamed, puffing his chest out proudly, awkward puberty arms flailing around his suitcase's handle.
"I'm going to my very first warrior camp! And I'm going off-planet, too, to kick some serious alien ass!" Raditz whooped, and Nappa leaned in with a gasp that caused the younger to start.
"Oh you will need my advice on this!" He hooted, recalling his experiences and mistakes at the familiar youth discipline camp. "You'll need all the help you can get, you poor bastard. How about we get a quick spar in before you take off tomorrow? If Lady Nattl is still ring leading there you need to have a perfect stance," he hurried the young alpha out the door and for a small while Bardock and the King sat in silence.
"Hah! God, Raditz is gonna have a bad time if Lady Nattl is still there," Bardock hooted, recalling his brief time spent at the camp as well.
King Vegeta smiled. "So, second son, huh? You really are becoming an old man," he snickered, and immediately Bardock burst into the conversation.
"Sorry, could you repeat that? I'm not good at understanding you elites' posh accents, so I might be able to read the wrinkles in your huge-ass forehead if you speak with enough expression," King Vegeta sneered at his old friend's comeback, about to retort when Bardock popped a hatchet in the side-table before his couch with an audible 'click'. Out with his wrist he pulled two seemingly innocent bottles of a slightly oily clear liquid. It had 'SUNSET RUM' plastered upon it's glassy face in pretty writing. "But- I've had enough children to know that it's hard work. You'll need this, lad." Not bothering with shot glasses, Bardock slid the Sunset Rum over to his chap. King Vegeta accepted graciously.
"I always liked the way you think, Bardock. Also, 'lad'?" Vegeta hummed, popping off the cork and taking a large swig of the alcoholic beverage. He wasn't usually one to drink his problems away, but sometimes he needed an escape from his impossible brother.
"You're just jealous because you can't make the word 'lad' not sound forced in a sentence," Bardock took a swig of his own. "I haven't had proper sleep in days, Kakarot-I'm sure Nappa informed you of him already- never stops crying. Hours and hours, day in and day out, like a true saiyan and like a true brain tumour, so I'm going to go straight to business."
King Vegeta raised his eyebrow in question. "On with it then. I suppose we can just pretend I asked about how Gine's doing and if all is in good health," Bardock didn't react to the sarcastic statement, but steadied the King's Sunset Rum before he could down another large dose.
"Stay sober for this part," He growled. "Kakarot is a beta, a powerful one at that. You know, submissive genes and all, and I'd rather arrange a suitable mate for him before word gets out. You know the population of bets are dwindling. Prince Vegeta needs a mate to rule with and carry on the Vegeta dynasty, and as a beta Kakarot really has no rights to refuse," He grunted in one go. King Vegeta blinked, letting the words settle in.
"Wow, you're really not beating around the bushes, are you?" King Vegeta looked taken aback, before drawing a hand to his chin. "I suppose a suitable mate your Kakarot would be, though if he's even half as stubborn as you are-' he rolled his eyes and Bardock scoffed unappreciatively. King Vegeta reached his hand out.
"'Lad', I think we have a deal."
"...'Lad'?"
"Shut up, Bardock."
5
The rain chimed like bells against Roshi's roof, settling a pleasant rhythmic tune to wrap up his noon. For a long while he had been sat at his window, contemplative. At first he had been reminiscing about his day. It was quite a nice day.
He had mingled with his thousands of snivelling, adoring fans, been granted the great honour of presenting little Prince Vegeta to the kingdom and talked with some pretty betas on the way home. He had even discovered that Gine and Bardock had given life to another child, this time a beta, who he wassure would be a fine specimen when he came of age. Roshi didn't blame them for wanting another child, anyway. Raditz was a... Unique kid.
Not to mention, the more betas the merrier. If he had lived for three hundred years already he could live for eighteen more.
With a sudden intake of applejack from the mug he clutched surely in his hand, Roshi ambled over to pull a mottled, bottle-green turtle shell from underneath a coalesce of tapes and old programs, skipping outside of his beached cottage. With a quick fizzle of Ki from his sickly thin fingers, he returned inside with a rather queer looking coconut and a pile of rusty red saw dust. All it took was a quick swipe of his fingers and across the flippant turtle shell danced the sketch of a rather cute looking Prince Vegeta.
"...Yes... A fine King he will be!" The rain continued to clap.
6
Prince Vegeta growled as he leapt over yet another maggoty drudge, this time one with a silver platter of baklavas and her company, a snivelling Arlian who was scampering after her with it's arms full of cutlery and chalices. Even after all these years of having the strange insect-like beings filing around him Prince Vegeta was still left unable to decipher between their genders. Deciding he did indeed deserve a treat, he squashed his grabby hand into the assembly of delectable treats the drudge had gathered on her platter and pulled away with two baklavas and a quarter, slightly dissatisfied at how they had done little to sate his hunger. The startled squeaks of the maid fell upon death ears as all staff continued hurrying about, sprits and spits of greetings and minor dues tumbling out of their mouths.
He didn't return their pleasantries as they were below him, instead bounding through the tinted halls of the palace and up a velvety flight of stars. He used his glove to wipe away the baklava's treacly blood from the corner of his mouth. As his mother drilled on, it was unbecoming of a prince to have fluid spillage dripping down his chin. He scowled, because she had stopped that drilling ever since that anthracnose Tarble was born two weeks ago. The stupid little mealworm was so weak they had him scheduled to be sent off to some estranged back-water planet. Vegeta ignored the pang in his heart, instead opting to summersault over a particularly stunned chambermaid, who stumbled so clumsily she spilt her cartilage of crimson veils all over the floor. No one dared reprimand him, however.
After twisting and spiralling down so many corridors, one may think little Vegeta would get lost, but he had simply traversed through them such a goggling amount of times he had the layout all mapped out in his memory. The halls were relatively quiet and empty once he had entered the seclusion of the Royal chambers, the early morning keepers having done their job far before even the most negligible of daylight had trickled through, so Vegeta was quite alone and free to move as fast as necessary.
When the familiar battalion of guards surrounding his father's chambers had touched both his eyesight and his nose, (they smelled quite unpleasant, like salt, sweat and distant alcohol), and the leering presence of his parent's room's double-doors could be seen, Prince Vegeta could only feel a well-disguised excitement rise up his throat and light a candle in his eyes. Seeming to sense his emotions, the guards wisely trudged out of his way, allowing a clear collision course.
With a mighty crash the two doors swung open, spinning off their hinges and imbedding themselves into the claret walls on either side of them. Grubby, the families rather disturbing family pet yowled with suprise and seemed to disintegrate for a small moment before taking off down the halls. Not deterred by the slightest, Prince Vegeta stumbled and toddled through his father's plush, buoyant carpet as though it were filled with air, clipping the door keg and the table corners and knocking the candleholder amiss on it's mantle hazardously. He sniffed fondly at the scented air; it was filtered with vitamins and depleted of poison and pollution, as fresh as that from a moist tropical climate that Vegeta-sei sorely lacked.
"Father! Father! Wake up father, we gotta go!"
The Prince almost wanted to scowl. The kingdom was constantly so hot that at times he found it hard to participate in events and concentrate on his schooling. The traditional spandex of the saiyans didn't help, what with how tight it was. Despite its practical flaws, Vegeta wore his garbs with pride. The deep blue, pearly white chest plate, authoritative, majestic shoulder guards and his billowing red cape. Many would have thought that the cape was his favourite element of clothing, when in actuality it was the Royal crest of Vegeta emblazoned proudly upon his chest. It made him feel apart of something.
Before he could ponder on his fashion sense any longer, Vegeta had reached the body of his parents' bed. He wasted no time in jumping upon it, rolling around stuffily on the sheets that rather aggressively netted around him until he was perched upon his father's shoulders, pulling at the King's mane of thick, rustic locks and slapping at his nose. "Father, father-"
Geden scrunched her nose cutely, big eyes blinking open serenely from her place next to her mate. "My King, I believe there's someone here for you," by now King Vegeta had also awaken, but he kept his eyes closed in hope that the bee hovering fuzzily around his tired face would buzz away. He hid his face in his pillow.
"-father, father- dad, dad dad dad-"
"Before sunrise he's your son," King Vegeta pushed away his responsibilities like a most apt father should.
"Daaad, come on, father-" Prince Vegeta had resorted to pulling at his father's ear, and after a few tugs the King was sure his son would be willing to pull it off in order to garner his attention. "Grr, dad- whoa-" Finally Prince Vegeta had tumbled away, losing his grip on the auditory organ he had trusted all his weight to. Vegeta's back hit the floor with a cushioned thud. He then retaliated with a hard elbow to his sire's head. King Vegeta blinked owlishly at the blaze assault, turning to meet his son's quickly enlarging pupils. "You promised," Vegeta's voice came out as a stern growl, but the King could shrewdly detect traces of desperation.
"Ok ok, I'm up, I'm up," The King of all saiyans witnessed his son's demeanour change from anger to accomplishment. He suddenly felt as though he had played right into his cub's hand. With a final yawn that limbered his jaw, and a content sigh from his mate, who had rolled over to rub noses with their youngest child in the cot besides their bed, King Vegeta followed his son to the balcony connected to their sweep.
A small smile graced his face when his eyes met the sight of his sedated kingdom, the pink, lazy sky proving to be a breathtaking sight when in contrast to the wondrous simplicity of a jungle of pods and capsule cottages, wide, gaping communal sparring centres and the distant jetting drone of the airships from the hangar a little way away behind the palace. Little potted gardens dotted the streets of the lower class, sand dunes of sun-baked grit as tall as the castle resting like sleeping giants in the far-off distance.
Beside him his beautiful mate Geden had come to stand, nuzzling his cheek for a small moment before settling her eyes upon their kingdom. A wistful intake displayed her appreciation for the sight; ever since the infant tucked away snoring snottily in her arms was born she had been to tired to wake up at such a winding sight. It was a shame, she used to tell him, that the most beautiful times of day lasted only a fraction of the two that merged to make it. It was a shame, he used to reply with, that the two of them still hadn't merged to create their own most beautiful stage. That had been the line that had won her over.
Not particularly fascinated with the sky or it's cavalcade of wisteria, Vegeta had galloped forward until he rested boldly at the highest, furthest point of the balcony, where so many years ago his corination had taken place. Vegeta scoffed at touchy feelings, however, and chose not to dwell on fuzzy pleasantries of the past. He actually had an issue with being dangled over a hundred foot drop by a possible pedophile who had arms about as thin as his singular strands of hair.
He watched silently until the once weak morning daze had been bathed in an enchanting golden glow. He almost didn't realise King Vegeta was beside him when his father's resonating voice pierced his mulling.
"Look, Vegeta, everything the light touches, is our Kingdom," King Vegeta's eyes followed the horizon, and did not make an effort to meet the prince's as Vegeta gazed at him.
"A king's time as ruler rises and sets like the sun. One day, Vegeta, the sun will set on my time here, and will rise, with you, as the new King," the King turned to his cub, eyes unreadable yet telling.
Vegeta breathed, overwhelmed. "This will all be mine?" The prince had moved from his position to get a better look at the view, experimentally pacing around the tip of the veranda and taking in the sight of his kingdom in a new light. All the respect, all the power, all the glory of ruling the universe- all his? "Everything the light touches... What about that shadowy place?" Sometimes at night Vegeta would gaze up at the starry, nebulae cloak of the blackened sky and his gaze would meet a barren, barely noticeable wasteland at the far right of the kingdom. It looked so lonely. Vegeta didn't know why it was so abandoned because it seemed like a cool sparring terrain, with no weaklings, gatherings, civilians or structures to get in your way.
"Saiyans do not speak of that place anymore. You must never go there, Vegeta." The little prince hid the fact that he was a little taken aback at the urgency in his father's voice, hiding it with a surge of defiance.
"But I thought a king can do whatever he wants?"
The king's expression softened. "Well there's more to being king than getting your way all the time," With a flick of his cape, King Vegeta leapt into the air, a burning sensation of Ki erupting like pallid fire around him and Prince Vegeta readily followed suit.
"There's more?" He blinked, incredulous. Being King sounded frustrating. At least the air between his arms and the wind blowing through his hair helped to ease the building frustration, as being king was quickly declining from a position of power and reverence to hard, boring work that would distract him from his training.
"Everything you see exists together in a delicate balance," King Vegeta began, landing amidst the loose streets. They were ghostly and quiet during the early hours of the morning, but if one strained their ears hard enough they may catch the distant huffs and grunts from the pupils sparring pads. Warriors generally go up early to train. The laboured groans became ever more apparent as they neared the training wing of the elite and first class segments. "As King you need to understand that balance, and respect all the creatures, from the crawling ant, to the mightiest of your enemies," King Vegeta emphasised, the two of them, once in the training wing, shifting into their own private gravity chambers. Neither the King nor prince began their usual sessions.
"But father, don't we vaporise our enemies?" Vegeta crowed, not getting the point. All those who stood against the might dynasty of Vegeta deserved the most humiliating and dreadful of deaths, though he did agree with the part about them being equal to the ants that usually haunted the kitchens.
"Yes, Vegeta, but let me explain. Who, if not the strongest of our foes, will challenge us to surpass our limits and grow stronger?" The King raised his eyebrows pointedly. Vegeta opened his mouth but clipped it shut, instead opting to drop to the ground and stretch his legs and back. He relished in the releasing of tension and the cracking bones that stretching before training bought him. "And so we are all connected in the great law of the warriors,"
"Good morning sire!" A familiar voice clocked, and in swooped a jolly Nappa, his husky, loopy voice slapping the slightly tense atmosphere of a now-gone moment. Vegeta smirked and King Vegeta's shoulders loosened.
"Morning Nappa," The King greeted friendlily. Nappa settled his bulky body infront of the King where he could properly be addressed, patting down his flexible chest plate and clearing his throat. He offered Prince Vegeta a nod that the narrow eyed-cub slowly returned, though with notably less enthusiasm. Nappa payed it no mind, focussing back on his boss.
"Just checking in with the morning report," Advisor Nappa added a curt bow to his combo and King Vegeta nodded.
"Fire away,"
"Well, the buzz from the bees it that the Namekians are in a bit of a spot," The advisor popped.
"Oh?"
Immediately, Prince Vegeta tuned himself out of the conversation, padding leisurely to the control panels and, with an expert play of fingers, activated a small cornucopia of insect-like drones, which buzzed around with a distinctive hum. He would have prepared for his usual round of unzipping saibamen guts onto the floor with overly heightened gravity but he would rather not for a multitude of reasons. Stealth practice would have to do.
"Yes! That's why they're crawling around the place like buzzards! Cookomba and his leading team of Sector C have returned from their latest conquest in the far west quadrant, ran into little trouble there, expected from the bloody third class, though I believe they may have-"
With a dwindling amount of effort, Vegeta lowered his Ki to a barely detectable volume and slithered gracefully around the attuned prevision of the drones, taking each one out with a small blast of a basic Ki formula he learnt in his second lesson ever with his father.
"-eft the planet alive! They just let it be! You know why we don't terrorise planets but leave them with a living population? Because than we leave them alive with revenge cooking up diminutional plots of revolt in their minds and a taste of what power is possible to achieve. You know what happens then? They become Saiyans! And honest to god the universe doesn't need another race like us-"
A, he would admit, slightly over-dramatic blast, had caught the attention of his father. "What are you doing son?" King Vegeta whispered quickly, a silly smile posted upon his face as he watched his cub weave expertly away from the expanded senses of the stealth drones with a zeal many his age would be unable to replicate. Prince Vegeta really was a prodigy.
"Blasting-" He shrugged in response, a flick of his hand dismembering the last of the drones. He wasn't able to sigh in disappointment because his father introduced him to a much more interesting version of target practice.
"Better show the pro how it's done-" The King began, a humorous edge to his voice that got the little prince bumbling with anticipation.
"-etter watch their power growth. If such a strange, unapt race can even begin to graze the strength of a more advanced saibaman! Gotta keep them in line before-"
"Nappa, can you turn around?'
"-yes sire- before they begin to get over confidant-"
"Stay low to the ground..." King Vegeta steadied his son's shoulders, and Vegeta's eyes narrowed in on his target with concentration.
"Then they'll never prosper-" Nappa, suddenly suspicious, craned his head to peer at his company. "What's going on?" He snipped.
"A precision lesson,"
"Oh, very good, precision." Nappa whisked back around, nose in the air and swaying in approval, before his eyes widened in revelation. "Precision?! You- no sire, you can't be serious- ooh-" He wailed in despair, but, with a smug grin on his face, King Vegeta only replied to his close comrade's suffering with a revolving motion of his hands. "-this is so humiliating-"
"Try not to make a sound,"The King whispered in his son's ear, who had one hand up and trained on the Royal advisor's back. The Prince was sure he heard said advisor whine and wail some more, but otherwise the world had drowned out around him. The chirping of the songbirds and finches, the rush of the blood pulsing through his veins- it had all just washed away like an ebbing tide. All that was left was him and a certain, armour-clad back.
"-ooh I never should have- ever since I signed up for this my Saiyan pride has been as far away as a Saiyan is from heaven-what are you telling him, King Vegeta? Vegeta? Young Prince?" All was silent.
With a quick whoosh Prince Vegeta's Ki blast had imbedded itself deep into the crevasse of Nappa's back, bending him uncomfortably like a twig. Nappa yowled as he was propelled strongly into the door of the Royal training chambers, and for a while all he could hear was the King's booming, hearty laughter and the tap of the Prince's boots against the ground as he bounced in jest.
"Ahahahha! Th- that's very good!"
Before he could collect himself and exact upon them an eternity of whining, the door the advisor was leaning heavily against creaked open, sending him tumbling forward. He whirled his arms in a cartoonish manner around in the air for a moment before steadying himself and turning urgently towards the morning patrol scout peeking his head stiffly between the minute crack in the door.
"General Nappa, sir?"
"What?" Nappa really didn't care if he sounded a might salty, because he was still bitter about the amount of times he, and elite warrior, had been manhandled in the first few hours of his waking.
"News from the underground,"
After a small while of cackling evilly along with his son, King Vegeta heaved and sniffed in an attempt to clear his aching throat. With an eager smirk, Prince Vegeta leaned in to hear what he was going to say. "Now, this time-" The King's lecture was interrupted before he could even begin.
"Sire! Invaders, in the market place!" Nappa's voice sliced the King's chill, and immediately the overlord straightened, rushing towards the exit of the training chambers and past the reporting officer, Nappa close behind him.
"Nappa, take Vegeta home," The King called behind his back gruffly, and Nappa reeled around, trotting back to where he could more effectively gather the slightly tyrannical prince.
"Aw dad, can't I come?" Vegeta really didn't want to end his perfect morning sulky because his father wouldn't allow him to experience real excitement, like what any normal Saiyan would feel in the heat of battle.
"No, son," And then King Vegeta was a mere dot in the distance. The little prince new it was to good to be true.
Veget frowned, furrowing his brows and stamping his feet, his displeasure clear to show. He muttered angry curses under his breath. Nappa frowned, eyeing the Saiyan cub suspiciously as they trotted out of the door and gradually further away from the private training pad. The advisor hurried after the heir as he was lagging behind, lost in his mind once again. "Oh come now, Prince, one day you will be King! Than you can chase those slobbery, mangy bastards from dawn until dusk!"
7
"Hey uncle Paragus, guess what?" Paragus had retreated to the throne room to escape both the overbearing heat of midday on Planet Vegeta and his family, but it seemed fate had another plan in mind for the sadistic lord. He figured ignoring the little Prince would make the brat leave, but knowing the zealous prince, that would not be the case. Instead Paragus settled down upon his own seat of state and looked to the cub uninterestedly.
"I despise guessing games," He drawled out under his breath. Vegeta either didn't hear it or didn't pay it any mind, as he trotted up beside the Lord's throne confidently anyway.
"I'm gonna be King of the universe one day," He sniffed proudly, suddenly looking down at Paragus as if he were a rotting slab of liver.
"Oh goodie," Paragus grit. His face turned away from the bounding prince, but his eyes never left their trail on his nephew's back. He should have been King one day, not the pathetic runt frolicking prettily at his heels like the gelding he and his father truly were.
"My dad just showed me the kingdom, and I'm gonna rule it all," He emphasised meanly, knowing his uncle would hate the reminder. prince Vegeta chuckled.
Paragus sneered."Yes, well, forgive me for not leaping for joy, bad back, you know?" He slumped his posture in his heavyweight-chair, face grim yet unreadable to the proud child. Once again, Vegeta payed his bad attitude no mind.
"Hey uncle Paragus, when I'm King, what'll that make you?"
"A monkey's uncle,"
Prince Vegeta cackled, rolling away from where he was irritably prodding at his father's brother. "Hehe, your so weird," He phrased incredulously, raising his eyebrows into his fringe. Prince Vegeta honestly couldn't wait until his hairline looked more like his father's; his current one looked so adolescent and unprofessional and cub-like that he almost couldn't take himself seriously. He supposed it didn't matter, however, as he was probably by far one of the strongest saiyans of their age-group.
"You have no idea," Paragus replied to the rude statement with a toothy smile, one that opted Vegeta's amused smirk to fall once again into his usual scowl. "So, your father showed you the whole kingdom, did he?"
"Everything."
"He didn't show you what's beyond the northern border?" Paragus already new the answer, but asked anyway. He was concocting a plan in his mind that might just allow him to rule after his elder sibling after all.
"You mean that dry slab of dusty, boring wasteland? I'd never want to go there, anyways. It'd just add more dust to my heel and then I'd have to call another boot-licking peasant to wash it away. Father said I can't go there, anyway." Vegeta hissed dejectedly, and the Prince's face stilled in a stony expression of delinquency as though he was planning to go to the abandoned war field anyway. Paragus hid his smirk with a look of false sterness.
"Well he's absolutely right! It's far to... Unnatural. Only the bravest saiyans go there." Paragus trailed off at the end of his heed, shifting his weight to his right side and leaning into his arm, which rested supportingly on his supple chin. The Lord scrunched his nose in thought, as if Prince Vegeta were never really there with him. He had always, Paragus liked to think, been the better actor of his batch.
"Well I'm brave, what's out there?" Prince Vegeta leaned in casually, though he was brimming with inquisition and excitement at the thought of both breaking the rules, exploring someplace new and restricted and proving his braveness to himself, his friends and his future kingdom. Maybe it would allow him to branch further from his father's shadow.
"Oh, no- I just- can't bare with- couldn't tell you-" Paragus jumbled dramatically, feigning the majority of his emotions. He wondered if he'd ever get toxic-poisoning from how fake he was. He was as valid as plastic.
"Why not?" The little Prince's disappointment was clear, though it had a threatening edge. The little firecracker never really was one to be kept from something he wanted, the spoiled brat. Perhaps Paragus' plan, if unsuccessful, would at least teach his nephew an ounce of modesty. "Then I order you as future king to tell me,"
"Vegeta, Vegeta, Vegeta, I'm only looking out for your well being of my favourite nephew," Paragus lectured, reaching forward to ruffle Prince Vegeta's large mane of hair. The prince pulled away and swatted at his uncle's thick hand.
"Yeah right, I'm your only nephew," Prince Vegeta rolled his eyes.
Paragus made some strange motions with his pinkie finger, but yipped curtly, "all the more reason for me to be protective," With a piping voice. "An Oozaru graveyard is no place for a young prince," It was then that the Lord gasped, covering his mouth with widened eyes.
Prince Vegeta gaped. How could an Oozaru graveyard have come to be? Besides the legend of the super saiyan, the Oozaru was the strongest stage a saiyan could achieve under the full moon, and/or an artificial one.
This he had to see.
Author's note: ok, so, be prepared for an unstable roller coaster of long chapters, grammar mistakes and uneven update schedules because this piece is just for fun. I do not own The Lion King, It's characters, DBZ(S) or its characters...Ok so that Be Prepared reference was actually unintentional, but I'm going to keep it there anyways.