Envy


Remarkable.

A word he wouldn't have expected to use for such circumstances.

With curious, dark eyes, Vegeta tilted his head to the side and watched as his son stretched out his chubby little arms and cooed. The sight disturbed the prince. Obviously, he wanted something and Vegeta wasn't quite sure he knew what it was.

With another stretch and whine, Trunks reached for his father once more. The impossibly long distance didn't seem to matter to the child. Finally, the man caught on and he narrowed his eyes. With a quick look around to make sure no one was present, he lifted the toddler and held him at arms length, inspecting the baby fiercely.

His eyes were blue, his hair was purple and his clothes were not that of a Saiyan warrior. With a grunt of disgust, Vegeta sat his son down on the ground and watched him crawl over to the stack of blocks in the corner. Apparently, the boy's intent had been to get to his toys and not fondle his father.

Vegeta peered down at his son with raged filled eyes. He could barely believe this was his flesh and blood. He did not resemble him at all. The characteristics of Bulma had overpowered his own genes. What an embarrassing turn of events. It was as if the woman was mocking him. Telling him that although he was the father, she was dominant. He growled. Even in the realm of childbirth, she made his life miserable.

Trunks giggled and the man watched as he began making a long line of blocks. When the child finished, Vegeta saw that the words on the side spelled out something unreadable. The little boy only giggled and clapped his hands, proud of his accomplishment.

Vegeta grew angry. He stomped over and sat down in front of his son. Trunks blinked up at him and held his gaze for a minute or two before smiling and clapping his hands some more. The unbridled joy on the boy's face was palpable. The laughter in his eyes was apparent. He was happy with the simple foundations of his small little world. Playing with blocks, using the bathroom and eating was all he had to do. It was all the little boy looked forward to.

The prince bristled. He didn't understand it. The boy's power level was drastically low, he had no tail, no inkling to his Saiyan heritage, he couldn't fly, couldn't speak, couldn't read or spell out comprehensible words. He was useless. Pathetic. A disgrace.

Which was why the widow peaked male was angry. Not at his son or his wife but at himself.

Because he felt the emotion stirring inside his chest. The berating, piercing one.

He felt the same way every time he saw Trunks. Every time he watched Trunks laugh and giggle and be joyous.

Envy.

Envy of the fact that his son would grow up happier than he ever did.