Author's Note: This song is very special. I sing it to my own little ones and feel that it perfectly exemplifies not only the bond between Vegeta and his mother, but also the reality of their lives and culture. It's called "A Soldier's Lullaby."
Chapter Four
"May your dreams bring you peace in the darkness.
May you always rise over the rain.
May the light from above
Always lead you to love.
May you stay in the arms of the angels."
The song filled the air like a ghostly siren's song, resonating like a prayer in an empty temple. When the ethereal form of a woman flickered into existence, Bulma's mouth gaped open, mirroring Vegeta's own astonishment. It was the first time that she - or anyone for that matter - had ever heard of Vegeta's mother. He, of course, never mentioned her and no one knew a thing about her, let alone what she looked or sounded like. He kept that part of himself irretrievably locked away. Bulma glanced at Vegeta for confirmation, whose eyes were as wide as her own. He slowly rose to his feet, as if sudden movements would frighten the apparition away. The figure crept closer and as it did, its form grew more and more solid.
"What is this?" His voice was a mixture of repulsion and sadness, causing Bulma's stomach to drop. Though she knew there were sure to be painful moments from Vegeta's past that would come to light while codifying his history, she had not considered how he would react. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But seeing the apparition of his mother and knowing it wasn't truly her, was visibly tearing him apart.
A soft smile splayed across the apparition's lips as she continued her song. As the words left her lips, a tiny bundle appeared in her arms.
"May you always be brave in the shadows,
'Til the sun shines upon you again.
Hear this prayer in my heart,
And we'll ne'er be apart.
May you stay in the arms of the angels."
"It… was a song she would sing when my father would leave for battle. To quiet me. Or when I was..." He spoke, but it wasn't to Bulma. His sentence trailed and Bulma was sure that, had he not been so proud, he would have finished it with 'when I was scared.' It was more than that, but such a sentimental notion was difficult for him to share. It was deep rooted in his memories and unwillingly came forth - an evident source of comfort that must have come to his mind whenever he felt fear. Like the thought of his father not returning home. The soothing, dulcet tones of the lullaby was a prayer his mother said for husband and father alike, but more so, it was one she said for her son who was destined to follow in the warrior footsteps of his father.
The woman seemed incapable of paying any attention to anyone or anything but the cooing infant in her arms. Infatuated with the baby, she rocked and petted its face. She was a diminutive woman, barely five feet tall with delicate, porcelain features and long, raven hair that flowed over her shoulders like a silken curtain. Her red cape was held by golden broaches and circled just beneath her arms and collar bone, leaving her shoulders bare. Beneath the cape, a sleeveless, blue bodysuit hugged her slender but defined frame. An ornate but delicate crown that looked like golden wire twisted into vines wove through her hair and extended down the sides of her face in an intricate cascade of tendrils. Vegeta's mother was more beautiful than Bulma could ever have imagined. A calm sense of elegance and serenity emanated from her, a vision of peace and beauty as she sang.
The form of Vegeta's mother knelt before them, still oblivious to their presence. It occurred to Bulma that the vision was unable to interact with them unless Vegeta willed it to. But in his perplexed state, Vegeta was unable to fathom such a thing. Bulma wondered if he remembered much of his mother at all.
Vegeta couldn't will himself forward any further. His mother held his infant self out as if to stand him upright, and as the blanket that cradled him fell to the ground, the baby evolved into a young boy. His hair was just like Vegeta's currently, but with wispy fringes cascading over his forehead. His eyes were large and shining with innocence, but were the same dark, endless onyx Bulma had come to memorize. The same Saiyan armor that Vegeta wore presently adorned the boy in pint-sized form. He was small, like any other young boy, save for the already visible strength within him. He reminded her of Gohan, and she recalled how Vegeta said so often that Saiyans were born and bred as warriors from a very young age. He was the personified war-child, conditioned for his race's purpose yet still happy and naïve - his future still an untapped mystery.
Mother cupped her small son's chin in her hands, lovingly brushing his bangs away from his eyes and singing her prayer for him.
"May you hear every song in the forest.
And if ever you lose your own way,
Hear my voice like a breeze
Whisper soft in the trees.
May you stay in the arms of the angels."
A content smile on his face and his mother's hand in his, Young Vegeta bent to grasp the blanket at his feet. It morphed as it fluttered upward into a figure of a young girl similar in age. The girl, who stood just short of young Vegeta, had deep, black hair that matched her eyes and curled in ringlets past her shoulders. Her bangs were distinctively unkempt, fluttering out every which way. She wore a jumper that resembled Vegeta's armor, with the same golden shoulder straps, clasps, and belt, a white bodice with golden accents, and a blue bodysuit underneath. It was interesting to Bulma that the three shared such similar ensembles despite their very different rankings. The only difference Bulma could see was that the girl's bodysuit was made of basic cloth and extended into a skirt. The little ones pranced about, amusing Mother who covered her giggling lips. The cherubic girl rung her arms around young Vegeta's neck which he hastily shoved off, his cheeks blazing red. The girl settled for a peck on his cheek, prompting an embarrassed smile from her friend and an affectionate pet upon her head from Mother.
Bulma looked quizzically at Vegeta. She knew that Saiyans tended to look similar in nature, but… "I never knew you had a sister?"
Vegeta shook his head, finally acknowledging Bulma's presence yet still intent upon the frivolity of the children playing a game of tag before them. "They are the only creatures in this Gods-forsaken universe to have ever loved me. She's the daughter of Bardock and was born betrothed to me."
Her hands covering the gasp that escaped her lips, Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to force back the tear that threatened to shed. It was unfeasible to think Goku knew of his long lost older sister, who met the same demise of his father and the rest of his race. Not to mention the fact that she was arranged to marry Vegeta, a sign that Goku's family had not been as common as Vegeta always claimed. The sudden weight of that information fell upon her shoulders like an insufferable encumbrance. What would it do to Goku, if he knew?
"Mother…" Vegeta spoke, but it was no longer addressed to her or to entertain the room's recording. Bulma peeked through tear dampened lashes to see Vegeta mere feet away from his mother's form. The older woman's eyes finally saw him, her grin so wide that her cheeks were rosy apples beneath the glistening eyes of a mother endlessly proud of her son. Vegeta's head bowed as if he felt unworthy of her praising gaze. Decades had passed since the last time he saw her face or was able to speak the words he never could as a child. "Forgive me, mother. I am sorry, Kaila. That I was unable to protect either of you."
Catching him off guard, the apparition reached up to her son and cupped his cheek just as she'd done with his young self. Vegeta grasped her hand in his against his face as the last tones of her song left her lips.
"May you grow up to stand as a man, love.
With the pride of your family and name.
When you lay down your head for to rest in your bed,
May you stay in the arms of the angels."
It stung knowing that the only love Vegeta had ever felt was ripped away from him at such a young age. Vegeta tore himself away from his mother, unable to withstand the pain of seeing what he could never have again. The visions evaporated as he focused on Bulma with hard eyes. Shaken and angry at himself, Vegeta was visibly distraught at being forced to face his biggest failure: his inability to prevent the deaths of his innocent mother and young, arranged suitor.
"It didn't take long for others to learn of our planet's natives' fall," Vegeta spoke through gritted teeth, eager to shift the subject from his heartbreaking loss. "Frieza was intrigued by our capabilities. He subjugated us quite easily. My Father wasn't the strongest, but he would kill and die alike for his people. His honor surpassed all others'. I wish I had known that, then."
The red sky above them darkened to a deep, inky maroon. Swirling vortexes of pink clouds and sickeningly yellow splotches churned in various vortexes, the wind whipping about them as a storm brewed itself from nothingness. The weather was mimicking Vegeta's emotions, a swirling and unsteady fabrication of his rage and regret and sadness.
"The Saiyan resistance to Frieza was futile, and Frieza was not one to be merciful. I watched as my race dwindled at his hand. Still, he needed the Saiyans to do his bidding. He'd rid himself of his previous brigade of supporters when they turned against him, as they always do. He needed us to kill for him, ravage planets for him and aid him in his endeavor to rule the universe. So… to force a king that feared nothing into submission, Frieza had to take from my father the thing he was most proud of in exchange for the lives within his entire kingdom."
The thought of such a young child, sold in bondage for the greater good, was unbearable. It was unfathomable, a father giving up his own son. At one point, as far as she could remember, Vegeta had blamed his father and refused to mourn him. How heavy the burden of truth must have felt when Vegeta learned that his father was forced to hand his son over, and to the very demon that destroyed their home. Bulma didn't hide her emotion, not this time, as she met Vegeta's hardened stare. She gasped when two sets of eyes glared back at her: Vegeta's dark, somber ones, and murderous, maniacal red ones. Just behind Vegeta, Frieza had materialized before a kneeling King Vegeta. Frieza gripped young Vegeta's lifeless form by the nape of his Saiyan armor, already bestowed upon him at age five like all young Saiyan warriors. He was suspended above the king like a prize catch, and although blood dripped from his lips, his chest still rose and fell with the slightest of breaths.
"When my father went to battle, I followed. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to prove to my father that I was as good and as strong as he wished for me to be. The last time I saw his face, he was on his knees. I'd left my mother alone to die for nothing." Vegeta turned and before he could lay his eyes on the image of Frieza, it vanished. "Frieza beat me within an inch of my life, and when I awoke, I was left to rot in a cell."
The world around them went black, the terrain suddenly converting into a cold, solid floor. Bulma jumped, scampering toward Vegeta and clinging to him despite his usual resistance to being touched. "Get ahold of yourself, woman. You know none of this is real." Bulma forced herself to breathe, but wouldn't let go of him. She couldn't get the image of Frieza out of her head, the nightmare on Namek replaying incessantly. To her surprise, Vegeta did not pull away from her, either. "Do you fear the dark?"
"No," Bulma spat out, embarrassed. "This… this is just a lot to take in, ya know."
Vegeta laughed callously. "What little I have told you, scares you? Worse is coming." Bulma looked up to meet his eyes, his expression grave. "You think you can accept me for who I am just because I have helped your weak, idiotic friends. I doubt you will, if you wish for me to continue."
Bulma hesitated, unsure if he expected an answer. She was not about to let him win, to think she was a coward for forcing him into this task and not seeing it through to the end, herself. To Vegeta's dismay, Bulma's fingertips brushed his cheek, only to tap a button on the side of the scouter he wore. Coding flashed alongside a checkmark, and Bulma nodded.
"It's still recording, we're good to go."
Vegeta smirked at the Earthling woman's tenacity. "As you wish."
Though the stadium remained an endless, dark abyss, a small light glimmered to life just over Vegeta's shoulder, illuminating the form of young Vegeta. A chain linked around his neck, restraining him to the floor in a kneeling position. Frieza appeared, standing over the boy and releasing him from his shackles. Young Vegeta looked as if he wanted to tackle the demonic alien, his jaw clenching as he struggled to lift his weak body from the floor. Frieza backhanded him, sending him crashing into the wall of the spaceship that was slowly materializing. Frieza's voice reverberated around them, the strength of Vegeta's visions growing stronger as his memories gained more substance. These memories, the ones he lived through and were not just his own retelling of legends passed along, had the ability to change the weather, create tangible forms, and produce the most chilling of sounds.
"Do not defy me, you little pest." The sound of Frieza's voice cooled the blood in Bulma's veins. Young Vegeta quivered, though the hatred evident in his small face was stronger than his fear. Frieza smiled a taunting, sickening smile. "You will call me Master, and you will come to love me. Your insolent father gave you to me so willingly. No sooner did I ask for you, he gave you to me. Do you understand? You are mine, now." Frieza laughed a slow, gurgling laugh. "Your mother was a different story. She fought for you until she took her last breath, when I crushed her feeble skull."
Tears streamed down young Vegeta's cheeks, his mouth agape in horror. Gripping the wall of the spacecraft, he propelled himself forward, howling a painful, gut-wrenching scream and leaping toward Frieza. Frieza's tail whipped around them, catching young Vegeta in mid air and winding around his neck. The tail began slowly constricting his airwaves as the boy clawed for release. Frieza relished in his suffering for a moment, laughing cruelly before slamming him back against the wall at eye level. Nose to nose with the small Saiyan, Frieza hissed in his ear. "I will wrench the insubordination from your bones, and you will serve me. There is no end to this hell for you."
With the last bit of strength young Vegeta could muster, a ball of energy barely the size of a softball formed at his palm. His arm jutted forward, releasing the ball in Frieza's face and leaving a smoldering scar upon his cheek. Startled by the child's sudden ability to generate energy into an attack, something he had yet to see from any Saiyan child since his arrival on the planet, Frieza dropped Vegeta's now limp body to the ground.
"It was then he realized the prophecy he'd heard about my race was true. That bringing a Saiyan to the brink of death would only increase our power. I was the first of my race to experience this prodigal ability at that early of an age; and within a day, I had faced death twice."
Author's Note: Okay, I am SO PROUD of my vegetable pun for Kaila's name! :D My amusement of it is endless. :D Although, I'm not a big fan of kale…
Our time with Vegeta's mother and Kaila was fleeting. Not much information came about regarding them... For now.
Why is "evil" so much fun to write? I swear I'm a nice person! :O
I'm excited to say that writing has begun for Part 2 of this series. Part 1 (what you are currently reading) is the foundation to what's in store for at least two more parts. And heck yes, there will be more sci-fi-ness as we go! Bulma's innovative, scientific mind alongside Vegeta's intelligence and vast experience must be capitalized upon.
As always, THANK YOU for reading and reviewing. It certainly encourages me to continue, so I am grateful!