"Rest!" commanded Curae.
Vegeta scowled. The new nurse he'd received through Ayuda's slave trade insisted on not only caring for Trunks, but him as well.
"Here. Sit," Curae offered.
Vegeta lowered himself on one of the space ship's couches and the maid eased his arm onto a cushion.
"I'll get your food."
Curae scurried off. When Vegeta had arrived on Ayuda, there had been a war with the Hosteans. Seeing his chance for money, he had offered his services as a mercenary and had defeated the Hostean army in a day. The grateful Ayudans had provided the best medical care, supplies, an educated servant, and had enlarged the space pod's living and storage quarters.
"Here's your dinner. Be sure to take your medicine," said Curae, returning with a tray. "Does that arm hurt much?"
"No," Vegeta replied curtly.
Trunks toddled into the room, squealing with displeasure.
"Fine, fine. I'll get your food now," sighed Curae, whisking the little boy into the kitchen.
She sat him in his high chair and set his dinner before him. Trunks dove in with both hands and began to eat greedily.
"Good boy, Mr. Chubby," she said, patting the boy's head.
Curae had worked as a baby-maid for most of her life, and she was very old. Still, she had never cared for a child that ate as much as this one.
Vegeta had finished his dinner and had taken his medicine. Now the prince was in his room, doing sit-ups. He kept his ears open for any footsteps. Curae would throw a fit if she saw him exercising with his arm not yet healed. It felt good to have time to work out again. With Curae, he didn't have to run and check on Trunks every few minutes. Suddenly, Vegeta heard footsteps coming down the hall. In a flash, he was resting comfortably on his bed. The door was knocked.
"Come in."
Curae ambled in with a bowl of strong-smelling medicine and several towels.
"What's that?" groaned Vegeta.
"A poultice. It will speed up your recovery."
"I doubt it."
Curae gently removed the sling and took the injured limb in her hands.
"Lay down," she instructed.
Vegeta did as he was told and Curae eased his arm down flat on the bed. She began to undo the bandages and splints, taking care not to distress the recovering bones. The old lady dipped the towels in the medicine, wrung out the extra liquid, and draped them over the arm. Vegeta cringed at the poultice's intense smell.
"I'll be back in a bit to remove that wrap. Just lay still and the medicine will do its work."
Several months later, Vegeta's arm was fully mended, thanks to Curae's nursing. Vegeta was gaining back the muscle mass he'd lost in it. One day, while he was doing push-ups in the gravity room, he heard a thud from outside followed by a wail. He hastened into the hall and found Trunks weeping and clutching his right knee. He assessed him son's injury and realized it was simply a bruise.
"You're fine," Vegeta insisted.
Trunks kept crying. Vegeta checked the knee again. Trunks can move the joint, so why is he so upset? Curae hustled over with an ice pack.
"I'm cooking dinner, but your papa's going to take care of you and you'll be just fine," Curae told Trunks.
Vegeta sat Trunks on the bed and put the cold compress on his knee. The child howled, thrust the cold pack away, and continued to bawl and flap his arms around. Sighing, Vegeta picked up the ice pack and sat Trunks on his lap, holding the compress firmly against the bruise. Instantly, the wailing and thrashing ceased. Trunks settled down against Vegeta's chest.
"You're not hurt at all. You just want attention, is that it?" asked Vegeta.
In response, Trunks snuggled deeper into his father's arms. The two sat like that until Trunks decided he'd been comforted enough and slid off Vegeta's lap.
"Dinner!" called Curae.
Vegeta got up and started towards the door.
"Pa-pa."
Confused, Vegeta turned around. Trunks stood with his arms in the air, signaling that he wanted to be held.
"Pa-pa," he repeated his first word.
Not even the arrogant Saiyan Prince could stop from grinning as he lifted his son.
Vegeta scowled. The new nurse he'd received through Ayuda's slave trade insisted on not only caring for Trunks, but him as well.
"Here. Sit," Curae offered.
Vegeta lowered himself on one of the space ship's couches and the maid eased his arm onto a cushion.
"I'll get your food."
Curae scurried off. When Vegeta had arrived on Ayuda, there had been a war with the Hosteans. Seeing his chance for money, he had offered his services as a mercenary and had defeated the Hostean army in a day. The grateful Ayudans had provided the best medical care, supplies, an educated servant, and had enlarged the space pod's living and storage quarters.
"Here's your dinner. Be sure to take your medicine," said Curae, returning with a tray. "Does that arm hurt much?"
"No," Vegeta replied curtly.
Trunks toddled into the room, squealing with displeasure.
"Fine, fine. I'll get your food now," sighed Curae, whisking the little boy into the kitchen.
She sat him in his high chair and set his dinner before him. Trunks dove in with both hands and began to eat greedily.
"Good boy, Mr. Chubby," she said, patting the boy's head.
Curae had worked as a baby-maid for most of her life, and she was very old. Still, she had never cared for a child that ate as much as this one.
Vegeta had finished his dinner and had taken his medicine. Now the prince was in his room, doing sit-ups. He kept his ears open for any footsteps. Curae would throw a fit if she saw him exercising with his arm not yet healed. It felt good to have time to work out again. With Curae, he didn't have to run and check on Trunks every few minutes. Suddenly, Vegeta heard footsteps coming down the hall. In a flash, he was resting comfortably on his bed. The door was knocked.
"Come in."
Curae ambled in with a bowl of strong-smelling medicine and several towels.
"What's that?" groaned Vegeta.
"A poultice. It will speed up your recovery."
"I doubt it."
Curae gently removed the sling and took the injured limb in her hands.
"Lay down," she instructed.
Vegeta did as he was told and Curae eased his arm down flat on the bed. She began to undo the bandages and splints, taking care not to distress the recovering bones. The old lady dipped the towels in the medicine, wrung out the extra liquid, and draped them over the arm. Vegeta cringed at the poultice's intense smell.
"I'll be back in a bit to remove that wrap. Just lay still and the medicine will do its work."
Several months later, Vegeta's arm was fully mended, thanks to Curae's nursing. Vegeta was gaining back the muscle mass he'd lost in it. One day, while he was doing push-ups in the gravity room, he heard a thud from outside followed by a wail. He hastened into the hall and found Trunks weeping and clutching his right knee. He assessed him son's injury and realized it was simply a bruise.
"You're fine," Vegeta insisted.
Trunks kept crying. Vegeta checked the knee again. Trunks can move the joint, so why is he so upset? Curae hustled over with an ice pack.
"I'm cooking dinner, but your papa's going to take care of you and you'll be just fine," Curae told Trunks.
Vegeta sat Trunks on the bed and put the cold compress on his knee. The child howled, thrust the cold pack away, and continued to bawl and flap his arms around. Sighing, Vegeta picked up the ice pack and sat Trunks on his lap, holding the compress firmly against the bruise. Instantly, the wailing and thrashing ceased. Trunks settled down against Vegeta's chest.
"You're not hurt at all. You just want attention, is that it?" asked Vegeta.
In response, Trunks snuggled deeper into his father's arms. The two sat like that until Trunks decided he'd been comforted enough and slid off Vegeta's lap.
"Dinner!" called Curae.
Vegeta got up and started towards the door.
"Pa-pa."
Confused, Vegeta turned around. Trunks stood with his arms in the air, signaling that he wanted to be held.
"Pa-pa," he repeated his first word.
Not even the arrogant Saiyan Prince could stop from grinning as he lifted his son.