2.1: THE KITCHENS
"Aaaargh! Where is that little rat!!"
A fat, pink-faced man with veins popping up in his neck searched frantically through the cluttered kitchens. The heat of steaming pots and sizzling pans cast a shiny layer on his already oily skin and made his face resemble a grotesque swollen boil.
"Vegeta! Come out your hiding place you little mongrel bastard! If I get my hands on you, I'm gonna chop off those dirty claws of yours and throw them in the hot stew!!"
The royal cook squeezed his large, sweating body through the narrow corridors while young kitchen boys scuttled away from him like frightened little mice. One boy got out of his way not on time and received a violent punch right in his stomach.
"Get the hell out of my way, you filthy rodents!"
He grabbed the boy by his hair, lifted him up and flung him across the room. The young lad had just enough time to cry out for his mother once before he was smashed into a door of one of the kitchen cabinets. The mad man then continued his hunt and in his haste and clumsiness, he knocked plates, bowls and flasks from the tables, dropping food and drinks on the floor, and made a real mess out of the already chaotic kitchen. When he stepped with his full weight on the hand of a sobbing little boy who was hiding underneath the cooker, a high pitched shriek and a sickening cracking sound could be heard as he pulverized the fragile handbones. The fat cook was puzzled and snatched with his claws in the dark chink. He grabbed a handful of ragged clothing, and, with his pink fleshy lips pulled into a content smile, he dragged out the wriggling form of a yelping child.
"HAH! Got you now you piece of monkey shit! Now you're going to have it! I'm going to break every wretched bone in that puny body of yours!"
"Nooo! Don't master Dodoria! It's me! It's me Timmy! I'm not Vegeta! Not Vegeta! Don't hit me!"
With a terrifying roar, Dodoria tossed the child aside. The wart like horns on his head were flushed red with fury while his blood shot-eyes scanned through the entire space with predatory effectiveness. There were stinking short little brats with black hair everywhere, but none of them had that unruly, upright hairdo that looked like a bush on fire. Where could that mongrel be?
"Maser Dodoria! Master Dodoria! He's here! Vegeta is hiding in here with hmpf -"
"Huh?"
Dodoria snapped his thick neck and turned around.
"Who said that?!"
All the boys in the kitchen directly shook their heads and clamped their hands on their mouths while they stared back at him in horror. Uhu. Don't look at us. We didn't say a thing.
The fat kitchen chef took a deep breath and calmed down a bit to focus on his listening. His hearing was bad, having spent more then half a lifetime in the crowded kitchens amid the screams and yells of his infant staff, not to mention amid the noise coming from the cluttering of kitchen utensils and the constant maddening humming of the cooker hoods. With a devilish look on his face, he urged the rest of the children to be silent by pressing his greasy finger upon his lips. It immediately became so quiet, that one can hear a fly sigh from a ten feet distance.
"Hmpffff, Hmmmmpff!!"
It was coming from the other side of the kitchen.
"Hmmmmpff!!"
Apparently from the wall cabinets, in which he had hurled the sluggish boy who was so unlucky to cross his path. The child was still buried until his neck into the wooden door, in which he had made a tightly fitting hole. His arms and legs were sticking outside and were waving madly.
The ruthless kitchen chef paced towards the wall cabinets, suddenly moving with great caution and suppleness. He walked on his toes, careful not to make any noise. He looked rather comical with his oversized body, plump and round like an overripe tomato squeezed into the tight membrane of a pig's intestine, carrying out the movements that would have more suited a gracious dancer, and most of the children had to suppress the giggles that swirled in their stomach as soon as they lay eyes on the stalking monstrosity.
As Dodoria was standing just next to the kitchen cabinet where the child had his head stuck, he reached out and grabbed the boy's kicking legs.
(I know you're in there kitchen rat! I can smell it!)
Suddenly, a loud cry came from behind the closed cabinet door and hectic banging on the sides caused the construction to shake violently.
"Hmmmffppp-Ahhh-master Dodoria he's in here but he pushed his hand on my face and I couldn't say anything but then I bit him and he let go and now he's Hmmffffppp!!!"
The pink-faced cook pulled on the boy's limps and ripped the door from its hinges while he glanced inside with a deranged look in his eyes.
"HAH!!! NOW I GOTYAH!!!"
Within a fraction of a second, a young boy with straight dark hair dodged the maniacally grabbing hand of the fearsome cook and jumped off the shelves. As soon as his bare feet touched the greasy tiles of the kitchen floor, he ran for his life.
"He's running away master Dodoria he's running away behind you!"
Just when he rushed by, Vegeta snapped his neck and sneered angrily at the hysterical boy.
"Shut up squealer! I swear I'll make you regret this!"
Dodoria tossed the broken door in which the screaming boy was still caught aside, and the child landed face down on the ground with a sickening thud. Yelling and raging like a red-eyed bull, the repulsive pink fleshy mountain of a man ran after his quickly moving target. The boy jumped on the table and leapt over hot cooking stoves and dodged knives, ladles, pots and pans dangling from wooden frames hanging from the ceiling. He was so lithe and fast that his assaulter could hardly follow his movements with his eyes. Every time the furious cook reached out he found himself grabbing thin air. Finally his fat and clumsy body gave up on him, and as he collapsed with his hands on his knees while heavily panting for air, his prey was able get away.
"Arghhh! You filthy little rat! Get him! Somebody! Get him for me!"
Some of the kitchen boys obliged and hesitatingly took a couple of steps closer to their fleeing peer, but most of them however, didn't move a muscle.
"GET HIM FOR ME AND YOU ALL WILL GET AN EXTRA PIECE OF BREAD!!!"
Immediately, the whole group became active and stormed towards Vegeta like a swarm of angry bees. The boy was trapped in every direction and could not take a step without somebody trying to grab him by his limps or pulling on his ragged clothes. However, Vegeta was except for fast also very cunning and he was able to evade most of their attacks, reacting mostly on his young instincts. He head budded two kids unconscious who clung on to his sleeves like hungry leeches and then jumped up to reach for the next frame that hung in front of him. With the speed and cleverness of a monkey, he managed to lift himself up and kick the greedy hands off his legs. The boys standing beneath him started to climb up the table and tried to get a hold of the wooden construction, but the fugitive grabbed a knife and cut the thick cord that held the platform. As he held tight to one end of the rope dangling from the ceiling, the heavy wooden frame fell down and collapsed on the table, squashing a couple of unfortunate boys while the rest of them scattered like a frightened flock of birds. He took advantage of this distraction and headed straight for the door, followed by the hollow eyes of one very pissed off cook who could hardly manage to get near the entrance through the chaos of his kitchens.
2.2: THE STREETS
The young boy ran out of the corridor that led to the hellish kitchens, up the winding stairs, and down the vast hallways with rows of carved stone figures, where his footsteps reverberated against the cold, massive pillars. He ran through the gigantic main portal shaped like a wolf's head and out of the dark, ancient castle into the light of the dusty streets.
The young fugitive turned the corner and leaned against the red colored wall, trying frantically to catch his breath. The stinging sensation in his burning lungs and his mad galloping heart made it hard for him to calm down and ignore his flee instincts. From the very moment that the ranting maniac stormed into the kitchens and yelled his name, the hair on the back of his neck and tail had crawled upright while his young body became tensed like a chord. Only now, with countless heavy doors and numerous stair-steps between him and his cruel master, did he dare to let his soul take a breathe of relief.
The boy brushed the sweat off his dark brows and wiped it off on his filthy clothes with a shaking hand. Once he had glanced cautiously at the people passing by, he spun around and left the street corner, mingling into the scarce crowds as invisible as possible. He still feared that his master would catch and punish him heavily for not meekly accepting an eminent flogging. He wanted to stay outside till the evening fell after which he could take a chance to sneak back into kitchens under the cover of darkness.
It was only one day after the birth of the long awaited prince and the streets of Vegetasei were littered with the trash from yesterday's celebrations. The early morning sun cast its golden beams low over the dark roofs and crimson red walls of the Saiyan dwellings.
Red, especially crimson red, was the Saiyans favorite color. Not only was it the color of good fortune and celebration in their tradition, but it had a practical function as well. You see, in the past, there had been so many wars roaming over Vegetasei and its cities have been attacked so many times with the inhabitants brutally slaughtered, that the sandstone walls were tainted red with blood after centuries of violent deaths. Painting their dwellings crimson was a way for the Saiyans to conceal and forget these dark chapters of their history. Another heritage of their violent past was the outline of their cities; The Saiyans used to exist in very small numbers and therefore they've always been vulnerable to enemy attacks. So the old settlements were constructed within the confines of a protective military wall. As the population grew, the citizens build their homes on top of the old buildings, higher and higher into the sky, till to the present day, most of the houses towered ten to twenty floors in height. It gave the scarce cities on Vegetasei a weird and wonderful, almost enchanting look; Ancient capitals with crumbling foundations, on which large, striking red structures rested and reached far into the blue skies. Life underneath in the crooked, shadowy streets of these cities was peaceful and law-abiding, with most of the Saiyans being content with their newly adopted but blissful lives, guarded by the kings of the house of Bardock. However, in the dark and rat infested alleys of the cities, the poor found their way of life not much changed since the days of their old rulers, as their existence was still filled with hunger and suffering.
The young kitchen boy followed the flow of people streaming towards a nearby plaza, where the daily market was held. It seemed less crowded today then normal. Most of the common folks still were at home, sleeping off their intoxication. There were some drunks lying at the side of the road with their heads down in the gutter, drowning in their own sour stomach contents. Skinny stray luppers* wandered around trying to find something edible among the garbage. Women with children strolled pass the boy, and observed him with wary, pitying looks.
It was hardly surprising that he was noticed. The 7-year-old boy seemed horribly neglected with his skinny bare-feted frame clothed in gray rags. His stubborn hair was full with burs and was dull and messy. His young features looked unnaturally harsh and mature for his age, as if they were scarred and formed by the cruelties that he already had endured during the tender years of his early life. Still, there was also a strange attractiveness in him that could perhaps be explained by the luring look in his eyes. They were dark, but sparkled with amazing liveliness. When the boy smirked, these eyes would light up rebelliously and his lips would be adorned with such a confident and cocky smile that it made him almost look aristocratic and honorable. The boy had the air of a prince, and it seemed somehow wrong to see him clothed and treated like a pauper.
Not even noticing the patronizing look on the women's faces, the young kitchenboy strolled towards the market place. He raised his little head and breathed in deeply the smell of freshly baked bread that lingered in the air like a thick, comfortable blanket. As soon as he passed by the stands with boxes full of crispy bread rolls, biscuits and fragrant corn breads, his stomach started to growl, reminding him of how hungry he really was. A moldy piece of crust was all he had in days. He lingered around market stalls, and watched with longing and jealous eyes how neatly dressed ladies purchased baskets full of delicious groceries and stuffed their rosy cheeked children with tidbits and sweets. One chubby looking boy, dressed in a white linen shirt and green flannel trousers, was pulling his mother on her sleeves.
"Mommy why can't I have that strawberry pie? You promised I could pick something out if I went to the market with you! I wanne have it and I wanne have it now!"
"But you're going to spoil your appetite! You already had two pork-pies and half a roasted pig for a snack since we are here. You're going to be sick."
"But mommy I really really really wanne have it!"
"Well, I can buy it now and give it to you later when we are ho-"
Little Vegeta squared his shoulders and grimaced as the spoiled brat opened his throat and cried loud enough to wake the dead.
"WAAAAAAHHHHHH, BUT I WANNA! I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA!!!"
"Ok, that's fine darling, just stop crying now! Stop crying and mommy is going to buy you-"
"BUT I WANNA HAVE IT RIGHT NOW!!!"
Vegeta thought that the mother would probably have enough of her demanding child, and expected that she would punish him for this stupid outburst. However, to his amazement, the caring mother didn't know how fast to purchase the wretched pie and stuff it into the hands of her infant.
"Here! Here is your strawberry pie! Take it! Now please stop crying."
Her noisy offspring immediately shut his mouth and gazed contently on the warm, tasty looking pie he held in his chubby little hands. He smiled happily, while her mother dapped his eyes dry of tears with a handkerchief.
The unfortunate kitchen boy just couldn't understand this. That spoilt brat acted absolutely repulsive, but his mother rewarded his monstrous behavior with food, kindness and consideration. If he ever dared to act the same way his master Dodoria would flog him with his belt till his back was rare and bleeding. Why was it that this boy, who was about the same age as he was, could get everything his heart desired and had someone who loved him deeply, while he was forced to work from dusk till dawn in the heat and filth of the castle kitchens, while suffering from constant hunger and cold, with nobody caring about him at all? The young boy had to swallow a painful lump in his throat as an odd sorrowful feeling stung his heart. Suddenly, he had the unexplainable urge to run over to the lady, to embrace her legs and beg her to take him home with her. She had a beautiful and friendly face, the face of a loving mother. She could take care of him. She would feed him, comfort him and protect him from cruel men like the one he called his master. And she would love him. If she could love that appealing, shrieking piglet that she regarded as her son, then she must be able to love him too.
2.3: THE MOTHER AND THE CHILD
He followed the lady and the youngster over the market till they were ready with their purchases. As they headed home, the desperate young boy continued following them, hiding in the shadows of portals and doorsteps of the crooked alleys, careful not to be noticed. The mother and child led him into an unknown part of town. They arrived at a steep but sunny passage, where the cobble stone path was divided by a small trench in which crystal clear water flooded from the city's underground reservoirs. Swallows nested in small holes of the crimson walls, and took off in swarms as soon as they approached. The mother held her pace when they reached a ten store dwelling, which entrance was decorated with colorful folk art paintings. As the mother pushed open the wooden door, the young boy could hear vibrant young voices greeting her joyfully.
While the door closed behind them, the boy found himself alone again with his heart strangely aching with sadness. He hesitatingly walked closer to the building and took a glimpse through the narrow windows. Inside the humble dwelling, a family of five gathered around the staircase in the central hallway. There were two sisters; one small girl with pigtails and one taller girl wearing a red dress with blue ribbons, who were greeting their mother with great excitement, while their chubby brother sat silently on the steps, devouring his strawberry-pie before his siblings could claim a share. Behind the young girls stood a tall, broad shouldered man, his harsh facial features obscured by a thin beard and a moustache, but wearing a visible smile on his thin lips.
"Mother! Mother! Did you bring us some flowers to decorate the windows with? Lydia and I are making garlands to celebrate the birth of the baby prince! We already picked some flowers in the garden to make this!"
The red dressed girl showed her a wreath made of entwined twigs, which had been lavishly decorated with yellow buttercups and green clover. The ornament was completed with a big blue colored bow.
"It's beautiful my dear! I've bought a bouquet of blue Forget-me-nots and white lilies. I think you girls can use them to finish your garlands. "
"And daddy helped us to make the frame! We asked him to make a heart shaped one too. But it's not finished yet, right daddy?"
The young, pigtailed girl looked up at the dark tanned man standing behind him. The father grabbed her and lifted her up to sit on his strong shoulders.
"Yes my little princes! I'm going to make you the heart shaped one."
"And then we can decorate it with poppies, because poppies are red and red is the color of hearts, right daddy?"
The loving father nodded and gave the young girl a radiant smile while he caressed her rosy cheeks with his large hand.
"I see that you have decorated yourself too my dear." The mother said laughingly as she observed her daughter's dress.
The young maiden smiled and her lovely pale skin flushed pink with embarrassment.
"There were some blue ribbons left, so I thought."
"It's beautiful. You look wonderful!"
"Thank you mom!"
The girl embraced her mother happily. Then the whole family moved up the stairs to their home, the children cheerfully chattering and playing while their patient parents listened and watched over them with great care.
When the last of their footsteps died out in the empty hallway, the young boy sighed wretchedly. He abandoned the windowsill and paced, with his dirt stained hands in the pockets of his ragged clothes, slowly away from the blissful looking alley. Not knowing where to go.
2.4: DARKNESS
He spent the rest of the day thinking about the incident, and as the sun started to set and the sky above the black roofs of the houses painted crimson, indigo, and then finally dark blue with the first glittering of stars, he was still wandering outside the palace walls. His was mind pondering, while his heart kept aching.
Never in his young life had he felt so desolated and sad before. Vegeta was an orphan, his father died when he was two and his mother followed him into his grave not long afterwards. He couldn't remember a lot about his parents, being still so young when they were taken from him, and had therefore never been able to feel sad about this loss. After his mother's death, the young boy was taken to an orphanage, where he was practically left to defend for his own among the hundreds of neglected children, with whom he shared his temporary home. Temporary, because the sisters who were running the place insisted that the children would be taken up into good homes, since they had hardly the means to feed and cloth them properly. Two days before his 3rd birthday, he was taken out of the orphanage by the royal kitchen chef Dodoria, together with tens of other boys, and were all put to work in his kitchens. He found that the man who had promised the sisters to take good care of him, to be cruel and abusive. He was treated very poorly, only given scraps of food to eat and being flogged and punished almost daily, sometimes for no particular reason at all but to satisfy his master's sadistic nature. Like the other kitchen boys, he slept on the greasy kitchen floor and used dry straw to cover his shivering body during cold winter nights. Still, Vegeta had known no other fate but his own and that of his unfortunate peers. He didn't knew better or suffering from long periods of hunger and cold with your stomach turning into a painful knot while the freezing stings of wind lashed his young body was something that everyone simply had to endure. He had not been pleased nor displeased with his life, until today.
Today, he had finally witnessed and understood what he had lost: A family. A loving mother. A devoted father. Siblings by his side to cherish or despise. As he watched the red dressed girl embrace her mother and her little sister being lifted up the strong shoulders of her father, he had felt such sadness wash over his young body, that he could have easily burst into wretched tears.
It seemed cruel that the Gods had shown the little orphan the bliss of a warm and caring home, while his fate had withhold him from such a blessing.
Yet except for the sorrow of loss, the young boy also felt something else stirring, something stronger and more vibrant then the agonizing sadness that tore open his young soul. It crept in his veins and clawed its way through his heart, and filling it with cold, numbing desire. It whispered to him how unfair the world seemed to be, and how ruthless life had treated him so far. It had to change. He deserved better then this. He deserved more. And from now on, he would take what he needed to fulfill his needs, regardless of others. If there were so many people blessed with so much while he had to struggle forth with so little, where was the justice of it all?
The boy's dark eyes sparkled with the fire of rebellion, and for a moment, they outshone even the brightest of evening stars in their greatness. He leapt off the low stone railing of the bridge on which he had been pondering for the last couple of hours, and with a small smirk on his lips, he headed back to the castle.
NEXT CHAPTER: AMBUSHED
Vegeta tries to sneak back into the kitchens under the cover of darkness, but his cruel master Dodoria is still eager to discipline him. Will the young kitchen boy be able to avoid harsh punishments?
Next parts will be posted the 2nd of December (hopefully). Until then, please do review and rate my story. It encourages me to continue this story, knowing that there are people interested and read it with the same pleasure as I had when writing it.
"Aaaargh! Where is that little rat!!"
A fat, pink-faced man with veins popping up in his neck searched frantically through the cluttered kitchens. The heat of steaming pots and sizzling pans cast a shiny layer on his already oily skin and made his face resemble a grotesque swollen boil.
"Vegeta! Come out your hiding place you little mongrel bastard! If I get my hands on you, I'm gonna chop off those dirty claws of yours and throw them in the hot stew!!"
The royal cook squeezed his large, sweating body through the narrow corridors while young kitchen boys scuttled away from him like frightened little mice. One boy got out of his way not on time and received a violent punch right in his stomach.
"Get the hell out of my way, you filthy rodents!"
He grabbed the boy by his hair, lifted him up and flung him across the room. The young lad had just enough time to cry out for his mother once before he was smashed into a door of one of the kitchen cabinets. The mad man then continued his hunt and in his haste and clumsiness, he knocked plates, bowls and flasks from the tables, dropping food and drinks on the floor, and made a real mess out of the already chaotic kitchen. When he stepped with his full weight on the hand of a sobbing little boy who was hiding underneath the cooker, a high pitched shriek and a sickening cracking sound could be heard as he pulverized the fragile handbones. The fat cook was puzzled and snatched with his claws in the dark chink. He grabbed a handful of ragged clothing, and, with his pink fleshy lips pulled into a content smile, he dragged out the wriggling form of a yelping child.
"HAH! Got you now you piece of monkey shit! Now you're going to have it! I'm going to break every wretched bone in that puny body of yours!"
"Nooo! Don't master Dodoria! It's me! It's me Timmy! I'm not Vegeta! Not Vegeta! Don't hit me!"
With a terrifying roar, Dodoria tossed the child aside. The wart like horns on his head were flushed red with fury while his blood shot-eyes scanned through the entire space with predatory effectiveness. There were stinking short little brats with black hair everywhere, but none of them had that unruly, upright hairdo that looked like a bush on fire. Where could that mongrel be?
"Maser Dodoria! Master Dodoria! He's here! Vegeta is hiding in here with hmpf -"
"Huh?"
Dodoria snapped his thick neck and turned around.
"Who said that?!"
All the boys in the kitchen directly shook their heads and clamped their hands on their mouths while they stared back at him in horror. Uhu. Don't look at us. We didn't say a thing.
The fat kitchen chef took a deep breath and calmed down a bit to focus on his listening. His hearing was bad, having spent more then half a lifetime in the crowded kitchens amid the screams and yells of his infant staff, not to mention amid the noise coming from the cluttering of kitchen utensils and the constant maddening humming of the cooker hoods. With a devilish look on his face, he urged the rest of the children to be silent by pressing his greasy finger upon his lips. It immediately became so quiet, that one can hear a fly sigh from a ten feet distance.
"Hmpffff, Hmmmmpff!!"
It was coming from the other side of the kitchen.
"Hmmmmpff!!"
Apparently from the wall cabinets, in which he had hurled the sluggish boy who was so unlucky to cross his path. The child was still buried until his neck into the wooden door, in which he had made a tightly fitting hole. His arms and legs were sticking outside and were waving madly.
The ruthless kitchen chef paced towards the wall cabinets, suddenly moving with great caution and suppleness. He walked on his toes, careful not to make any noise. He looked rather comical with his oversized body, plump and round like an overripe tomato squeezed into the tight membrane of a pig's intestine, carrying out the movements that would have more suited a gracious dancer, and most of the children had to suppress the giggles that swirled in their stomach as soon as they lay eyes on the stalking monstrosity.
As Dodoria was standing just next to the kitchen cabinet where the child had his head stuck, he reached out and grabbed the boy's kicking legs.
(I know you're in there kitchen rat! I can smell it!)
Suddenly, a loud cry came from behind the closed cabinet door and hectic banging on the sides caused the construction to shake violently.
"Hmmmffppp-Ahhh-master Dodoria he's in here but he pushed his hand on my face and I couldn't say anything but then I bit him and he let go and now he's Hmmffffppp!!!"
The pink-faced cook pulled on the boy's limps and ripped the door from its hinges while he glanced inside with a deranged look in his eyes.
"HAH!!! NOW I GOTYAH!!!"
Within a fraction of a second, a young boy with straight dark hair dodged the maniacally grabbing hand of the fearsome cook and jumped off the shelves. As soon as his bare feet touched the greasy tiles of the kitchen floor, he ran for his life.
"He's running away master Dodoria he's running away behind you!"
Just when he rushed by, Vegeta snapped his neck and sneered angrily at the hysterical boy.
"Shut up squealer! I swear I'll make you regret this!"
Dodoria tossed the broken door in which the screaming boy was still caught aside, and the child landed face down on the ground with a sickening thud. Yelling and raging like a red-eyed bull, the repulsive pink fleshy mountain of a man ran after his quickly moving target. The boy jumped on the table and leapt over hot cooking stoves and dodged knives, ladles, pots and pans dangling from wooden frames hanging from the ceiling. He was so lithe and fast that his assaulter could hardly follow his movements with his eyes. Every time the furious cook reached out he found himself grabbing thin air. Finally his fat and clumsy body gave up on him, and as he collapsed with his hands on his knees while heavily panting for air, his prey was able get away.
"Arghhh! You filthy little rat! Get him! Somebody! Get him for me!"
Some of the kitchen boys obliged and hesitatingly took a couple of steps closer to their fleeing peer, but most of them however, didn't move a muscle.
"GET HIM FOR ME AND YOU ALL WILL GET AN EXTRA PIECE OF BREAD!!!"
Immediately, the whole group became active and stormed towards Vegeta like a swarm of angry bees. The boy was trapped in every direction and could not take a step without somebody trying to grab him by his limps or pulling on his ragged clothes. However, Vegeta was except for fast also very cunning and he was able to evade most of their attacks, reacting mostly on his young instincts. He head budded two kids unconscious who clung on to his sleeves like hungry leeches and then jumped up to reach for the next frame that hung in front of him. With the speed and cleverness of a monkey, he managed to lift himself up and kick the greedy hands off his legs. The boys standing beneath him started to climb up the table and tried to get a hold of the wooden construction, but the fugitive grabbed a knife and cut the thick cord that held the platform. As he held tight to one end of the rope dangling from the ceiling, the heavy wooden frame fell down and collapsed on the table, squashing a couple of unfortunate boys while the rest of them scattered like a frightened flock of birds. He took advantage of this distraction and headed straight for the door, followed by the hollow eyes of one very pissed off cook who could hardly manage to get near the entrance through the chaos of his kitchens.
2.2: THE STREETS
The young boy ran out of the corridor that led to the hellish kitchens, up the winding stairs, and down the vast hallways with rows of carved stone figures, where his footsteps reverberated against the cold, massive pillars. He ran through the gigantic main portal shaped like a wolf's head and out of the dark, ancient castle into the light of the dusty streets.
The young fugitive turned the corner and leaned against the red colored wall, trying frantically to catch his breath. The stinging sensation in his burning lungs and his mad galloping heart made it hard for him to calm down and ignore his flee instincts. From the very moment that the ranting maniac stormed into the kitchens and yelled his name, the hair on the back of his neck and tail had crawled upright while his young body became tensed like a chord. Only now, with countless heavy doors and numerous stair-steps between him and his cruel master, did he dare to let his soul take a breathe of relief.
The boy brushed the sweat off his dark brows and wiped it off on his filthy clothes with a shaking hand. Once he had glanced cautiously at the people passing by, he spun around and left the street corner, mingling into the scarce crowds as invisible as possible. He still feared that his master would catch and punish him heavily for not meekly accepting an eminent flogging. He wanted to stay outside till the evening fell after which he could take a chance to sneak back into kitchens under the cover of darkness.
It was only one day after the birth of the long awaited prince and the streets of Vegetasei were littered with the trash from yesterday's celebrations. The early morning sun cast its golden beams low over the dark roofs and crimson red walls of the Saiyan dwellings.
Red, especially crimson red, was the Saiyans favorite color. Not only was it the color of good fortune and celebration in their tradition, but it had a practical function as well. You see, in the past, there had been so many wars roaming over Vegetasei and its cities have been attacked so many times with the inhabitants brutally slaughtered, that the sandstone walls were tainted red with blood after centuries of violent deaths. Painting their dwellings crimson was a way for the Saiyans to conceal and forget these dark chapters of their history. Another heritage of their violent past was the outline of their cities; The Saiyans used to exist in very small numbers and therefore they've always been vulnerable to enemy attacks. So the old settlements were constructed within the confines of a protective military wall. As the population grew, the citizens build their homes on top of the old buildings, higher and higher into the sky, till to the present day, most of the houses towered ten to twenty floors in height. It gave the scarce cities on Vegetasei a weird and wonderful, almost enchanting look; Ancient capitals with crumbling foundations, on which large, striking red structures rested and reached far into the blue skies. Life underneath in the crooked, shadowy streets of these cities was peaceful and law-abiding, with most of the Saiyans being content with their newly adopted but blissful lives, guarded by the kings of the house of Bardock. However, in the dark and rat infested alleys of the cities, the poor found their way of life not much changed since the days of their old rulers, as their existence was still filled with hunger and suffering.
The young kitchen boy followed the flow of people streaming towards a nearby plaza, where the daily market was held. It seemed less crowded today then normal. Most of the common folks still were at home, sleeping off their intoxication. There were some drunks lying at the side of the road with their heads down in the gutter, drowning in their own sour stomach contents. Skinny stray luppers* wandered around trying to find something edible among the garbage. Women with children strolled pass the boy, and observed him with wary, pitying looks.
It was hardly surprising that he was noticed. The 7-year-old boy seemed horribly neglected with his skinny bare-feted frame clothed in gray rags. His stubborn hair was full with burs and was dull and messy. His young features looked unnaturally harsh and mature for his age, as if they were scarred and formed by the cruelties that he already had endured during the tender years of his early life. Still, there was also a strange attractiveness in him that could perhaps be explained by the luring look in his eyes. They were dark, but sparkled with amazing liveliness. When the boy smirked, these eyes would light up rebelliously and his lips would be adorned with such a confident and cocky smile that it made him almost look aristocratic and honorable. The boy had the air of a prince, and it seemed somehow wrong to see him clothed and treated like a pauper.
Not even noticing the patronizing look on the women's faces, the young kitchenboy strolled towards the market place. He raised his little head and breathed in deeply the smell of freshly baked bread that lingered in the air like a thick, comfortable blanket. As soon as he passed by the stands with boxes full of crispy bread rolls, biscuits and fragrant corn breads, his stomach started to growl, reminding him of how hungry he really was. A moldy piece of crust was all he had in days. He lingered around market stalls, and watched with longing and jealous eyes how neatly dressed ladies purchased baskets full of delicious groceries and stuffed their rosy cheeked children with tidbits and sweets. One chubby looking boy, dressed in a white linen shirt and green flannel trousers, was pulling his mother on her sleeves.
"Mommy why can't I have that strawberry pie? You promised I could pick something out if I went to the market with you! I wanne have it and I wanne have it now!"
"But you're going to spoil your appetite! You already had two pork-pies and half a roasted pig for a snack since we are here. You're going to be sick."
"But mommy I really really really wanne have it!"
"Well, I can buy it now and give it to you later when we are ho-"
Little Vegeta squared his shoulders and grimaced as the spoiled brat opened his throat and cried loud enough to wake the dead.
"WAAAAAAHHHHHH, BUT I WANNA! I WANNA I WANNA I WANNA!!!"
"Ok, that's fine darling, just stop crying now! Stop crying and mommy is going to buy you-"
"BUT I WANNA HAVE IT RIGHT NOW!!!"
Vegeta thought that the mother would probably have enough of her demanding child, and expected that she would punish him for this stupid outburst. However, to his amazement, the caring mother didn't know how fast to purchase the wretched pie and stuff it into the hands of her infant.
"Here! Here is your strawberry pie! Take it! Now please stop crying."
Her noisy offspring immediately shut his mouth and gazed contently on the warm, tasty looking pie he held in his chubby little hands. He smiled happily, while her mother dapped his eyes dry of tears with a handkerchief.
The unfortunate kitchen boy just couldn't understand this. That spoilt brat acted absolutely repulsive, but his mother rewarded his monstrous behavior with food, kindness and consideration. If he ever dared to act the same way his master Dodoria would flog him with his belt till his back was rare and bleeding. Why was it that this boy, who was about the same age as he was, could get everything his heart desired and had someone who loved him deeply, while he was forced to work from dusk till dawn in the heat and filth of the castle kitchens, while suffering from constant hunger and cold, with nobody caring about him at all? The young boy had to swallow a painful lump in his throat as an odd sorrowful feeling stung his heart. Suddenly, he had the unexplainable urge to run over to the lady, to embrace her legs and beg her to take him home with her. She had a beautiful and friendly face, the face of a loving mother. She could take care of him. She would feed him, comfort him and protect him from cruel men like the one he called his master. And she would love him. If she could love that appealing, shrieking piglet that she regarded as her son, then she must be able to love him too.
2.3: THE MOTHER AND THE CHILD
He followed the lady and the youngster over the market till they were ready with their purchases. As they headed home, the desperate young boy continued following them, hiding in the shadows of portals and doorsteps of the crooked alleys, careful not to be noticed. The mother and child led him into an unknown part of town. They arrived at a steep but sunny passage, where the cobble stone path was divided by a small trench in which crystal clear water flooded from the city's underground reservoirs. Swallows nested in small holes of the crimson walls, and took off in swarms as soon as they approached. The mother held her pace when they reached a ten store dwelling, which entrance was decorated with colorful folk art paintings. As the mother pushed open the wooden door, the young boy could hear vibrant young voices greeting her joyfully.
While the door closed behind them, the boy found himself alone again with his heart strangely aching with sadness. He hesitatingly walked closer to the building and took a glimpse through the narrow windows. Inside the humble dwelling, a family of five gathered around the staircase in the central hallway. There were two sisters; one small girl with pigtails and one taller girl wearing a red dress with blue ribbons, who were greeting their mother with great excitement, while their chubby brother sat silently on the steps, devouring his strawberry-pie before his siblings could claim a share. Behind the young girls stood a tall, broad shouldered man, his harsh facial features obscured by a thin beard and a moustache, but wearing a visible smile on his thin lips.
"Mother! Mother! Did you bring us some flowers to decorate the windows with? Lydia and I are making garlands to celebrate the birth of the baby prince! We already picked some flowers in the garden to make this!"
The red dressed girl showed her a wreath made of entwined twigs, which had been lavishly decorated with yellow buttercups and green clover. The ornament was completed with a big blue colored bow.
"It's beautiful my dear! I've bought a bouquet of blue Forget-me-nots and white lilies. I think you girls can use them to finish your garlands. "
"And daddy helped us to make the frame! We asked him to make a heart shaped one too. But it's not finished yet, right daddy?"
The young, pigtailed girl looked up at the dark tanned man standing behind him. The father grabbed her and lifted her up to sit on his strong shoulders.
"Yes my little princes! I'm going to make you the heart shaped one."
"And then we can decorate it with poppies, because poppies are red and red is the color of hearts, right daddy?"
The loving father nodded and gave the young girl a radiant smile while he caressed her rosy cheeks with his large hand.
"I see that you have decorated yourself too my dear." The mother said laughingly as she observed her daughter's dress.
The young maiden smiled and her lovely pale skin flushed pink with embarrassment.
"There were some blue ribbons left, so I thought."
"It's beautiful. You look wonderful!"
"Thank you mom!"
The girl embraced her mother happily. Then the whole family moved up the stairs to their home, the children cheerfully chattering and playing while their patient parents listened and watched over them with great care.
When the last of their footsteps died out in the empty hallway, the young boy sighed wretchedly. He abandoned the windowsill and paced, with his dirt stained hands in the pockets of his ragged clothes, slowly away from the blissful looking alley. Not knowing where to go.
2.4: DARKNESS
He spent the rest of the day thinking about the incident, and as the sun started to set and the sky above the black roofs of the houses painted crimson, indigo, and then finally dark blue with the first glittering of stars, he was still wandering outside the palace walls. His was mind pondering, while his heart kept aching.
Never in his young life had he felt so desolated and sad before. Vegeta was an orphan, his father died when he was two and his mother followed him into his grave not long afterwards. He couldn't remember a lot about his parents, being still so young when they were taken from him, and had therefore never been able to feel sad about this loss. After his mother's death, the young boy was taken to an orphanage, where he was practically left to defend for his own among the hundreds of neglected children, with whom he shared his temporary home. Temporary, because the sisters who were running the place insisted that the children would be taken up into good homes, since they had hardly the means to feed and cloth them properly. Two days before his 3rd birthday, he was taken out of the orphanage by the royal kitchen chef Dodoria, together with tens of other boys, and were all put to work in his kitchens. He found that the man who had promised the sisters to take good care of him, to be cruel and abusive. He was treated very poorly, only given scraps of food to eat and being flogged and punished almost daily, sometimes for no particular reason at all but to satisfy his master's sadistic nature. Like the other kitchen boys, he slept on the greasy kitchen floor and used dry straw to cover his shivering body during cold winter nights. Still, Vegeta had known no other fate but his own and that of his unfortunate peers. He didn't knew better or suffering from long periods of hunger and cold with your stomach turning into a painful knot while the freezing stings of wind lashed his young body was something that everyone simply had to endure. He had not been pleased nor displeased with his life, until today.
Today, he had finally witnessed and understood what he had lost: A family. A loving mother. A devoted father. Siblings by his side to cherish or despise. As he watched the red dressed girl embrace her mother and her little sister being lifted up the strong shoulders of her father, he had felt such sadness wash over his young body, that he could have easily burst into wretched tears.
It seemed cruel that the Gods had shown the little orphan the bliss of a warm and caring home, while his fate had withhold him from such a blessing.
Yet except for the sorrow of loss, the young boy also felt something else stirring, something stronger and more vibrant then the agonizing sadness that tore open his young soul. It crept in his veins and clawed its way through his heart, and filling it with cold, numbing desire. It whispered to him how unfair the world seemed to be, and how ruthless life had treated him so far. It had to change. He deserved better then this. He deserved more. And from now on, he would take what he needed to fulfill his needs, regardless of others. If there were so many people blessed with so much while he had to struggle forth with so little, where was the justice of it all?
The boy's dark eyes sparkled with the fire of rebellion, and for a moment, they outshone even the brightest of evening stars in their greatness. He leapt off the low stone railing of the bridge on which he had been pondering for the last couple of hours, and with a small smirk on his lips, he headed back to the castle.
NEXT CHAPTER: AMBUSHED
Vegeta tries to sneak back into the kitchens under the cover of darkness, but his cruel master Dodoria is still eager to discipline him. Will the young kitchen boy be able to avoid harsh punishments?
Next parts will be posted the 2nd of December (hopefully). Until then, please do review and rate my story. It encourages me to continue this story, knowing that there are people interested and read it with the same pleasure as I had when writing it.
