Author's notes: I noticed that even though the story revolves heavily around Vegeta's feelings after his capture and the war between the Saiya-jin and Ice-jin, little is mentioned of what actually happened. This is a first-person account of Vegeta's last-minute struggle against Freeza's men and his thoughts during the first few days of imprisonment. Enjoy.

Revelation: Through the Eyes of a Prince

Dawn had barely touched the tops of the trees by the time I reawakened, the bright glimmer of sunlight filtering through the massive clouds above, coloring them all shades of the rainbow. All over I felt numb: no physical pain, so peaceful inside. Had I died? This wasn't the afterlife I was told stories of as a child, but it looked so beautiful and heavenly… however, the sight occupied my thoughts for but a minute as a wave of excruciating pain shot from the tip of my toes up to my forehead. Every part of me ached as though I had been beaten repeatedly with a hammer and thrown into a meat grinder. I tried in vain to sit upright, but the sharp pain in my abdomen kept me pinned. I was stuck lying on my back, vulnerable to any oncoming attack.

Recollecting the events from the past three hours, I began to realize just where I was and why. Memories of my recent battle with Zarbon flooded my mind with such images as his bloody, green knuckles colliding with the side of my face and his boney elbow smashing roughly into my testicles. If only I hadn't been so careless to give him the opportunity…. One thing was for certain, though: As soon as I could at least twitch a finger, I'd be that much closer to kicking his pretty-boy ass.

"Vegeta!"

At the sound of my name, I would've normally perked up and answered, but remaining perfectly still seemed to be my only pain-minimizing option. I silently prayed that whoever it was would find me quickly. I couldn't move, I couldn't focus my ki, and I sure as hell wasn't about to risk yelling and causing further pain to my already aching chest.

"Vegeta!"

I heard my name called again, this time more earnestly. By then, I had recognized the voice to be my father's, and relief washed over me. Even though I had been defeated on the battlefield far too easily, I knew that he wouldn't scold me--I was nearly dead.

Soon, I heard his footsteps approaching… then, fingertips grazed the back of my hand. In all the years I had come to know him, that was the only time I ever saw my father show empathy toward anyone.

"Are you alright, son? Vegeta, say something!" he demanded anxiously.

That was also the first time I had ever seen him genuinely worried about another person, too. I yearned to answer, but all that passed my lips was cough – a damn painful cough. Fighting the urge to cry out, I tried speaking again.

"F-father… I can't move. That bastard…."

He placed a hand over my mouth. "Say no more. You're only hurting yourself."

I could smell the stench of fresh blood on his hand, further awakening my senses. Overwhelmed by the nauseating smell, I almost lost it once I realized where it was coming from: Beginning on the back of his wrist straight down to his elbow, Father's arm had been sliced open and was bleeding profusely.

"Your… arm."

"It's nothing to be concerned about. Just lie still while I go look for help." Father spared no second and stood up once more, giving me a rare smile of assurance before leaving.

Unfortunately, he didn't see the danger lurking behind him.

Weakly, I tried to warn him, but nothing would come out. And nothing could've possibly compared to the overwhelming shock and disgust I felt at that moment. I saw it so clearly; the last second of my father's life forever implanted into my mind.

Dodoria's glowing fist slammed though his back and out his chest like a knife, Father's face contorting to an expression of painful surprise as his fresh, glistening blood dripped down the tips of Dodoria's fat fingers. Dodoria violently jerked his hand out and cackled madly as my father's bloody cadaver fell to the ground.

I could tell… That sick bastard was enjoying every second of it.

"Oh, the poor kingy… Looks like he's got a widdle boo-boo." The pink blob snarled and chuckled, "Why don't the widdle prince help da-da, hmm? Oh, that's right—because he got his ass kicked!"

I wanted so badly to crush every bone in his body, to beat his piggish face until that haunting, earache of a laugh ceased. On the contrary, all I could do was watch… watch as my subjects and family members died at the hands of an unstoppable monster.

Knowing well that I could do nothing to keep him from it, Dodoria knelt down beside me and waved his bloodstained digits in my face as if to show me that he'd won, that he was superior, that I had no chance of ever claiming what was rightfully mine. A couple excess drops of blood landed on my chin.

"Suck it up, monkey. That's the last you'll ever see of dear ol' daddy."

I could stand no more. I knew it would hurt, but I had to say something back, even if it meant getting myself killed.

"You… you can kiss my ass—and burn in hell, you sorryass--"

A swift, silencing punch to the gut: That was the last I saw of Dodoria for nearly three months. In the mean time, I laid unconscious for twelve hours on the cold, hard floor of a prison cell that would be my "home" for the next several weeks.

More Author's Notes: I assure you I'm not dead. Recent problems in real life have kept me away from the computer for a little while, but with the summer coming up, I'll a little more free time to work on the story. Sorry you all had to wait so long for an update!