(A/N: Okay, updated on Saturday, as promised. Rating goes up next chapter. A little in depth with Vegeta's past aka his father's story, and fully made up. None of the stuff in the story is actually from the series, but it fit well into my own fic. So hope you like it. R&R.)
"Idiot woman! Foolish wretch!" Vegeta flew as fast as he could through the crisp summer air, letting the lashing wind sting his crusted eyes and whip his hair in coiling spirals against his neck. Below, cities became anthills and the people the ants as the citizens of earth bustled on their busy way. Cars and trucks seemed to inch along the winding streams of asphalt as the Saiyan easily reached their speed and surpassed it. He folded his arms and snorted in disgust.
Rotating in the air, the prince turned his back upon the hectic scene, preferring instead to watch the endless expanse of space stretch limitlessly on ahead. His good eye fixed on the soaring cirrus clouds, he let himself drift into watchful meditation.
As always, the most prominent thing on his mind came forward for mental debate. Why had he let himself fall so far under that woman's spell? How many other miserable fools had she exchanged those idiot vows with? How many of her misbegotten brats walked the streets of Earth? How could she dare to expect anything from the Saiyan prince?
Why had he chosen her?
"Bah, I haven't 'chosen' anyone," he growled to himself, digging his molars into the edge of his tongue. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not shove the images of her to the back of his mind. Try as he might, the memories of their night together clawed painfully at his soul.
Despite what he had told Bulma, Saiyans did occasionally opt to stay with a single partner for the remainder of their lives, merging their life energies into one to increase in ki and strength. It was quite uncommon - but not unheard of - for a Saiyan to choose a life mate. Though not founded on affection, the relationship involved an enormous degree of loyalty and trust - two traits not often found in the proud and independent race. Now that he thought about it, only about six Saiyan couples ever performed the binding ritual in the history of Vejetaseii.
One such couple was his parents.
As a young Saiyaling barely big enough to defeat his first Saibaman, the prince had heard the story countless times from Nappa, his appointed guardian. The top-ranking warrior took particular pride in knowing the extraordinary history of the royal family, tracing Vegeta's legacy all the way back to the first Saiyan Emperor. As the story went, King Vegeta had been the next in line for the throne when he had met his future mate. Assigned to lead an elite task force to Planet Vorenza, the crown prince, in his arrogance, had only deigned to take half of the squad, claiming with a sneer that to take all eight would be 'overkill'. He selected four of the best warriors to accompany him; one of which was his mother.
Teraynia was the daughter of a high-ranking overlord of the western bounds, trained to be the pinnacle of Saiyan expertise. First in her class, she was confident in her ability to destroy any obstacle in her way.
The squad had exchanged good-natured banter on the trip to the doomed planet. Vegeta's father had smirked at their wit, but remained silent, anticipating the destruction to come. However, when they had arrived on Vorenza, they made a gruesome discovery.
The planet had no moon.
Their best weapon thwarted, the Saiyans were desperately outnumbered by the fierce Vorenzians. An army of the serpentine creatures swarmed into their path, wielding wicked razor-sharp daggers with deadly accuracy. Before the sun had set upon the first day, two of the original four lay dead on the field, leaving Crown Prince Vegeta and Teraynia fighting back-to-back in desperate determination.
As they fought, the two came to a mutual conclusion; without drastic measures, they would not survive the night. They made a quick decision - they would bond their energies together and fight as one. On the count of three, they both fired energy waves at the ground. The dry dirt flew up angrily, creating a shroud of impenetrable darkness that rendered the Vorenzian's weak eyes completely useless.
Under the cover of the veil, the two spoke the ancient words in perfect sync, their eyes never leaving those of their partner as their tails entwined, drawing them tightly against each other's backs. They stretched their arms to heaven, each making a fist with one hand while enclosing the balled fingers of the other with the one that remained. Then the personal part of the ritual began, in which the pair selects a single name for the conjoined entities under a shroud of light. What happened next was unsure, for it is different for every couple and is never spoken of again.
Needless to say, Vorenza fell.
Vegeta was startled from his reverie by a shout from below. Whirling so that he hung upside down in the air, he looked down upon a small capsule house that sat by a stream, lolling lazily in the summer sun. The prince recognized it immediately; it was Kakarot's house!
"Gohan, come in and eat something before I have to come over there and drag you!" Chichi hollered from the doorway, hands planted on her hips. Gohan sat a little ways off under the shade of an oak, the sunlight shimmering on his jet-black hair. The half-Saiyan barely glanced up at his mother before turning back to the stream, hunching his shoulders a little more as if to ward off some unseen blow.
"Gohan!" Chichi yelled again, becoming annoyed. Without bothering to put on any shoes, the fiery woman stomped across the yard and whirled her son around. "What is the meaning of this?" she growled. "You're being ridiculous!"
"It's not ridiculous, mom!" Gohan shot back, glaring angrily at his mother. "I can't just shake it off like it's nothing! Over and over I see how it could have gone differently. I see the things I could have done that would have saved his life!" Tears spilled over onto his clenched fists. "I lost my father, mom," he said quietly.
"And I lost my husband," Chichi retorted, a muscle twitching in her cheek. "But starving yourself to death isn't gonna bring him back! Goku wouldn't want you to act like this," she went on, tears of her own sparkling on the corners of her eyes. "He'd…he'd say to just eat a hearty meal…and it would all go away." She abruptly turned her back and started away. A tremor in her voice, she called over her shoulder, "When you're hungry, I made miso soup. It's on the stove." With that, she disappeared back into the house.
On a whim, Vegeta slipped silently down to the back door, knowing that Chichi would remain around front waiting for her son to finally come in. He listened for a moment, then pushed open the door and limped inside.
The house was much simpler than Bulma's, with only two floors and five rooms. The furniture was old and worn, unlike the pristine, top-of-the-line leather living room set at the Briefs'. A small TV sat on a homemade wooden stand, marking the only furniture against the east wall. But what the house lacked in furniture, it made up for in love.
Picture frames dotted the walls from corner to corner, portraying a young Goku on his adventures across the continent. Bulma posed beside Yamcha in one such photo; the two had their arms around each other and were smiling as if they had each received all the wealth in the world. Vegeta found himself beginning to frown, and immediately reprimanded his mouth into a stoic line. "Huh. It's no surprise," he muttered, moving on.
Farther down the wall, more recent pictures were enlarged and hung in more ornate carved frames. Pictures of Goku and his family doing various activities were most common, but occasionally the entire group was shown in a variety of poses, ranging from happy smiles to downright irritation. Vegeta's cheek twitched as he came across the one taken a few months before the androids had attacked. Bulma held him in a death grip, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his and one of her hands pulling his scowling mouth into a demented sort of smile. Goku and Chichi stood beside them, holding hands and laughing at the ridiculous scene to their right. Growling, the prince turned his back and staggered down the hall toward the door.
"I don't know what possessed me to enter this stupid place," he said under his breath, pointedly staring straight ahead to avoid looking at the walls. "I'm starting to become as bizarre as Kakarot himself!" Rounding a corner, he was about to leave when Chichi walked into the room, carrying a feather duster and a bottle of Pledge.
"Shit!" he hissed, fading back into the shadowed corner of the hall. The woman took no notice, being too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear the slight stir of the Saiyan Prince lurking in the shadows.
"So you're gone again, you stupid Saiyan," she murmured, picking up one of their pictures from the top of the TV. Sinking down onto the sofa, she blew the dust on the glass away with a soft puff of breath. Curious, Vegeta craned his neck to see what the picture portrayed. In the photo, Goku held tight to a tailed baby Gohan with his usual ridiculous smile, and Chichi stood proudly beside him with her hands clasped in front of her.
"I always knew you'd never be around for long. Sooner or later you were bound to get yourself killed, what with all the enemies you've made…" Hugging the picture close, she settled back into the cushions. "Huh. Yeah, I knew it all along. What I didn't know…was how much I would miss you." A single tear rolled down her careworn cheek, and she quickly brushed it away with the hem of her sleeve. "Bulma's always complaining that she's got it rough," she muttered, forcing away her grief with a stubborn frown. "She's still got her husband, for what it's worth. Vegeta may not be the most loving idiot around, but at least she knows he's alive and well! I've got a little boy and another one on the way and no one to help me! All she's got is the one, and she's got parents and Yamcha to help out…" She sighed. "And look at me. You've been gone so long that I've started talking to myself. Well, Mr. I-Can-Run-Off-and-Let-Chichi-Do-It-All-With-the-Excuse-of-Being-Dead, when you come back, you'll probably find that I've found a much better conversational companion - myself!" Finally letting a laugh escape her tired lips, she stood up and replaced the picture with loving care upon its perch. She turned back to the couch to pick up her cleaning supplies when a slight breeze ruffled her black hair. "What was that?" she wondered, staring at the suddenly open window. "I could have sworn that was closed a few minutes ago…"
The curtain only flapped in the breeze, not giving any hint that a Saiyan had used it for escape not moments before.
Vegeta swooped through the baby's window just as the sun was starting to go down, alighting with a crash upon the floor as his injured leg finally gave out. Cursing his wounds and what had caused them, he hefted himself up on his remaining leg and hobbled to the crib, looking down upon the sleeping child within.
Trunks lay peacefully on his back, a pacifier hanging half out of his sticky mouth and the baby blanket strewn haphazardly over one leg. His tiny hand clutched the arm of a teddy bear, whose eyes had been torn off - and most likely eaten - and whose stuffing was coming out in more places than one. Vegeta eyed the worn plaything in disdain, peeling his son's little fingers away from the disgusting toy. The baby woke immediately and began to cry.
"Shut up shut up!" the prince hissed, shooting anxious glances at the door. The infant only proceeded to cry louder, causing his father to wince and grasp the rail of the crib with a terrified hand. "If you don't shut up," he threatened, "I'm going to blast you!"
Not understanding, Trunks only wailed. Sighing in exasperation, Vegeta clamped his hand over the child's mouth. The baby shot him a surprised look, then began to struggle under his father's heavy hand.
"God, you even scream like her!" Vegeta growled. Scooping him up by the ankle, Vegeta regarded him with a curious eye. Trunks apparently thought this was some sort of new game, for he stopped howling and began to giggle as Vegeta raised him to eye level.
"You are about the ugliest child I have ever seen," Vegeta commented, wrinkling his nose. "Your eyes are blue, you look like an albino raisin with purple hair, and you have no tail! Where's your Saiyan blood, brat?"
Trunks gurgled in delight, reaching out to stuff his fingers up Vegeta's nose.
"Wh…What the hell do you think you're doing!" Vegeta thundered, eyes going wide enough to separate the thick layer of crust that held the left one shut. He tried to peel him off, but was greeted by an energy blast in the face. The weakened leg gave once more, and the mighty Saiyan prince crashed to the ground. Trunks landed easily on top of him, babbling happily to himself as he kicked his father repeatedly in the ribs.
"I guess that answers my question," Vegeta muttered, propping himself up on his elbows to stare the child in the face. Trunks shimmied forward and grabbed the Saiyan's lips, pulling them into a ludicrous sneer with a shriek of glee. Rolling his eyes to heaven and using every ounce of willpower he had not to strangle the kid on the spot, Vegeta let his head thunk back against the carpet. After all, he had a vow to fulfill, no matter how obnoxious the whelp could be.
"I guess I'll have to get used to you, you putrid little runt," he muttered. But as he was about to get up and drop Trunks back into his crib, the baby slipped his tiny face up underneath Vegeta's chin, nestling close to his father and closing his eyes. The Saiyan started visibly, and he frowned down at the sleeping baby in utter shock. Saiyan babies never did such things! It was unacceptable. And yet… Vegeta hesitantly brought his hand up and placed it on the small of the baby's back.
"Just this once!" he growled under his breath, a flush of embarrassment staining his cheeks. Letting his hand drop back to his side, he stared up at the ceiling, watching memories of Vejitaseii play themselves aimlessly upon the stark white tiles.