TW: pregnancy, birth trauma
Nappa stood in the back of the strategy room, just out of sight of the communication feed. The king sat, stoic as the link was established. At once, the screen came to life, showing the pale purple-skinned lizard tyrant flanked by a number of his officers. The king didn't flinch upon seeing Freeza, though Nappa always got a strange feeling in his stomach when he saw him.
"King Vegeta, to what do I owe this great honor?" Freeza's deceptively proper voice filled the room, causing an almost imperceptible shiver to pass through the gathered men. He continued, "I hope it is good news. You disappointed me greatly last time we spoke."
"It is good news, my Lord," King Vegeta replied. "Our forces have secured Planet Wydlus as per your request. The Wydlyn warriors have been rounded up and will be transferred to your nearest base in the next few galactic days. The rest of the population has been managed."
"Good," Freeza said curtly. "Is that all?"
"That is all," the king echoed. "My men will be heading to the moon of Axxex shortly after delivering the personnel. And the copper ore you requested from our mines is already on its way."
"And what of your queen?" Freeza asked, adding some acidity to the last word. "Isn't she with child?"
The king was incredibly tense. If Nappa hadn't worked with him for the better part of a decade, maybe he wouldn't have caught the way the king started to drum his fingers against his thigh in agitation, but from this angle, Nappa could see it clearly. It was known on Planet Vegeta that Queen Bura had been pregnant, but King Vegeta hadn't gone out of his way to inform the intergalactic tyrant of this fact. The prince of his namesake was born to fanfare across the planet, as was practiced with the arrival of an heir, but they had kept things subdued with the second born. It had largely been due to the growing presence of the Cold Force in Saiyan life. They were not under occupation yet, but given that more and more second and third class Saiyans were being used as fodder for Freeza's dealings, it was only a matter of time. There were many hushed meetings spent looking for an out, but to no avail at the present.
King Vegeta stilled his hand and spoke again, "I trust you have heard the bittersweet news. We are to make a royal announcement before long, so my apologies that we have yet to deliver the news officially."
"I don't recall hearing from you that you were expecting another little monkey prince," Freeza said icily. "I thought we had a closer relationship than that, Vegeta."
"My sincerest apologies, your Grace," King Vegeta replied, biting down his growing rage. "I believed I had told you as much…"
"Save your lies, monkey, Freeza spat, interrupting. "Perhaps your woman's condition is retribution for your own cowardice. Your own weak spine is second only to that of your wife, it appears. And I hear the boy is sickly as well?"
"The babe contracted illness upon birth, we believe, but we expect he will recover," King Vegeta responded, beginning to lose the civility in his tone. "We would appreciate your well wishes for both of their recovery."
Freeza gave an incredulous laugh before scowling. He leaned forward, snarling. "You had better not mess up with these next few assignments or we will be having a much different conversation. That is all."
With that, the screen went black. The king sat motionless for a moment before slamming his fist into the stone table before him. His energy crackled with frustration and he stood abruptly to exit the room. Some of the guards stayed as they were and a select few followed behind their king's billowing cape. His boots clicked furiously, their echoes pinging off the dark stone walls of the palace corridors. At first, Nappa wasn't sure where the king was heading, but as they burst through the empty throne room, he started to formulate a guess. Without the adornments for court or for a ceremony, the throne room was just a cavernous empty room to echo the king's furious stomps. The evening light streamed through the tall stained glass windows, swallowing the room in a blood red light. The king burst through a door at the head of the room which connected to the more modernized wing of the palace. They left the traditional ki-carved Saiyan architecture for the sterile white rounded style of the more recent construction. Their heels clattered on tile flooring until they reached the castle's infirmary.
The king spun on his heel and his men barely had time to halt to avoid crashing into him or to each other. His eyes barely concealed the rage brewing internally. He looked them all over before barking, "Nappa, you will accompany me beyond this point. The rest of you will head to the training center and we will meet you there shortly."
The other men clicked their heels and saluted before scurrying down the adjacent corridor. Nappa gave his king a curt bow before the king opened the infirmary door. The attendants in the center snapped to attention when the king entered, bowing low, but he paid them no mind. He strolled down another short hall, following a path to a room he had repeatedly visited over the past few galactic days. The room was lavish for an infirmary room, but paled in comparison to the queen's regular chambers. In the room, the queen lay on a simple bed, propped up by firm cushions. Her chest was bare as she attempted to nurse her newborn son. Nappa averted his eyes out of respect, but from the glimpse he got he could see the babe was struggling.
"Bura," the king said, the anger in his voice replaced with deep concern. He fell to his knees at her bedside. She looked worse for wear, her eyes dull and mantled by dark shadows. Her lids were heavy as she regarded her husband who then reached out to cradle her face affectionately.
"He is having trouble latching," she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She struggled to readjust the infant, seeing if the other side would appeal to him more. She coaxed a dark nipple into his mouth and for an instant it seemed as if he would latch, but instead let out a shrieking wail. The queen flinched at the sound, more out of defeat than surprise. At once, a young nurse came shuffling into the room and lifted the wailing child from his mother's arms. Bura let loose a defeated whimper as she pulled her deep purple robe closed to cover her breasts. As much as she fought it, she let her tears flow.
—
The queen had begun her labor several days prior. The process had begun as normal as could be with contractions at a normal interval. She had felt intimately tied to her ancestors as she breathed through the early stages of her labor. She had been outfitted in a fine white frock, moving about her chambers surrounded by other Saiyan women. In attendance were women of the court, her handmaids, and a trained medical tech to assist with the birth itself. The women sang and played drums as they would have done prior to the common usage of the birthing pods. Until it was time to begin pushing, the laboring woman would pace about the room, squatting and lunging to coax the baby out. When it was time to push, she would get down on her hands and knees, surrounded by the chanting and drumming and the support of female camaraderie to bring her child into the world. She got to this point, her blood roaring loudly for her to push, and she assumed the birthing position. Her forehead was drenched in sweat and her Saiyan sisters were beside her in solidarity.
She pushed and pushed for several moments, the drumming and chanting louder and louder, until she felt a pain like no other she had ever experienced. Her vision blurred and time slowed down for a moment where all she felt was dread before she collapsed forward. This movement caused another blinding wave of pain to sear through her and her vision started to go in and out. Within a moment, the medical tech had called for the backup that was on standby for emergencies such as this.
Across the palace, Kohla was tending to the toddler prince. He had spent the morning training with his father and was now asleep on a temporary bed set up for him in another wing of the palace. His chambers were next to those of his mother, but due to the current birthing ritual, a lavish sunroom on the ground level of the palace was converted to a temporary room for the prince, far away from the commotion. Kohla mindlessly paged through a book she had brought with her, but she hadn't actually read anything in a number of minutes. She had heard the queen was to begin active labor, but that had been some time ago. She had utilized the birthing pods for her own three children and therefore had no idea how long the birth would take once the pushing began. She knew it was supposed to be at the very end, though, so why hadn't they updated her?
As if on cue, the door clicked open to reveal her husband. His shoulders slumped forward and he looked exhausted, which puzzled Kohla. It was getting late but this seemed disproportionate. He crossed the parlor in a few long strides and took a seat on the sofa across from her, running a hand over his weary face.
"Is–is everything alright?" Kohla asked cautiously.
Nappa released a long breath before beginning, "Yes and no. The babe was born a short while ago but had to be cut from the queen's womb. She had just got into the birthing position when the babe thrashed out in distress and something about the position and the boy's strength led to something snapping in the queen's lower back. It appears that she has lost control of her lower limbs. The medical staff are seeing her now."
Kohla had placed a hand over her open mouth shortly after her husband began his retelling. A moment passed before she was able to pry it away. Nappa leaned back against the plush couch cushions, his head back and his eyes closed. He continued, "The staff believe she may regain function, but it can't be said for certain. What's more is that the babe is a bit sickly. They thought he might be strong because he was able to cause such injury to the queen, but she collapsed when it happened. That may have affected the babe somehow. I don't know much about all this. The king is beside himself. The med staff had to give him something to calm him down."
The king and queen were what they called a bonded pair. Most Saiyans chose mates to reproduce, to provide shared protection, or to combine incomes in the lower classes. Those who bonded with a mate shared a deeper, more intimate connection. It was that level of attraction that allowed Bura, second class by birth, to be elevated to the Saiyan Elite as their queen. Bonded pairs were thought of as one lifeblood manifested in two bodies. Though the king was tolerated by the average Saiyan, the queen was universally beloved.
"Are the kids all secure with your mother?" Nappa asked Kohla, now sitting forward.
"They are. Ruta could watch the younger two by her age, but it does rest my mind that my mother can take good care of them," Kohla said with a sigh, glancing across the room at the slumbering prince. His brow was furrowed in sleep, his mouth lax and his tail twitching in dreaming. The prince was greatly attached to his mother, so the morning was going to be tough to bear.
—
Nappa's thoughts broke, snapping him back to the present as he heard the king mention the call with Freeza. "We should have been more careful with all of this. We should have used the birthing pods."
"Vegeta, stop," the queen interjected, her voice quiet but strong. The king took her hand, lightly kissing her knuckles. "All will be fine. I do not regret bringing my son into the world through my own body."
The king dropped his head, his shoulders falling. He rasped, "But the boy is sickly. His power level is low. The doctors fear that your fall may have injured him…"
The king trailed off, unsure what else to say. The queen let out a choked sob she had been unable to stifle. Nappa felt so very out of place in this setting. To be a warrior was to know of losing someone or something along the way. This moment just felt too personal to observe as an outsider. The king and queen had all but forgotten he was there, however.
After a moment, the king raised his head, holding his shoulders back. He rubbed at his reddening eyes and got back up to his feet. Seeing his mate this way filled him with both rage and despair and he desperately needed to feel a sense of control again. He cleared his throat before asking, "Has Vegeta been brought by to see you?"
Bura shook her head sadly. "I haven't sent for him. I don't want to worry him. It would distress him to see me in this state."
"He is a warrior, Bura," King Vegeta interjected. He needs to learn to be strong in the face of injury. We cannot coddle him. He is to become the Legendary."
Bura bit back a retaliation, partly from fatigue and from the many medicines given to help her body heal, but partly from knowing her mate. The king continued, "I will ensure he is brought by once his training is complete. I am on my way to check on his progress now."
He leaned down and held his forehead against his mate's before pulling back and placing a soft kiss there before turning. He gave a sharp signal to Nappa, who nodded and followed his lead out of the room. The two walked in silence as they left the infirmary and headed to the training center. This was the newest part of the palace grounds and the furthest cry from the more natural Saiyan style. The facilities were all clean lines, white walls, and shining silver tones with more electronic components than anywhere else on planet. With the support of the Cold Clan, the monarchy had constructed a state-of-the-art facility for the Saiyan Elite. Here, the top warriors spent days on end training. The strongest and most promising among them lived in adjacent quarters to maximize the time they spent in the facilities. This is where young Prince Vegeta spent a good amount of his time ever since he learned to walk. As far as Saiyans were concerned, if a cub could stand, they could fight. It had been known since the prince was emancipated from the birthing pod that he was destined for greatness, but ever since he began his training it couldn't be denied. The prince, at just four years of age, was stronger than many lower class warriors well into their careers. Teaching the boy discipline was going to be the challenge, but there was no replacement for brute strength.
The king crossed his arms instinctively as he looked at the display scene before him, taking a seat in a plush chair. His son stood in the middle of a room filled with red light. He was blindfolded and surrounded by bots poised to throw punches at random. His trainer, a stout man with forest green hair and gray and black armor shouted instructions at the boy. The audio feed from the room was being broadcasted into the observation room where the king and a few others watched. The boy gave a curt nod as his trainer stepped back for the exercise to begin. The machines hummed to life, signaling the beginning of the exercise. At once, a punch was thrown at the boy from behind and he whirled around to catch the mechanical fist. The next instant, the boy's small gloved hand shot out to meet the blow with one of his own. This sequence continued for a grueling five minutes before the red light faded and the hum of the machines quieted. The king stood and headed toward the training room's door with Nappa in tow.
Prince Vegeta's mentor was giving him feedback on the exercise when the king and Nappa entered the chamber. Both the trainer and the young prince snapped to attention and gave the king a bow out of respect. The mentor prattled on with pleasantries and then profuse compliments of the prince's progress. The boy kept his eyes forward, a pout spreading slowly across his face.
"We would consider training him against some of the younger boys in the academy before long, your Grace," the trainer said. "He is a great deal younger than those in the academy but his power is astounding. He is not only adept at fighting, but he also takes direction incredibly well. He has quite the temper, but once he gets past it, he is even stronger. I would expect as much from a Saiyan Elite, but I shudder to imagine what he will achieve when he is grown."
The king smirked, his chest inflating with pride. His son still hadn't looked his way, so he cleared his throat, which got the boy's attention. He addressed the young boy, not with severity. "Neji, you heard Commander Brocca's glowing appraisal, yet you look like you are trying to melt a hole in that wall. What is it, son?"
His father typically used the nickname Neji when he was being more affectionate, so Vegeta relaxed a bit. He bit his lip and his tail slinked around so he could conveniently fidget with it to soothe his nerves. He considered his words before stating, "I want to see Mama."
King Vegeta knelt to be at eye level with his young son now. The boy held his tail a little tighter in reflex, which made the king emit a low chuckle. "After that display of strength, you're afraid of your own father? My son, you will be stronger than me before you even grow facial hair. You were born to be the Legendary. Hold your head high and never apologize for your strength."
The boy cast his eyes towards the floor, but straightened up and released his tail, which his father insisted he wrap around his waist. He stood and ruffled his son's spiky hair before beckoning to Nappa, "I think my son has had enough training for the day. I need to take out some of my own anger here and train my guard. You will take the prince to his chambers and have Kohla get him fed and bathed. Then she can take the boy to see his mother. You can return here to join afterwards."
"Yes, your grace," Nappa said, bowing low. He knew he was relegated to these tasks often because his wife was the prince's primary caregiver, but he sometimes got annoyed that he missed portions of his training exercises and whatnot. Today, given the situation with the queen and now with Freeza, it was probably for the best. The king was known to be very hot and cold and with the current crises, there was a likely chance that the training exercise would result in at least one casualty. The king was the strongest man on the planet and had no problem letting it be known. Nappa could hold his own, but didn't want to end up on the receiving end of the king's gold-embroidered gloved fists.
—
"That went about as well as was expected," Raditz mused as he tossed his scouter on his bunk and rubbed his face instinctively. "I hate reporting to Zarbon. Of course it's better than reporting to Freeza, but only just. Who even let that pompous asshole into Freeza's inner circle?"
"Freeza did," Vegeta stated emotionlessly. He hadn't even bothered to remove his scouter or boots, but instead plopped directly on his temporary bed, his hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. All he wanted was to get some food so he could locate the bathing room in the small inn and rest for the next day's work. Raditz was fine to take his time. The man was always too laid back for the prince's taste. Nappa had been held back from this particular mission, much to all their annoyance. Though Vegeta had no great adoration for either of the men, it was better to have safety in numbers in this universe. The older man had insisted that Saiyans could, in fact, deal with extended isolation, though Vegeta doubted this given the extreme solitary confinement Freeza had only just stopped using against the prince. Part of him expected there was a reason why Freeza had used these means against him and the thought of his subjects lying to him to make him feel better just made him angry. It was better to suppress those thoughts and let them fester alongside the long list of resentments he had tallied over the years.
"You know," Raditz mused, leaning back and stretching. "I could go for some entertainment tonight. I have some extra credits and the beings on this planet are almost tolerable. I still haven't taken you to a pleasure house. You're plenty old enough. If you haven't already got some action around the base, sometimes they have discounts for first timers. I pulled that card a couple of times…"
"No." the prince stated simply, his gaze not leaving the spot his dark eyes had remained transfixed on for the duration of their exchange.
"No?" Raditz questioned, baffled. "What sixteen year old Saiyan man refuses a trip to a brothel?"
"I would not know beyond my own experience, as you should be aware," Vegeta began, the annoyance in his voice emerging, "but I am saying no."
Raditz looked taken aback. He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure anyone else would have taken me up on that. I know you're new to this whole "manhood" thing, but don't you get urges? Like the urge to fight, but with f–"
"I manage," Vegeta snapped, his face reddening. "I do not want to talk about this."
"Oh, Vegeta. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's all natural. And we can keep things discrete. I know where to go, even. They have females, males, and some races that are neither."
Raditz had attempted to reach out and playfully shake the prince's shoulder, but was met with a swift punch to the face instead. Vegeta had hit him so hard that his vision blurred for a moment. He barely missed the man's nose, but he could already feel his cheek swelling."
"Gods," Raditz hissed, holding his hand to his face as if to combat the swelling. Vegeta rolled over now so his back was to the older Saiyan. He gave a chuckle. "Alright, alright. Point taken. No pleasure house for you. Maybe next time. For now, let's go get something to eat."
This visit was not a typical purge, but was more for gathering information. The planet was loyal to Freeza and therefore wasn't slated for decimation, at least not yet. The two Saiyans exited the bunkhouse onto a bustling street full with hominid-type inhabitants with brightly colored skin of varying tones. They had gone for the cheapest accommodations and therefore were stuck in the busy part of the major metropolis and the closeness of all these people made Vegeta's skin crawl. He followed Raditz, who was a deal larger than him still, as they made their way to the marketplace for some food. Planet Brench wasn't renowned for their cuisine, but it was better than many other planets they had visited, especially as of late. They were also an intergalactic stop, so there wouldn't be a huge upset trying to secure Saiyan-sized portions of food.
They chose a small restaurant Raditz had visited on another trip. Their plates were loaded up with a variety of cheap meats, carbs, and vegetation as they took a seat in the back of the dingy room. They didn't speak for a number of minutes while they shoveled the mediocre food into their hungry mouths, but Raditz finished his plate first, as he always did. The older man leaned back in his seat, reaching out for the drinking vessel a waitress had placed before him a moment earlier. His eyes scanned the restaurant, people watching as he was often known to do, unaware or perhaps ignoring that the prince was observing him as well. Finishing his plate, Vegeta set his utensils down, alerting the attention of the other Saiyan.
"All good, Prince?" Raditz asked. "We could go for seconds if you need."
"Perhaps," Vegeta responded, though a question weighed heavily on his mind. He considered the phrasing before asking, "What were relations like on our planet?"
Raditz considered the prince's words, wondering if at first he was asking as a joke. This was unlikely, as the prince wasn't one to joke. He looked at the younger man's serious expression and furrowed his brow in thought. "Now, when you say relations, do you mean relationships or fucking?"
Vegeta looked uncomfortable, crossing his arms protectively. He quietly said, "Both, I suppose."
"Hmm…" Raditz reflected, scratching at his chin. "People partnered, either temporarily or permanently. My parents were together for a very long time. I think Nappa had a wife too, but he mentioned a long term partner that was killed in battle before he met her. You seem to forget I am not much older than you, so it's not like I experienced anything myself back home."
Vegeta gave a quiet hmph, looking down at the remnants on his mostly emptied plate. On the rare occasion that he solicited questions about their home planet it commonly ended in disappointment by way of unanswered or unsatisfying responses. There would always be a gaping hole in his psyche, a shadow of the life he was meant to have. It would have been helpful to have a more solid guidebook to the Saiyan experience, but instead, he had only the words of his remaining two subjects. Now that he was older and had been dealing with the pains of growing into manhood, he had little reference to the normality of his thoughts, emotions, and urges. Like everything else, he buried these perceived weaknesses down into the darkness in the corners of his mind.
"Well, if you're just going into things to get your pleasure, it's easier to have it be just that–no connection means you can just go on with your life after the fact. Nice and easy," Raditz remarked after a thoughtful silence. "I think a lot of Saiyans were that way, at least in my circle. Maybe Nappa would have a different perspective since he was in the Elite, but for our purposes now, it's to our benefit to be unattached. You've seen what happens to men with families. That's an easy exploit when you're trying to get information out of desperate people. Even if there were still Saiyans to bond with, it wouldn't be a great idea with Freeza still out there fucking things up."
Vegeta considered this, knowing that at least in regards to attachment, Raditz was correct. Now that it was on his mind, he did recall Nappa talking of a comrade with whom he had considered "bonding", but the man hadn't provided more detail at the time. The other man was killed in an especially nasty siege of a planet in the same galaxy as Planet Vegeta. He had ultimately mated with a Saiyan woman who had taken care of Vegeta when he was very young, but she and their children had not made it out when the meteor struck.
The prince nodded, satisfied enough with this answer for now. Perhaps he would ask Nappa more at a later date.
–
The blue haired vixen had caught his attention the first time he had seen her on Namek, but he hadn't had time to dwell when they were racing the clock against Freeza's wrath. When they had landed on Earth again, he was shocked that she addressed him so plainly, neither with acknowledgement of his title nor with fear from his reputation. He had spent time immediately after searching through space for Kakarot and exacting his revenge on Freeza supporters that refused to concede their emperor's loss. His return to Earth brought them face to face with the winged messenger, warning of the cyborg-induced end times and a challenge to change their destiny. With no reason to run and his own birthright to reclaim, he had agreed to stay and help defeat the androids. He hadn't been motivated by compassion or duty; this was a matter of pride.
He had little interaction with the woman to begin with, though they sometimes ended up taking meals together. Believing it could be her contribution to defeating the androids, she had taken command of Vegeta's training equipment. She seemed to get great joy out of his challenges to build stronger, faster bots, sometimes writing code into the wee hours of the morning so she could deliver the results to him when he woke. On more than one occasion, she had interrupted his breakfast to thrust an open laptop under his face at the table.
"Get this, Vegeta," she had said enthusiastically one morning. He recognized she was wearing the same patterned blouse from her previous work day but had swapped her pencil skirt for a pair of bright red North City University sweatpants. She pulled out the chair next to him and scooted close, pointing at a line of code on her screen which was covered in smudges from this exact behavior. "This was a particularly tricky part of the code, but it should run beautifully. We can test it once you're done with breakfast. I was so thrilled I couldn't sleep until I finished the rest of it."
"Bulma, dear, you need to stop pulling these all-nighters," her mother said in a kind, yet firm tone as she set down a coffee just out of range of Bulma's laptop.
Bulma flashed Vegeta a brilliant smile, which made his heart skip a beat, and then glanced at her mother. "I swear it's just this one time. I know Vegeta is going to really appreciate these new modes on the bots. It's at least a tenfold improvement on their stats without me having to do anything to the hardware."
A few months later, they were meeting up every few nights to lose themselves in each other, sidestepping the impending dread and loneliness for a passionate moment in time. It began with a makeout or two when they got caught up in a moment alone and then escalated to satin sheets, cries of pleasure, and hushed resolve that it was just another hookup. The prince had taken a few women before coming to Earth, but those encounters were so short-lived that he couldn't recall their faces. Granted, seeing their faces wasn't required the way the meetings had progressed, but he knew every detail of the Earth woman's face and body down to the freckle behind her right ear and the faint scar across her knee from a model rocket launch gone wrong. He found himself craving her deeply when they went their separate ways, a feeling he loathed down to his core. He would spend hours after each entanglement pushing his body to the limits, first out of adrenaline, and then out of shame. The woman did as she said she would, treating him no different outside of their escapades than she did before they started sleeping together. For some reason, he was struggling to keep himself away and it was driving him to madness.
Saiyans were supposed to handle solitude. Saiyans were supposed to be able to fuck without harboring deep connections. Saiyans were supposed to be able to rely only on themselves for survival, and yet here he was, unable to ascend to his birthright and addicted to the soft touch of an Earth woman. He swore in his native tongue, driving his fists into the floor of the gravity chamber until his arms seized. He drew back broken, bloodied knuckles from the cracked tiled floor.