Chapter Text
Working under Freeza was hell, Between the beatings, barred meals, and lack of sleep, he’s surprised he’s lived this long. He has no peace of mind, even in the confines of the Saiyan’s shared bunk -or in his own room, if they were so lucky while on missions. He never dares to take off his armour, not only for fear of attack, but for the itching feeling that he’s being stared at. Hiding his chest is a top priority, and the standard issue armour does the job well enough, for now. For now is always what worries him the most. He’s growing, slowly, but steadily, he’s getting taller, building more muscle, surely his chest size would increase as well, wouldn’t it? At seventeen he’s still a few years from physical maturity, but more and more it’s becoming clear to him that he will never be the size his father was, or now, even the size of Raditz. Another setback, another testament to his weakness. He’s been told time and time again, a small stature is an asset, to be underestimated is always an advantage, but he hates it. Hates the way opponents look at him and laugh. It feels good proving them wrong, but never good enough.
He feels out of place. Always. The showers are perhaps the worst, although Freeza’s ships provides a fair amount of privacy between stalls, they’re crowded, and filled with the disgusting brutes under Freeza’s employ. He adamantly reminds himself that what people perceived him to be is of no importance to a Prince, The Prince, but being looked at the way starving men look at bread makes both his knees shake and his blood boil. He wants nothing more than to show them all just how much stronger he is, just how much more power he contains. He’d done it once before, he felt an appendage snake up his leg and sent the bastard ten feet through the nearest wall. He didn’t have long to drink in his rare little victory before he was called in to a meeting with his superior. A lash from that powerful tail across the stomach reminded him, oh so painfully, how much farther he had to progress.
He’d do just about anything to stop the starting, to be comfortable in his own skin. When he’d heard of certain doctors, ones that would perform surgeries to flatten his chest, at first he didn’t believe such a thing could be done, but as he’d done more research he found it was true. It was expensive, far more than he had ever spent on anything, but he’d be damned if he’d let an opportunity like this slip away. He saved for months, skipping meals and trips to the med bay, just to scrape together enough credits.
All of this leads to tonight. Their last mission awarded him the credits he needed, and as the ship’s lights dimmed for its dark cycle, he was ready to slip away undetected.
It wasn’t Freeza or his lackeys that Vegeta was avoiding, but his own companions. If they knew what he was up too surely they’d stop him, or try too, an injury of this degree -self inflicted or otherwise- would severely affect his ability to complete missions. It’s not that Vegeta hasn’t thought of recover time, he just doesn’t care.
They had no immediate missions lined up, and besides, he was a Saiyan, how long could it take?
Across the room Nappa begins snoring, and it’s the sign he’s been waiting for. Carefully and quietly he slips on his boots and armour, and leaves. From there it’s a short trip to the pod bay, and a few hours to the overpopulated ball of pollution where this “doctor” was to be found.
All is silent as he steps into the hallway, and for a moment things seem like they’re going to work out, for once.
“Aren’t you apes usually asleep at this hour?” It was Zarbon, it had to be.
Vegeta doesn’t bother to turn, but within seconds the green monster stands to block his path anyhow. He towers over Vegeta, and Vegeta can’ avoid noticing just how obviously he revels in it. “Perhaps the Prince of all monkeys is going to shower himself off? You certainly need it.”
Anger passes over Vegeta in waves, but he keeps his eyes looking past his adversary. He can’t beat Zarbon in a fight, he wouldn’t even come close, god knows he’s tried. A beating is the last thing he needs right now, but his pride takes over, and his ki sparks in the air around him..
“Let me pass.” He gritts, keeping his glare downcast.
“And if I don’t?”
Vegeta bites his tongue.
“Well?”
Again, he says nothing.
Before Vegeta can react, Zarbon grabs him by the collar of his armour and hoisted him to eye level, effortlessly. Vegeta locks on to the arm and thrashed in his grip, but Zarbon holds steady. Yellow eyes stared at him with disgust.
“Don’t make me ask you a third time, scum.”
Vegeta feels his anger overtake him and with a panicked thrust he lands a kick to the center of Zarbon’s face, a good one. With the momentum of his kick, and Zarbon’s temporary disorientation, he manages to free himself and fall to the ground. Without leaving time to think, he runs. Down one hall, then the next, he turns corners with no regard to where they’ll take him, so long as it’s away from Zarbon. Abstractedly he reminds himself of his destination, the pod bay, but escaping Zarbon’s rage is his first concern.
“I’LL KILL YOU FOR THAT YOU FILTHY FUCKING BEAST!” The sound echoes through the metal corridors, and Vegeta can’t tell where it’s coming from, but he hears footsteps, fast and determined.
He tries to keep a level head as he runs, rounding one corner, then the next, and through several maintenance passages. He doesn’t slow his pace however, Zarbon is no idiot, not like Dodoria and the rest of the Freeza force, and there was a chance he was still searching for Vegeta.
In some forgotten back corner he waits, unsure for how long exactly, but long enough to catch his breath, and long enough to be absolutely sure he had left his assailant behind.
Finally he leaves, and makes his way to the pods. After climbing inside, and setting his destination, he is launched into the dark expanse before him. He always finds a small comfort in the idea that, temporarily, all of his burdens are behind him, on that hellhole of a tin can. He enjoys being alone in his pod, on long trips he likes to shut off his scouter and leave the ceaseless chit-chat to Nappa and Raditz. Shutting everything -his anxieties included- out to stare at the infinite stars.
It’s nice, he thinks, the calm quiet of space. He doesn’t understand why Nappa has an apprehension about the pods, he claims they’re unsafe. Oddly enough, they’re the one place Vegeta does feel some semblance of safety. He’d stay out with the stars for years, if he could.
***
The King of Vegetasei and his heir stand facing a castle window late in the evening, the sun sets over the red peaks in the distance, and millions of stars begin to dot the black sky above them.
“Father.” Says the child.
“Yes my princess.”
“It’s prince now,” the young boy corrects, “I’m going to be a prince.”
“Why would you want to do that?” he asks calmly.
“If I’m a prince I get to be king, like you.”
“You’ll rule this kingdom no matter what,” the king kneels to be eye-level with his child, “the potential you possess is unquestionable. You could be queen, if you wanted too.”
“No.” says the child, simply, “I am going to be king.”
The King chuckles, “Very well then, my prince, what is it that you need?”
“Tell me the legend of the super saiyan again.”
“Again?”
“Yes, please.”