Work Text:
One, Two.
One, Two
His body, finely tuned from years and years of training, swayed in synchronous motion with his partner. The symphonic strains of classical music played around them, further focusing their minds on the long day ahead as they moved in strict tempo - never faltering, always constant.
One, Two.
One, Two.
His hands were soft, yet firm. His spine, supple and strong, compressed with each forward movement and absorbed the concussion of each foot as it landed in the soft sand. His torso remained upright and flexible with his pelvis tipping forward and his core provided much needed balance.
His partner was also relaxed, with his head and body bending into the corners of the practice area smoothly. The muscles were unbunched in his neck and his breathing was even, coming out in measured puffs.
A small click of the tongue and his partner’s ear flicked backwards. Vegeta could tell that he was listening.
Almost imperceptibly, he pressed with his outside calf and provided support with his inside, the two of them bending across the diagonal to change direction. Again and again, they repeated the exercise. Deep into the corners, keeping the same unhurried rhythm and elongated stride, and then reversing. Each movement stretching the muscles, each step encouraging strength.
One, Two.
One, Two.
Slowly, the song faded to a close. Vegeta stilled his seat, sitting straighter and tightening his abdominals, to bring them down into a collected walk. Just as a proper warm up was essential, rest in between was equally as crucial. He let the reins loosen in his hands and leaned forward to rub his partner’s neck with brief affection. The massive, bay stallion nickered in acknowledgment but did not stop his walk. Pleased at the response, Vegeta re-established his seat and contact with the bridle. Instantly, his mount gathered himself in preparation, eager to begin once more.
Vegeta allowed himself a small smile but hardened his features just as quickly. They’d been doing this dance for years and knew each other well; however, he would not allow himself to become complacent.
He swiped the smartwatch on his wrist, cued the next piece of music to play and rolled his shoulders backwards. Playtime was over. It was time for the real work to begin.
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Hours later, after both had been cooled down and stretched, Vegeta stood inside the freshly cleaned stall and methodically analyzed the veteran stallion’s body as the horse leisurely munched on some hay. Practiced, but gentle, fingers ran down the horse’s legs and musculature to ensure there was no tenderness. Dark, shrewd, eyes evaluated his mount's mood and behavior trying to find any indication, anything at all, that would signal that the animal was in pain. His partner, Sadala, placidly turned his head to regard the goings on, nickering his curiosity, but ultimately returned to his food.
Vegeta watched in silent admiration of the animal in front of him. Beyond the horse’s excellent conformation and athleticism, it was its eye that always intrigued and captivated him. Large, brown and expressive, those eyes had a kind but aristocratic gleam. One that demanded respect, but also readily gave it when it was earned. Like his rider, Sadala did not suffer fools gladly and would continuously test whomever was placed upon his back to see how much leeway he would be afforded. Vegeta’s mind wandered to his first time upon the animal’s back, full of confidence and swagger, and how quickly he was deposited on the arena floor much to his consternation and embarrassment.
“Sir?”
A meek and unsure voice interrupted his reverie, and he turned towards its owner with a frown firmly affixed to his countenance. The apprentice groom, Cabba, stood nervously beside him, his posture and shoulders hunched as if he were expecting a thorough tongue lashing. Vegeta regarded the boy and nodded, granting him permission to continue.
“Your wife is waiting for you, sir. Shall I -?”
The riding master exhaled through his nose and nodded to the groom, dismissing him from his presence. The scurrying of feet was the only indication he had of the boy’s compliance, and he returned his attention to the subject that now stood in front of him.
This... was a bittersweet moment.
After thirty years, almost half of them with Vegeta on his back, it was time for the horse to retire. Sadala’s future lay not within these halls of equestrian excellence, but in a quiet pasture where he could live out the remainder of his days. Despite knowing that this day would inevitably come, the knowledge that he would have to say farewell caused a lump to gather and become lodged in his throat.
As if he sensed his rider’s momentary distress, his mount pushed his velvety nose towards Vegeta’s jacket pockets and Vegeta huffed a choked laugh in response. Another shove, this one more forceful, elicited an actual laugh from his throat, and Vegeta pulled his hand out to reveal a small apple. With one hand he scratched the horse’s forehead and then, with the other, brought the apple to his lips to take a large bite before offering the rest. Sadala grasped and chewed the remainder of the fruit loudly before pushing his nose forward for more. Vegeta tsked gently, and placed a soft hand on the creature’s nose.
“ You are not getting anymore, so it is fruitless to beg .” He scolded, the Saiyan dialect rolling off his tongue with ease. For some reason, his mount had always liked his native tongue; therefore, Vegeta always used it when communicating with him.
The wizened old stallion eyed him as if he were nonplussed with the response and turned back to his evening snack.
Vegeta snorted with derision, latched the stall door shut,and strode down the spotless aisle. As he passed, horses would look up in interest with some reaching their heads into the lane in hopes of receiving attention. He indulged them with brief scratches and kind words but did not tarry in his trek towards the tack room.
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The rich, earthy smell of cleaned and oiled leather flooded his nostrils the moment he stepped into the small room. Hooks and stands were filled with various pieces of equipment, some for competition and others for leisure, yet each was painstakingly cared for. On the far wall pictures of him and Sadala hung, highlighting their career together in addition to the shelves filled to the brim with trophies and ribbons. Small trinkets and tokens of victory captured for posterity, yet he needed no such visual reminders to remember those moments.
Sitting on the dilapidated mustard colored couch that occupied one corner of the room, was his wife. She looked tired, and her pregnant belly seemed to protrude more than it had this morning; however, her smile at his entrance lightened the load on his heart for a brief moment.
“Why are you here? You should be resting.” He inquired, softly. In response, his blue haired beauty merely regarded him with a disconcerted look before rising and embracing him. Vegeta scoffed and tried to pull away, but she did not release him. In fact, and much to his dismay, she tightened her hold.
“Bulma…”
“I thought we could go out and get some dinner.” She quickly interjected, cutting off his protest.
Vegeta pulled away, staring at her in confusion before shaking his head and walking to the couch to sit down. “That’s not possible. I have too much work to do here tonight. I told you before, and you said you understood. I have to review those new student applications, send off the nomination forms for the Grand Prix in August and then oversee the hay delivery. That potential new boarder is coming to look at the place, and...
“... you’ve got to get Sadala ready to leave.” She finished, somberly, and sat down beside him. As much as she could, Bulma had tried to be with him every step of the way as the day drew nearer and nearer. He had met her while competing on the big stallion. They’d shared their first kiss after Vegeta and Sadala had won the first of many Grand Prix victories. The horse even appeared in several of their wedding pictures, upon Bulma’s insistence.
“Vegeta, you don’t have to be here. Cabba can handle -“
“That boy doesn’t know anything.” He retorted and crossed his arms. Bulma huffed and rolled her eyes. “Funny,” she replied,“that’s not what you said when you hired him.”
Vegeta tsked in response and turned away, refusing to meet her blue eyes that he knew only held concern. He was being petulant, that much he could acknowledge to himself, but he would never admit it out loud. He clenched his jaw, the muscle working as he chewed on the feelings that were churning about inside of him. Upon feeling the the firm hand of his wife, rubbing up and down his back in circular motions, he involuntarily tensed. However, the action soon caused his muscle to release from their taut state and he felt his shoulders sag in relief.
He exhaled loudly through his nose and shifted back to look at her. A gentle smile graced her lips, and Vegeta closed his eyes as her mouth pressed against his own. Unlike their usual passionate kisses, this one was unhurried and languid. Her soft lips seemed to attempt to draw out his melancholia with each brush and caress until he could do nothing but respond fervently and reverently. For several blissful minutes, he allowed himself to forget.
But, time clearly was not on his side as Cabba rushed in to alert him of the horse van’s imminent arrival. He let his lips linger for a fraction of second longer before finally pulling away, uncaring that this slip of a boy had found him in a private moment. Vegeta turned and gave a nod and the order to retrieve the stallion’s shipping gear. The boy rushed off to obey and Vegeta stood, arranging his clothes, and helped his wife to her feet.
“Would you like me to help?”
The question caught him off guard, but he nodded silently in assent. Together they walked down the aisle to say goodbye to an old friend.
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The sun was setting, and a cool breeze drifted in. Horses neighed to each from adjacent fields, and Sadala pricked his ears up before bellowing in return. Vegeta took a moment to double check the protective boots, blanket and helmet the stallion wore. Whether from habit or nerves, he wasn’t sure, he meticulously inspected each item to ensure it was secured.
Bulma had, wisely, stepped in to prevent a fistfight from breaking out when Vegeta had started to berate and badger the operator about his record, his experience, and whether or not he understood the value of the creature in his care. She shot him a look that said ‘cool it’, and ordered him to go back to the stables so they could get Sadala on board.
But, now, it was time. On his right, Sadala, walked down the aisle with him, occasionally snorting at one of the other tenants who dared stick their nose out of their stalls in curiosity only to retreat. The clopping of hooves provided a staccato rhythm that Vegeta could focus on rather than the intended destination.
He chided himself for being so affected. This was not the first horse he’d sent off from his stables, and it certainly would not be the last. In his profession, it was not unusual to see horses come and go with regularity. This should be no different than all the times that had preceded it...but, somehow, it was.
As they exited the barn, he saw Bulma continue to converse with the driver as she finalized paperwork and he spread the soft hay and bedding in the van. “There’s still time.” He thought. Slowly, Vegeta turned and placed his face near the horse, holding the big head close. The large, saucer shaped nostrils blew warm air across his arm as they stood looking into each other’s eyes.
“ Go and live well, my soul brother .” He whispered. Sadala nickered and leaned into Vegeta’s body for an instant, only to raise his head at a small flash of light that blinked nearby.
Vegeta glanced to the side and saw his wife, phone in hand, and clearly taking a picture. He narrowed his eyes and muttered something about sentimental rubbish, but a tiny smile quirked on his lips when she walked up and Sadala placed his muzzle down to her belly, lightly nuzzling, as if he knew that he would not be there to welcome the new member of the family.
Steeling himself, Vegeta handed the horse...no, his partner and friend for many years into the care of another. The lump in his throat threatened to return as he watched the ramp being raised, and the doors shut, creating a final physical barrier between them.
Bulma sidled beside him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they both, silently, watched the van slowly exit the driveway. Long after it had disappeared from sight, they continued their vigil until the blaring horn of the hay delivery truck, finally, pulled their attention. Vegeta waved at the driver, pressed a quick kiss to Bulma’s temple and walked away.
Work, ever present, still needed to be done.
The clock on the wall read 0200 by the time he came home. He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it by the door, and removed his boots. The house was quiet, which wasn’t too unusual, and a light, dim and warm, flickered in the kitchen.
Figuring that Bulma had left him a bite to eat before heading to bed, he made his way and stopped at the marble counter top to observe two objects. One, was a sandwich covered by a cloth napkin. Beside it, framed and waiting for him, was the picture his woman had managed to snap earlier that evening. Even to the untrained eye, it looked as if he and Sadala were sharing a private conversation with their heads bowed so no one could hear.
His eyes suddenly began to burn but, this time, he didn’t stop the tears.
