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ilyena_sylph Title: Slave Prince
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Dragonball Z
Characters/Pairings: Vegeta, Kakarott
Summary: There are opponents that can't be beaten. And there are opponents that can't be fought, not in earnest, not without breaking everything worth fighting for in the first place
Wordcount: 1340
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.
Slave Prince
Vegeta was a proud warrior. A powerful warrior. A warrior who won, by any means necessary, and enjoyed his own ruthlessness. Against almost any opponent, he could only win. Except two. In all his life, there had been only two opponents against which Vegeta couldn't win, not permanently, not in any real sense. Opponents against which any victory would come at so high a cost as to not even be worth the name.
The first was Freeza. The second ... was Kakarott.
Both men had beaten him. Both men had taken everything he'd found to throw at them at the time, and smashed him down in spite of it. Both of them could have killed him at any point in their acquaintance, if they chose. He didn't like it, but it was true. Even Kakarott, if he ever truly decided to destroy Vegeta. He could do it. He had the power. He kept right on getting the power, always a step above Vegeta, always just a knife's edge separate but still there, still stronger. Kakarott could kill him, same as Freeza once could. He lived on their sufferance.
Once upon a time, that thought had been bitter. Agonised. Once upon a time, always with Freeza, initially with Kakarott. Even still, sometimes. Habits were hard to break, and he'd been enslaved too long to ever fully lose the resentment. It wasn't something Kakarott could understand. He would never understand that the hate that still showed, sometimes, wasn't for him, as such. Not as a person. It was the power, the situation. Vegeta hated that someone else could still have power over him. And now, in this new world, in this new life ... there was only one who still had that power, for all that he seemed disinclined to use it, and Vegeta still hated that. He always would.
Kakarott didn't understand. He'd never been a slave. He never would be a slave, and though he would deny it vehemently, Vegeta was almost glad of that. Kakarott ... there were some things the likes of Freeza should not touch, should never be allowed to touch. Too late for Vegeta. He'd been too weak at the start, and had never again managed to gain enough power in time. But Kakarott ... everything the Saiyan race had once been, Kakarott now was again. And everything they could be ... their children, their sons ... Vegeta knew they looked to Kakarott first. Even Trunks. He couldn't blame them. Kakarott was shining, unbowed, the perfect warrior. Not a broken and bitter slave prince. And Vegeta loved his people enough to want to protect that.
He wondered, sometimes, if Kakarott knew. If the man knew what Vegeta would do for him, what he would sacrifice for what the man represented. If any of them knew what he would do. Not as a man. As a man, he resented and disliked everything about the other Saiyan. As a man, he would cheerfully, and repeatedly, pound his face in, and enjoy the experience. As a man, he would forever and always hate the power the man had over him, and maintained over him, and he would forever and always strive to gain some of that power for himself. And if ever he achieved that power, if ever he was strong enough to support his people by himself ... all bets were off.
But for now, as they were now, as a prince, as a Saiyan ... he loved the man. And he would die for him. Because whether he knew it or not, Kakarott was all that really remained of what they had once been. He was the only one who could show their boys, could show Vegeta's own beloved son, what being a Saiyan truly meant. And though Vegeta may hate him for it, maybe strive to replace him as that symbol ... in the end, the cost of destroying him, of letting him be destroyed, was too high for Vegeta to pay.
There are wars that cannot be won. Opponents that cannot be beaten. With Freeza, it had been because he was too afraid, too weak. Too desperate to keep intact the scarred remnant of Saiyan pride that was his own life. So he had bowed, and served, slave prince, and hated the sneer he saw in his conqueror's face. It was only after Earth, after Kakarott, that he had truly started to fight again, given reason, given strength. He had fought, and lost, as maybe he'd always known he would, but it had been worth it. Worth it to show the bastard that even the weakest of what was left of his race could still fight. Worth it to show Kakarott why he fought, why he had to fight. Worth it to know that in losing, he had sealed Freeza's fate. Bitter to the end, dying in hate and hope.
With Kakarott, it was different, in some ways. It was because of love, and pride, and a stubborn hope in the future. He couldn't fight Kakarott, not in earnest, as long as the man was stronger. As long as the man stood for and supported what was left of their people. Vegeta had been their prince. But Kakarott was their future. Because of that, Vegeta would serve him. He would have to. He hated it, but he would do it.
He supposed, then, that he should probably be grateful that the man a) had no idea of the power he had over Vegeta, and b) very little interest in using it to hurt him. Unlike Freeza. He should be grateful that the man seemed to want to be friends, that he seemed content to ignore the power he held. He should be grateful to be allowed the freedom to be as mean and nasty and disagreeable as he was, grateful for the freedom to raise his son, to marry Bulma, to have a life. These were all things he would never have been allowed, under Freeza. He should be grateful for them.
Instead, he wanted to break the man's silly, hopeful grin right off his face. He wanted to beat him to a pulp every time he so much as looked at Bulma, at Trunks, wanted desperately to ignore the power and the hope the man held long enough to fight, to be free, really free, for just one minute, one second, by his own virtue and strength. Wanted to scream that just because he loved him, just because he fought for him, didn't mean he liked him, didn't mean he didn't want to rip his guts out and stamp on them. He wanted that. He wanted it so badly it hurt, even now, even after everything. He'd been a slave too long. It hurt too much. Nearly enough to make him forget.
But he didn't. He wouldn't. Wouldn't forget, wouldn't fight, not in earnest, not until Kakarott became less than he was. Because he may be a slave, may always be a slave if Kakarott maintained his strength, but he was also a prince. Prince of the Saiyans. And that meant something to him. It had meant something when he was nothing but Freeza's plaything and weapon. It had meant something when he was dying. It meant something now.
Because he was not alone. Because he was not the last. Because there was Trunks, and Gohan, and Goten, and there was Bulma, who was Saiyan by marriage and temperament and spirit, and even Kakarott himself. He had a people, even still, despite the lizard's best efforts, and he owed that people something. He owed them for his father's failure to protect them, owed them for his own weakness in having to serve Freeza, owed them for the loss of their world. He owed them everything he could give. He owed them Kakarott.
There are wars you can't win, opponents you can't beat, opponents, sometimes, you can't even fight. Not without breaking everything worth fighting for to begin with. Vegeta knew that.
He just didn't have to like it.
From:
no subject
No, Vegeta, honey, you don't have to like it.
But you'd do anything to keep him.
From:
no subject
And, ironically, Goku probably wouldn't be as strong as he is without Vegeta there, pushing at him, constantly testing him. Heh. He hates him, and loves him, and helps him get stronger despite it all, almost unwillingly, and ... damn. I'd forgotten how gorgeous they both were. I need to write them more often.