Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I wish I did.

Credit where Credit is due:

Many thanks to MegaKat for giving me kind permission to use her Saiyan language throughout this story. I hope that I have not butchered it TOO badly ;)

Phrases used in this chapter:
fr'i t'ai ja'ta m'yo = my father isn't dead
au n'ta = you are safe

Updated on 1/29/2016 for slight additional content and Saiyan language.

Prince Vegeta paced in front of the closed double doors that led to Frieza's penthouse suite, checked his tablet again, then sighed in exasperation. He was royalty, and should not be left outside like a commoner while Nappa was in conference with Lord Zarbon and Lord Frieza. It was, well, insulting.

Saiyans were not known for their patience; he did not do well with waiting, and he had to move, had to keep active or he would give in to the temptation to yell or strike out. The honor guards, marked by their blue and black battle suits, watched him pace with a mixture of trepidation and amusement.

The young Saiyan felt annoyed that Frieza chose to deal with his bodyguard instead of directly with him, which was the usual way of things. In the past, he and Frieza often spoke one on one, so now Vegeta was not sure why Frieza was keeping him at arm's length.

The uncertainty made him uncomfortable and angry, the usual combination of emotions. His muscles were tense, and he had to keep reminding himself to relax, not to indicate his anxiety. He made sure that his tail was firmly wrapped around his waist; he could feel the hairs standing up nonetheless.

"What is taking him so long? It's a simple question!" Vegeta mumbled, and grew more annoyed. He folded his arms across his chest and ignored the throbbing from his recently broken nose and sprained tail. Neither sentry responded to his query, nor did he expect them to.

Vegeta had not seen or spoken with his father since he had been drafted into Lord Frieza's service two years previous. This infuriated the young Saiyan; he wanted to scream. Why had his father given him up? Why had the King not contacted him once news of their world's destruction became known? Did his father know that their home was gone, did he even care?

The young Prince had been assigned Elite missions for most of his career, sometimes in the company of his caretaker Nappa, and Raditz, the eldest son of Bardock. The three of them were - to Vegeta's knowledge - the only remaining Saiyans, besides the King, and Vegeta worried in secret that his father may have met a similar fate as the planet named after him.

The three survivors lived together in a cramped single apartment provided by the Planetary Trade Organization as a service to all active members of the Frieza Force, along with basic care and food. But the Saiyans had high metabolisms, and their bodies needed far more food and nutrients than most of the other soldiers. Because of this, most of their extra pay went towards feeding themselves. A Saiyan who did not eat regularly became lethargic and easily controlled and that was something they could not afford in the hostile atmosphere on Frieza Planet 79, one of the main bases of operation for the North Quadrant and Frieza's Empire.

It was an endless cycle; they would go on missions to earn money, but instead of saving up their earnings, they spent most of it on food out of necessity - a neat little loophole that kept the Saiyans trapped and unable to improve their lot.

This, too, made Prince Vegeta angry. He had grown up in luxury on Vegetasai and was not used to such crude treatment: often on the verge of starvation, ridiculed by his inferiors and mocked by those with far more power. Sadly, there was not much he could do about it. Tapa... he was an Elite soldier, capable of great things ... yet he was forced to grovel, especially to Zarbon and Dodoria, who controlled access to Lord Frieza.

When Lord Frieza had taken Prince Vegeta in (a phrase used loosely, to be sure) he promised the Saiyan fair treatment and quarters in exchange for his services, and that he would be able to rise rapidly through the ranks.

So Vegeta worked hard to earn his place. Even though young, he soon outranked the majority of PTO soldiers, to their chagrin, yet he was still stuck. When the rogue comet had destroyed Planet Vegeta, Frieza promised to take Vegeta in and treat him like a son. At first that seemed true. But somewhere along the line, things had blurred, and Frieza's polite exterior and concern slowly turned to impatience, then scorn, and then ...

Vegeta's mind skittered away from half hidden memories of discussions with Frieza in which the warlord had threatened Nappa, Raditz, himself, his father. Worse that that were the other conversations in which Frieza had tutored him in techniques both mental and physical, and Vegeta had left dazed and numbed with chunks of his memory missing.

As an Elite, Vegeta often trained with other shock troops, most of who came under the purview of Zarbon, Master of Assignments, and Dodoria, who often led the high-risk assaults. Vegeta was strong, yes, but could not ever hope to match their power levels, much less Frieza.

He trained with different Elites several times a week, which often left him with injuries that sent him to the Medical Capsules. He lost track of the times his arms and ribs had been broken. Vegeta knew he did not stand a chance against any of them, yet he fought as hard as he could, and did not back down or surrender. It was not in his nature.

Each fight made him stronger, wiser, harder. Some day he would be more powerful than they. He would unlock the secret of his royal blood and ascend to become a Super Saiyan, like in the legends. When that day came, they all would pay. First, the Elites, then Frieza's lackeys, and then Frieza himself. Vegeta would avenge his world and his people. This thought was the only thing that kept him going on some days, knowing that he would see Frieza fall.

Yet, that glorious day was far away. Vegeta was too weak and inexperienced, and must bide his time building his strength, finding allies, and keeping his enemies ignorant of his true might.

This rankled Vegeta; he was forced into servitude to do Frieza's bidding, and that due to his age he had to take the abuse of his so called superiors. He especially held deep hatred for Zarbon and Dodoria; both individuals often harassed and humiliated him, injured him physically and mentally whenever they got the chance - all behind Lord Frieza's back. Their violence often lacked a reason, combined with bits of kindness that put Vegeta off guard long enough to unsettle him and give him a glimmer of false hope.

Just the other day, Dodoria was working with some of the recruits. He had asked Vegeta to display a complicated fighting technique, and Vegeta - always ready to show off his skills - complied without question. Dodoria praised him, put a hand on his shoulder, then without notice grabbed his hair and slammed him face first into the floor, catching him off guard and instantly shattering his nose.

Dodoria laughed and told him that he should always watch his back, and then stepped on his tail for good measure. When Vegeta returned home, he refused to tell Nappa what had happened due to embarrassment.

Zarbon's wickedness was far more sinister; he never issued an open threat, but Vegeta knew that to cross him would be fatal. He held the ear of Lord Frieza and spun connections with his polite tones and insidious machinations.

The doors to Frieza's inner chamber slid open with a hiss and broke Vegeta out of his reverie. He stopped his pacing because he did not want either Zarbon or Frieza to see him rattled. Nappa exited; his face carefully blank.

"Nappa, I've been waiting for hours! What -"

The giant man held up one hand to delay any questions. Vegeta felt a quick rise of anger - how dare Nappa silence him - but the words died when he saw Nappa's tail language.

Saiyans often communicated to one another using their prehensile tails, this allowed them to say one thing verbally while indicating another intent. Nappa's tail was slightly puffed and twitched at the tip, indicating worry and anger that should not be expressed in front of others.

Nappa placed a strong hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home, Prince Vegeta. Lord Frieza sends his condolences that your father is still on a sensitive mission and can not be contacted."

Despite his best efforts, Vegeta's face fell. His tail drooped.

"Come on now, Vegeta. Your father is an important man, and Lord Frieza would only cut off contact if it was necessary." Nappa smiled and spoke in a soft reassuring tone, but his tail continued to twitch. "It's almost midday meal time. They're serving Takarian deep fry at the mess. I know you like that, Prince Vegeta."

"I'm not a baby, Nappa! Don't placate me," Vegeta snapped, then immediately regretted it. He huffed, and then remembered his tail had come free. He wrapped it around his waist; the last thing he wanted was someone stepping on it yet again. "Fine. I'm hungry. You can get my food for me."

The doors slid shut behind them as they walked away.

"Let's stop by the apartment and collect Raditz," Nappa suggested. His hand still rested on Vegeta's shoulder.

Vegeta did not reply, he just snorted and stalked away. Nappa followed him; both remained silent until they arrived at their shared domicile. Nappa swiped the key pass over the sensor and the entrance slid aside with a hum, then stopped moving. An acrid smell filled the air, and smoke oozed from the pad. The door stuck halfway with barely enough room for Nappa to squeeze his large frame through.

The former commander cursed a stream of colorful and creative invectives and slammed a fist into the metal door. "Ah come on ... Stupid, useless, piece of shit! What the hell else can break?"

The rant was enough to bring a smirk to Vegeta's face. He suspected that Nappa had done it more to make him smile than because the commander was truly frustrated.

Once they were inside their quarters, Nappa used the inner keypad and activated the security subroutine. A thick metal door slid down to give them a semblance of privacy. Nappa sent in a work request, without the swearing, to fix the portal but who knew how long that would take? He adjusted the gravity controls to a closer imitation of Vegetasai's heavier gravity. The pull helped the two Saiyans feel a bit more at ease. Raditz was not at home. They would have to wait for him, yet another annoyance.

Vegeta walked past the tiny kitchenette and into the living area, leapt over the back of the well used couch, and settled on the battered cushions to wait. He felt angry and hungry, a bad combination. He deactivated the communicator function on his scouter and removed it, then tossed in onto one of the small end tables.

"Is there anything to eat, Nappa?" Vegeta said, wishing to avoid the real subject. He felt small and lost.

"We don't have enough to stock up, and Zarbon's being an ass. But don't worry, I'll figure something out. I always do. Here, drink this. It'll fill you up until we get to the mess hall." Nappa turned on the tap in the kitchen, filled a glass, and handed it to the younger Saiyan.

"Water? Really?"

"Sorry, Vegeta." Nappa sounded dejected.

Vegeta sniffed and took the proffered glass, then took in a breath, and sighed.

"What did he say, Nappa? Where is my father? Why won't anyone tell me?"

Nappa shifted on the balls of his feet, an indicator that he was conflicted. "Same story, Prince Vegeta. They claim he's out on mission and that he can't be contacted for security reasons. I think it's a batch of lies - I've done secret work for the Force in the past, and no mission lasts this long."

Nappa stopped speaking, and remained silent for several minutes; he refused to make eye contact with Vegeta. A cold knot formed in the Prince's stomach, a sour taste as bile rose in the back of his throat.

"Nappa?" Vegeta couldn't suppress the plaintive tone that entered his voice.

"Look, I've never lied to you and I'm not gonna start now. They're feeding us a line. I know they're lying, and they know it too. I think we need to face facts - I think the King is dead, Vegeta, and likely has been for years." Nappa did not look at Vegeta, but sat next to him to reassure the young Prince.

Vegeta did not respond. A sense of unreality, of disconnect crept over him, and his world faded into a strange haze. Nappa's voice sounded faint, as if he were yelling from a great distance.

"No." As if that one word could stop reality. Part of him knew it was likely true, and had known for years, but another part refused to even consider it. His father, the King, could not be dead.

"Vegeta," Nappa began, and Vegeta noticed the placating tone in the older Saiyan's voice. He hated it, and hated Nappa at that moment for making his fears real.

"No, no, NO! Fr'i ta'i ja'ta m'yo! It's a lie! I won't accept it!" Vegeta screamed the denial in Nappa's face; his own features contorted in anger and fear.

He stormed off, throwing energy and objects alike, the energy swirling around him in destruction until his rage was spent and he realized what he had done. Vegeta crouched down on his haunches, feeling ashamed and lost. He barely noticed when Nappa sat cross-legged next to him, placed an arm over his shoulders, and pulled him against his side for comfort. Instinctively, Vegeta curled up against the large warrior. Saiyans often huddled during times of distress, and this was no exception.

"It's okay, Vegeta. au n'ta," Nappa soothed, "we're going to be okay."

"No. It isn't. He wouldn't die without talking to me! I won't believe it. I won't...not until I have proof. Do you have that, Nappa?" Vegeta's voice began to crack.

Nappa started to object, then shook his head. "No. Just suspicions."

"He's not dead. He can't be, Nappa. I know it...because I didn't even get to say goodbye."