Where Kakarott is King Pt4

Disclaimer: Akira Toriyama, people. Not me.

Warnings: yaoi, self-injury, eating disorders

Thoughts: ‘blah’

Kakarot’s POV

I awoke at dawn, body aching from the unconscious position I had chosen. My neck and back were at an angle, one of my arms buried beneath me, and my legs crossed over each other.

I pulled myself from my rumpled bed, stretching and cracking my various body parts. I decided that a pre-breakfast spar with Vegeta would make me feel better.

Crossing the hall, I didn’t bother knocking. What a saw jolted my heart.

Vegeta was curled on his side, facing the door. His arms were wrapped around himself, and his face was the most relaxed I had ever seen it. He was an angel.

Gently shaking his shoulder, I brought my lover to awareness.

"Lets go spar," I commanded and he nodded, pulling himself from the bed.

I gave him a once-over, quirking my head at his odd dress. "Socks?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes," he replied emptily. "I find them quite comfortable."

I led Vegeta to my private training room, taking my position in the middle of the room. He took a stance also, waiting for my move.

I launched at him, a boot nearing his face. He weakly moved, barely dodging my heavy foot. My fist crashed into his head, his retaliation short lived, not even hitting me. My legs flew wildly, knocking Vegeta’s feet out from under him. He cried out a short gasp of pain as he hit the hardwood floor. I crouched over him.

"Are you ok?" I was truly concerned.

He nodded weakly, not bothering with words.

I helped him up; sure breakfast would now be ready.

Vegeta’s POV

I sat stiffly in the chair across from Kakarott. Luckily, he thought nothing more of my socks.

Pushing my food around my plate, I lifted only the smallest of morsels to my mouth, breaking the rest up to make it seem like less.

‘I don’t deserve food,’ I thought dejectedly. ‘Food is for the strong, not ones like me’

Kakarott cleared his plate and I left mine for the servants to take care of.

"Come," he beckoned me from the doorway. I came to him. What choice did I have? The Prince cupped my palm, leading me hand in hand to a door he had never opened to me. He pulled a key from his pocket, and inserting it into the lock, the wood softly creeped back, revealing the most amazing thing I had ever seen.

Piles of gold, shimmering, everywhere.

"Go take a few handfuls," Kakarott urged me on, pressing me into the room. "We’re going out."

"Out? Where? Why?"

"I’m tired of being in this stupid palace. We need some fresh air," came the simple reply.

I grabbed some coins, the precious metal very heavy in my hand.

"Hold on," the Prince commanded. "We will need some cloaks for privacy."

Several minutes later, Kakarott and I were completely covered in long, black cloaks with deep hoods, our faces completely hidden, and pockets heavy.

As we left the marble front doors, the Prince twined his hand with mine, showing possession of me.

We walked down towards the market, and for the first time, I could look at things, ready to buy them.

‘Maybe being the Prince’s pet won’t be so bad.’

My mood lifted highly, and I forgot all about my self-loathing in the soft, cool sunshine-bathed, crowded market.

I purchased a basket first, them several fruits.

"You need not buy food," Kakarott informed me. "The servants will get it."

"I know," I replied boldly. "I just want to get some for my room or something."

I was really just enjoying the money.

Hours later, probably about three p.m, I had bought about half the market. Kakarott and I were loaded down with fruit, clothes, little knick-knacks, anything I could find.

"Why don’t we go put this up," my Prince suggested.

I turned to head back to the palace, but he threw his arm out to stop me.

"No, no, no," he explained. "A new invention is in my pocket and I would like to try it out."

Kakarott clasped my hand again, leading me to a nearly deserted alleyway next to a bar. He insisted I put all the items I had bought on the dusty ground, and then he pulled a pill from his pocket and dropped it on the pile.

All of the bags and baskets disappeared, the pill lying harmlessly on the ground.

"What the hell!" I exclaimed.

"It worked," Kakarott cried. "All of your stuff is in that little pill."

My jaw dropped, incredulous, as I picked up the tiny thing, seeing our stuff packed inside it. I quickly pocketed the little miracle.

"Wow. Where are we going now?"

Kakarott had already begun exiting the dank alley, me in tow.

"I just want to try out this bar. I’ve never been here."

We adjusted our hoods, needing to be anonymous, not wanting cause a riot or the like.

We entered the black tinted door, the heavy music hitting us hard.

We pressed through the notes and patrons, struggling for two side-by-side seats at the bar, just barely succeeding.

"Do you want anything?" my Prince yelled over the music.

I shook my head fervently. My father had died an alcoholic, so I never was much of one.

He screamed at the bartender, getting a scotch placed in front of him.

Several drinks on Kakarot’s side and a headache later, we stumbled out of the bar into the dusk.

"Come on, sexy. Back here." the Prince yanked on my arm, forcing me into the nearly pitch alley.

He pressed me up against he nearest wall, attacking my mouth. The ick of alcohol invaded my senses and I turned my head sharply, evading Kakarot’s mouth.

"We should go," I requested weakly.

"You little bitch!" was my only warning before a fist knocked on my head and I went flying.

I was still sore and weak from the rape, so my fight was not much of one.

Ages later, I lay a crumpled heap of nerves, tears, and blood on the dusty ground I had slept on many a night when I was homeless.

"You’re mine. Remember that." Kakarott spit on my weakness before leaving, spattered in my blood.