Chapter Text
"I won't hear another word about it!" King Vegeta III snarled at his eldest son. The boy was spoiled, arrogant, and his father's mirror. He carried all of the best and worst traits of Vegeta himself, including his name. His mother had softened those edges when he had been a baby, only to have them filed back like teeth to razor sharp by his father and tutors as a child. The prince held himself far above all others, knowing his future place and making sure anyone he came in contact with, knew it too.
King Vegeta III slammed his hands down on the table to punctuate his exclamation, staring down the Prince who glared back at him as if it was his own angry reflection. It was clear to each that this was an argument the King would win and the Prince accepted the loss begrudgingly. The young man left the room, his cape trailing after him soundlessly as he stomped away. Growling to the empty audience chamber, the king fisted his hands tightly before relaxing after a moment. His eldest would fulfill the assignment; his sense of duty and pride wouldn't let him fail.
***
The twin suns hung overhead and Prince Vegeta sat back in his litter, shaded by the luxurious fabrics that hung over and around him. He had sulked for days after the King had given him this new assignment, claiming that it was a requirement of the throne. Now he reclined, his mouth drawn in a scowl, his tail whipping back and forth in irritation. This was to be his first year to make an annual visit to the outer lands that were beyond the borders of the castle and royal grounds. There was an agreement that had been in place since Vegeta I and while he had no desire to break the treaty, this Vegeta also had no desire to be the one to accommodate it. A member of the royal family, typically the king or his strongest warrior, would meet as equals with the head of all the clans to maintain their limited allegiance. Basically the tribes respected the sovereignty, as long as they were left alone to live outside the city, not exactly citizens, but still considered kin.
The prince shifted, watching the endless sea of orange sand drift by, thinking how much better he could be spending his time instead of playing ambassador to packs of uncivilized Saiyans. To him, the outer clans were no better than feral animals. His father had neglected to tell him any more than of their crude lifestyle and rudimentary language, before waving off any further questions or protests. Vegeta’s frown deepened as they approached a village, though calling it that was almost an exaggeration. The motley collection of huts and other structures covered an area smaller than the palace and the prince looked upon the dwellings with dismay. His father was right about the primitive lifestyle, though Vegeta wondered briefly if this was a harder life than that of a regular citizen, being past the city limits and in the unpredictable wilds of the Outer Lands.
Shaking his head, he prepared to exit the litter as it was set down. Curling his tail tightly around his waist, Vegeta climbed out and adjusted his cape and armor, casting a long shadow across the hot sand in the light of the setting suns. His entourage arranged themselves behind him, and Vegeta strode forward, confidently towards a gathering group of crouching Saiyans. The prince stopped short a few yards away from the natives and crossed his arms, his feet set apart in a powerful stance. The savages whispered amongst themselves, and a hushed din reached the royal and his guards. Vegeta's features were fixed in a haughty glare, and he barked out a simple greeting.
The primitive Saiyans gave no indication that they understood and he quickly is becoming frustrated. The prince had expected complete obedience and subservience. He expected them all to cower in fear of the more advanced Saiyans, of royalty! This was not at all what was happening. He is immediately ignored, his words landing on uncomprehending ears. Their leader, the prince assumed, stepped forward from the gathered crowd. The man is tall, with unruly hair and a jagged scar on one side of his face. The man's expression is stoic and his body language gives Vegeta the impression that he is as exasperated at the situation as the prince is. Through gestures and some crudely spoken syllables, the royal entourage is encouraged to follow the man.
***
They are brought to a clearing, surrounded by low smooth rocks. As Prince Vegeta stood in the center, the head of all the clans stepped forward once more and grunted. He pointed at Vegeta and then at the gathered Saiyans, who had made a ring around the men. They are all wearing simple coverings made from animal hides, bodies painted with a crimson stain. The men have markings over their chests and shoulders, and the women are bare breasted, markings running over their arms and bellies. Their tails are mostly unadorned, but some are decorated with a cuff or simple bands of crude metal.
The leader, identified as Bardock, made a guttural noise, followed by a succession of strange vocal undulations. One of the surrounding Saiyans stepped into the center of the clearing. He is just as tall as the leader, and just as broad, with a distractingly long mane of thick, coarse hair. There are decorative bands on his left arm and thigh and he wore a simple black piece of hide that barely covered his genitals. The man stands before the shorter royal and leans forward to press his forehead down against Vegeta, their breath mingling for a brief moment in some kind of greeting. He then kneels and takes the prince's hand, pressing his knuckles to his lips in acknowledgement before releasing the prince's fingers and straightening up. His large fingers reach forward to trace one of the decorative fixtures holding the sovereign son’s cape in place.
Vegeta immediately tenses and grabs the wrist of the handsome warrior, stopping him. His eyes narrow in anger and a growl resonated at the back of his throat served as a warning. It was clear that the other man didn't understand the reason behind the sudden movement or noise, nor why the Prince seemed so upset. His eyes blink and look curiously into the onyx eyes of the crown prince. A Saiyan woman brought two bowls forth, one with a gold pigmented paint while the other had animal blood from the metallic smell of it. Vegeta watched stiffly as she moved away silently, her dark eyes cast to the ground and away from the Prince.
"It's alright sire, this is the standard ceremony." His closest guard mumbled, hoping to reassure the Prince and avoid any more faux pas. Making a noise of displeasure, Vegeta let go of the warrior's forearm violently, a sneer pulling at the side of his mouth as his tail lashed behind him.
"Alright then, go on." Vegeta allowed himself to be disrobed, knowing he had nothing to feel ashamed of but feeling unsettled nonetheless. Nudity was not uncommon within the palace, but it was certainly less common there than these primitives practiced. The long haired man inclined his head forward slightly, acknowledging the permission. He neatly folded all of the prince's fine garments and set them aside, reaching for the first bowl. Dipping his fingers into the shimmering paint, he swept his hand over Vegeta's bare skin and painted broad strokes across the royal’s sinewy body. After a few moments, the warrior, Raditz as he had been called, switched bowls and now stood looming in front of the prince. Baring his sharp teeth, Vegeta looked up at him, daring the other man to do anything more. Raditz grinned cheekily, and dragged his hand through the bowl without breaking eye contact, before dripping its syrupy contents over the prince's shoulders and chest. The blood mixed with the gold, running in rivulets turned amber by the snapping fire.
Satisfied, the warrior smirked and proceeded to back away and begin to move around Vegeta, his body sinuous and strong as a musical beat started to thump. His movements slowly brought him closer and closer. He touched the prince here and there as he swayed and Vegeta was rooted to the spot, transfixed. Those fingertips ghosted over his painted flesh, leaving ripples of uncertainty in their wake and his tail-– now hanging behind him, moving with the beat of the drums. The Prince had never before seen such a large male Saiyan move with the raw power and grace that this unsophisticated heathen did. Realizing his behavior, Vegeta scoffed, crossing his arms again and straightening his spine and shoulders into a more formidable posture, though his tail remained loose and swaying.
"Tch."
Vegeta grit his teeth watching the warrior dance. The same woman as earlier approached him again; this time she held a small rudimentary vessel between her hands. Bowing her head, she offered the cup, waiting for the Prince to take it. Vegeta frowned, grabbing the crude stoneware harshly. The head of the clans indicated that he drink the contents and so he sniffed at the liquid suspiciously. Vegeta could detect the green aroma of herbs, but also something spicy and pungent. He was tired of all this ceremony and wished nothing more to be back at the castle grounds training. Tossing his head back, he drained the contents in one large gulp. Immediately his mouth started to water, saliva pooling thickly, causing Vegeta to swallow again and lick his lips. The sharp taste lingered on his tongue and he tried to recall what was familiar about it. Still dubious, he watched as the tribe gathered around him on the edges of the clearing dropped their heads reverently towards him. His body shone like precious metal in the waning sunset of the double suns, burnished by the slick of the animal blood that decorated his face, chest and shoulders. A low murmur started and soon the natives were chanting something in their basic language. Bardock strode forward once again, making a gesture that the prince didn't understand, but watched as it incited movement. His guards were shuffled off to a feast and fire, while he was being led towards a large rock formation by an arm around his shoulders.
For the last time that night, Vegeta wondered what his father had gotten him into…
***
The Prince was led to an area that was shielded from the rest of the small village by tall rock formations. It occurred to Vegeta that he was now surrounded by more official looking clan members. Some of them exuded an aura of power or ceremony in stance or decoration. This must be when they swear allegiance to the sovereignty and let him be on his merry way. He was strangely amenable to the situation, drumming his fingers along the coarse rock throne they had seated him on. The edges of his vision seemed dark, but then so was the fading light. The odd shadows that seemed to crest and fall against the sand and dirt were just tricks of the double suns setting and the dancing flames from the fire before him.
Prince Vegeta leaned to one side, staring intently at the ground, until the same warrior from earlier, knelt before the Prince in supplication. He began to stroke along Vegeta's thighs, up his abdominals and down again, teasing ever closer towards his organ. Startled, the royal Saiyan jerked upright. His actions seemed a bit slower than he was used to and he frowned, dismayed. His eyes narrowed to slits, suddenly incredibly suspicious. He tried to speak but found his tongue felt heavy and thick and his eyes blinked from the struggle it was becoming to keep them open and focused. Vegeta was certain in some far part of his mind that things were not normal, but that part of his brain was quickly becoming harder to access. The touch of the warrior who was between his thighs felt quite good and the Prince focused on the man’s mouth as he smiled wickedly up at him from his knees. He was becoming alarmingly aroused, his body simply reacting to the simulation in spite of himself. His jaw loosened and his mouth hung open slightly as pleasure started to coil inside. Vegeta tried to force himself to concentrate but found himself feeling inclined to drag his fingers through the warrior’s long hair and bury them in the thick locks. The harder he worked to force his brain to function, the harder it became to find a reason why. His limbs seemed to move of their own volition, and he observed his fingers tangled in the man’s man, curling and tugging and watching as the man grunted. Vegeta, fascinated, pulled again and saw the warrior’s mouth open. Instinctively, the Prince reached forward and slid two of his fingers along Raditz’ lower lip, before stuffing them into the dark cavity.