Chapter Text
It had started as such a peaceful day.
His twin sister was chatting on her phone, a conversation he’d heard far too much of between her and her beloved Pookie. She was sitting at the dining table while Foolish was resting on his throne, watching them with a small smile on his lips.
“Oh, is that too forward?” Tina bit her lip, muting the phone as she looked back at Miyoung, their older sister shrugging passively, “I don’t want to be pushy- but- he needs to be here.” She growled a little at the end. That was the Tina he knew.
As for why they were contacting Dakkin now? Well, it was simple…
Foolish, the King of Rusty Bones, looked at his people, all of them sporting half the gear they should, bandages along their bodies and grief in their eyes…
Team Rocket had attacked their home and everyone was sick of being pushed around.
It was time to strike back.
“It’s not looking good.” Captain June, who denied his title, muttered as he stalked up to his side, “The army’s gathered and spirited but we’re not going to stand a chance like this.”
Foolish kept his eyes on his sister as she talked, her voice getting louder, “What part of now do you not understand?!”
His eyes met June’s and he bit his lip, “We don’t have a choice.” They were a laughing stock, being pushed around so much. As much as he hated the idea, the cries of war by Ellum, Fuslie and of course Sykkuno were impossible to ignore. Either he tries to lead a coordinated strike or those idiots do it on their own with even less hope of survival.
“I understand, my King.” June bowed his head, walking off back towards War General Trausi just outside the castle. He’d done a remarkable job gathering the people even if it felt like a handful compared to what they needed.
Their only saving grace was the arrival of a segment of the Underworld’s army showing up with their Queen about an hour ago, but still that was only ten bodies and once again undergeared for the fight ahead.
The impossible fight.
The suic-
A pang hit his chest and he fell into a new coughing fit, heaving over in his throne as it wrecked his body. His sisters were distracted and so he shambled off the throne towards the back rooms out of sight and out of mind as he nearly coughed out his lungs. The sickness his body was infected with was worsening.
On his gloved hand glittering in the candlelight was a glob of blood.
Not now, not when he’s the most needed he’s ever been-
He felt dizzy suddenly, from the realization or the illness he couldn’t tell but then strong arms wrapped around him from behind and he was kept on his feet. The King blinked, looking over to see the most reliable man in the world.
Boulder smiled, “My liege.”
“Thank you.” He whispered as he was led to a stone bench nearby and set down there. His breathing was erratic but he worked to normalize it as Boulder also took a few steadying breaths. It was amazing how quickly his heart rate returned to normal with the man beside him.
“You’re nervous, frightened.”
“Treasonous words, Boulder.” Foolish joked, running a hand through his hair, “Of course I am… this is suicide…” He rubbed his eyes and groaned, “But what else can I do?”
Boulder hummed, a hand on his shoulder, “I’m not much of a tactician nor a warrior but… if you’re backed into a corner, make sure you’re ready for it.” Then he was pulling out something- Oh.
Glittering with gold, a helmet shaped like a shark, his favorite, but with the iconic horns of his original bull mask. It was beautiful and he was speechless.
“For the arrows.” Boulder said, tapping his own head like he was being shot. “This is the strongest steel available in the kingdom. I hope it treats you well.”
“Boulder…” Foolish took the helmet, his shoulders slacking, “I wouldn’t have survived this long without you.” He looked up into his best friend’s eyes and forced back the tears that threatened to spill. Now wasn’t the time.
“And this Kingdom would have fallen long ago without our brave King.” Boulder replied, his large comforting hand falling on his shoulder.
Foolish set the helmet aside and pulled him into a hug, tight and final.
He didn’t know why; whatever he was going to die or have a worse fate but… he felt like he wasn’t going to be seeing Boulder for a very, very long time…
“I couldn’t have asked for a better right hand.” His voice cracked, his youth showing in one of the worst moments, being only nineteen.
“And I couldn’t have had a better King.” Boulder sighed, only a few years older but somehow with the wisdom of a sage.
Foolish didn’t want to let go.
“My King.” War General Trausi interrupted, standing by the doorway to the grand hall, “The people are asking for a speech.”
Foolish let go of Boulder, nodding as he picked up the helmet he was gifted, standing with a sudden resolve to prove his bad feeling wrong. He put the helmet on and scowled, “It is time for vengeance.”
The raid had gone well that morning.
Rusty Bones hadn’t stood a chance, it was honestly rather pathetic if he was being honest. He didn’t know much about the King of the place, only that their King Mendo was smitten with him despite the two only meeting once as children.
Vegetta didn’t get it, why like a man who runs his kingdom so poorly?
Then again…
“You raided without me again?” Base complained, scowling at Coconut and Rayditz. “I made those rockets!”
“And they were useful, shut the fuck up. Not like you’re a great shot anyways.” ” Coconut retorted.
“Ya, just sit in here all pretty making us our tools. It’s what you’re good at.” Rayditz sneered, walking over to smack the back of Base’s head. This got Coconut laughing.
Base swiped back at him, “I’m not your damn housewife.” He was too close and two raiders rolled their eyes at him, “You’re both ridiculous.”
“They’re children.” Vegetta murmured under his breath.
Coconut swung his head in his direction, eyes wide, “Oh, the new guy wants to talk some shit now, huh?”
“He goes through one raid and thinks he’s one of us.” Rayditz snorted, “Look I know it’s hard going from fancy royal guard to raider, but things work a little differently over here.” He gestured to himself and Coconut, “You’re all our little bitches, got it?”
“Shove off.” Base scowled, flipping them off only to disappear into his lab before the two could respond.
Vegetta smirked, “The respect you command, it’s truly impressive.”
A spark of anger and suddenly Coconut was in his face, grabbing his breastplate with a snarl full of spittle. “Don’t think just because King Mendo likes you you can get away with speaking to us like that, bitch.”
Vegetta stared at the spit coming out of his mouth, scrunched his nose in disgust and asked, “Does Rayditz wipe up your slobber?”
“How dare-!” Coconut shoved him backwards and Vegetta gathered himself before he could be slammed against the wall, getting ready for a fight as the man was clearly seeing red-
“Would you idiots shut the fuck up?! We’re under attack!” Myth hollered down at them, “Rusty Bones counter-raid!” He cried and the three got their gear immediately. Others crowded into the supply tower and it was absolute chaos.
But eventually Vegetta did make it outside and he was ready to fight-
What was that?
Twenty-five, maybe thirty people at most? Against Team Rocket’s fifty and not to mention their turrets…
“What idiot sends his people on a suicide mission?!” Vegetta sputtered, actually taking a step back in pure and utter disbelief only for Coconut to harshly run past him with a hit against his shoulder.
“Let’s go, it’s gonna be a slaughter!” He cackled maniacally as he left towards the small offensive.
He blinked but… Anything for his King.
Vegetta charged forward, right behind the infuriating men he’d been arguing with before and right into the wholly unprepared wreck that was the Rusty Bones’s army, however upon closer inspection he noticed a few dressed in Underworld uniforms too.
It mattered not, and he slew those he came across without a shred of mercy, as was expected of him.
Then suddenly an explosion was set off in the center of the field and he was separated, stumbling around in the dust and coughing along the way until it cleared and-
A helmet of gold, the shape of a shark but with horns on either side- it was the oddest ornamentation he’d ever seen- but perhaps more oddly was that the man before him wasn’t holding a sword at all. Instead he had syringes and bandages, a medic.
Now normally he was meant to kill all the people on the battlefield, but a medic could be useful.
Vegetta went in to incapacitate the man, a simple trip of his legs but the other was quicker and dodged then elbowed him. Vegetta blinked rapidly, stumbling back a few steps as he held his head in pain.
The man tried to get past him, yelling, “Mammoth, take these!” He threw the medical supplies to an older man wearing far more distinctive markings for a medic.
Then who was… and why was his voice… oddly familiar?
Convinced to follow this lead he raised his blade again just as the other man finally drew his. His stance was wholly defensive which was odd for an invader, but he shook his head and rushed forward, striking out fast, decisively-
The man parried, sending his blade to the side- then backed up instead of going for a strike of his own which was just weird.
Then he grinned at him and had the gall to say, “That’s the best you got?”
So Vegetta did the only think he could and he attacked, again and again, high or low, it didn’t matter, the man was remarkably good at deflecting his strikes, it was breathtaking to witness and so he realized he’d have to get creative-
A sudden gut retching cough erupted from the man before him as he went in to strike his side and unfortunately for him, it hit in the distraction and blood spurted from the new wound, gushing down his side to a dangerous degree.
However the man didn’t give up and for the first time went in for an offensive strike only to be rewarded with a quick return elbow to the face. Vegetta could feel the metal crush against the man’s nose, a bone cracked and more terrible sounding coughs-
Then it was over and the man was on the ground, his helmet a few paces behind his head where the other man had thrown it off in a frantic effort to breathe. He was sprawled out, blood pouring out his nose in rivers of blood, his side forming a pond under him. It was a bloody mess, one Vegetta had seen countless times before of course, but as he approached the man, blade raised then positioned by his head…
Dazed emerald eyes looked up at him and that same sinking feeling of familiarity struck him like lightning struck through his body. The man looked so young, sure Vegetta himself was only twenty-three, but that was still more years spent training than this man seemed capable of. Perhaps more importantly though was the golden leaflets on either side of the man’s ears.
Worn by Kings and Queens in times of war.
The Rusty Bones King was younger than their king, jokingly referred to as the boy king after he took over at the mere age of twelve- but he got the impression he was a lazy King, not one that’d travel to the frontline, to try and fight despite being so very clearly- outclassed.
“Please, make it quick.” The supposed Boy-King spoke weakly, blinking slowly, no doubt suffering an intense amount of pain.
During their raids on Rusty Bones, their King warned them that the Rusty Bones King was strictly off limits.
Vegetta sheathed his blade, crouching down to the man’s side the next with furrowed brows as he assessed the damage. He cursed, wishing those supplies he’s had hadn’t been tossed away now. “Stay with me.” He said to him, confused that he was even trying bedside manners right now.
The other was clearly just as confused but his eyes were wavering. “W-what?” He wasn’t long for this world.
“Damn it,” He pressed on the wound in his side, only to be shocked to find even more medical supplies around his belt. He was full of them, and while he questioned why the King had more medical supplies than the medic himself, he had a far more pressing matter.
Vegetta got to work, dressing his wounds by unlatching his breastplate and pulling up his tunic, and for a moment Vegetta was horrified that he’d done more damage than he thought, only to realize the next second the man’s skin was littered with scars. Deep ones, tiny ones, permanent marks all over his abdomen unmistakably the result of arrows and blades.
What was the King doing to himself?
Or worse, what had been done to him?
Vegetta shook his head, focusing on the gash along his side, wrapping it as tightly as he could to stem the bleeding and injecting the spot with a healing syringe for good measure. By the time he was done, the King’s eyes had finally fluttered shut, but the steady rise and fall of his chest assure Vegetta he wasn’t dead.
Then he grabbed the man, bridal style, and started his walk back to his kingdom.
The fight had mostly died down, Coconut and Rayditz unfortunately survived, high fiving one another over a pile of corpses. Myth, Base and a few others milled about, ignoring Vegetta as they focused on the corpses and more importantly their loot.
Only one man marched right up to him, eyes wide as the full moon but not at him, instead at the unconscious man swaddling in his arms, shirtless save for the bandages.
“King Foolish…” Mendo’s lips trembled, “It’s been so long, but… I’d recognize that gorgeous face anywhere.” He reached out to cup his jaw, brushing his hands along it like he was porcelain glass and not their rival King.
Vegetta would never say it aloud, but he had to agree that their rival was… quite attractive.
“He’s hurt.” Mendo’s brows furrowed, fingers picking at the dried blood running down his nose. “You hurt him.” He was glaring at Vegetta and he knew he’d have to answer fast.
“He fought back, but also he was wearing a helmet so I didn’t know.” What a ridiculous piece that had been, if he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he'd have been dead without a second thought. “My apologies, my liege.”
Mendo’s frown softened, “He was always so reckless, but… thank you. You’ve secured the most valuable loot of all today.” He put his hands on his hips, “You know all this fighting… it gets a bit tedious. I would love to have peace one day.” He gestured to Foolish, “A political marriage would solve so many issues.”
Vegetta’s eyes widened, “Sir?”
“Put him in the dungeons, you’ve been reassigned to watch him.” Mendo started to walk off. “I’ll return to see him, for now, help him settle in.”
Vegetta was speechless, but then again, what other outcome was there to this? Mendo had been pining for the rival King for over a decade and now seeing the man in person, he did understand a bit- but political marriage?
He sighed, shoulders slacking, only to straighten up again as he returned home, walking towards their castle with his new charge. Vegetta would not fail his King, even as this queasy feeling sprung up everytime he looked down at Foolish.
It wasn’t like the sight of the injuries bothered him, not at all, certainly not blood. Maybe it was his youth? He was an adult, but a young one for sure. No, Mendo just turned twenty, that couldn’t be it…
Why did he look so wrong- like he was… missing something.
Vegetta arrived at the castle, pushing past the maids and guards, ordering them away as he traveled down to their dungeons. He stripped the man of the rest of his gear, leaving him only with his pants and pulling over a simple shirt over his bandaged wounds. No shoes either as per protocol so he’d have a harder time escaping.
He left the royal leaflets.
Speaking of protocol however…
He grabbed some rope, scowling at himself as he pulled the man’s hands behind his back. He was slumped forward, utterly out of it as he did it, but orders were orders no matter the strain on his injuries. Once secure, he picked the man up again and took him to the cell at the back of the room, the only one with a window to the outside world, spinning the key in his hand.
The priority cell if you will.
Inside was a chamber pot and a notch in the wall to further tie their prisoners down. He ignored it and put the man under the window on the straw that made up the bottom of the place, the bed effectively. It had always been barbaric but it was… how they did it.
Vegetta stepped back from where he’d leaned the man against the wall. It was a pitiable sight, the once King of a nation stripped to simple clothes save those leaflets and dried blood over his face from a no doubt broken nose healed poorly by the healing serum he’d administered.
He hated it, so he left Foolish, returning to the front of the dungeons, grabbed a rag and rinsed it with water from the guards’ quarters. He returned to the cell, unlocked it and reentered dragging in the chair that usually sat outside to watch the prisoners.
Vegetta set the chair up in front of the man, one hand under his chin while the other dabbed delicately over the crusty blood. It was soothing if the context of the situation was anything other than reality.
A King who’d tried to invade his home, now completely beholden to him.
Vegetta paused, considering the man, really looking at him, hand turning and twisting taht delicate little chin… only for emerald eyes to open and for the briefest of moments he didn’t only see those- he saw golden skin, pointy ears, even a violet earring-
He gasped, letting go like he’d been shocked and Foolish looked up at him quizzingly before he blinked rapidly and the realization of where he was visibly sunk in, the King’s shoulders slumping as he looked down, away.
Shame.
He wouldn’t have minded staring into those eyes a bit longer.
Vegetta crossed his arms over the back of the chair and simply watched him as Foolish didn’t move, didn’t speak, nothing.
After all… there was little to be said, the situation was painfully obvious.
This would simply be the relationship of a jailor and his prisoner.
Nothing less and nothing… more?