#jiirens

           Nappa grit his teeth as the heavy door closed on the young prince, his enraged bellows snuffed the instant the locking mechanisms clicked into place. The weight in his chest suffocated, and the building rage he had no choice but to keep in check scorched him from the inside out. He begged and pleaded with Frieza to let Vegeta’s verbal lash out slide this time with every excuse he could think up on the fly: he’s still mourning the destruction of his home planet and it has made him overly rash and thoughtless, the he could handle the punishment himself this time and would ensure it never happened again, the Nappa himself would undergo discipline in his prince’s stead, for the insurrection was an obvious show of his failing in raising him. All to no avail; the Saiyan general could only stand by helplessly as the soldier tossed the boy into the pitch black room. No light. No sound. Cold. A cell created specifically for sensory deprivation.

           Even as Frieza and his goons returned to their business, Nappa remained stalwart outside the door, a gargantuan sentry with a stony expression. To ensure none of the soldiers who brought him food or knew of the prince’s whereabouts got any ideas about trying to abuse him. To steal any glimpse he could of the prodigy Saiyan when the door cracked open, a peep from him so he  could be certain he still lived. The kid was tough but he was just that: a child. Stubborn and would refuse the paltry meals for as long as he could. Nappa tried not to consider the idea of him offing himself. Vegeta held his head high after the news of their people’s demise, playing the part of a diligent prince shoved into the role of leading the remainder of the Saiyans despite his young age, lack of experience, and the monumental tragedy laid before them. But Nappa still worried it was all a front, but hoped he truly was simply too young to deeply feel the weight placed on his shoulders yet.

           Six days Nappa remained posted at the cell door. He refused meals and any company outside of Raditz who often joined him in between his training sessions, sleep, or his own meals. He hovered menacingly over each soldier that brought the prince food and water and sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs with threats in the face of the insulting remarks. When he managed a wink of sleep, he dozed on his feet, the slightest of sounds waking him and reminding him of his duty. His promise and this failure to keep it. This would be his punishment.

            He wasted no time when given the okay to retrieve the prince, entering the cell and nearly freezing in his tracks when he found him curled in the corner, tail wrapped tightly around himself for the modicum of comfort it could offer him. The child’s tail bristled and his body stiffened with a feral hiss when Nappa scooped him up. He calmed in moments, and the trek to the room he shared with Raditz was a silent one. 

            Nappa deposited the prince on his bunk with a gentleness uncharacteristic of the giant and watched as he burrowed beneath the blanket and turned his back on the general. Raditz snored lightly in the bunk above. Nappa lowered himself into the only seat in the room. The situation only reminded him how powerless he truly was when it came to protecting not only Vegeta as he promised the king and queen, but Raditz as well. Vegeta himself surpassed him already, and neither of them were a match for Frieza. Thus, he had no prayer in stopping Frieza in whatever abuses he chose to enact on the prince.

             He swept a hand over his face. He couldn’t tell how long he sat watching in complete silence, but exhaustion and obligation kept the general rooted to the seat. What compelled him to speak he could only guess at, but the words sprang from his throat before he could stop them, utterances that weighed on his tongue since the incident days before: “I’m sorry, kiddo. So damn sorry. ” His grip tightened on his knees. “I wish I could protect you like your parents wanted...Like you deserve.”

           He didn’t expect the boy to respond, to turn over, or to meet his hardened, cold gaze. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t do you any good. Mother, father.... everyone else is dead. We survived, and we’ll keep doing it...no matter what it takes.” He paused, and Nappa noted his fingers grip the sheets beneath him. “We’re the lucky ones.”