Warnings: slavery, abuse, rape, mpregs, kawaiiness, LEMON, angst...

Rating: NC17

Disclaimers: Well, let’s go over this again, shall we? I own Sage. Sorta. At any rate, he hangs around me in his various incarnations. I do not own Dragonball Z or any original canon characters...except Vegeta. And Radditz. And Kakkarott/Goku. And I might own Turles when all is said and done...What??? *smirks*

Always for my beloved, sparkling tsuin *chu* brat koi!!!

And dedicated with especial thanks and bowing and dangling and kissing and stuff to my devoted danglemate and beta’er bakayaro onna for detangling some of my paragraphs, making things more clear, slashing the few “that’s” which seem to linger and providing the ending for this chapter, rounding it out. *glomps and kisses her up leaving lemony smears and chunks of crust in her wake*

And to Xero Sky...for being her hentai self, and for loving Sage, and this fic.

Restraints and Liberations

By Talon

Chapter 3

Progress

Turles awoke quietly as was his habit when on one of his trade runs. A quick listen with his eyes closed, to the hum of the engines and quiet bleeping of the autopilot and watchers told him everything was fine. Well, everything with the ship was fine anyway...

With a sigh, he opened his eyes to a surprise. The little prince was curled up into Turles' side, the tip of his thickly plush blue-black royal tail wound around his cousin's wrist. A faint, high-pitched purr still vibrated from the young chest and Turles couldn’t suppress a faint smile at the scene. It seemed unconsciously the former slave DID trust him, though he may have reacted to any Saiyjin scent that way in his sleep. However he was family, and he did bear a striking resemblance to the boy’s sebba…

He was loathe to move, but he didn’t want to see what the child’s reaction would be waking up so close to him. Besides which, the little cub needed as much rest as he could get. Turles grimaced as he thought, that was one more thing the chibi had been shorted on in his “profession.” For some reason, Turles thought, Sage didn’t trust himself. Didn’t trust his instincts, nor his reactions to them...Turles sighed and carefully unwound Sage’s tail from his wrist and eased himself out of the bed, making certain to cover the child warmly as he made his way to the bathing chamber.

While he was scrubbing in the shower, he thought about his cousin and his cousin’s mate. They had literally been devastated when Sage had disappeared. The part of the palace housing the young royals had just recently finished a major renovation and kidnappers had taken advantage of the clean-up chaos and the disarray over the celebration of Sage’s Naming to commit the crime. After his initial outburst of grief and rage, the boy's father, Vegeta, the Saiyjin no Ouji, had focused his efforts on first finding the kidnappers, and thereby Sage, and when that failed, had concentrated on simply finding the child.

Kakkarott, Turles’ cousin, and the children’s sebba, or birth parent (with the exception of Gohan who had been carried and birthed by Vegeta) had been kept from the active search by the needs of their other three children and had thrown himself into their care, unable at first to believe his first-born had been taken. With their niichan gone the three younger children had been utterly confused and frightened. Kakkarott himself had been panic-stricken when his bond with his child had dwindled to the point he couldn’t find him, and feared the worst; Sage was injured or ill and dying. Which, thought Turles, was probably close to the truth. He knew something of what went on during a slave’s conditioning.

He sighed and rinsed his hair. It would be several days before they were in range to send a message, and a few days beyond that before he could talk directly to them. That would probably be the best bet, he thought. Sending a message…well, it could be lost in any number of ways, or misdirected, and he wanted his cousin to be the first to hear, from him, and be able to actually see Sage.

He turned off the water and hit the recycler to refresh the stuff for the next bath, and snagged a drying cloth, wrapping it around his waist and making his way to the cockpit to run the morning checklists. He kept the ship on Vegeta-sei time, making it easier to get back to normal when he was home. The question was would Sage be willing to speak to his parents by that time? Turles simply didn’t know. It was a strange way for the child to act, he thought as he finished up the first page of the list. The little princes were bonded closely to one and other as well as to both their parents. As far as Turles knew, Sage was no different, perhaps bonded a tiny bit stronger because he was first-born. He sighed, turning his chair to gaze at the still sleeping chibi. What are you hiding from, Sage?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was dark and cold, and he was alone. The aloneness was the worst part. In the beginning, the bond he held with his family had sustained him, they had all been taught to keep the bond open if something like this happened. But that was before...before they sold him. Before they cut his hair off and collared him and branded him in red. Before the “conditioning.” Before he had lost hope.

Scream.

“You are NOT a prince; you are nothing but a slave!!”

“I…I am Vegeta no Ouji...”

Another lash with the ki-whip.

“You are a SLAVE. You have NO NAME. You are NOTHING but what your Master decides you are!”

A defiant, bloody glare.

“I am VEGETA NO OUJI!!! I am the prince of all…”

Again the whip hissed through the air, sizzling slightly as it exploded over the already criss-crossed, bruised flesh, of the small child. The trainer sighed inwardly. This one was tough. This was going into the second week of the conditioning, and he hadn’t broken yet. Fucking royals. They made the worst slaves. Usually the children were the easiest...perhaps it was time to switch tactics. He switched off the whip and gestured for the guards to take the brat back to his kennel. As they picked up the defiant pile of bloody Saiyjin, the trainer caught his chin and forced his eyes up. “You are a slave. You are not a prince. Tomorrow, I think you will realize the truth of this.” He smiled coldly as the brat spat in his face. Oh yes, when this one finally broke, it would be VERY satisfying.

The screams echoing throughout the training centre the following day made even the oldest and most experienced slaves shiver uncomfortably. Most of them had been born slaves and thus had not gone through the conditioning, but had worked here most, if not all of their lives. They had heard everything, seen everything, assisted in everything, but those screams haunted the dreams of those who heard them.

It was a small noise, nearly inaudible and to cause such pain, the trainer thought as he snapped another bone in the brat’s tail. The tail could be a real advantage in a Saiyjin slave he thought...pity the risks of leaving one intact usually outweighed the benefits...

“What are you, boy?”

“I…I am the Saiyjin n…no…”

*snap*

Scream.

The trainer ran a casual hand down the line of broken bones causing another scream louder than the first. And for the first time...begging.

“Please...please stop...”

The trainer put his mouth close to the boy’s ear. “You know how to make this stop, pretty thing.”

A choking, sobbing gasp. “I...I...I can’t…no more...please...”

*snap*

SCREAM!!!

“What are you, boy??”

There was silence, save the boy’s tearing sobs. The trainer’s hand hovered near the next small bone in the tail when he heard a gasping whisper.

“No...I...I...I...”

“You’re what, boy? What are you?”

Whimpering harshly, the voice of the once named heir to the Saiyjin throne ground out, “I...I am a slave...”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Turles was desperately trying to wake Sage as he thrashed, caught in the throes of what obviously was a nightmare. It alarmed him Sage had bitten through his bottom lip rather than make a sound. It was as though he were too terrified to scream, or had lost the ability to do so.

Abandoning his efforts, he scooped the boy up and took the struggling, whimpering bundle into the bathing chamber where he stood under the lukewarm spray, holding him carefully and speaking soothingly as Sage came awake with a start.

“Shhh...saa, it’s ok, Sage, you’re safe, remember? You’re here with me on my ship…I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He purred, hoping something of what he was saying was getting through to the terrified child.

A whispering voice.

“Master?”

“No, Sage, no master, and no slave. I am Turles, your cousin on your sebba’s side. You are the Saiyjin no Ouji, the Crown Prince of all Saiyjins.”

A low, keening wail of distress answered him as small arms found their way around his neck, and Turles stood stock still in surprise as Sage buried his face into his neck and wept.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had taken awhile to calm the child, but he managed it in the end. Sage was currently sitting in the cut-down brown pants waiting for the tunic to finish it’s cycle in the clothes refresher while Turles piled food on the common table.

He was curled in on himself, his knees up to his chin, his arms and top half of his tail wrapped around them, pale and shaking slightly as he watched Turles prepare breakfast. The trader set a plate of food in front of him, with the curt instruction to eat. Sage uncurled himself and obediently picked up a spoon and began to eat listlessly.

Turles watched him for a moment before casually going over what they would be doing the next few days.

“In three days we’ll stop at space station Du’chvle for a quick re-fuel. We won’t be there long, but long enough so we can get you some decent clothes.”

Sage looked confused. He opened his mouth to speak, then apparently thought better of it and went back to his food.

“What is it?”

“It’s just...well, you already bought me, gave me clothes, took off my collar and paid to have my tail restraint removed, used gel to fix my tail...I…I don’t have any way to pay for these things.”

Turles stared at him for a moment then laughed. “Sage, for starters you are a prince.” He chose to ignore the flinch and spike of fear scent at those words. “Second of all, you are family. Thirdly, while my clothes cover you up, they can’t be terribly comfortable, and besides, you don’t want to show up on Vegeta-sei in my hand-me-downs, do you?”

The boy appeared to stop breathing for a moment. “We...you...I...you never said we were going back there...” he said breathlessly, as though someone had just hit him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him.

Turles gave him a strange look and said slowly, “Of course we’re going home. Your parents have been searching for you ever since you vanished. They never gave up, the searches never faltered. Where did you think we were going?”

“I...I...I didn’t think...I was just so glad to be away...but I don’t want to go home!!!” The sentence was punctuated with a plaintive wail, one that tore at Turles’ heart.

“But why?” Turles was baffled.

“I can’t tell you.” Sage’s voice was quiet, and horribly sad. “Please don’t make me, Mas...sir.”

Turles narrowed his eyes and considered his small cousin, deciding to let the matter drop for the time being. He said as much, “I won’t ask you...not right now. But you will tell me, before we reach home. We are going home, Sage.”

The boy nodded miserably, and Turles regretted his somewhat harsh tone. He softened it, continuing to list their activities over the next few days until they reached the station.

“There is a quandary, of course; your control over your ki is all but gone. With the upsurge since you were first kidnapped, it could be a real problem. In fact...” he paused, reaching over a shoulder and into a drawer, drawing out a blue-tinted scouter and fastening it over one ear. “I’ve been wondering,” he muttered as he activated the device. And whistled, low at the reading. The boy had been classified as super-elite at birth, completely dissipating the lingering doubt over Kakkarott’s misclassification at birth, (he had been classified third-class initially, but that had been disproved during his first year, his ranking skyrocketing to super-elite, the same as his father, and incidentally one little Ouji named Vegeta) but the numbers scrolling across the eyepiece could rival both his parent’s current power levels, unstable though it was. All the more reason for his next idea.

“Well, that settles it. Do you remember anything of your ki-control training?”

Sage thought hard, and nodded slowly. “I sort of remember, but...”he hesitated, not wishing to anger the older Saiyjin again.

“But what, chibi?”

“I...I can’t remember how it felt to do it. I can’t remember how to do it, not correctly anyway...” his voice trailed off and he hung his head, ashamed.

“Hey, don’t do that,” said Turles, his voice showing his concern. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about that. You’ve had your ki continuously suppressed for the past three years. It’s no wonder you can’t remember. But we can work on that.”

Sage’s head jerked up. Turles could swear he saw a spark of interest in those night-washed eyes. “Really?” Sage asked almost eagerly.

“Really,” confirmed Turles, smiling slightly. “Now finish your breakfast. When you’re done, I want to check your tail and look over some of your wounds, and we can get started. We’ll make good use of the time until we refuel.”

Sage nodded, his scent clearly showing the lightening of his mood, and he ate with a semblance of a real appetite.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sage fidgeted slightly in his chair as he considered the srelugh board in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, Turles’ Captain would trap his Ou and the game would be over. He took his time, remembering playing this game with his grandsire, and his father, knowing he needed to look ahead, to what might happen before he moved. He frowned, as he decided against sacrificing one of his Guardsmen for better board position. He wished Toranksu, the elder of his twin siblings were here. Tora-chan was a veritable genius when it came to this game...

He sighed, wondering idly what it was about the ship that relaxed him so. As he made his move, he nearly dropped the game piece, realizing the difference. The ship was quiet! Everything, Turles’ voice, the engine noises, even the alarms and watchers were blessedly quiet. He had the misfortune of being sold to and owned by beings who seemed to be half deaf, and wanted noise around them all the time. Sage had suffered massive headaches during his three years as a slave, he had never adjusted to the onslaught of volume, and it was so strange now to be without. Not that he was complaining, the very realization had put a slow smile on his face as he relished once again being in the company of one of his own kind.

Of course, he hadn’t wanted to come initially, he hadn’t avoided detection by other Saiyjins for this long just to be caught and dragged back home after all, but...being in the presence of another Saiyjin, especially one who reeked of kin scent made him question why he didn’t want to return home. And he hated thinking about that. It made him realize what a coward he was, and reinforced his determination he was not fit for the title of Crown Prince. And his father...well Papa would be...Papa.

He shook his head sharply and returned his attention to the board. Turles had made his move, and Sage saw an opening in his defenses. Always being taught it was better to attack than defend, he didn’t hesitate to make the most of that momentary breach, sacrificing one of his Scholars in order to advance. The resulting battle was fierce, and in the end, Sage had successfully trapped Turles’ Ou, and won the game. Turles looked pleased, and Sage found he was breathing hard from the excitement. Normally after a game like that, one of the two players would invariably (in Sage’s household at least) launch himself over the board and a rousing scuffle would ensue.

He looked up at Turles, his eyes shining, his face flush with the heady rush of victory, the tip of his tail twitching happily, and Turles laughed out loud.

“The only thing that would make you look more Saiyjin, boy, is if you had blood dripping from your mouth and gore all over your front.”

Sage smirked.

Turles dropped the pieces of the game he had been putting away. That look...for just a moment, despite the baggy, ill-fitting clothes, and the various injuries, Sage had looked every inch the Saiyjin no Ouji. A beautiful, fleeting heartbeat of a moment. Then, it was gone.

Turles sighed as he placed the game box back in the storage locker and prepared for the next systems check. He hoped and prayed to whatever gods or goddesses listening to see more glimpses of the young ouji he remembered. As their journey continued, perhaps those moments would become more frequent as well. In the end, the physical, mental and emotional healing only time could furnish would provide the final and currently still unknown outcome.

To be continued...