Chapter Text
Things had been going smoothly; it was only natural that they did once Lord Frieza was patrolling the stars once again. His conquering of other planets wasn't any of the monkey's business; as long as he left their planet alone, they shouldn't be pestering him any more. If he were a kinder man, he would say he owed them a favor for bringing them back. Since he was instead a wiser man, he thought that the act of sparing their lives was favor enough.
He'd repaid any sort of debt he'd had in doing so, and now he would never be in the humiliating position of owing them anything from him again. It had been a month since he'd arrived back in his rightful place among the stars; he'd informed his father of his return to life, met with both him and his brother during that time, though the latter had been more at his father's insistence than anything else. A lot changed when you were dead for two decades, which he couldn't say was surprising; how was one to keep control over his armies and planets when he was no longer in this earthly plane?
It meant he had quite a lot of work to do, but thankfully he was the kind of person who enjoyed his job. Well, except for the long periods of time between regaining control over planets. That was a bit boring.
It was during one of those time periods that he sat at the cockpit with his fist propped up against his cheek, a scowl on his face. He wasn't angry or disappointed with anything that has transpired, not really, but instead he found himself quite frustrated because of a persistent upset stomach that refused to go away. He didn't get sick. To his memory, he never had, save for a couple of fits of something-or-other when he was very young.
Falling ill simply wasn't something that happened when you were the single most powerful being ever to have been born in the galaxy; the royal family's genetic history of being mutants already made them resistant to natural afflictions as it was. But for the last two weeks he'd found himself periodically hunched over the toilet in his private washroom, sometimes vomiting, sometimes dry heaving, always very much hating the entire affair. But he was Lord Frieza, and a Lord Frieza that was working to regain his former glory to boot- he did not have time for being stuck in bed over a stomach upset.
As much as he hated the notion of giving into his frustrations, one particular heave of pain in his abdomen seemed to push him over the edge. With a subdued groan of irritation, he swung his legs over the side of the cockpit and fell down onto the floor much to the sudden surprise of his pilots, turning and walking down the hallway. The metal doors shut behind him, and he tried to remember where exactly the med bay even was. It was scarce they even needed it.
Any of his men who sustained injuries were typically dead before they could even hope for medical attention anyway-
"Lost, are we?"
The emperor gave a startle at the sound of a woman's voice, head whipping over to see none other than his nanny hovering at his side. Berryblue wore her usual mellow smile, hands tucked behind her back, "I figured you would decide to make a trip to the med bay eventually; even you can only keep up your stubbornness for so long, my lord."
"Yes, yes, may as well get it over with," he replied with a wave of his hand, and continued walking. "Sooner late than never as they say. Has this ship always been so big?"
"This is a much newer model of vessel than what you were accustomed to, Lord Frieza." Berryblue hummed, "Though the empire has struggled in the years past your untimely demise, the technological facets have remained largely up to date. So if it makes you feel any better, no, they have not always been quite this big." He'd moved to turn left, before Berryblue stated, "The medical bay is to the right, my lord."
"I knew that," he quickly replied, turning on heel to walk in the right direction. He stopped before the door and pushed the button to make it slide open, taking a step inside with his nanny floating behind him. "Your lord requests assistance! Is anyone even here?"
His voice immediately sent any medics in the room rushing over, some moving to set aside a cot and make sure all necessities were ready at any moment's notice, others coming to ask Frieza what the problem seemed to be, Berryblue watching in bemusement all the while. He'd soon found himself at one of their cots after having his blood drawn; Berryblue hadn't needed to put a bandaid on the prick mark, but she'd insisted upon it, if only for the amusement of Frieza protesting that he wasn't a child. "Have you any ideas for what this affliction could be, my lord? I haven't seen you exhibiting many other symptoms beyond the nausea."
"Other than incorrectly prepared food, no," he replied. "Which I have considered, believe me." He rather disliked being laid prone against a cot as if he was some sort of invalid, watching medics bustle about in his peripheral vision. "Has anybody else on this ship had a similar affliction?"
"I've taken the liberty of asking around when you first began to fall ill," she replied, still floating by the bed, expression never changing, "Neither myself, Kikono, or anyone else have been experiencing anything similar. Though you certainly receive higher quality meals than most here, much of the food is prepared in close proximity; were it food poisoning, you certainly wouldn't be the only one."
"Then someone on board is asymptomatic and contagious with whatever I've come down with," he replied with a scowl. "It's simply the only explanation left. What I want to know is how long it's going to last so that I may return to my post in peace."
"Have patience, my lord; I'm sure they'll have the results in just a moment." She was the only person who could have told him to have "patience" of all things without fear of reprimand. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, before a trembling doctor stepped forward with a slip of paper, seeming to stammer as he attempted to dress the emperor. Berryblue gave a roll of her eyes, taking the paper from his hands and dismissing him with a wave.
Both watched as the doctor ran off until he was entirely out of sight, like he was afraid. Frieza's eyes narrowed and he moved to sit up a bit, "Well, out with it. What is it?"
Berryblue scanned the page's contents, humming quietly, face remaining as nonplussed as ever; that was something of a comfort. If it was something dire, surely even she would look a little alarmed. She spoke after a moment, "Well, my lord, it seems to be good news all around. Your blood pressure is regular, heart rate is normal, all vitals are as they should be... ah, and one little thing," What she said next, with the same amount of casualty as discussing that month's planetary earnings, was perhaps the most tonally inappropriate thing he had ever heard, or would ever hear again: "You're pregnant."
His jaw dropped; it was involuntary. For an uncomfortable amount of time he stared at her with the widest eyes she'd ever seen (which was saying something after putting up with him his whole life), every muscle in his body seeming to tense. "Excuse me?"
"See for yourself, my lord." She held out the paper, which practically tore in half with how fast he tore it from her grip. She tucked her hands behind her back, continuing, "Right down there at the bottom, you see?"
He said nothing, even as his claws tore into the sides of the paper and his jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. Pregnant. It wasn't exactly a surprise, per se; it was something subject to happen to his species at any time. But gods, why now? He was in the middle of trying to reclaim the galaxy and get back on his feet, and now he had to deal with the humiliation of being pregnant?!
"In all honesty, I'd had my suspicions." Berryblue continued talking, as though this wasn't the worst circumstance that had ever happened to anyone, "This certainly isn't the first time I've witnessed this; after all, your father was in a similar way before both you and your older brother were on the way. And if you do not take into account the years you were dead, you are still at the proper age for it."
"I don't have time to sire a child; I'm a goddamned emperor!" He barked. "This has never been something I- gah!" He threw the paper down and shot to his feet, abruptly stomping off out of the room and causing any medics inside to shy away as fast as possible.
Berryblue watched him go, any prior amusement over the situation dashed away as a small frown came to her face. It was the reaction she suspected in most aspects, but seeing it in motion now took any possible enjoyment out of the equation. She floated off after him, eventually catching up where she'd suspected he'd gone off to and stopping before the door to his quarters. "Lord Frieza? I know you're in there, sire."
"Go find something else to do that isn't nagging me!" barked his voice from the other side. "I have things to think about alone and the last thing I need is any of your comments!" What followed was presumably a kick against something, probably the wall.
There were times she could broach him when he got into moods like this; ones where he was angry, but probably needed the company more than he realized. But this was, she knew, more than a simple tantrum. She merely dipped her head, not that he could see it, and turned with her back to the door, "Very well, my Lord; should you change your mind, you know I'm not going to go far."
An angered yell was heard from the other side, which was likely the only answer she was going to get.
Frieza had his claws dug into a throw pillow at that moment, feathers slipping out and leisurely floating in the air. With a growl that morphed into a cracked yell, he threw it against the wall with an unsatisfying, soundless thud. So what if he was throwing a tantrum? There were much more destructive ways he could be doing it; his ship should be grateful. But how else was he supposed to respond? He couldn't be pregnant! He was a goddamn emperor!
An emperor with too much to lose, too much he'd already lost; his position, his planets, his dignity and respect after the humiliating defeat on Namek. It wasn't like when his father had him and Cooler, when he was already at the peak of his empire and with millions on their knees before him. Why now? Of all the random, dumb, cruel luck, why did this have to happen now? Never would have been preferable, but why when it was possibly the worst thing that could be happening??
He couldn't be seen while pregnant. Which meant he had to have his people do the dirty work for him. Which meant he would be seen as a cowardly ruler, someone who won't get his own hands dirty. They'd say he'd gone soft. They'd say he was losing his touch. People wouldn't be frightened of him anymore. There wouldn't be stories told about him to scare children into their beds because he would be able to show just how horrifying he was.
It wasn't as if it would last forever, but what then? A child, something he had never factored into any of his plans, not even before he'd died?
... which might have been a mild error on his part, not that he would ever admit it. Why would he ever need to consider the possibility of children when he'd originally been planning to wish for immortality? What need would he have had for an hour when his empire was meant to have been everlasting, an eternal plague across the galaxy? He might have still considered it if not for being subjected to a taste of never ending life in Earth's hell.
It was true that immortality was not exactly in his plans anymore, but his reign should prove to be impactful enough to carry him on even through his inevitable death. How could he guarantee an heir could carry that for him? He couldn't throw that much of a risk- not this early in his reign, anyway. And especially not so soon after his resurrection.
The emperor tensed at the sound of his door opening, whipping around and prepared to blast whoever dared to enter his quarters without permission into oblivion... but it was only Berryblue, hovering with a tray topped with steaming tea and a little plate of scones. They met eyes, hers as unbothered as always, but remaining in the doorway. "I suspect you would have preferred wine, but I believe this blend will be a close substitute as far as taste is concerned."
He scoffed under his breath and shook a feather from his fingers. "I suppose I can't be having wine anymore regardless, now can I? Ugh, just-" He pinched his temples with one hand and vaguely gestured to a small table inside with the other, "Just put it down."
She floated over and set it beside his bed, looking to the mess of feathers littering the floor and drifting in the air. One fell into her palm, smiling blankly as she turned it over in her fingers, "I must say, I'm earnestly impressed with your restraint, Lord Frieza. The young lord I knew before would have destroyed nearly a quarter of this ship by now."
"I don't take pride in destroying what I just got back," he replied with a brisk swish of his tail, arms at his sides with clenched fists. "What is it, then? You come to placate me with sweets so that you can rub in the absurdity of the situation? You have no need to. I'm fully aware of everything that's about to happen to me."
"I have no interest in rubbing anything in, my lord." She assured him, tone absent of sarcasm. "Bringing you sweets like this was what I always did when you were upset; like when you were a little boy and your older brother was bullying you. And I'm perfectly aware that you're grown, but I suppose old habits die hard."
"I'd almost prefer roughhousing with my brother instead of this," he grumbled, even as he stepped over to the table and plopped himself down onto a cushion on the floor to take a seat. He plucked a scone between two fingers, "You were with my father for years. What exactly does this entire ordeal entail? I have a vague understanding but not enough to properly schedule out my plans to be in accordance with... whatever is about to happen." He had just said that he knew everything about it, but it was no surprise that he had been fibbing for the sake of dignity. He likely didn't even realize he had.
"It doesn't last for long; your species' gestation rate typically goes for about six to seven months." She replied, electing to remain hovering rather than sitting beside him, "To my knowledge, icejin normally lay eggs, but the royal family's mutated bloodline eliminates the need. The nausea should subside after a short while, and then it's merely a waiting game, my lord."
The scone dropped back onto the plate before he could take a bite, a look of horror flooding his face. "Eliminates the need- you're not going to tell me that it would be a live birth?! How is that more efficient than eggs?!"
"I suppose it cuts out the middleman, so to speak, my lord." His nanny replied with a simple shrug, "After all, the more time the child is in an egg, the more time spent waiting to judge their prowess. Lord Cooler was born and placed in a tube nearly straight away in an effort to increase both his strength and his genetic makeup- such a thing would not have been possible for some time had he been born in an egg."
"Hmph. Any child of mine wouldn't need modification to begin with," he replied, picking the food up again. "Whatever. I know the medics here will take care of it when the time comes. Six to seven months... And how will the symptoms progress, then? Will I visibly show and when?"
"From my recollection of how it was for your father, he began showing around the second month with both you and your brother. The nausea subsided relatively quickly, though after that it was just a need for more food and more rest." She thought for a moment, chuckling at the memory, "And he would get so emotional around those middle months, the poor sap. Have you ever seen your father cry? Because I did, quite often in that time."
The alien pulled a face at the very thought. "I'd prefer to never experience it. Well, I certainly won't be dealing with that." He took a bite of scone and chewed. "Fine. When it starts to show then I'll figure it out. Either I deal with it or resort to video comms. Perhaps I can scare people by announcing my heir. Bah, I'll workshop it."
"Would that not theoretically be the most beneficial news of all, given the circumstances?" Berryblue reminded him with a grin, "The galaxy seeing that not only has its rightful lord and commander miraculously returned to life, but is bringing forth a new heir to his throne, ensuring that his reign will be everlasting, no matter what may come after? This little prince could very well be a great sign to your subjects of your empire's strength and vitality, Lord Frieza."
"Mm. You do have a point." His back straightened and he scowled, which looked a bit ridiculous with the delicate teacup perched between his fingers. "For what reason should I ever feel the need to hide? I have never shied away from anyone or anything. Just because the timing is inopportune does not mean that it can't be used to my advantage."
"That's the spirit, my lord." She replied warmly- as warmly as Berryblue could ever muster for anything, which was only a few degrees about her regular disposition. "Do you plan on informing your father? I'm certain King Cold would be elated by news such as this; his prized son returned to life, followed suit with news of a grandchild. A parent could scarcely ask for more."
"His elation is exactly why I want to wait a week or two," he replied. "My father is a formidable and extremely respectable force - but he lets his guard down too much when it comes to family. I need the time to be right so as not to compromise things. And before you ask about my brother, because I know you will-" He took a sip of his tea, "It's none of his business."
"As you wish, Lord Frieza." She hovered by him a moment longer, watching him nibble the scone like a bird, perhaps wondering if it too would betray him as all food seemed to as of late. She didn't hesitate, per se, but merely paused briefly before reaching out and laying something resembling a motherly hand on his shoulder, "You are a strong and capable young man, my lord. You have conquered far worse situations than this one- what is to come will be no exception."
He started at the touch; Berryblue was the only person in his life short of his father that was allowed to lay a hand on him so casually; anyone else would have been turned into a pulp. Even so, as always, he stiffened, pinprick irises flicking down to look at her hand. Finally he replied with a bit of verbal stumble that he tried to mask, "Well, of course it will. Naturally it will take a step or two to adapt- but that is nothing compared to what I've accomplished before. I wouldn't even call it a setback."
–
It was a rare occurrence that any member of the Frieza Force was given what could be considered "a day off." The empire was a well oiled machine that needed to be in constant motion, no matter what the feelings of anyone involved may have been, and rest could not be afforded. But for once, perhaps the first time since they'd been employed, the crew aboard Frieza's main vessel had indeed been given something of a leave for the day, on account of the emperor having taken residence in his quarters. But Berryblue was of the belief that idle hands were the devil's work, thus deciding to lessen some of her young lord's workload by going around and gathering reports from the ship's personnel on current planetary statuses, income, and such like.
He could sulk in his room all he wanted, but that didn't mean things had to grind to a halt completely. If he was in his right mind, he would have known that, but he hadn't been in a state like that for days now.
She had known this would happen. It had happened with his father around the four month mark as well, both times, and it was predictable that he'd think he was immune, but she couldn't help feeling at least a bit sorry for the poor thing. It was for that reason that she was currently floating to his quarters, equipped with both reports and a small plate of food; even if he was in an emotional way, he couldn't forget to eat.
His appetite had been just as voracious as his father's so far, which also wasn't a surprise, but hopefully this fared better than him sneaking into the kitchens and grabbing the first thing he could find out of one of the fridges. At least when she stopped outside his room, there weren't any sounds of things being thrown about.
She balanced the tray in one hand, reaching out to touch the access pad with the other, but a noise from beyond the door gave her pause. It was nothing violent, nothing that suggested a tantrum, but rather... a soft, wet sniffling, followed by a watery hiccup. She felt something pang in her chest, one she hadn't felt since her young lord had been small, and a frown crossed her face as she carefully opened the door.
As soon as the door opened, rustling was heard; it didn't take long for her to realize that it was the covers upon his somewhat comically massive bed. He had covered himself with the puffed comforter entirely, and barked from under it, "I didn't say anyone could come in! Leave immediately!"
He was obviously attempting to hide it, but it was even more obvious than he had been weeping, as evidenced by the watery edge to his voice. "Lord Frieza, it's only I; I've brought you the day's reports and some dinner. Would you like me to just leave them?" Even if it wouldn't have been preferable, she still wanted to give him a choice in the matter.
He made a rather overdramatic groan, and after a few seconds, the covers were angrily pushed back so he could sit up. He was scowling deeply, eyes tinted red around the corners. "Just tell me and leave me be; you of all people should know I don't have time to read the damned things."
She watched his nails digging into the soft give of his comforter, curled in against the pillow mass and looking so much younger than he really was. Maybe some part of her was simply too sentimental for her own good.
"The reports can wait." She replied simply, floating off to the table beside his bed and setting the tray down, "No matter how you're feeling, you do still need to eat, my lord."
"You came in here to give reports, so give them!" He barked, though something about her flat, subtly concerned expression made his own morph into surprise. Irritated, he clenched his teeth and snappily reached an arm out to grab one of the fruits she had brought, "I'll eat while you tell me; is that suitable for you?!"
"Alright then; I'll read off these reports while you eat, and then I'll just be on my way and leave you alone." She said it casually, eyes placidly closed, flicking the small tablet screen with her finger. She peered up over the bridge of her nose, "Don't worry, my lord, they are quite brief; I won't be bothering you long."
"Good," he snapped, stuffing the fruit into his mouth and digging into it with his teeth. She hadn't seen him act like this since he was a boy. He always took large, angry bites of his food when he was upset.
Nonetheless, she read off the reports as ordered- she still had to do as he asked, even if she did have a far higher standing than most others. True to her word, it was a short list- short enough that he hadn't entirely finished his food when she'd read it all. She tucked the tablet away, hands behind her back, "There; as quick and painless as ripping a bandaid off. Shall I be going, my lord?"
"Yes, you will," he mumbled, placing his now empty glass onto the tray with the other dishes. The tips of his fingers pressed together in front of his face, eyes tightly closing as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. The waver to his voice was enough of an indicator that he was on the verge of crying again; he likely had been this whole time.
She pondered if it was purely out of wanting to keep up his image, or if he still remembered the days of his youth, when his older brother had jeered that he was a crybaby, and was trying to prove that he was better than that. She floated in place for a moment, watching the emperor, debating whether or not it would improve anything, before deciding to float up before him on the bed. "If I may ask you one simple question before I go, Lord Frieza... are you alright?"
"Of course I'm not alright you naggingly persistent-" He groaned all at once and grabbed his head with both hands, "Get off of my bed! This is not your bed, it is mine! Lord Frieza! GET OFF, GET OUT!!"
She remained unfettered; she has arguably faced far worse tantrums when he'd been a boy, completely unbothered over whether or not he may accidentally kill her in the process. But she'd known him ever since he'd been born, and even when he lashed out like a cornered animal, she knew it was only because it was all he would allow himself to do. Her small blue hands reached out to him, leaning in and carefully cupping his cheeks, not retracting even when he flinched, and for once, having no quips or snarks to provide.
He had gasped a brief "What are you-" just as his eyes flicked up to meet hers. She saw it then; the spitting image of him as a boy in the middle of a tantrum. Not anger, but rather surprise, maybe fear for himself. Even all this time later, he retained that ability to get upset over the smallest things, and that was present right in front of her as tears budded in his red rimmed eyes, teeth gritting so tightly she could hear it. "What are you d-doing..."
How easy it would have been all those years ago; when he'd been smaller than her, when he'd come running and weeping, ready to bury himself in her skirt and hide away from the world. How easy it would have been back then to take him in her arms, when for a moment that place held more safety and protection than a fleet of soldiers ever could, and pet his head and hold him close and let him know she was there.
But things weren't that easy now. Maybe they never would be again. But that didn't stop her from extending a thumb to wipe a falling tear, even as his jaw was clenched so hard it shook, and giving him a look that simply read What I've always done, you silly thing.
It strained him to speak, "D-damn it..." not because it hurt, but because it was taking every ounce of willpower to keep his posture and face straight. Even just saying that much made fresh tears stream down his pale cheeks, and he clenched his eyes shut tightly as if that would stop them. She was never really sure what quite happened in between all these years. Certainly she could put together pieces of the puzzle, but it was still hard to see someone who she knew could be so vulnerable absolutely loathe the very idea of being so. Maybe that's just what happened when you grew up. You tucked things away until they bubbled over because nobody told you you were allowed to feel anything other than rage.
"Let- stop," he muttered, claws digging into the comforter beneath him.
"If i leave this room," Berryblue spoke in a gentle, measured tone, "You're still going to be doing exactly what you're trying so hard not to do right now, only you'll be doing it all alone, and I know you may pretend that's what you want, but I've known you your entire life, my lord... and if you need to cry, or yell, or scream, or simply talk about what's tormenting you, it won't leave this room. It would be between you and I, no one else."
Something about her words, her touch, or perhaps both, snapped the thread he was desperately trying to hold together. Frieza was a composed man who presented himself with an air of elegance, power, and fear, but when he cried, it was ugly. There was simply no other word for it. It resembled a child; a wail, a scrunched up face, hunched shoulders and fists frantically rubbing at his eyes. Snot was budding at his nostrils, and all at once he seemed short of breath, unable to catch his own air due to the sobs desperately crawling out of his throat.
It was almost muscle memory, the way the situation was so familiar from when he was young. She dropped to her knees on the bed, comically short in front of the emperor, perhaps even more so when she allowed him to bury his face in her lap. A little hand stroked his head, managing to gently shush him whenever she could be heard over his sobs, otherwise letting it all come out of him without a word.
It wasn't certain why this was happening or what had caused it; the most obvious answer was his hormones, but hormones tended to amplify pre existing feelings; she had seen that when his father had been pregnant the first time. His sobs came out in waves, hands balled into fists against her lap as he helplessly wailed.
She'd get no answers out of him in the state he was currently in, and thus asked no questions as she let him sob. Eons and millennia very well could have passed by the time his crying began to die down, dwindling and fizzling down into sniffling the final dying embers of a fire. With how loud and unabashed his wailing had been, the new quiet felt almost unnatural.
He was completely curled in on himself, body lightly trembling where he half lay, half sat in her lap. He sniffed, hard, and managed a somewhat groggy and watery, "If you- t-tell anyone about this..."
"Who in the world would I tell?" She replied, hand still petting the back of his head, "No one else on this ship is exactly good for conversation anyway short of Kikono, and even that may be stretching it." She watched his faintly shaking form, the tears staining her skirt as she prompted, "Perhaps even becomes a bit lonesome, hm?"
"... Yes," he replied, trying and failing to inject bitterness in his tone. He sniffed again, then groaned, "It's insulting to even think about it, let alone let it get to me…"
"You're pregnant, my lord." She said it simply, though it wasn't like either needed any reminding ; the bump in the emperor's stomach made it plenty obvious. "Letting things get to you, for lack of better phrasing, is how the process goes. As much as I know that doesn't exactly help."
"So I've heard," he replied with acid in his voice, though it wasn't directed at her. "And just what am I supposed to do about this?! I can't not be in control of my emotions like this; its... it's... god..." He fell further into her lap, an irritated groan pouring out of him.
She may have asked if he'd thought to comm and speak to his father, but she was not fool- the idea of King Cold seeing his son in a state such as this would surely have made her young lord shrivel up in disgust, and his brother was even further out of the question. She considered her next words, not for fear of her own safety, but rather in a way that would coax the extent of his feelings from him the way you coaxed a child with a toy. "I suppose such lonesomeness is only natural, my lord; even if you despised them so, to go from such deep interaction with the saiyans and their friends has been the only kind you've truly had aside from business proceedings and reuniting with your father." She saw something come over his face then- a red tint to his cheeks- and she knew she'd found the nerve. "If I'm not mistaken, you almost seemed a little sad to go when we retrieved you."
"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, even as he made an effort to shift his head so that she could not see the tint to his cheeks. "Whatever relations I had with the saiyans begins and ends with putting up with them and nothing more. They expected me to socialize of all things; morning couldn't have come sooner. If I looked 'sad' it was because you didn't show up earlier!"
"Perhaps with the saiyans, yes..." the smile returned to her face, tilting her head coyly in his direction, "But I couldn't help but notice the way one of them looked at you as you went off; he had a weaker power level than the saiyans, but he was quite handsome, wasn't he? For something as simple as an earthling, that is."
She felt him visibly tense beneath her, which was enough of an answer to her unspoken question. Unexpected, for certain, but not... unbelievable. Not entirely.
"And so what if he did?" he snapped, though the sharpness was covered by the fabric of her uniform slightly muffling him. "Just a stupid human who insisted on spending time with me; I couldn't get him to piss off…"
"Come now, Lord Frieza- I find it hard to believe that you of all people would have any trouble ridding yourself of a little pest like a human, even if you were sworn to brief pacifism." She reminded him, "After all, if he's a friend of the saiyans, he's surely aware of the terror you've wrought upon his companions." There was yet another unspoken question there, one she believed she already knew the answer to. Frieza had never been to entertain the notion of any company he didn't specifically desire to be in his presence, and if the blushing had been any indication, she had a good idea already of what exactly "spending time" consisted of.
... It made one wonder if this pregnancy was as spontaneous as originally believed.
"If all you're going to do is pry into my private life then I don't want you here," the emperor said with a coldness she didn't expect. "It's nothing. It was nothing. He's nothing. All of it is nothing, and the more I lay here and grovel the more time you have to try and peel me open like- like some kind of fruit, and-" He was rambling now, if only to keep his mouth moving so that nobody could get a word in edgewise.
Her lip faintly twitched, something old and ancient in her heart stirring at his words like an old rock wedged tightly in layers and layers of clay. She opened her mouth, in an attempt to speak when he'd found his words hanging, but the two were interrupted by the doors abruptly sliding open. Their heads whipped over to see Kikono standing on the doorway, his already buggy eyes incredibly wide against his yellow face. "L-Lord Frieza!" He stammered, "I'm terribly sorry to barge in unannounced, sire, but there is an urgent matter that requires your attention!!"
If his face was red before, it was burning now as he sat up straight, face contorted in a sudden and dangerous rage, "How dare you come in unannounced?! This is- what? What is it? What's so important that you would risk your life to tell me?!" His hands clutched the blanket so tightly that little holes from his claws appeared, eyes wild and bloodshot and looking quite murderous.
It had been quite some time since he'd fixed any of his servants with such a look, much less one with as many years with the royal family as Kikono, and the color drained from his frog-like face- even Berryblue momentarily feared for his life. But fear gave way entirely for surprise when he stammered, "I-It's just, you see-" He swallowed hard, blurting it all out in one go, "Your elder brother's ship is within our immediate vicinity and he has requested connected docking, my lord!!"
The silence dropped on the room like a heavy weight. Any murderous intent on Frieza's face melted into something nothing short of abject horror, which he quickly tried to mask with a tight jaw. His eyes darted between Kikono and Berryblue, eventually finding a middle point to stare at absolutely nothing. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes to exhale, trying to relax his hands. "Right. Well. Needn't keep him waiting. Go on, then."
"Y-Yes, sir!" He was out of the doorway faster than either could blink, in the event Frieza changed his mind. Berryblue gave a silent exhale, turning to her Lord and watching him rise from the covers and wipe any remaining traces of tears from his face, "Would you prefer if I were to greet Lord Cooler in your stead, my lord?"
"I would sooner crash this ship into the nearest planet; the shame he would go out if his way to throw at me would have around the same effect," he replied with a huff, stepping over to where a small mirror rested on the wall and blinking hard, as if that would remove the red from his eyes. He stalled whatever he was about to do, scowl deepening upon his face. "Berryblue. Not a word of this leaves this room."
"Naturally, Lord Frieza." She replied with a short bow, and both knew not a word more would be said on the matter. For better or for worse.
She nonetheless followed behind him when they left his quarters; the rumbling and clicking heard all around were proof of the two ships having made the connection. Such an act was normally meant only to connect ship's for cargo transportation and trading of supplies- something Frieza knew for a fact Cooler had no need for.
His mind was wracking for any reason his brother would bother stopping by. Just to bother him, most likely. His lips curled downward into a scowl, not that anyone was looking. How he hated small talk. Especially when it was with his loathsome sibling.
He walked crisply down the corridor to the main cockpit room and promptly took a seat. If his sibling wanted to see him, he would make the extra effort.He was the one inconveniencing him, after all, so it was only fair to make this little visit as cumbersome as possible.
Five minutes passed, the silence amongst his servants so tense it could be cut with a knife, but all abruptly stood proper when the doors slid open. Frieza could see the reflection from the ship's massive windshield. Cooler was blessedly in his final form, as opposed to that hideous fifth form he was always so smug about, and flanked by his three lap dogs, standing behind their lord like loyal pups.
Frieza elected not to turn his chair around, studying him from the reflection of the massive overhead windshield. "Hello, brother," he greeted, tone level on the surface, but holding an underlying irritation specifically for his brother to pick up on. "What brings you to my ship? Holidays aren't for a few months."
"Greetings to you as well, little brother." Cooler replied, his tone as measured and calm as it always was; if there was irritation, he was simply better at masking it. "I was admittedly surprised to see your ship's signal approaching so closely over the last day- you're normally quite focused on ensuring our paths never cross." He slightly cocked his head toward the cockpit, red pin pricks meeting Freiza's eyes through his reflection, "Though, I suppose it's not so difficult to explain, given the way you're currently in."
"I'm not quite sure what you're insinuating," he replied as coolly as he could manage. "Would you mind elaborating? Since you think I'm so out of sorts."
"There is no reason to play dumb in front of me, brother." Cooler replied, though his expression remained unchanging, "Father already told me the news not long after you made it known to him; I suppose congratulations are in order."
"So you're here to congratulate me? You could just as well have done it over the phone, brother." He tapped his fingers against the arm of his seat, still watching the reflection intently. "No need to go out of your way for my sake."
"If you must know, this entire encounter was originally planned to be over call, but then I thought that such a thing would be in poor taste." Cooler's tail absently swished behind him as he stepped forward, his Armored Squadron following a breath behind. His gaze peered up to Frieza as he came around the side of the cockpit, "Quite the timing for you, is it not? Only a month after you've returned to life after all these years, and you're already expecting an heir."
"Mm, yes. I can't say it was in my plans," he replied. "But I've learned quite quickly to make the most of the situation. I assure you I have plans, not that you would give half a damn." He turned his head and rested his chin in his fist, "Something tells me you have comments you'd like to make. You always do."
"I wouldn't have bothered connecting our ship's for something as menial as "comments."" Cooler quipped, stopping to stand before the cockpit, even if it meant needing to look up at his brother. His face was still relatively still, even as his lips inclined toward a frown, "Father seems to think you've changed quite a bit since you were resurrected; whenever I've seen him, he can't help himself from going on about how mature you've become, how seriously you're taking the reclamation of your throne. He offered what was left of it to me once, you know- some time after we'd confirmed your death, but I declined. I'd never gotten where I stand today by accepting your table scraps."
"And how chivalrous you are for declining," his brother replied with a sarcastic, yet flat droll. His eyes shifted over to look at him at last, though no emotion betrayed his face. Hopefully his bloodshot eyes weren't visible due to the small distance between them. "Yes, yes, big strong Cooler, ruler over half the galaxy or whatever father tossed at you, blah blah, I'm better than you. That all? I think I covered the jist of what you say during your little visits."
"None of what I have was tossed at me, Frieza." Cooler replied coldly, his own red eyes narrowing up at him, "I know that's what you're accustomed to, but I've worked for all that's in my possession- my planets, my crew, all of it. And perhaps you have matured a bit, given the fact that you didn't simply come crying to father demanding your territory back. That was all fine and good- what you do with your own planets and empire is none of my concern. "But," he spoke pointedly, without any bravado or exaggeration, "I can't find it in myself to not be concerned for my coming nephew."
"Nephew?" he replied with a quizzical quirk of his brow. "What, are you going to stand there and accuse me of being a poor parent when he's born? Please. It's not as if our father knew everything going into his either, and look at how that turned out. One ruler of the universe, one trying to desperately play catch up. Though that's no fault of his."
It was bait; he knew it, and he suspected Cooler knew it as well, but his brother seemed in no mood of being provoked into a fight; he simply stared and watched, unamused, as though bearing witness to a bad play. "Father had plans for the both of us as well, you know; this only difference between you and I is that you were born lucky. I suppose it was only natural father turned you into his little passion project, knowing the kind of potential you would harbor for destruction. I imagine you're banking on your son having that same kind of power." He spoke, adding rhetorically, "After all, he must be nothing short of perfect if he comes from you."
"Finally you're talking sense," he replied. "Yes, actually; I know he'll be powerful like me. It's practically a given when you're the spawn of someone like myself. He'll be an excellent heir and have the potential to almost catch up to his father's legacy."
"And what if he isn't?" It was a simple question, yet pointed like a needle. "I was weaker than father when I was born, you were stronger than him. What will you do in the event that he's weaker than you, or you have to put some actual effort into training him and making him stronger? Would you be willing to accept that? Run the risk of a child of all things weighing you down?"
"Why do you care so much?" he asked as a small scowl betrayed his face. "Yes, I would train him. If I didn't have the time, then I have people do to it for me. Of course I know he's not coming out of the womb as a perfect specimen; I just realize that any child I sire would be naturally destined for greatness. It wouldn't take much to push him."
A quiet sigh passed Cooler's lips, eyes briefly closing before looking back up to him again, "I suppose I should just be frank: brother, I don't think parenting is going to be something that suits either you or your current plans, be it now or however many years into the future. I came on to your ship to offer a proposition." He folded his arms over his broad chest, and with the brevity in which he spoke the words, there was no doubt he was serious. "When your son is born, give him to me to raise instead."
A few members of Frieza's crew couldn't suppress the small gasps that were heard in the sudden silence of the room. When his head turned to them, they were already busying themselves with their work. A hand drummed its fingers against the arm of his seat, and he elected against looking at his sibling as he replied. "And you would be a better father than I? Please. You may have grown a bit more competent since my death, but you're still the oaf you've always been, no matter how much you try to hide it. You would sooner toss an infant out of the airlock than treat it properly."
"Is it not a pragmatic proposal?" Cooler replied with a quirked brow, "You can't pretend to anyone, least of all me, that your limited capacity for caring extends to anyone but yourself, even if it were your own son. It would be a favor, really- you yourself said this had never been in your plans. Do you mean to tell me you actually want the child?"
"Just because it wasn't in my plans doesn't mean I can't adapt," he replied, much shorter than he likely intended. "To cast it out at first blush because of its sudden arrival would be foolish, cowardly. I am neither of those things. Yes, I want this spawn; to insinuate that I'm incapable of caring for it insults me."
Cooler appeared nonplussed by this answer; obviously, he hadn't expected immediate agreement, if only on part of his own egotism, but he claiming he actually wanted the child hadn't been entirely anticipated- not that Cooler believed it was for any correct reason. "I suppose I can't exactly be surprised; after everything you lost in the wake of your death, it only makes sense you'd want to keep around anything of yours possible. Even if it is a mere infant with no say in the matter."
So you come in saying I'm not a fit parent, and now that I'm trying to explain why I would be a perfectly fine one, you're upset, saying I'm holding my son against his will? Mind games were never your forte, Cooler; I'm not sure I like it." He scowled, "Can you not be blunt, or do you intend to waste even more of my time with drivel?"
"What I'm saying," his feet left the ground, his Squadron turning to look up at him in respect, where his own servants would've had their noses against the floor. He was hovering before the cockpit, meeting eyes properly for the first time since he'd gotten there, and it was only now obvious how Cooler had matured in the time he'd been gone, with his own body in the same state it had been before being brutalized. His gaze was hard, as firm as his voice as he spoke, "is that you can fool father all you want into thinking you've changed, because you wouldn't be able to stand the humiliation of begging after you disgraced the family name on Namek, but you're never going to be able to fool me. If father weren't so blinded by happiness over you suddenly being alive after twenty years, perhaps he would see it too. Maybe you could handle a few measly planets, but whatever God's saw fit to curse a child with someone as immature and foolish as you for a father, they may be the biggest fools of all."
Every single one of Frieza's men had turned their heads downward, as if in preparation for the outburst that was to come. But it didn't. However, Cooler had certainly caught him off guard; something he had very rarely been able to actually manage to do. His jaw was hanging limp, studying his brothers stone cold face and stance. His instinct was to strike him, but he was a bit busy trying to process the weight of his words - both individually, and how they fit together as a whole.
His mouth closed and his head lowered, and Frieza looked at his brother as if he were a weakling standing in his way rather than his own flesh and blood. "Get off my ship."
Cooler leaned away from him. He wasn't smiling, nor did his face betray any amusement though a glint of the eye or twitch of the nose. It was a shame- if he had, maybe he could have even further reason to rip his jaw from his skull. He lowered down from the air, the blonde one amongst his men offering his hand and Cooler surprisingly accepting it until he was back on his feet. He expected him to say something else; that was how it would have been when they were younger, mocking and ribbing until one of them had the last laugh or was bloody on the ground. But he said nothing. The only sound that even signaled he'd gone was the doors closing behind him.
Frieza released the breath he'd been holding and raised a hand to pinch at his temples. God, what had he been thinking, coming in, spewing such horrendous dribble... He should have been smart enough to not want to bother, but his brother had always fallen behind a bit in that regard.
... That's what he would have said to his face, anyway. In his head, he wasn't sure what to think. It was all muddling and making his preexisting migraine about ten times worse.
He hadn't simply said any of those things to hurt him or bruise his ego; he could always tell when that was the case. He wasn't sure if that would have been better than Cooler being serious; completely earnest in his words when he'd urged him to give up his own son, because he didn't trust him to not fuck it up.
He didn't trust himself not to either, but that was none of his damn business for one thing, and something he shouldn't have been worrying about at the moment regardless. The audacity his brother held, walking in, saying those things...
He abruptly stood from his seat, watching several people inside flinch a bit on instinct, and floated down to begin walking down the hall. He wasn't going to his room; he just... needed to think.
Berryblue didn't follow, and he was grateful for the privacy. He needed not even to think about where he'd been heading, but it seemed only natural when at last he looked up. It was a hallway seldom used, as it largely led to an area meant for entertaining guests, but its silence and long sprawling windows offered the best view of the stars in the whole ship.
He stopped before the window and folded his arms snugly across his chest, lips pursing into a deep frown. His thoughts couldn't catch up with themselves; all of them were loud, and all of them were making a pinprick sensation pick at the back of his eyes. He finally released a breath at the telltale clunk of Cooler's ship detaching from his own.
He didn't see it disappear from sight by the window as it left the opposite way, and he was glad for it. All the better; the way it stood now, they could never see each other again and he would be happy. It wouldn't have stung so much if his words had been said in anger- if he hadn't secretly pondered some of them himself already.
If they had been said in anger, there was the chance that less weight rested behind the words. But Cooler had been incredibly aware, blunt, and downright rehearsed. He hadn't even reacted to anything Frieza had said. What the hell had happened to him since he died?
Twenty years wasn't exactly a long time for their species, but it had evidently been long enough. He knew logically that there was probably a point some time ago where father and Cooler had both long since accepted his death, were sure there was no chance he'd ever returned- had they made peace with that? Was his untimely resurrection more of a nuisance than a cause for celebration, with the empire long having been set in the way it was with just the two of them? But father had been so happy when he'd returned to life- surely it wasn't sorely based in sentiment, was it?
Damn whatever was going on with his head that day; such frivolous thoughts were cast away without a second glance any other time, but now every single "what if" nestled comfortably in his brain to stay. And why should he care? He didn't need anyone's approval anymore. He was already well on his way to rebuilding his status as emperor, and they had a course set for a new planet to overtake at that very moment. For all intents and purposes, he was in perfectly fine shape.
And what did Cooler have? Probably the same amount of planets he'd had before he'd died, and who knew how many would have been in his possession if not for that blunder?
... such thoughts normally cheered him up. But not even his brother's shortcomings were easing these damnable hormones- he almost preferred the ceaseless nausea to all of this nonsense.
And this godforsaken urge to cry that wouldn't leave him; he hated that almost more than the pointless thoughts swimming around in his head. It wasn't like him; none of this was like him. But he couldn't go hide in his room for however long it took for these to wear off. His room had been shown to no longer be a place of privacy anyway.
He found himself slumping down by the large window, mentally cursing the old crone for caring so much, then feeling a stab of regret for the thought, and anger for that compounded on top of everything else. He couldn't even draw his knees up and curl in on himself, on account of this damnable bump in his stomach.
He settled for crossing his legs tightly and resting his hands in his lap, looking up at the massive space beyond where he sat. For the first time since he was a boy, he felt... rather small. He loathed the feeling.
He was an emperor; he had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. Things could have been harder, but why did they have to be? Cooler was just bitter, he told himself, and tried to believe. Everyone had bumps in the road; this just happened to be... a bit embarrassing. But he was making up for it tenfold; everything in his plans proved as much. So despite all of this knowledge, why were tears still beginning to trickle down his face?
Was it the horrifying thought that, for all his jealousy? Cooler perhaps wasn't wrong? Had he not deserved to have the empire handed to him at such a young age? Father wasn't a fool, so why would he have done such a thing if it wasn't the correct decision? Was someone apparently so "immature and foolish" unworthy of that kind of gift?
... would father or Cooler have been defeated by the super saiyan on Namek?
...
Probably not.
The thought allowed tears to fall more freely, though he refused to let so much as a hiccup escape him, biting down on his tongue to quell any urge. He wasn't supposed to make blunders like that. It just wasn't like him. If he had not been dead for twenty years, would his father have still accepted him with open arms so easily?
There was no way to truly know now, all this time later, but he was meant to be his father's prodigy- he was the strongest being ever to be born in this universe, and he couldn't even defeat one super saiyan. The worst part of it all was he had no idea who was to blame; he'd prefer it be anyone other than himself- father for spoiling him, Goku for being too strong, the dragon balls for not granting him immortality when the time had been right?
He was standing up before he realized it, turning to march right back to his room. He was at fault for his death. Of course he was. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always known that. But something was very quickly bubbling to the front of his mind that he could not sleep another restless night without knowing.
He slammed his fist against the button to open the door and walked in, making sure to push a chair over in front of the inside of it to bar any other unwanted visitors. He could have done this in his cockpit, but it wasn't anyone else's damn business.
He had already bore his shame to far too many people today; he wasn't about to let them view this like a spectacle too. He stepped up to the comm center at the opposite end of the room, normally used for urgent business that couldn't wait until he was on the main floor of the ship, but as far as he was concerned, this was an extremely urgent matter.
And at the moment, he felt particularly rebellious with the thought that he didn't give a damn if he was inconveniencing his father. They would be talking on his terms, not the other way around.
With a simple press of a few buttons, the screen turned on and he sat down in the chair behind him, tightly crossing one leg over the over and folding his arms as he stared at the " connecting... " shining before him.
For a moment, he expected him not to pick up, or if he did, that he may relegate it to a servant unless it was an emergency. But when he blinked, the connection had gone through, and there was his father, perched on his throne in all his regal and authoritative glory. His expression lit up with a smile at the sight of his second born, greeting him pleasantly, "Frieza, my boy! What a pleasant surprise; how are things over there? Are you and the little one doing well?"
He felt something in his chest give an unpleasant wiggle; a tug on his heartstrings. Suddenly his father's welcome tone and appreciative smile felt very... conditional.
The man held strong as best he could manage. "Fine. Things are fine." He would save mentioning Cooler for later, if ever. "Well. That's not exactly right. Things are fine in every regard except for something extremely important that I need to ask you. I'd prefer it if you didn't have an audience , but it's fine if you can't move."
"Oh?" He saw his father's brows raise in mild surprise, holding still for a moment as though waiting for him to elaborate, but his eyes flitted to any servants shortly thereafter, "Well then, you've all heard my son; move to your alternative positions until further notice. Go on now."
Frieza waited until the telltale sound of doors shutting was heard, and his father's eyes were on him and him alone. This was what he wanted, so why was he so frightened? No, he knew why. It was because if he angered his father, he ran an extremely high risk that he didn't want to think on the details of.
Rip it off like a bandage, he told himself, and just about every muscle in his body tensed before he spoke. "If I hadn't died on Namek, would you have accepted me back home so readily?"
Whatever King Cold had been expecting, it hadn't been that. His red eyes blinked at the question, visibly taken off guard, and he didn't reply for a moment, as though the thought had never had the chance to cross his mind. After a beat of silence, he replied inquisitively, "Forgive me for the pause, my son, but you must understand how out of left field a question like that is. What brought such a thing to your mind?"
"I've been doing an awful lot of thinking since I returned," he replied. "My blunder on Namek was an embarrassment and you know it. It's an understatement to say the least. Of course you accepted me after I was revived; I am your son who you thought dead. But what if I had not? What then, father?" In the privacy of their own discussions, Frieza had always used the informal "daddy" for his father; to hear something so curt was an extra cut that he felt he needed to dig under the skin.
He saw a twinge in his father's face, and he knew he'd hit where he'd planned; he'd thought he would have wanted it that way, but the silence that followed was the exact opposite as he watched his father study him. There was no anger there, the way he may have suspected; King Cold's brow was furrowed, but his expression was otherwise unreadable as he stared at his son, and if Frieza looked closely, he may have seen a twinge of hesitation. "... seeing as that was not what came to pass, son, I can't say I've ever had to consider the thought. Is there any sense in pondering hypotheticals, when your focus can lie with what's to come?"
"There is sense when its presence in my mind has nearly caused the second most embarrassing day of my life to prolong its misery," he said dryly, hands gripping his arms so tightly that he felt the press of nails against skin. "I don't appreciate your avoidance of the question and I won't proceed any further in my galactic efforts until you give me an answer." Was he being immature? More or less, yes. But it was hard to think clearly when you were focusing on so many things, like the prick at the back of his eyes and the way his body was subtly trembling.
His father exhaled. It was a short sound that betrayed little more than minor annoyance, his expression indicating that perhaps he thought the entire situation was spurned on by hormones, and the rest of it a mix between sympathy and that damnable hesitation. He remained quiet for another moment longer, before he elaborated with a small sigh, "I suppose, Frieza, that if you had survived the encounter and were able to make it off Namek, some course of action would have come to pass. In all likelihood, I would have reclaimed the reins of the empire from you until further notice, if we're to assume the Super Saiyan managed to escape Namek in such a scenario as he did in actuality. Because if you'd had the strength to survive the encounter without fatal injury, you would have had the strength to put the monkey down before he even managed to reach his top form to begin with, and if you hadn't, well... in such a scenario, I would have had the empire to consider, son. Miscalculations in restraint and failure to act are fatal errors that I would not have been able to run the risk of."
It was the answer he had prepared for, and yet the hurt shone on his face as transparently as water. He had physically jolted a little at his words, mouth hung open ever so slightly. The logical side of his brain kicked into gear, telling him that it only made sense; that a failure was a failure, and when it was considering someone like his father, there was the empire to consider. Right? Right??
Tears were trickling down his face before he realized it. If he had the strength to survive- His father didn't know what a saiyan was capable of or what it could do. There was a reason he had their god forsaken planet destroyed. There was a reason he was frightened of them.
"I see," he replied, the waver in his voice betraying him, "So your love really is conditional. Good to know."
"Oh, come now, Frieza, that is not at all what I meant." His father replied, voice laced with mild exasperation. Even as the tears dribbled down his son's face, his tone remained calm and logical, as though he thought Frieza to be overreacting and needed to be talked down, "I understand that you're in an emotional state and are likely overthinking a lot of things, believe me I know, but there is truly no reason to get so upset over something that ultimately never came to pass."
"Stop looking at me like I'm a child throwing a tantrum," he spat. "There is absolutely a reason to be upset over this, because it could very easily happen again. And I'll tell you something I learned from those stupid earthlings; I can't be brought back a second time. So God forbid something like the Namek blunder happens again, you don't have the privilege of mourning your son instead of casting him aside like last time." Venom dripped from his words, sputtering out in waves.
"I would appreciate it if you would not put words in my mouth, boy." His tone had taken on a more serious note then- less like a parent talking down a whining child, more like someone with a higher authority- someone like a king. "You would call mourning a privilege? I'm not going to sit here and entertain such a ridiculous notion. Nor am I going to humor the utter nonsense that you suggest such a blunder could occur once more; you make it sound as though you plan on the possibility of such, which is equally an insult to your own intelligence as it is to mine."
"The lack of warmth in your words is telling me more than you're obviously going to, for one thing," his son replied, fighting the low growl trying to bud in the back of his throat. "Of course I don't plan on failure. That's stupid. You've just proven that my failure is your failure with those words, so thank you, father, for letting me know that I have no place in your kingdom if the worst case scenario were to happen to me. I'm sure a little pressure won't hurt things, will it? Just ask Cooler."
King Cold's nostrils flared at that, and from the way his throat seemed to tighten, it looked as though he were about to begin shouting at his son for his words. But then he shut his eyes, seeming to inhale, then exhaling deeply; his eyes opened to address his son again, composure regained as he spoke. "Your failures are my failures, because if it were to occur, it would mean I bestowed upon you an important position before you were ready for it. I give Cooler no more than what I think he can handle, and if that means putting more pressure on him so he might make something great of himself, then so be it ." He took in a breath once more, tone leveling, "I don't expect you to understand just yet, Frieza. But when your own son is born and you're a father, I expect it will all make sense. If you get the urge to call again and rant about what you perceive as slights, I advise you to wait until your emotions simmer down." He smiled then, and whether it was meant to be assuring or calming or whatever else, it felt like little else than a slap in the face. "Go and get some rest, sweetie; do tell Berryblue I said hello."
The connection was terminated before he could get another word in.
The silence that filled his room was not deafening; it was instead empty, hollow, and altogether devoid of anything. Frieza was staring at the empty, dim screen, and his mind was screaming at him to call back, to pester his father until he listened to him, until he heard him and realized just how much he had spread cracks over their relationship. But instead he sat there, not noticing the brilliant blue-purple blood trickling down his arms where his claws had dug into the skin, much like how his father had failed to acknowledge the thin trickles of tears slipping down his cheeks like little condensed waterfalls. He sat there, and he continued to sit, until his entire form hunched over and his knees desperately tried to pull up to his chest as much as they could manage with the bump in his abdomen. Frieza was an emperor; practically a god. He didn't need anyone. It's what he had told himself for decades upon decades. But for the first time in his life, he was suddenly very acutely aware of just how alone he was.
And he began to weep.
His tail had curled around his legs and was hugging him tight, something he hadn't done since he'd been a young boy. The holes in his arms faintly stung against the ship's cool, filtered air, but it wasn't any worse than the suffocating weight that seemed to be pressing down on his chest. His room was massive, the glass ceiling above looking out into the cold depths of space, and it did nothing for the solitude the emperor felt closing in all around him.
At least nobody would burst in on him this time, but some part of him wishes they would. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the sudden loneliness that had been suffocating him all day, getting bigger and bigger until he couldn't take it. He couldn't even be reassured with Berryblue; her loyalty was with his father first. How was he to know that it wasn't just her doing her job, trying to placate him so he could get back to what he was supposed to-
His eyes popped open at an odd, distant, yet prominent feeling in his abdomen. Head craning down, he blinked through his tears and stared at his bump. What... was that? It didn't feel like an upset stomach. Nor was there any pain; it was peculiar, one he couldn't recall ever having felt before and something he couldn't quite compare to anything else.
He waited a moment to see if it would happen again, and when nothing happened, he carefully laid a hand over the curve of his stomach. There was nothing for a few seconds more, but then he felt it unmistakably over his palm: something had shifted, kicked against his hand.
Was that... his son?
A stark reminder hit him; he wasn't alone. There was another life inside of him, reminding him rather abruptly of his presence. A part of him wondered if it was out of spite. It wasn't possible, of course, but his head was already out of sorts to begin with, and the thought made a small smile turn his lips upwards. Maybe his son couldn't talk to him, couldn't know how he was feeling or fix his woes, but he was present. That was all he needed at the moment.