An Emperor's Agony.
[Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball nor do I have any affiliation with the franchise. All rights go to Akira Toriyama and TOEI Animation.]
[Rigid and austere, inside a chamber that had long since been sunk in serene darkness, a particular being stood lordly in the comfort of the shadows, lost in his thought, his mind traveling to the far end of the Universe. In his hand rested a Brandy Shifter and inside it a hundred milliliters of crimson liquid, a mature, sapid chianti. The being's name? Frieza; the megalomaniac tyrant, the devious Emperor, the callous gentleman, Terror personified. Although his revival was efficacious, the memories of his demeaning defeat against the Saiyan named Son Goku remained engraved in his mind, haunting the being day after day — How could he, Frieza-sama, lose to a nugatory race like the Saiyans? For hours he would swirl the glass in his vile hand, pondering, occasionally lifting his chianti to his dispassionate, grim lips and taking a sip, enjoying the acidic taste of cherries — a fine wine indeed. But unexpectedly, from the glass the Emperor was holding escaped only a small bead, besmirching, not the frigid floor but rather his frangible sanity like a wine-stain to expensive silk. Friable whimpers echoed from time to time while the tangled knot in Frieza's imperial throat would not lighten. With bated breath he desperately tried to fight paranoia but a sense of immense fear was cursing through his bones like a bitter chill preventing him from doing so; The Emperor, to whose name the Universe bowed down like a scared dog, was slowly, but painfully losing his mind, and his own self in the process]