Perri barely tasted the exotic meal that had been brought for her supper. Her mind was busy thinking of something, anything she could do to get out of this. She could fake an illness, or say she fell asleep; no, that wouldn't work. He wouldn't believe it. She had the feeling that if she didn't show up, well, he did say that he didn't like to hear 'no'. Perri left her half-eaten meal to walk to her boudoir. She picked through her clothing; everything that she felt was beautiful and flattering earlier suddenly became too revealing and provocative.
She settled on on a slinky backless gown in a soft golden shade. She managed to wrangle half of her hair back with a metal clip before a slim ice-jin entered the room. She was dressed well, though still obviously a servant. She inclined her head to Perri, saying something in the language of the planet. The Pastalian caught the words 'king', 'wishes', 'see', and 'you'. Gulping down her apprehension, Perri stood and followed the woman.
As they walked down the halls, Perri took the opportunity to figure out the layout of the castle. From what she could tell, the East Wing belonged to Frieza, the West to Coola, and the South to the king. The North Wing was the older area, and seemed to be sparsely populated. They entered the empty throne room. A great seat carved out of permafrost sat at the far end of the room, lonely, imposing, and immortal. Perri marvelled at it, until they exited through one of the side halls. At the end of the hall, past several rows of guards, was a large door.
The servant pressed a button and led Perri inside. The Pastalian had to actively keep from gasping. She had never seen such opulence in her life. The rest of the castle, even Frieza's chambers, looked impoverished compared to the richness of this room. Firstly, nearly everything was scaled up to twice its normal size, for the comfort of the King, of course. Rich tapestries hung from the ceiling, rolled down the walls, and gently grazed the floor, like so many red and purple waterfalls. Beautiful paintings, sculptures, and pottery created an alternating pattern with the tapestries, lending the entire room a cultured air. There were three other doors, though where they might lead, Perri didn't wish to consider. Overstuffed couches and massive pillows were gathered in different areas of the chamber, populated by other Pastalians, whose conversations had lowered to whispers when they noticed Perri. She thought she caught a glimpse of Salma and Cora, but when she looked again, they were gone.
The ice-jin woman spoke to her again and lightly inclined her head. When she turned to leave, Perri held out an arm to stop her.
"I believe," she spoke in smooth Iciclish, "That the proper etiquette is for a servant to bow to a royal concubine."
Stunned, the woman bowed swiftly and all but sprinted away, clearly spooked by something.
"I have never heard you speak our language before," King Kold was standing in one of the door ways, having abandoned his armor. His bio-armor was remarkably similar to Frieza's, though it started lower on his pectorals.
"Good evening, Your Grace," Perri bowed.
"The same to you," he walked to a large red couch and motioned for Perri to join him. He sat down, leaning slightly against the arm of the couch. Perri sat as far from him as she could while still being polite.
The king snapped his fingers. A servant ran in from nowhere, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. She placed it on the table in front of them, bowed low, and ran back.
"I took the liberty of choosing a rather weak wine," he sat forward and began pouring them each a glass, "I know that Pastalians are not renowned for having a very high alcohol tolerance, though thankfully the same cannot be said of Ice-jin,"
"Planet Pastal is woefully devoid of fruits that ferment agreeably," Perri chatted politely and accepted her glass.
"To your reign," she lifted her glass in a toast, "May it last through winter and summer," this was a common saying in Ice-jin culture. To wish that something would last through the summer was to wish that something would never end (summer never came to Planet Ice), and to wish that it lasted through winter was to wish for a lack of difficulties.
"I will admit, I am rather impressed with your knowledge of our culture," he took a sip from the glass.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she smiled and took a small sip of wine that nearly knocked her out of her seat. Weak wine indeed! This was at least ten times stronger than anything they had on Planet Pastal. She would need to be careful to only drink a little, maybe half a glass.
A lavender-skinned Pastalian walked towards them, grinning. King Kold raised his hand.
"All of you, leave us."
The women filed out of the room, some lingering to see if he would ask them to stay. When he didn't, they left in a huff.
"I trust that you've found your stay, enjoyable?" He tilted his head.
"Of course, Your Grace. The castle is quite magnificent," perhaps if she kept her answers insubstantial, he would grow bored and send her away.
"You know that's not what I meant," he frowned at her, "I trust my son hasn't been too much to handle?"
"He can be quite intense at times, but-" She shrugged, "He is my lord," she took another sip of wine, feeling it loosen her tongue.
"Ah yes, he's alway been like that. Actually, he is part of the reason I summoned you here," he reached a hand towards her throat. Perri froze; Kold gently held the pendant Frieza had given her, "Hm," he retracted his hand and leaned back, "The fact that you, a mere concubine, could trick Coola into admitting his scheme is concerning to me. Not to mention Frieza's clear victory in their little spat. I wish for your opinion on something,"
"I shall offer my best, Your Grace,"
"I am considering revoking Coola's status as crown prince and naming Frieza as my heir instead," he gazed into his goblet, swirling the wine.
"I thought it was tradition for the eldest to inherit the throne?" Perri went to take a sip. Much to her surprise, there was barely one left in her glass.
"Tradition, yes. However," he refilled her glass, "In the case of the younger proving more worthy, the title can be transferred,"
"Ah, yes, of course," Perri nodded. She continued to drink, forgetting her one-glass limit.
"Worthiness, of course, is only half of the qualification. The other is strength, which Frieza clearly trumps Coola in,"
"I have heard that Frieza is the most powerful being in the galaxy, even the universe. Is… is that true?" Her eyes were wide and curious.
"Quite, or nearly so," Kold grinned proudly, "Our family is stronger than any other in history, but Frieza, Frieza has always been in a league all his own. If he truly put his mind to it, I've no doubt he could… Nevermind," he shook his head, as if he had said too much.
"Wow," Perri gasped, "I didn't think that it was really possible that he was so strong,"
"Yes. Strong, but stubborn, bratty, and impatient," the King sent her a sly grin, "Though I trust you've had more than enough experience with that,"
Perri blushed deeply and glanced at him through her lashes.
"It's too bad, really," he took her chin in his hand, "He should have let me have you when I asked," his tail wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, "At least I can appreciate what I have while I have it."
He kissed her. It tasted like the wine they had been drinking, though not nearly as strong. His tongue slipped past her lips with the ease and skill that a few centuries of experience brings. When he pulled away, smirking at her, Perri knew that this was her fate from the moment Frieza had left.
A high-pitched beeping interrupted them. Kold groaned in disappointment and tapped a device sitting on the table.
"Your Grace, you asked me to inform you when Prince Frieza-"
"Enough," Kold silenced the voice on the other end with a second tap, "Well, how unfortunate for us. I don't wish to incur my son's wrath, nor do you, I assume," he grabbed her wrist, "But know that I'm not done with you yet," he warned.
When Perri stumbled into his chambers that night, stinking of wine and fear, Frieza was understandably surprised. He was even more surprised when she clung to him and wept unashamedly, to the point where all he could do for a moment was stand there. When his senses returned, he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her away from him.
"What happened?" He frowned. She was in quite a state.
"T-the King," she managed before bursting into tears again.
This time, Frieza allowed her to cry on his shoulder. He held her possessively, glaring into the space behind her. He knew his father would try something like this. He knew he should have taken Perri with him. It was often said that nothing could stand in the way of Kold and what he wanted. Frieza's tail smacked the ground, causing Perri to jump.
"I-I'm sorry," she hiccoughed.
"You're not the one who needs to apologize," Frieza stroked her hair, "My father needs to learn to keep his hands off of what doesn't belong to him."
He allowed her to to calm down before hooking an arm under her knees and carrying her to bed. He laid her down gently, then turned to leave. A dead concubine or twelve would get the message across.
"Please don't go."
Frieza turned around. Perri's golden eyes were staring up at him, pleading. With a sigh, he laid down beside her. He watched her soft features relax as the alcohol sped her journey into unconsciousness. Once she was deep asleep, he left the bed, careful not to disturb her. He watched her for a moment longer before leaving his chambers, careful to lock the door and summon soldiers to guard the room.
Then he began to walk to his father's room.
When Perri awoke, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Frieza was clutching her far too tightly and was trembling; the air was filled with a heavy metallic scent. She opened her eyes hesitantly.
"Frieza!"
The ice-jin's true form was paler than normal, and his skin was criss-crossed with bruises and scrapes and cuts. He slowly opened his eyes, ruby irises dim and foggy. He unwound his tail from around Perri's legs. With horror, she realized that the last foot of it had been blasted off.
"Frieza we have to get you to the medical wing, you're bleedi-"
"No," his voice was hoarse and low, "I will not go,"
"But-"
"No!" He shouted, launching into a fit of hacking coughs, "I will regenerate. I am not as badly hurt as you think," he closed his eyes and relaxed back into the bed.
"If you won't go to the medical wing, then at least let me do what I can," she sat up and rushed to the bathroom.
Frieza turned to watch her go, lacking the energy to protest. Not only did the wounds sting, his entire body burned as his cells scrambled madly to repair themselves. Something cool and wet was pressed to his cheek, dabbing gently at a split in his porcelain skin. He cracked one eye open to see Perri's face contorted into an expression of deep concern and worry. She cleaned his wounds and applied a sweet-smelling salve that he vaguely recalled was used to accelerate cell renewal. As she fretted over him, she spoke soothing words in her clear voice. He paid little attention to what she actually said, for he was far too occupied in wondering if she had gone absolutely mad.
Here he was, vulnerable in his weakened state. Defenseless. Anyone in their right mind would take the chance to run, or to kill him, or deliver him to his brother or one of the hundreds of nobles who lived in constant fear of him. Kold would be enraged, but he would be blinded by it. Coola would be difficult, but not impossible to get out of the way. Frieza felt a cynical laugh escape him as he realized what a fragile hold his family had on the galaxy.
"What is it?" Perri looked up from carefully inspecting a nasty cut on his side.
"Why."
His voice was barely a whisper now, but the authority in his statement never wavered.
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this for me? Why did you risk your life to coax information from my brother? Why?" He sat up further with each question, until his nose was an inch from hers and the force of his gaze left no room for lies.
"Because you are my lord," she placed her hand on his uninjured cheek.
"Many call me 'lord', none would hesitate to kill me if they found me in this state. All it would take now is holding a pillow over my head until I stop struggling, and you could flee before anyone was the wiser. But," he drew in a deep breath, "Not you. You have the audacity to clean and dress my wounds and speak empty comforts. My own mother never showed me such tenderness, so why do you?"
"Because…" she searched for the words she wanted to say, "Because I am yours."
He searched her golden eyes for some trace of deception, but there were none.
"Because you are mine," he repeated softly as he laid back down.
He closed his eyes as she gently wiped a smear of blood from the purple plate on his stomach.
