Cold Empire

Chapter 4

Frieza saw the lieutenant walk into the stage and was pleasantly surprised at how well she cleaned up. His idiot brother also had his eyes locked on her form. While she was attractive, that's not what drew his attention. The way she held herself did not show a hint of her time with the army, it was as if she was a pure-bred royal since the day she was born. She owned the stage and everyone who saw her knew it. He saw her smirk slightly when her eyes looked at the box. Frieza looked down as well and saw the youngest princess fuming. He chuckled darkly; how petty. She was jealous of her sister, for what? She could've been down there flaunting herself as Strovuth is doing, but she decided to hit on them instead. It was her problem, not the lieutenant's. Frieza paused and looked into her eyes, she was staring intently on a group by the door. He glanced that way and saw a figure dart out of the door. His tail thumped idly against the chair, this was sure to be amusing. He saw the same figure pop up behind the woman on the stage. Frieza watched in interest as the girl scrambled up a ladder, who was slowly followed by the soldier. Cooler followed, enthralled by her very being. One by one, all in the royal box started staring up at the trapeze platform. The girl looked down, her face strained. She seemed to be clutching something in her hand. The soldier seemed to be trying to defuse the situation, only for it to backfire. The mystery girl jumped on the swing, followed by the lieutenant moments later. A spitting match began until a man on the other side became involved. A yell alerted everyone else to the battle overhead. Frieza watched as the girl pulled an archaic gun from her coat. Frieza saw Strovuth strike a flint-like object and the girl burst into flames. A pitiful scream was ended abruptly by an unlucky fall. She had landed on the side of the stage, her head hitting the edge, snapping her neck. As the emperor looked at the carnage, a pop was heard, the bullet lodging itself in the framework. Another pop had Strovuth clutching the swing with one arm cradled. The final one had her doubled over, swaying dangerously. A second passed and she fell, hitting the stage with a dull thud. It wasn't odd to hear the panicked screams in his profession, but the wail heard from the eldest female made him cringe. Frieza noted that the younger sister had disappeared in the commotion, most likely on her way to her sister. They made it to the stage in less than a minute and stared at the crumpled form of the proud soldier.

"Where the HELL is the doctor!" The normally gentle king snapped, his eyes wide and angry.

"He's coming sir!" A guard yelled. The king got in his face.

"That's not good enough! If you don't get someone here she'll..." He stopped, eyes widening. He stopped before he uttered that dreaded word, as if not saying it might save her.

"It's no use, Kindrek. Frieza! Take her to the healing pod! Cooler, tell them to have it prepared before her arrival!" Kold snapped, his cape pressed against the bleeding wound. Cooler was gone in an instant, zooming out the window. Frieza glared at his father. Was he expected to touch this peon? Well, she wasn't really a peasant, but they treated her as such.

"NOW!" Kold snarled, seeing his son's hesitation. That was out of the ordinary, his father never yelled at him. Frieza scoffed, grabbing the limp body and holding it from his body. His chest would not be sullied by her blood, no matter how alluring the red seemed.