DBZ X-Readers, Vol. 2

King Cold x Reader Pt. 3 'Devilish'

At first you'd thought it was mere coincidence. You ran into Cold fairly often, but thought that maybe you were just using the paths through the castle that he favored. You changed the way you walked to and from your rooms and the kitchens and the gallery and such, and after a few days started to encounter him again.

It couldn't be a coincidence, and by the fifth straight day of it you were beginning to wonder what he was trying to accomplish.

The second painting turned out to be more difficult than the first, and after a week you had still barely made any headway on it due to the fact that the older paint had started flaking off when you using certain brushes. This was going to take a while, obviously...but, like a lot of your work, it would be worth it. To restore something of this age, of so important a person...ah, you could feel your artistic side squeeing at the thought of completing this work. If it took you weeks, you'd do it.

That was just how you were.

You found yourself lost for hours on end, mentally acknowledging that people were coming into and out of the room, yet marking them "unimportant" and going about your work.

The Ice Festival was getting nearer, however. It had started as a bit of a joke to mark the beginning of a week's worth of winter holidays, and had just turned into a joyous holiday in its own right.

You just wanted to be out of the palace before it got here. Two more weeks and you'd be stuck in the middle of it.

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"So you're the one father's been mooning about."

As you were just settling back in after the evening meal, you heard the even, disinterested voice, and when you looked back, you saw Cold's younger son.

"Lord Frieza," you replied, bowing a little awkwardly under that severe gaze, "I hadn't expected the pleasure."

He was silent, as if studying you, but only for a moment before saying, "I can't see what all the fuss is about."

"...what do you mean?"

"Oh, he hasn't told you?" he laughed, "He always was rather an idiot when it came to women."

You held your tongue.

"A solid agreement if ever I saw one," he replied, laughing a bit, "A bit of a sad story involved, isn't there?"

"Hardly," you replied, turning back to the painting, "Only youthful optimism and reality."

"An artist would say something like that," he replied, stepping a bit closer. You got the idea that he probably doesn't like talking at someone whose back is turned.

"We tend to, yes," you replied quietly, "But we are a funny group, then. Spend a lot of time dreaming...sadly, something those of your rank have so little time to do."

"I would hardly call not wasting time sad," he huffed. You could swear that you hear his tail twitching...just like Cold, wasn't he? At least, in little mannerisms like that, anyway. "You women, you're all the same."

"I suppose we are."

He laughed. "You seem so young to have had the lifespan you already have. If I didn't know better, I would think you were my age."

"My thanks for the compliment," you said, keeping your eyes on the painting. Why didn't he simply leave? You gave a brief sigh and took a chance, "And my condolences on the death of your mother."

"That you can say those words at all shows that you never knew her," He replied with an edge in his voice, "But considering she was your rival for my father's affections, it's a surprise to me."