DBZ X-Readers, Vol. 2

King Cold x Reader Pt. 7 'Spiced Wine' (end)

Author's Note: Death ahead.

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Your daughter got busier after that, though whether it was related to her books or to Frieza, you weren't sure. The next day saw the delivery of rather a lovely dress, and you assumed it had come from him. It looked as if she would fall into the same trap you had...you only hoped that since she appeared to be doing it willingly, things might turn out better.

But of course you said nothing to Cold. He seemed to have the idea that you owed him for every little thing, and still you wondered when this change had come over him. When had he turned from the sweet young man to the tyrannical king? When had he started approaching problems like this?

The day after, you went out to the festival stands again. Your daughter's booth had moved.

Funny, she hadn't told you about that...

You smiled to yourself as you passed a few of the wine booths. Cold never liked wine when he was younger--you could remember that he found it too bitter, or too sweet, or too alcoholic-tasting...basically, a long list of excuses. That seemed to have changed now, however...

You had a similar thought when you passed other vendors. Each thing seemed to give you a memory to consider fondly, and after what seemed like the fifth or sixth one, you began to realize what was really wrong with this whole situation--or rather, what was responsible.

The memories that were from the past were virtually nothing to you now. Cold had never let go of them. He saw you not as you were now, changed by the past, but as a relic of what could have been. You represented the path that he wished he'd taken, something that, if he could obtain it, would make everything as if it had always been that way. In his mind, anyway.

He didn't want you as you were now, but as you were then. He wanted to erase his mistake.

You kept walking, looking for your daughter's booth and occasionally admiring the general splendor, while not being particularly interested in any actual buying. Dancers here, artists there, food to be had in every row of tents...

"Ms. (Y/n)?"

It was a quick sort of voice, and you turned to look at its owner. They were an average-sized grey-and-black Arcosian, and were dressed in a palace guard's uniform.

"Is something wrong?" you asked.

"Well, no," came the reply, "His highness was just looking for you, was all. Something about wanting to assign you a personal guard."

To control where you would be, no doubt. His behavior was bordering--no, had crossed it--on the obsessive.

"If I may...is there something wrong? Have any threats been made against you?"

"No," you said, turning to follow him back.

"It's just that you've seemed uncomfortable, and..."

"It's the holidays, and I'm spending it apart from my family," you said quietly.

"Ah...I see."

As you were lead back into one of the smaller palace courtyards, you wondered what justification Cold would offer for this new bit of nonsense. Probably the same as he had tried before, that he was trying to make things up to you. If only you'd let him!

You were so sick of hearing it. So tired of seeing him look at you like a possession. So done with his pretending that this was all normal.

When you arrived in what appeared to be a small (well, small when one considered Cold's height) gazebo he looked up with a smile that you were unable to return. The ill feeling didn't lessen at that expression...if anything, it got worse.