Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A tiny twist in time ❯ Brolli ( Chapter 3 )

        Brolli woke up slowly. It wasn’t his father looking down at him, but a pretty man with light blue skin and a long green braid hanging over his shoulder. He blinked up at the vision before him without comprehension as his admittedly shattered mind tried to take in other information.         He had limiters on. The familiar weight of the old ones was gone, though. These were lighter, different. They felt different, as if instead of just holding his power back, they removed it somehow. It made him feel a little dizzy. He raised one hand to brush at his eyes, and saw the jewels on the limiters seemed to match the ones the pretty man wore.         It was another minute before his wits returned enough to recognize that he was naked and the other man might as well have been. His own nudity didn’t precisely bother him, but the other’s nearly nude state made him flush. He felt the blush spread as the man smiled down at him.         “I am Zarbon, your new master. Frieza has agreed that you will be my pet.”         His eyebrows knit slightly as he tried to process that. He knew the name Frieza – his father had cursed it often enough – but Zarbon was only vaguely familiar. And what was a pet? So, he asked.         “P… pet?” he managed, throat dry and sore.         Zarbon’s smile widened. “Yes, little monkey, you are my pet.”         He shook his head very slightly, having noticed his headache at last. “What… is a… pet?”         Shock wiped the man’s face of the earlier condescending smile. “What is a pet?” the green-haired man repeated. “You don’t know what a pet is?”         “No,” he answered simply, honestly. He’d never heard the word before, not that he remembered.         Zarbon cocked his head, now giving him a quizzical look. “How old are you, monkey boy?”         Brolli frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”         “You don’t know your age?”         Brolli shook his head, since he didn’t, although he’d meant monkey.         “Well, do you know where you were born?”         “Vegeta-sei,” Brolli answered without hesitation, “a few days before it blew up. Father told me so. What is a monkey?”         Zarbon blinked, and then very carefully, delicately, seated himself on the bed next to Brolli. “You are twenty-two years old, at the very least. Do you know your name, Saiyan?”         “Brolli.”         “Brolli,” Zarbon repeated, picking up Brolli’s tail and stroking it. Brolli stiffened, eyes wide, waiting for the pain to begin. Father did just the same when he had displeased the older Saiyan, and he didn’t see how he couldn’t have displeased Zarbon, with his questions and his stupidity. He was stupid, he knew, his father had told him so often enough.         “Stupid brat,” he murmured, eyes locked on the hands stroking his tail. “Stupid brat, so much power and no brain to use it. I’ll teach you to use it right!” He winced at the last word, his tail jerking in Zarbon’s grip at the expected twist and accompanying pain. His eyes slid slowly to Zarbon’s face when the man did nothing more than continue to stroke his tail.         “This was often said to you?” The tone was one Brolli didn’t recognize: pity.         Brolli winced as Zarbon’s fingers found an old break. The spot was healed, but like all the broken places, especially tender. “I’m insane,” he offered quietly. “Father says I have too much power and not enough brain, and that Kakarot’s incessant crying drove me insane when we were in the crèche together. I don’t remember that, though. I remember the sword, and the explosion, and all the times father tried to teach me control, but I don’t know who Kakarot is or what the crèche was.”         “Kakarot?” Zarbon mused. “I’ve heard that name. Ah, yes. Raditz’ younger brother. The other Saiyans have gone to collect him from E’arth, where he was sent as a child.”         The faint humming finally clicked. “Are we on a spaceship?” Brolli asked.         “We are, little pet.” Nimble fingers threaded through the tail, pinpointing several more old breaks. “But I think we will first put you into a regeneration tank. Your tail is not well healed, and you have other injuries as well.”         Brolli nodded slightly, only to gasp in shock as he was scooped up. Tail and arms wrapped around Zarbon’s lithe frame, clinging as his world attempted to adjust to the new positioning. He laid his aching, buzzing head against a warm shoulder; eyes squeezed shut to try to stop the dizziness. Zarbon began moving, and Brolli tightened his tail’s grip on the man’s thigh, moaning a little desperately as he tried to compensate. His fingers dug into his own forearms, knowing better than to score the man who apparently was to be his father in this new place, at least until his father returned. Still, in spite of his unhappy condition, he still wanted to know what a pet was. Maybe Zarbon would tell him after he took him out of the regeneration tank. An unhappy whine was cut short, Brolli not wanting Zarbon to ask why, and have to admit he was worried about being put in a tank. Tanks held especially bad memories for him.         He kept his eyes on Zarbon’s face as the tank filled. His tears blended with the liquid when the man turned away. He knew well enough how a mouth was shaped when saying, “stupid” and “have to train you”. Yes, Zarbon was indeed his father in this place. He would be punished twice then. Once by Zarbon, and again when Father came for him.         Brolli felt the new limiters do something, and then knew nothing more.