Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Cold as Ice ❯ Part 1: Rally the Toy Soldiers ( Chapter 1 )

Critics have called my icy blue eyes a curiosity.

 

Less kind ones have called my entire existence a curiosity.

 

I do not understand. In the time of the whole existence of the bloodsaiyans and Garthians, that there has never been a pairing between the two races. Only twice it has happened.

 

I am the product of one of those pairings.

 

A genetic impossibility, according to the scientists.

 

Something that should not be…but is.

 

 

It was easier, with Barroes. I had someone to talk to then…someone to confer with about these monstrous feelings…the notion that I am somehow “wrong”…the power that I can never hope to control, no matter how many countless hours my father poured into training me.

 

The only thing is…Barroes enjoyed being “different”. He embraced his malicious side, accepted both his halves. That is something I cannot do.

 

I sit now in one of Frieza's dank cells. The smells of mold, mildew, and blood cling to air. Vegeta is somewhere in the dark sniffling…I can hear Roux trying to comfort him.

 

. Give up on the little brat I say. He will never be a warrior. Neither will you, my friend, to some degree. You will never have to deal with what your half-brother and I have.

 

I digress. Roux bears very little importance in the madness, except for a small reprieve, a reflection of the solace I once had with my cousin. But Roux merely looks like him. He is not Barroes. He never will be.

 

Therefore, I am very much alone in my existence.

 

I hate it when I come to this realization. It usually happens a couple of times a week, when I have nothing to keep my mind busy.

 

These are the times when I wish I was still frozen.

 

It hurt like hell when it happened, both emotionally and physically. I screamed and cursed at my father until the water closed over my head and solidified. I could feel every inch of me slowing down, every nerve taking leave of its duties. Numbness, something I had wanted since my mother had died, had been granted to me. But with that came a price. I was shut off from the outside world.

 

I couldn't help but be angry with my dear father the first few months. While my body had virtually died, my mind still remained sharply intact and aware of everything I could see. Of course, I understand now he did it out of a desperate love for me. I admire him now for it…I was the only thing left of his ravaged world. He could've been selfish, and just kept me in exposure to the disease, as a comfort. But he chose to let me live, even it meant separating us. I hated that; I can honest to god admit that I hated not having contact with him.

 

True, we had telepathic conversations, but it stopped there.

 

Despite the fact that I am indeed a warrior, I have no problem with affection or childish naivety at the right times. Physical contact, something I had never taken for granted, was denied me during the long year I was frozen. I'll admit, I was, and probably would still be, a very clingy child. It's no surprise though…that's how most military children are. With my mother being the Commander, and my father the Supreme General, I didn't often see them as much as I liked. When I was with them, I could most often be found on my mother's lap while she played with my hair, or held by my father, buried in his arms against his chest, the only place I have ever felt safe.

 

Roux used to tease me for it, as I am technically three years older than him, and should've outgrown it. I laugh now at the irony…Roux wishes he had insisted upon being with his parents more often…since Jianna is dead…and Boldgrend? Well, no one quite knows…

 

I know for a fact my father is very much alive.

 

He is far more intelligent than he lets on. Barbaric at times, perhaps, but I wonder if my intelligence was beget by his. He is the ultimate strategist in the game of survival. He will bide his time, ignoring the rash notion of revenge, no matter how much it eats him alive, and wait until the empire has a chance of being whole again. Then he will strike. When, and if we ever escape from this lizard's “service”, he will be home waiting for us.

 

For me.

 

I let a crystal tear slip down, glad that for once, no one is here to see me cry. The blackness, though not to my taste, suffices as a rather nice cover.

 

I miss my alaka…

 

Digression, again! I must learn to stay on track. But do I have a track? Honestly…what I am supposed to be? What am I to think? Oiy…perhaps if I run over the data I know, yes, that will help me discern what I am…

 

Hybrids, from Barroes's opinion, are supposed to age much faster, to hit their prime earlier. They have even shorter lifespans than Garthians, due to their malicious ways. I seem to be a curiosity even further in this point…I think the cryogenic freezing had something to do with it. My body has not caught up with me; I'm a head taller than Roux, though I should be towering over him by now.

 

And yet my mind…blast it, it feels as though I have seen a thousand years…even though I am a mere twelve turns…

 

But on the other hand, my emotions still seem to be that of a three year old's would!

 

…..Damnit, I'm acting schizophrenic again…too much thinking at once.

 

This isn't helping!!! I am getting sidetracked!

 

A piece of ice has formed on the roof of my cramped cell, gleaming in the extremely dim light. I reach up and pluck it off, studying it. So much like my own structure…so seemingly stable-

 

I clench my fist, and the object shatters.

 

-and yet broken so easily.

 

My fingers wind their way to my silver locks, clasping at my aching head. Too much thinking…sometimes I wish that I was like most warriors…acting, and not thinking. Life would be perhaps shorter, but much less complicated.

 

Damn it, I want to grow down…

 

Sounds odd, doesn't it? Most of the time children are always whining that they want to “grow up”. I want to return to childhood…to naivety, to believing my father could protect me from anything, to believe nothing could kill my mother, to thinking that life would be a smooth road for me-

 

But how is that possible, when it seems that, in fact, I have never had a childhood..?

 

Well, in some sense, I might've, if infancy is any count. I remember nothing of that though, just warmth.

 

But again, away from what I need to figure out! Do I have ADD or something!?!? Concentrate Thrice, concentrate!

 

I slam my head against my knees. I just need to shut my brain down…it's spinning out of control. People envy geniuses, because they have it so easy. I beg to differ. It is not quite so easy to fall asleep, when your mind keeps analyzing everything. And by everything, I mean the entire universe.

 

“Alaka…” I whine audibly, pinning quietly.

 

“Shut up Thrice.” Roux's reply resonates through the darkness. I seethe miserably to myself, I didn't ask for his anger, just my father. It's probably the first thing I've said aloud since we were taken from the castle, and then thrown in here. Why won't he yell at that brat ayoki of his for sobbing? It tears me up knowing I could so easily destroy him, but he still believes he is stronger. But, destroying him is not an option. I must preserve who I have left. Roux, annoying and unable to understand as he can be, is one of those people.

 

Even if he my version of a cheap replacement for cugene…

 

Just to spite him, I continue to whine.

 

“Shut up! Big baby…” he punctuates his reaction with a ki blast. I can see now that he's off in the far corner of the prison. Dropping, the normally stiff spikes of his golden hair look as limp as the prospect of hope is.

 

 

I silently commend, yes commend that ungodly tyrant for putting us in separate cells. Roux would be dead by now if we had been together. Or would he?

 

Could I possibly kill cugene's halfling?

 

No. He is too valuable in the equation.

 

But still…

 

Barroes poured himself into Roux, what he could've been…had he been… pure. Lucky bastard. He got so much of cugene's attention. His highness, Second-born Prince Roux was born with a clean, normal heritage. I glare in his direction. If he's going to unfairly hate me, I might as well do so too.

 

Hmph, I can hear the little brat shivering. He has no idea what cold is. Despite what Roux believes, they are pampered. Sheltered even, compared to me.

 

“Senseless loathing will get us nowhere...” I finally begrudge a few moments later.

 

“Shut up, bakayaro…”

 

He speaks so contradictorily to what I know he feels. He wants me to keep talking…to assure him that he isn't alone, burdened by himself. The Relins are a complicated line of saiyans, father has told me, but if you dig enough, you can usually figure them out. I've become rather adept at translating what Roux really means when he tells me things.

 

“I'd better not catch you whining again! Soldiers don't cry, you of all people should know that, damned General's son!”

 

Translation: Thrice, I feel so alone. I want to cry, but I can't because of Vegeta's presence. It's not fair, you can cry if you want…you don't have to be strong.

 

Oh but Roo, you have no idea…being strong is the least of my problems.

 

“It`s okay, my liege.”

 

“It's okay, my ass! We're stuck here in the belly of the beast for crying out loud! What are you talking about you silver-haired crackpot?”

 

Translation: I'm not so sure. I cannot let any walls down, then I will be weak. Assure me again, elder. I'm terribly frightened, but I need to hide that. This anger is not really meant for you.

 

These are the times when I enjoy my IQ…anyone else would've been hurt by now by his snapping.

 

“Roux, go ahead.”

 

“You're speaking in gibberish again Thrice! You`re not making sense.”

 

What is sense, my liege? I “humph” to myself. I have never made sense, nor will I ever. Sighing, I decipher his latest biting remark.

 

Translation: Really? But I don't understand…

 

I slam a few walls up around my senses of hearing to block out the rest of what Roux has to say. I don't feel like comforting anyone, or explaining anything….. Just make it go away. I do not want this responsibility. Kill it off… All of it…

 

XxXxXxXxXxX

 

The steady drip of water meets my ears some time later, and I realize that I must have fallen asleep. There is no rough concept of time in here, so it is impossible to tell how long I have been out. I can hear Vegeta's steady breathing; the brat must've fallen asleep too.

 

Vaguely, I stare into the endless black void I suppose to be the ceiling from my reclined position. Roux is pacing restlessly. Serves him right to have a bad case of nerves. I hope the tyrant inspires the fear he so badly needs to be acquainted with inside of him.

 

I force a sigh back and bite down on a whine. Sleep had been nice, actually. It is a rare thing indeed for me to be able to drift off so easily at my mind's command. However, my body does not seem rested.

 

Anger is festering within me.

 

I cannot help it. Roux is the only source I can direct it to. My icy eyes draw themselves to the bars of my cell. Perhaps it is time I teach that pampered prince who is truly stronger.

 

The bars melt at my slightest touch, and I smirk to myself. Roux tried earlier, using brute force, but failed. A simple shockwave was all that was needed to dismantle them. This is mere reassurance that I am superior in most ways.

 

“Thrice!?! What did you do? Your ki…”

 

The prison floods with light as he holds a small sphere of ki above his head. He's bleeding, his eyes are bloodshot, and his crimson armor is torn. My brow furrows. Those injuries were not obtained during our resistance to Frieza's guards.

 

Roux has been inflicting damage on himself, a trait that he, most likely, inherited from his father. I know for a fact my father has never taken a dagger to his personage. He believes there are other ways to divert emotions, more productive, and less foolish. I believe the same. Once again…the Casovetti line proves itself much smarter than the Relin line.

 

“Idiot…” I mutter, stepping to the outside of the princes' cell. “What have you been doing?”

 

He refuses to look at me. Much in this way, he is refusing to acknowledge the fact that he is wrong in his actions. The hot feeling in my chest gives way to fire. Will he never realize what a child he is?

 

“You think you are so perfect, matchless enough to ignore your own blatant flaws.” I snarl to him, my face mere inches from the bars that separate us. “You believe you are so strong…so powerful.”

 

Confusion is written all over his face. “Thrice? What's wrong…?”

 

I can only sneer at his idiocy and complete obliviousness.

 

“Roux…you ask a very broad question, my Prince.”

 

The fool is too close for his own good; I am able to grab him by the throat through the bars. I bring his bloodstained visage to the bars, his jawbones making a sickening crunch upon impact. Roux chokes, a very satisfying sound indeed.

 

“You royals must learn, my friend…you aren't always the strongest beings around.”

 

He struggles, his eyes wide and disbelieving at the notion I would even dream of attacking him. Ohh…but I plan to do so much more to him than this.

 

Using my shoulder to bend the bars wide enough, I force myself through, Roux still well within my death grip. My eyes glance at the sleeping Vegeta for a moment; the brat never was much for alertness anyway. I kick him out of the way, then proceed over to the wall. Power courses through my veins, along with an urge I haven't felt in a very long time…one that I was taught to suppress and abhor. But I do not mind it so much now.

 

I pin him against the wall, chuckling softly to myself.

 

“Tsk tsk…the mighty prince overpowered by a mere general's son? Shameful…” I taunt. “Barroes would be so angry with you for being so weak, Roux…”

 

I am unable to translate his garbled reply.

 

“Let go of him!”

 

I groan in annoyance at the brat's whiny tone. “And what are you going to do if I don't, child?”

 

It's truly priceless to see warriors who have deemed themselves so powerful look so helpless. Vegeta is disarmed by one swing of my gray tail. His attempts to free Roux are truly pathetic.

 

“Be still, child. Your elder brother has a lesson to learn.”

 

I grin maliciously at Roux, my crystal eyes locked onto his ebony.

 

“Who is the dominant warrior?” I reinforce my question by tightening my grasp. Despite my hybrid heritage, the notion of a hierarchy remains firmly implanted within my mind.

 

Roux only gurgles, but his eyes speak his reply; he still believes that he is higher-ranking, and that I am merely pulling a dirty trick. His eyes drift to Vegeta helplessly.

 

I roll my eyes and press myself closer, to the point where Roux has no where else to look…except at my jagged features. A low chuckle escapes my throat.

 

Vegeta latches onto my tail, most likely in hope of impeding me. Idiot. Snarling, I send him into the wall once more. No single part of me is weakness. That is the first rule of the military; purge all weak points. In order for the chain to be strong, each link must be in top condition…or the rusted and weak ones will be the cause of its break.

 

And Roux, currently, is showing himself to be very weak. The fools in Council were wrong to believe he could handle the throne better than Barroes. The baka should not have even been created. Better to have a dictator ruling Garthia than to have an arrogant fledgling of a warrior.

 

“You and your ayoki are no better than a child's toys!”

 

I push harder on the younger boy's jugular, smiling as his coal eyes turn an odd shade of gray.

 

“I will terminate the one who took what you so rightly deserved, my dear cousin. I will do what you could not, Barroes. I will kill your halfling.”

 

Roux is thrashing beneath me, a last struggle before death comes to him. But suddenly…it is not so satisfying anymore…

 

I drop the smaller saiyan carelessly. His chest heaves in great gasps, looking at me with a newfound fear and respect in those once-defiant obsidian orbs.

 

Casually, I brush my armor off, not meeting his gaze.

 

“I ask you once more…” I intone. “Who is the dominant warrior, my Prince?”

 

He shivers at my black boots, his voice a soft whisper.

 

“You are, Thrice…”

 

“Good.” I snort. “In order to survive here, we are going to have to play some games. Our true power must be concealed.”

 

I begin to pace, much like my father does when giving orders to his troops.

 

Vegeta and Roux sit on the damp ground, wide-eyed, listening with rapt attention.

 

“This blasted arrogance of yours has got to be obliterated. We are not to stand out here, understood? We must blend in. This is the only way we will overthrow Frieza by ourselves.”

 

“But that's cowardly…” Roux mutters under his breath, but loud enough for my sensitive ears to pick up.

 

I narrow my eyes, silently reprimanding him.

 

“No. That is what is intelligent, Roo. That is what will keep us alive for the next few years, no matter what hell we might face.”

 

He nods, sighing softly. “Alright…”

 

“You will follow my command, no matter what that foolhardy Nappa says. The third class is of no matter, understood?”

 

Silently, they nod, both pairs of eyes on the raised hackles of my tail. Hopefully they understand that this is imperative: Nappa though older than me, could get us all killed. Reckless and headstrong, Raditz could make some truly foolish mistakes. Stupid Vegetans…

 

Exhaling, I allow my shoulders to slump, and stop pacing for a moment.

 

“Good…”

 

Vegeta's quiet voice comes only after a long silence. He's huddled against Roux, looking more childlike than ever.

 

“So...you're going to lead us out of here?”

 

I cannot help but smile.

 

“Of course, Vegeta…we`re all in this together.” I clench my fist, making a silent vow to myself.

 

“Yes…I will get us all out of here. I will be as brilliant a leader and general as my father is. I may not have much to work with in the way of troops…but they are all I have. Toy soldiers, they will be. MY toy soldiers…”