Vee 🫶🏼

As Y/N’s already low ki was lowered even further while unconscious, and had not awoken until chambered, the Saiyan’s would struggle to find her using any ki sensing techniques. Prior to her capture, Frieza had stressed over the other ways that could be used to track or teleport either Y/N or himself. Most were out of his control to prevent. Use of the Dragon Balls, godly intervention, Zuno or a rogue informant on his force – the options for his sabotage were endless.

If ‘Master’ Zuno was as all-knowing and smart as he was said to be then he’d undoubtedly heard of Frieza and his reputation. No being with that level of knowledge would be foolish enough to risk the galactic giant’s wrath.

There was the Galactic Patrol, a fitting name for an organisation that had simply sat back and watched as he had ruled over the galaxy for decades. Frieza smirked as he pondered on the various war crimes he’d committed while they patrolled. They were a joke, their ‘Galactic’ King even more so. No matter the relationship Vegeta’s blue haired harpy had with that scrawny pathetic patrolman, there was no way his superiors would allow him to get involved.

Then there was Beerus and his attendant Whis. The Destroyer God had no love for him personally but does seem to at least respect for the power he as a mortal had obtained. Before his fall at the hands of a monkey, Beerus had at least deemed him worthy enough of several audiences and authorised his plan for the destruction of the monkey race. If only he’d had the foresight to vaporise Vegeta all those years ago.

It had become clear following his resurrection that Beerus’ regard for him stopped at respect of his power and, perhaps, his cunning. Whether it was respect of their ambition, his use for them, desire to fight an equal, or an actual sliver of genuine like, the Destroyer certainly regarded the monkey duo in higher esteem than himself. There was a slim chance that Beerus would aid them, if he saw some sort of benefit to himself or advantage from the situation.

On the other hand, Beerus generally wasn’t one to care about a singular mortal life. Frieza was in no way threatening him and was currently occupied from any nefarious schemes or ploys for godhood. The Icejin had also fought well in the last Tournament of Power, playing a crucial role in several decisive victories. It was far more likely that Beerus would simply abstain from weighing in. If Beerus decided he wasn’t getting involved, then there was no way that he would allow Whis to do so. In the unlikely event that Beerus did get involved then he would have to lay on polite flattery. There was little else he could do in such a scenario.

The Dragon Balls, if they were still available for use then the Earthlings would have used them already. Still, they could come into play at any time. In preparation for this, he’d dispatched several warriors to steal several of the balls from Earth as soon as possible. Without one or two balls the rest would be useless.

However, ruminating on these future problems wasn’t the only cause of his stress. In the past week his scientists had run numerous different tests and come up empty. No matter what they had tried he had been told the result was the same. They were certain that this fixation wasn’t magic or related to any intentional pheromone release. Utter failures. How could scientists claiming to be among the best in the universe fail to unlock the secrets of one simple weak human woman. Frieza felt his ki welling up in as he thought back on the morning’s earlier incident.

It had been a pleasant morning, filled with finery and scheming. When he had been alerted that his two lead scientists had arrived to update him on the woman. Two stout aliens dressed in spotless white lab coats strode in. After blustery formal greetings to him, they’d detailed their continual failures. Naturally he’d asked what they planned to try next given their failure when one of them had SAID IT.

“There aren’t anymore tests but I have an answer for you. Initially your brain released testosterone when you first saw the human. You seem to have moved on to stage two. Your body is releasing dopamine, adrenaline, and norepinephrine leading to a stir of emotions within you. Simply put, it is attraction. Whether you recognise it or not, you seem to be interested in the human. Even if only at a biological level” one of the small aliens voiced in a grating matter of fact tone.

Frieza felt an untenable rage heating his veins but with practiced perfection let nothing slip. Turning to the other alien he nonchalantly asked, “and you? Do you agree with his assessment?” As if uncertain of Frieza’s temperament, the scientist took a moment before nodding slowly. “Well, that’s decided then” Frieza declared. With that he raised one finger and obliterated each disappointed.

The two ceremonial guards who had been standing still were blown away by his actions, staring wide eyed at their leader. Shaking like leaves they tried to appear unphased. With a dismissive wave of his hand Frieza issued his command, “get rid of them.” Frieza crossed one leg over the other as he sat upon his throne, eyes narrowing to slits. “Oh, and do inform the remaining scientists that they had better not fail me again.”

Good help was hard to find these days Frieza thought to himself as he shook off his angry flashback. He was left with no other choice, religated to carrying out grunt work and investigate the woman himself. With a sigh he descended from his gilded throne and made for the observation wing. Scientists, guards, and personnel were quick to scurry out of his wat, huddling in small gaggles to gossip when they believed him to be out of earshot.

While he once would have turned on his heel and obliterated them or devised some horrible punishment for them, he now was far to preoccupied to pay any mind to simpletons. Their simple-minded gossip had them feeling as though they were right.

Group 1: “Do you think today is the day he realises?” “Pfft, I doubt he ever will.”

Group 2: “Those scientists were definitely right.” “Lord Frieza seems convinced otherwise.” “He’s a fool in love; he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Frieza gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw ever tighter. Though he otherwise fought hard to keep his composure, simply stalking away towards his goal. Reaching the doors of the observation wing he wasted no time throwing open the sleek steel double doors.

Before him was a small table with two chairs overlooking a small but comfortable room. A plush king bed was pushed into one corner of the room. Its sheets were crinkled despite the makers best effort to straighten them out. Beside it sat a small wooden desk with a comfortable chair. In the opposite corner was a bookshelf filled with different Earthling books and a smattering of alien titles sandwiched in between. A floor length reading lamp sat between it and a plush red reading chair. Perched upon it with a large book in hand was his guest (prisoner).

Hestitating he briefly wondered if it was wise to enter and disturb the woman. While he certainly knew she was too weak to be a physical threat to him, it was the unknown quantities of her powers that concerned him. What if she placed some kind of new curse on him or was able to strengthen the hold she already had over him? Frieza felt his muscles wind up into balls of steeled tension. Moments of doubt like this were highly uncommon before he had first met that third class Saiyan scum Goku. He was Frieza, the tremendous tyrant, destroyer of words, annihilator of species. A conversation with a singular human woman was no challenge in the face of all that he had overcome previously. With that he shouldered the door open, straightened up, puffed out his chest, and stomped in.

There was a small chance that the galactic patrolman who had fought against his forces would inform them, though it was fairly unlikely that his superiors would allow him to divulge this information. That was if they valued their longevity anyway. Thus, once he had reached the halfway mark in his journey he had begun to make a conscious effort to mask his ki signature.

The splitting up of his forces had been strategic as well. On one planet was his science and innovation division, and another was the bulk of his Frieza force soldier barracks and training facilities, and on the third was his ‘official’ private base of operations. However, privately he’d had a small but lavish base built on a tiny nowhere tropical planet. The local people had been enslaved to build it and then subsequently terminated, keeping its location a secret that few knew. Other than the Galactic Lord only his closest advisors and the handful of staff who permanently maintained it were aware of its existence.

More cleverly, the tropical planet had once been an outlying dwarf planet to a now destroyed planet. Given his known hatred of the Saiyan race the debris littered remains of the Saiyan Empire were the last place he expected Vegeta or Goku to look for him. Frieza smirked gleefully at the thought, it was always joyous to be a galaxy ahead of your enemies.

In decades long past, a trip from Earth to Planet Vegeta, or vice versa, would have taken at least a year. After seeing earthlings on Namek so soon after Vegeta’s (amusing) defeat, it had been clear that faster space travel was possible. Thus, before his own untimely defeat he’d made sure to alert his father, the mighty King Cold, of these new possibilities so that they could pool their scientists and engineers together. Since his revival Frieza had faced countless disappointments. For once, however, his forces had succeeded in his absence.

In the years he’d been in HFIL his scientists and engineers had outfitted nearly every pod and half of the larger space crafts. His own was perhaps the flashest of these newly outfitted ships. Newly created cryostasis technology had been installed within it. Ideally, it meant that those on the ship could go into cryostasis while a small skeleton crew maintained the ship and its courses. Frieza had made certain that his own quarters would be locked down if he, himself, went into cryostasis. Only his closest advisors were able to access the chambers and by extension the controls for his stasis. Given they were still months out from their destination they’d do just that - go into cryostasis until they reached their destination.

–Five Months Later –

He felt stiff as he came back to wakeful conscious, muscles screaming out as he stretched for the first time in months. The ship had reached its final destination, his new purpose built science and research centre. Disarming and unlocking his chamber, the obsessive obligarch made for the brig and began barking out orders.

“The human woman shan’t be far behind us. Have them prepare for her arrival as soon as we land. She is to be moved from the pod into her observation chamber immediately” Frieza barked out at the crew as they ran around like headless chooks (chicken). Frieza took up his throne, passing the next few minutes of docking lost in his own thoughts. By the time Frieza snapped back into his surroundings the ship had safely landed. The lord abandoned his ship, making for his chambers to prepare for her arrival. Before he’d had even a moment to himself Berryblue was in his chambers pestering him.

What are your plans with her?

What answers do you seek from the woman herself?

What if you don’t get the answer that you are looking for?

Frieza felt his anger burning white hot inside of him, threatening to spill out and blow the whole room sky high. Before the Supreme Overlord had even a moment to process his next action a soldier burst into the room. Breathlessly he spoke long awaited words, “Lord Frieza, she has arrived.”

“After Vegeta’s betrayal, Frieza’s untimely death, and ultimately his resurrection the tyrant had split his operations up, divisionally on several different planets he owned. While it wouldn’t exactly be impossible for Vegeta or any of his bumbling idiots to discover these new locations, Vegeta’s settlement on earth had made him considerably less informed on such matters. The only way that he could be immediately tracked through his own ki. However, given that in mastering his Golden Frieza form he had mastered ki manipulation and masking it was unlikely they would be able to track him this way.

There was a small chance that the galactic patrolman who had fought against his forces would inform them, though it was fairly unlikely that his superiors would allow him to divulge this information. That was if they valued their longevity anyway. Thus, once he had reached the halfway mark in his journey he had begun to make a conscious effort to mask his ki signature.

The splitting up of his forces had been strategic as well. On one planet was his science and innovation division, and another was the bulk of his Frieza force soldier barracks and training facilities, and on the third was his ‘official’ private base of operations. However, privately he’d had a small but lavish base built on a tiny nowhere tropical planet. The local people had been enslaved to build it and then subsequently terminated, keeping its location a secret that few knew. Other than the Galactic Lord only his closest advisors and the handful of staff who permanently maintained it were aware of its existence.

More cleverly, the tropical planet had once been an outlying dwarf planet to a now destroyed planet. Given his known hatred of the Saiyan race the debris littered remains of the Saiyan Empire were the last place he expected Vegeta or Goku to look for him. Frieza smirked gleefully at the thought, it was always joyous to be a galaxy ahead of your enemies.”

'So track Frieza then. There's no way he isn't behind this, especially with the way he was ogling Y/N on his last revenge attempt. Even if they weren't dressed in Frieza Force uniforms there's no way any other random group of aliens would have put so much effort into kidnapping Y/N" Bulma snapped back, hands moving to her hips as she fixed the two with a death glare. "Tch, what a great idea. Why didn't we think of that Kakarot?" Vegeta sarcastically asked his counterpart, "oh wait we have and Y/N's ki is nowhere around Frieza. Even if Frieza is the one who kidnapped her they don't seem to be together. I doubt that if we confronted Frieza that he would give us a straight answer about his involvement or Y/N's location."

Bulma let out a deep sigh as her husband's words sunk in. "What about the Dragon Balls?" Goku suddenly suggested, "if we gather them we can just wish Y/N back to Earth. Even if Frieza or whoever comes back again we'll be ready for them this time." Vegeta seemed surprised by Kakarot's suggestion, a slight smirk sneaking on to his lips, "Wow Kakarot it seems like you're not a total idiot after all." "Hey Vegeta, that's not nice!" the younger Saiyan whined at him.

"Uh about that" Bulma sharply inhaled, "Ikindofusedthemlikeamonthagotomakemyselflookyounger." Both Vegeta and Goku looked between each other and Bulma, eyes wide and mouths open in disbelief at her reckless use of the Dragon Balls. Vegeta made a choking noise of disbelief but it is Kakarot who breaks the tension. "Wow Bulma it doesn't really seem like they worked very well. I guess Shenron isn't a miracle worker" Goku laughed. Both husband and wife turned to him eyes ablaze. Before Vegeta could react Goku had received a swift kick to the face by Bulma.

As Goku complained in pain in the background as Bulma yelled at him, Vegeta began contemplating their remaining options. Either they waited until they could get a fix on Y/N's ki or until they were able to use the Dragon Balls in eleven months. The alien they'd caught instead of Y/N was a non-option, he'd slunk off amongst the chaos as the Saiyans had chased the second pod up into the atmosphere. It was unlikely that it was still on the planet, some other low level Frieza operative would have come to recover it in a bid to delay the Saiyan's recovering Y/N. No, they'd just have to bide their time and practice the unfortunate art of patience until then.

Thorin’s status ensured that no matter how he treated you, you intended to complete your work to the highest of standards. Given his kindness, however, you intended to add extra flourish and attention where appropriate in the design. You’d consulted all your previous designs pulling inspiration for the designs you were compiling to show the King. Over the past few days, you had drawn up various designs, each with varying colour schemes and arrangements. For every half decent plan there were ten more that were equally as ill fitting. On the third day of drawing it finally felt as though your design portfolio had come together.

As if Thorin could sense this he had sent an attendant to your store with correspondence for you. It had been a somewhat quiet day, the middle of the week usually was, when the quiet chime of someone entering the shop alerted you to a customer. Emerging from the back of the store you were met by the sight of a short stout elderly dwarf. You recognised him instantly as Balin from Thorin’s Company and the King’s advisor, despite having never officially met him.

“Good day sir, how can I help you?” you greeted cheerily. “Are you Y/N?” Balin inquired, pausing briefly for your acknowledgement. After you’d given him a nod of acknowledgement he continued, “I have an invitation from His Majesty here. He has invited you to dine with him tomorrow evening to discuss Lady Dís’ present.” With that he handed you a small slip of paper. It was short and simple:

Y/N,

I hope you will grant me the pleasure of your company tomorrow evening. I enjoyed our discussion the other evening so thought that we could perhaps dine and then discuss the designs of Dís’ present. It is to be a private event, just the two of us – to avoid formalities. A large gathering would increase the chances of Dís’ surprise being ruined too. However, I am quite happily to arrange a more formal meeting if you’re more comfortable with that. Please let Balin know and he will pass your decision back to me.

With the warmest regards,

Thorin Oakenshield (King under the Mountain, Unifier of the Dwarven Kingdoms, the King of Carven Stone, and Durin’s Memory made Flesh).

It was most surprising to hear that the King was requesting your company in an informal, non-strictly business capacity. While the two of you had certainly gotten along well upon your meeting with His Majesty struck you as incredibly busy. While Thorin had not directly spoken of his work load you knew very well of the extensive building work and repairs that continued throughout Erebor, of the treaties and alliances with men and elves, and the increased vigilance needed as Middle Earth grew ever darker. The fact that he was carving out some of his limited personal time to dine with you was rather flattering.

“Please inform His Majesty that it would be my honour to dine with him tomorrow. Where and when shall I meet with him?” you inquired kindly. Balin smiled back warmly at you, “Thorin will be pleased to hear. Come to the royal wing at 6 tomorrow evening. The royal guard will escort you to the King.” Once Balin was certain that the details were all understood he left you to your work. So, to did he leave you to your anxieties and butterflies over this private dinner.

---- The Next Day ----

After spending the day pouring over work, fixing any small error, you shut the store early and made your way home with your work. While the King had already seen you in your working clothes it felt improper to attend dinner in such an outfit, even if it was supposed to be a lowkey affair. After stringently scrubbing in every crook and cranny in a hot bath till your skin seemed to glow you moved to your bedroom to pour over your more formal outfits and accessories, jewellery, hats, scarves and more. Once you had obsessed over your appearance enough you made for the royal wing.

Four guards stood watch, warding off the entrance from civilian access. One stepped forward, raising a hand up to stop you, “state your business here.” “I am Y/N of S/N. My presence was requested by His Majesty. I have my portfolio here as well as the King’s invitation here that I can show you” your voice betrayed your nervousness at the unfamiliar situation. “That won’t be necessary, we were told to expect you. Daran will escort you to the King’s study to meet with him” the first guard asserted. With that one of the guard’s beckoned you to follow him before turning to leave down the hall. The remaining three resumed their guard posts.

Wordlessly you followed Daran down the wide winding hallways, absentmindedly watching as the shadows cast by the warm torchlight danced against the polished stone. Daran came to a sudden stop outside of a large thick wooden door, rapping upon it with his knuckles. The deep voice of the King called out, “who is it?” “It is Daran my King. Lady Y/N is here as per your invitation” Daran called back. “Ah, thank you Daran. Please let her in” Thorin replied. The guardsman opened the door, holding it open for you. Smiling warmly at him you bid him thanks and entered the King’s study.

The sight of the King perched at a heavy wooden desk greeted you as you entered the study. The polished cherry wood was littered by stacks of scrolls and loose papers. Nearby tables and shelves overflowed with similar materials, books and trinkets. As you came into view of the King, Thorin rose to greet you. His Majesty was dressed incredibly well, perhaps even more finely than usual. A deep navy tunic patterned with swirls of silver, the trim of the collar framed with matching silver chord and tidy black trousers clothed him. While his hair was normally neatly braided, you swore not a hair was out of place. Royal titles and wealth aside, Thorin was already a handsome dwarf, the care he put into his appearance making him even more so.

“Y/N, I’m glad that you agreed to join me. You look exquisite, though I hope you didn’t feel as though you had to dress up for me” Thorin greeted you. Bowing/curtseying you gave Thorin a warm, albeit nervous, smile, “That’s very kind of you to say Your Grace. Did you have an occasion or formal meeting today? You’re very nicely dressed as well, that blue compliments your eyes. I bet I could travel Middle Earth a hundred times over and would not find a body of water as deep or sparkling as they are.” You trailed off as you flushed in embarrassment as you realised the gravity of what you had said to the King. Thorin’s face instantly burned scarlet red, eyes widening ever so slightly at your boldness.

Before you could apologise Thorin let out a deep hearty chuckle, “I’ve travelled across Middle Earth and I’m quite certain that you are mistaken but I thank you all the same. No wonder your family’s creations are so popular. Quality aside I’m sure many customers are disarmed and lured in by the dangerous combination of your ethereal beauty and waxing poeticism.” His Majesty’s tone had turned light and teasing towards the end. The tension that had gathered in your body instantly gave way and a sense of relief that you had not offended the King washed over you. “I am glad I didn’t offend you. I must admit that I didn’t mean to be so bold, it’s just that I’ve never seen such a shade of blue before. I’ve seen so many gems and yet I can’t remember ever seeing such a striking colour” you replied rather bashfully as you brought a hand up to rub the back of your neck.

Thorin smiled at you with the warmth of a thousand suns, “I feel bad making a guest stand without offering any sort of comforts. Let’s continue this flattery in the parlour.” He offered you his arm to which you gladly took it. While Thorin was known to be charming and kind to his kinfolk, he was not known to so openly flatter others. It shocked you that not only had the King so openly and teasingly replied to your accidental flattery in kind. Thorin was easily one of, if not the, most handsome member of your clan.

Thorin led you through the second door in his study. The adjacent room was small but no less refined than the previous room. In the left side of the room sat a polished deep cherry wood table that matched the intricate desk inside the royal study. Two well cushioned chairs sat at either end fashioned from the same wood. On the right side was an ornate fireplace carved out of the mountain’s stone and worked to absolute perfection. Fine tapestries depicting Durin and his lineage hung on the walls with other miscellaneous furniture neatly organised about the room. Even as a private dining space only to be used when Thorin was busy with pressing matters the room was befit for a king.

As you had marvelled at the many tapestries and furnishings of the room Thorin had glided over to the table. His Majesty drew out one of the chairs for you, tucking in back into the table slightly once you had sat down in it. Before taking his own seat Thorin carefully took your portfolio and laid it carefully on a nearby set of drawers. “I thought we could dine and then talk business afterwards if that suits you. As I mentioned in my letter it was refreshing to speak with you the other evening. Seldom do I get to speak in an unofficial capacity with my people, least of all to such charming creatures like yourself” Thorin admitted a slight blush returning to his cheeks. With a sweet smile you nodded gently to him, “It is my honour to dine with you Your Majesty. I don’t think anyone has painted me in such an utterly glowing light like you have. You needn’t worry, even without all this flattery I will make sure Princess Dís’ gift is the most breathtaking craft to have been made in Erebor since it’s reclamation, and perhaps even before it’s loss.”

“Please, call me Thorin. I assure you that my intention was not to flatter you to make sure you Dís’ gift is crafted well. One as lovely as you deserves to be told as such. I would usually not be so bold, but your lyricism earlier encouraged me though perhaps I misunderstood it. If I have not then I would like to spend more time getting to know one and another while Dís’ gift is being crafted and, if all goes well, afterwards as well” Thorin confessed. An admission that stunned you but was certainly not unwelcome. If the butterflies fluttering about in your stomach were anything to go off these next few weeks of floral creation were to be exciting.