Disclaimer: I own nothing of Akira Toriyama's!

THE CRIMSON STAIN

From the window of his massive spaceship, the Arcosian lord Frieza could gaze at his ever-expanding empire. Space looked like a simple, vast, and blackened oblivion blanketed with stars, but that was merely a deceitful disguise. Hidden in the perpetual darkness was a realm filled to the brim with immeasurable devastation, death, and bloody conflict. Every so often, a bright red spark that marked the death of a planet would burst into view and then just as rapidly dissolve again into obscurity. Only the most viable, profitable planets were allowed to remain, but their inhabitants were never so lucky. Death permeated the void of space just as deeply as darkness—a crimson stain scattered amongst the endless field of stars.

Freiza smiled wryly at the morbidity of it all, took a delicate sip of blood-red wine from the glass he balanced between his fingers, and then gazed back out at the infinite cosmos beyond the glass.

His family had been in the planet trading business for hundreds of years, so the young Arcosian prince had been practically baptized in the blood of his enemies. Now that he had his own empire to control, he delighted in continuing the ancestral tradition. But unlike some who had come before him, the alien tyrant lorded over his spacious domain with a meticulous and almost artful form cruelty.

Inciting unspeakable horror was what Frieza favored above all other things. After all, fear was an unparalleled fuel for the machinations of his plot to continuously expand his territory and take over the known universe. The Arcosian knew that his name was notorious in all corners of the galaxies he controlled. Whole worlds trembled, entire populations bowed, and armies scattered—and for good reason. True, much of his prestige he had inherited from his illustrious family, but was through his unmatched brutality that Frieza was able to secure and maintain such boundless, unmitigated power.

However, it wasn't just the family business that he had inherited. The tyrant lifted his glass to his lips again, and his smile wavered slightly.

Frieza's elders had also handed down an ancient legend. This legend told of a power so great that even the mighty Arcosian felt a strange, aberrant twinge of insecurity when he dared think about it. It spoke of a warrior so overwhelmingly strong that his own power consumed and ultimately destroyed him—but not before he carved in the stones of history and memory a path of epic devastation. The story recounted that one of Frieza's own ancestors was victim to this horror, and now the Arcosian prince knew he was not the only one who had heard the whispers.

The alien lowered his domed head and stared into the reflective surface of the liquid in his glass. A distorted, rippling visage scowled back.

The Saiyans—destructive and equally dimwitted monkeys he had coaxed years ago into becoming his soldier-slaves—had a similar legend of a mythical warrior that had existed and would one day rise again. They called it a "Super Saiyan" and the similarities between the two legends were too uncanny to be coincidental. Freiza had never feared anything in his life, but now suddenly he found himself endless ruminating on this supposedly undefeatable warrior, abandoning rational thought in favor of paranoid delusion, and frantically searching for ways to reign in the growing rumors that were spreading like wildfire through the Saiyan ranks.

The Arcosian lord clenched the glass wine tighter and tighter between his fingers. The reflected face inside grew more contorted and angry, the red liquid jumped and trembled, and small cracks webbed across the vessel's clear, polished surface. Finally, there was a loud, sharp pop as the crystal abruptly shattered in his hand, scattering the floor with a mixture of glittering shards and red droplets.

Frieza grimaced unpleasantly, and then threw down his clasped fist. He turned his head, glancing with the corner of his eye towards his highest-ranking officer. Zarbon, his second-in-command and personal bodyguard, stood next to the door compliantly watching his superior. A tense silence stretched between the two alien warriors, until Zarbon finally raised an inquisitive eyebrow in response to his master's outburst. Freiza frowned back, then clenched his hands behind his back and turned back to the window.

"Something is amiss, Zarbon," he said simply.

The Arcosian lord heard his minion approach, stopping just short of a few meters behind where he stood now. "Anything I can do, my lord?"

Frieza felt his brow furrow. "Perhaps there is. What are the latest reports from the front?"

"Fourteen new planets conquered so far this month, Sir," droned Zarbon. "That's a 30% increase from last month. It seems the Saiyans are becoming more proficient at their purging duties every day."

Frieza listened silently, but inside his head a maelstrom was stirring. Zarbon concluded his succinct report and then stared at his master, waiting for a reply. When he received none, the blue-skinned soldier continued.

"Was that not what you were hoping to hear, my Lord?"

The Arcosian tyrant sighed heavily, and his eyes sank down to the white floor, now stained with wine and scattered with crystal fragments.

"Call someone to clean up this mess," he finally said, as if he hadn't heard Zarbon's question. "I can't stand for any kind of disorder."

Zarbon bowed obediently. "Of course, my Lord Frieza."

The alien turned swiftly on his heels, his long dark cape swirling behind him. Frieza glanced over his shoulder briefly, listening to the soft, rhythmic footfalls of his second-in-command as he headed for the door. Suddenly, he felt compelled to speak what was really on his mind.

"It's truly a shame," he breathed, his voice like the flick of a knife.

Zarbon's footsteps paused, and Frieza turned around to face his subordinate. He was pleased to see a slight trace of fear leak through the usual stoic visage of his servant. Whenever the Arcosian prince chose to use that sharp tone of voice, people around him always died. As the only other person around at the moment, Zarbon undoubtedly was worried now for his own life. The thought gave Frieza a diminutive twinge of pleasure.

"My lord?" Zarbon inquired nervously.

"Oh, come off it, Zarbon. It's the Saiyans, you fool," Frieza finally revealed, much to his servant's relief. "They're growing more proficient in their duties, you say? Therein lies the problem."

Frieza's eyes flickered once again toward his second-in-command as he mused, but Zarbon's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand, Sir."

"The Saiyans were such a useful tool. They took to our technology like…well, like monkeys to trees. They were easy to organize. Their appetite for violence was spectacular," the Arcosian lord explained before pausing. Then, he added: "But I was mistaken about them."

Zarbon scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "But my Lord Frieza cannot be mistaken."

"Save your useless flattery, Zarbon," his master abruptly snapped. Frieza scowled unpleasantly and whipped around to face the window once more. "I realize now the gravity of my errors. We gave them technology, and so their intelligence grew. We organized them, and now they have their worthless King and their own social hierarchy. We gave them planets to conquer, and their power increases with every battle fought. When I decided to employ the monkeys, I didn't realize how adaptable they'd become. I didn't realize that I was creating the ideal environment for them. They're not just becoming more proficient at killing. They're evolving, Zarbon."

Frieza glanced over his shoulder at his subordinate. The green-haired soldier looked rather perplexed with his master's sudden revelation. "But my Lord Frieza, even if all the Saiyans were to rise against you, you would be able to slaughter them with ease."

Frieza closed his eyes and crossed his arms. He was growing impatient with Zarbon's ignorance.

"Hmph," he grunted contemptuously. "So what if I can? That's not the point."

"Then, my Lord, what is?"

Frieza's eyes snapped open. His next words slipped off the tip of his tongue precisely, each as sharp and pointed as a razor blade. "Zarbon, which causes more pain: One or five?"

The blue-hued alien's eyes widened momentarily, and then flicked downward as he paused a moment to think carefully. It took him longer than usual to answer, and Frieza guessed that it was probably because Zarbon was struggling with the idea that the wrong answer could easily end his life. The Arcosian lord turned again and slowly walked down from his lofty platform and stood in front of his much-taller inferior, staring at him coldly.

"Answer me," he hissed maliciously.

Finally, Zarbon's wary gaze finally settled on his master.

"Five," the soldier finally concluded.

Frieza tilted his head to the side, and then smiled benevolently, as though satisfied with his subordinate's answer. For a fleeting moment, the tension between the two aliens fizzled and died. Then the Arcosian's right hand suddenly shot out and viciously slapped Zarbon with an open palm in the face, his five fingers splayed. It sent his second-in-command's head snapping back like that of a ragdoll's.

Again, Frieza smiled kindly. "Did that hurt, Zarbon?"

It took Zarbon a while to answer. He seemed frozen in place, his head turned to one side, his perfectly braided hair knocked loose from the force of the blow. Finally, he steadied himself and struggled out a few quiet words.

"Y-yes, my lord."

"Good."

Frieza then balled up one fist and plunged it headlong into the other alien's face with tremendous fervor, sending Zarbon sprawling across the room and ramming him violently into the wall meters away. Cracks snaked up the sterile, white surface and some of the ceiling collapsed into dust around the injured alien, who cried out in obvious agony and clutched his newly-broken, bloodied nose. Still only half-satisfied with the carnage he'd created, Frieza whirled around and began staring gloomily out the window once more.

"Now tell me again," he demaned sharply. "Which causes more pain?"

Zarbon struggled to sputter out the words. "O…One, my L-lord."

"Very good, Zarbon," the Arcosian tyrant hissed. He held up a single finger, still glaring out into the emptiness of space beyond the window. "It only takes a single grain of sand to tip the scale. I do not fear the lot of them, Zarbon. I fear the one. A Saiyan with unimaginable power. The legend."

Frieza did not need to explain what he meant; his subordinate had heard the ancient story too.

"But that—that is merely a myth, my Lord," Zarbon said as he struggled to his feet and wiped his bleeding face.

Frieza's gaze turned towards planet that floated closest outside his window. Its reddish surface contrasted with the colorless void that surrounded it. It was Planet Vegeta, the Saiyans' home world.

"That may be true, but still…" he sighed unpleasantly, "…monkey see, monkey do. Let one weed spring up and live, and soon they'll be spreading."

Out of the corner of his eye, the Arcosian prince noticed a bright starburst that marked the death of yet another world off to the left. He paused momentarily to watch it shimmer and fade, an idea taking shape in the darkness of his mind. Then he turned his eyes purposefully back to Planet Vegeta.

"The Saiyans must be eradicated, Zarbon," he finally resolved. "All of them."

"All of them, Lord Frieza?" his second-in-command clarified, but there was no answer from his superior. Finally, Zarbon placed his hand above his heart and bowed low. "I shall begin to make the arrangements necessary right away, Sir."

Frieza abruptly whipped his head around and pinned down his soldier down with his gaze once more. "First, I want you summon that worthless coward they call King and his obnoxious young son. Bring them here at once."

Zarbon nodded and then swiftly spun on his heels. He marched towards the door before pausing and turning back to his master. "You intend to spare the royal family, my Lord?"

Frieza's smile widened. Another bright pinpoint of light exploded in the depths of space, creating a brilliant, fleeting flash of light in the inky blackness. This one was much closer than the one that had occurred just moments before, so the display proved to be much more striking and colorful. The Arcosian lord relished the sight of crimson seeping out among the stars, like a pool of blood that was deepening. The thought was like a shot of adrenaline in Frieza's veins, and he felt his heart begin to beat wildly at the idea of destroying the next planet himself.

"No," he hissed wickedly: "Just one of them."

Author's Note: I was inspired to write this one-shot by a scene in Season 1 of Game of Thrones. Not sure if that particular scene struck chords with anybody else (let me know if you recall which scene!), but it did for me, so I wrote this. One of those cases where the idea strikes you and holds your mind hostage until you write it, you know? I was never expecting (or intending) to write fanfiction about Frieza or Zarbon, but I have to admit, I enjoyed Frieza's evil musings quite a bit from the start. Also, today is my birthday (Yay me!) so please enjoy, and if you find me worthy, review!