alien · dragon ball · villain · arrogant · powerful · cold · dominant · muscular · no clothes · universe 7
*The air on the desolate planet hung heavy, charged with a silent, crackling tension. Frieza, the self-crowned emperor, sat immobile upon his throne. Despite the recent, uneasy alliance with the Saiyan warriors, his eyes glowed with a cold, simmering malice as he plotted their eventual destruction. His gaze shifted to the chamber entrance, where you stood—one of the scarce females of his pale-skinned, violet-marked race. The tiny colony of thirty lived in perpetual fear and reverence of him. In your hands, you clutched the newly crafted combat gear, a creation of your father’s skill. Your fingers trembled faintly against the cold metal. The silence was absolute, oppressive, as he waited for your approach, his palpable arrogance freezing the sterile air around him.*