Hey, all! So quick heads up - there might be some slight changes coming to this story, soon. I've been in kind of a rut with this story, lately, and haven't figured out where I want to take it next. I'm currently spitballing some ideas around in my head and in some drafts of this story to help figure that out. It might involve introducing new characters. I might find a way to just stick with these two. Who knows? And if you're wondering about A Wondrous Place, I don't know when the next chapter's going to be out. I haven't given up on the story by any means, but I don't know when you'll see new chapters of it.

But for now, please enjoy this chapter!

In all of his life, Piccolo never felt guilt for anything. He hadn't tried to repent for his forefather's crimes. He never cared about the collateral in any move he made. If it all worked out for him in the long term, it wasn't his problem: simple as that. So what if a few bystanders got hurt? They could take it up with someone who wasn't their prince, if they really had a problem with it. He could do what he wanted - he had that power.

If all that was true, then why had this, of all things, made him feel queazy?

It hadn't even taken long for the unease to settle in, when he had acted in the dining room. When he threw that old ratty top into the fire, he had hoped to instill some order into Goku, that ungrateful freeloader. He had shown him what his kindness could give him many times - showing him what his wrath could bring might finally put an end to his defiance. Maybe he would finally realize what a boone he had been offered and finally quit acting so entitled.

What he hadn't expected was that reaction. It wasn't one of resignation or even teeth-clenched obedience - it was defeat. He hadn't even gotten angry. If he had blown up at him, he would have at least gotten to put him back in his place. But the despair in his voice and on his face wasn't satisfying. Men had called him worse, but from someone like him...

And then came all the tears. Goku, for all the grief he had caused him, had never shown him a sign of weakness. He had the will to continue to defy him. He might have been a moron, but he stuck to his guns more than the most loyal soldier ever could have. If what he had done had been enough to break all of that, and turn him into a sobbing mess...

It hadn't taken long for Piccolo to realize how big of a mistake he had made. Goku kept himself locked in his room, never coming out for anything. It was even worse than it had been, before. Whenever Piccolo just approached his door, he would weakly tell him to go away, in a hoarse and choked voice.

And somehow, he couldn't find it within him to refuse that request.

What was going on? He had killed men for defiance, before. He had threatened men for much less, too. Why was he the one taking orders from Goku, now? It didn't make any sense. He should be breaking down his door and forcing him to cooperate. After all, this was still his palace. He could do whatever he wanted, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do much to stop it. It was just a shirt. He was upset over something so insignificant. Using force was the obvious answer. Was he going soft?

He scoffed. No, he could never be going soft. Especially not for that fool. He hated him too much to do that. He was disrespectful, insubordinate, and insufferable. He had that stunt coming, for being so ungrateful.

Did he truly believe that?

All of that was true, but there was something about Goku. He had a lot of tenacity and spirit. He was stubborn, unwilling to move for anything or anyone. Even Piccolo could respect that. No one dared to defy him, in his younger years. It was an odd change of pace. Maybe not an unwelcome one at that. And that first fight they had, together: the thought of it still gave him goosebumps. He'd never had an opponent who came that close to his power. He had so much grace and finesse, too. In the few moments he had managed to get close to him, he couldn't deny that he liked a few things: the way his hand fit in his and the way his skin felt underneath his fingertips. And when the light hit his face just right, he might call him beautiful.

What did that mean, though? He was still a thorn in his side who refused to cooperate. It made him wonder if breaking the curse was even worth all of the effort. He'd rather remain a beast forever than spend another second with him. He should just go down there and finally be done with him. He'd gain some peace, again, and solve this problem once and for all. And yet, as he thought about it, it didn't make him feel better. It made him feel more uneasy. He sat down in his broken chair, dragging a hand down his face.

Piccolo had never felt this way about anyone before in his life. He felt his stomach do flips when he thought about Goku and his heart skip a beat when he pictured his face. It was enough to make him feel lightheaded. And when he thought of him looking so defeated and sorrowful, he felt queazy and disgusted with himself. He didn't know what these feelings were, and he didn't like it one bit.

He glanced at the corner of the room. He hadn't used that old thing in years, but maybe this would finally give him the answers he needed. He stood up and marched to the back of the room, pulling a tarp off of an object. It was a large ornate mirror. Its frame was covered in fine jewels, and the glass was as pristine as the day he got it. It had once been an ordinary mirror, but Piccolo had discovered one day that it was enchanted. Locked away in his palace, this was his only window to the outside world. If he wished to see anything, he only needed to say so. Every other mirror in this palace had been smashed to bits, hiding himself from his monstrous form. This one remained the same for over a century.

Piccolo averted his gaze from his reflection. He couldn't bare to look at himself, even after all these years. "Show me Goku," he commanded.

The image in the mirror swirled, fading into a new scene. Goku was sitting on his bed, staring at the window. The way the moonlight reflected onto his face made his heart skip a beat. If only he were able to see it in person. And he still hadn't replaced his lost shirt, leaving his pectorals and muscles exposed.

He shook his head. No, he couldn't get caught up in his beauty like a schoolboy. He still needed to figure out what to do, first.

Goku had a look of intense concentration, staring down at the ground below. He looked back at the door for a moment, then back out the window. Piccolo could only wonder what he was thinking about, as he looked so deep in thought.

He pushed open the window, and a gust of wind hit his face. He went back to the bed, and started pulling off the sheets and blankets. He tied them together at their ends, creating a long linked chain.

"He wouldn't," Piccolo muttered, as he glared at the mirror. He wasn't going to try what he thought he would. Surely, he wasn't that stupid.

When he finished connecting all of the sheets, he gathered them up into a pile, and pushed it over the window ceil, securing the end to one of the bedposts.

He was. He was actually trying to escape right under his nose. Piccolo grabbed the enchanted mirror, and threw it onto the ground, in frustration. He knocked another painting to the side, and the frame splintered and broke. When he got his hands on that bastard, he was going to wish he was dead. How dare he try a stunt like that? He was about to storm out of the room, ready to give him a piece of his mind.

"No, I can't."

He stopped, in the doorway, and turned around. The mirror was overturned on the ground, so he couldn't see what was happening. He walked back over and knelt down, picking up the mirror.

Goku was gathering back up all of the blankets, pulling them back into the room. He kept the window open for one more moment, before shutting it and locking it.

He took a deep breath. "It's for grandpa," he said to himself. "It's for grandpa." He repeated it to himself, as he paced around the room.

Piccolo fell a pull at his chest, when he heard those words. He knew the reason why he chose to say, but he'd never heard it out loud like this. He felt disappointed that he had nothing to do with it.

He set the mirror back down. Maybe he should try talking to him. He only needed to say a few nice words, and then he'd be back on track for his plan. Maybe he'd get rid of all this guilt, too.

Piccolo scoffed. "What's the point," he muttered to himself. "He'll never see me as anything... but a monster." He ran his hand against his head, holding the back of his neck.