When the King of Tatooine was in a bad mood, you better behave.

Now, why Fett was in a bad mood was hard to say.

It certainly wasn’t Shand’s fault, she was the only one to escape Fett’s vicious lashing or glares and was the only one that could calm him down with a low tch or a quiet word.

And his temper seemed to grow by the day, tolerating less and less. By the time Fett punched one of his weapon runners for loosing a shipment…

Well, people were walking on eggshells by the time they realized what had put Fett in a bad mood.

Princess was nowhere in sight, hadn’t been in at least four to five days and when someone had dared to approach Shand about it, she had raised a brow at them and then shrugged. “Visiting his son.”

So, no sexual relief and with how fond Fett was of Princess, most likely other emotions that people didn’t want to think about were tangled into that too and it seemed like Princess would not be back in days yet.

And then came the growled question the King had shot Shand about a week in. “Djarin, have you heard anything from him?” He tilted his helmet in Shand’s direction, t-visor somehow doing nothing to shield the glare the man had.

Shrugging, Shand had crossed her arms over her chest. “Said he was following a bounty after leaving Yavin 4, haven’t heard from him since. You know how restless he can be after visiting.” The sharpshooter stated quietly, a thoughtful look in her dark eyes.

Fett cursed and then waved for the bartender to send over his usual drink.

So, first his bed slave had left to see his son and now also his favorite hunter was gone.

That had never before coincided and it left the King of Tatooine in a foul mood, a mood none of them could do anything about.

Best thing they could do was pray to the karking Force or maker that either of them arrived and did so soon.

Hopefully Princess but at this point either of them would do before Fett killed someone as the man started lurking more and more in his armor, fiddling with vibroblades and blasters as if he’s itching to hurt someone.

Thankfully though, after about two and a half week, one of them do arrive, just as Fett looks to be on the snapping point,  having stepped down off his throne and dais to shake down an idiot from the core who thought it smart to antagonize him, holding the man up by the front of his shirt as he snarls.

Djarin limps into the dim hall, his armor in need of buffing and his spear strapped to his back, a bit worse for wear clearly but alive if injured as his limp indicates and shiny as always despite the scruffing of his armor, nothing a little polish won’t remove.

Fett zeros in on him the moment he steps in too, thick suspense seemingly choking the air as he drops the core member.

Quietly, the silver mando makes his way over to the dais as the core member crawls away as quickly as possible, wanting to be out of Fett’s ire.

He needn’t worry, the man’s attention is firmly on his hunter and when he’s close enough, Fett’s hand lashes out and captures a helmet covered chin to bring him down, growling up at him, his vocoder cracking at the sound. “You’re late. And injured,” He hissed, vicious rage practically dripping of every syllable. “Explain.” The tone of voice would have lesser men shaking in their boots.

Even the mando drops at the tone, to his knees, Fett still holding his chin even as he clearly hisses again at the move, pausing when the man hooks his hands into Fett’s belt with the visor tilted up at him. “Ni ceta. I didn’t mean to.” Djarin mumbles, his voice lacking bite and sounding iffy even through the vocoder.

If one was to take a guess, it sounds as if he might be concussed and it makes people wonder what kind of bounty he was hunting that has injured him.

They’ve seen the mando fight, he’s a violent force of beskar, blaster and spear that can dispatch of any threat coming his way with ease.

And yet here he is, kneeling at the feet of another man.

The respect he must have for Fett or the debt he owes him must be vast, kneeling on the sand of the throne room.

Fett growls loudly before hooking a hand under the man’s armpit, heaving him up with a moan of pain from the bounty hunter. “Shand, take charge. I’ll deal with this!” He snapped out, pulling the mando with him. “I swear Djarin, if you cauterized even one fucking little thing, I will pull you over my lap an-” Whatever else the king was going to do was cut off by the door closing behind him.

Shand easily settles on the arm of the throne, looking vaguely amused, though for those that knew her, they’d see the worried twitch of her lip.

The court very slowly goes back to normal after that, several able to breath more easily because now that one of them is back, surely Fett’s mood will improve and no one will die for pissing him off?

Right?

Well, they are sort of right but at the same time, finding the silver mando kneeling where Princess is normally sat is still a heart stopping moment.

Instead of standing behind the throne as he normally does, the day after his arrival, Djarin is kneeling in his armor on Princess pillow, his helmeted head set against Fett’s thigh. Fett has placed a gloved hand on the back of his bounty hunter’s neck, holding him in place seemingly.

Fett moves occasionally, speaking with whoever petitions him, dealing with idiots, sending of teams, dismissing some and outright laughing at one request from the core world.

Djarin moves only when Fett moves, in so much that he follows the moves of his king’s body and the grip on his neck.

Beside the throne is the beskar spear Djarin uses, leaning against the arm. So far and yet so close at the same time and yet Djarin clearly does not intend to use it as he submits to his King and this humiliation.

Behind hands and fans to keep one cool for those that own one, whispered speculations are exchanged.

Did the King put his hunter to his bed, peel him out of his armor and make him submit?

Its clear he’s being punished at the very least, kneeling where Fett’s favorite whore is usually suited.

Its a power move, though a few wonder how Princess will take it when he returns.

Not many can claim to have a fully armored mandalorian on their knees though and it makes for quite the threat display to any outsider that shows up at Fett’s strange court.

Some speculate why the bounty hunter is being punished.

Is it because he was late?

Because he was injured?

Maybe Fett just doesn’t like being kept out of the loop?

There had been no mention of the bounty Djarin had been hunting, maybe he had lost the target and that was why he was now suited on his knees in his armor.

They can speculate but none of them are right of course.

If they could see below the armor, they’d see the bruises and burns on Din’s body, could see the cauterized on the left calf and the lines of bruises along Din’s back.

None of it had been properly cared for until Din had returned to Tatooine, to Boba.

And if there is one thing Boba won’t suffer, it is something being cruel to his Princess, not even Din himself.