For the last week, no one had seen hide nor hair of Princess.

Several people speculated what was going on of course, behind closed doors, though not too loudly. Not with the silver armored Mandalorian back, standing behind Boba’s throne with his hand on the back.

Whatever hunt the other had been on must have been long but he was back now and as menacing and silent as ever, only ever talking to Fett or Shand.

Setting fear into everyone as they expected the man to kill someone any day after what happened to Princess.

But yes, there were speculations despite him.

Some thought that Fett had gotten rid of Princess.

Damaged wares and all. Though it seemed odd but hey, wouldn’t be the first time a ruler of Tatooine had gotten rid of their favorite for a reason.

Some thought Fett was simply keeping him to the bedroom for now, not wanting him out as another target once more and simply fucking him in there.

The last and least believed theory was that Fett was letting Princess rest, that the head injury was severe enough that Fett wanted the other healed.

Everyone however agreed that Fett had been in a foul mood ever since though.

A lack of relief some thought, which gave credence to the other no longer having Princess.

After all, the other was a throne whore, what ruler cared about the comfort of their slave bed warmer?

But then Princess was back and several courtiers almost had a heart attack when they saw him again.

Because the other was sitting on Fett’s throne.

No, not simply sitting, lounging on the throne, wiry legs settled over one stone arm with his arms settled on the other, head pillowed on his arms as he gazed at everyone with lidded eyes. The others collar was back on, the thin, shiny beskar leash hooked to the throne the man was sitting on as if he owned it.

And Fett was standing by the throne, watching the stairs.

His helmet was in Princess possession, resting on the throne by the man’s stomach. Occasionally one of Princess hands would stray from the arm and pet the helmet almost affectionately, as if it was Fett’s scarred head.

Occasionally, Princess would also flicker his eyes to look around the room, giving everyone a lazy, almost smug smile.

As if he knew something they did not.

Having a slave lord over them wasn’t a pleasant sensation. The ones who had scoffed at the idea of Fett letting Princess heal was suddenly doubting their own thoughts.

Because if anyone but Princess, even Shand, had sat in the throne as if it was theirs, Fett would have gutted them.

Quietly, people were settling around, Fett never looking away from the stairs.

Loath as they were to get his attention, everyone remained quiet, the musicians settling on their stages but only nervously fiddling with their instruments.

Fett ignored them all, his lip curling into an impatient but silent snarl as bartenders served the people lining quietly up around the room.

Several tensed as slowly, a growing, growling noise came from the man, his impatience skyrocketing steadily and when his hand dropped towards his blaster, several contemplated hiding behind tables.

“Buir’ika.” A low, rasped voice murmured, Princess sitting up with the helmet hugged to his stomach.

Instantly, Fett turned on his heel, his anger evaporating as he instead stepped closer to the throne, to his Princess.  He murmured something in Mando’a that Princess returned in the same tone though a clear difference in dialect.

The little they could see of Fett’s face transformed, from his blank look to fondness, the man leaning down to cup the others chin. Softly, he kissed Princess, thumbing lightly at his chin as the darker man sighed happily into the others lip, hand coming up to cup the back of Fett’s head.

Anyone else would have hand their hand removed.

But Princess merely got a low hum of pleasure from Fett, running his fingertips over the man’s scalp scars before literally scratching gently behind one ear.

As if Fett was a fucking feline.

To the shock of many, Fett actually rumbled in pleasure though he pulled away quickly when there was a commotion at the top of the stairs.

It was enough to distract everyone from the impossible scene they had seen.

There was shouting at the stairs, a fleshy THUMP and then a body came rolling down the stairs, Shand prowling down after with a wicked smirk on her face.

And a black eye.

Fett narrowed his eyes at that before looking at the body laying at the bottom of the stairs, the man struggling to get to his feet, wrapped in expensive layers of fabric.

His face was currently rather mauled but recognizable to those around still.

Feruko Snalla, humanoid, born on Naboo supposedly, once an Imperial captain of some sort and later on a lieutenant of a gang.

His boss had sent him, a New Republic gang, the Vipers nest, the one that had scraped and bowed and promised Fett a foothold on Coruscant via the gang. As long as there was an alliance, the King of Tatooine and the gang could benefit each other.

Fett’s face turned to stone and yet his eyes were fire as the now frightened man was struggling to get to his feet. “This one?” He questioned, a snarl curling his lip as Shand snorted and nodded.

“Idiot kept a scrap of the babydoll.” Shand snarked, smirking at the back of Snalla as she kept a blaster trained on him, her rifle on her back.

Opening his mouth, most likely to defend himself, his mouth snapped shut when Princess let out a soft hum behind Fett, the scarred man turning instantly to his throne warmer. “Princess.” He stated quietly.

Tilting his head, Princess stared at Snalla before nodding. “I remember him. He kept following me around, tried talking with me,” Princess words were clearly enough for Fett but he kept talking. “I believe I scratched him, his neck should have nail marks.” Princess noted absently, rubbing at his head.

“Now, wait a minute,” Snalla started only to cry out when Shand dragged the folds of scarves at his neck down, exposing the pale neck.

Sure enough, scratches lined the pale neck.

Combined with the babydoll fabric and what little Princess seemed to recollect, it was more than enough as Fett stepped off the dais with his silent snarl, Princess watching with quiet interest from the throne as he hugged the helmet.

Snalla dropped to his knees, bringing his hands up as he pleaded for mercy, telling him that the Vipers wouldn’t work with Fett if he was injured, the spineless man sniveling for mercy.

Fett simply loomed over the other man for a minute before turning his head, looking to Princess, a question in his eyes, his lips still curled with a snarl.

For a second, it looked like Princess didn’t know what to do.

Then he lifted one fist and drew his thumb across his neck, smiling sweetly at his King.

Fett turned back around and drew his knife from his belt, the same knife the court had seen the man peel fruit for Princess with.

With one smooth, easy slash, he drew it across Snalla’s throat, deep enough for the man to die and yet…

Shallow.

Snalla choked, his hands coming up as he gasped for air, eyes bulging as he tried to keep his throat shut. Blood poured between his fingers and under his palms, the man shaking before falling face forward onto the sand.

He rasped, spasmed, the man dying in front of the terrified court.

Fett simply spat on the dying man and wiped his blade on the others many layers of dark fabric before returning to the throne, Shand getting a bottle from the bartender with a happy grunt.

Not many paid attention to her though, their terrified focus on Princess and Fett.

Gloved hands cupped Princess cheek, gently rubbing before Fett leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, the two murmuring quietly to each other before Princess stood, the soft jingle of beskar chain sounding.

Fett settled down on the throne with Princess sitting down the moment the man was comfortable, helmet still in Princess hands. “Someone get rid of that trash, feed it to the scavengers.” Fett gestured to the death twitching body, a heavyset devaronian coming forward quickly to hoist the still bleeding human onto his shoulder.

Princess just watched everyone with lidded eyes, smiling smugly from his position against Fett, seeming so much more than just a throne whore in that moment.