People had long ago gotten used to Princess in the court, the way he swished around in his pretty outfits with the smooth gait of a predator despite being dressed in lace and silk, confidant as he left Fett’s side if always slightly saddened in a way others couldn’t put words to.

Considering they had seen him murder someone with a serving tray of all things, no one doubted the predator in him.

However many of the court also remembered the early days of the court, the first few weeks after the slaves were liberated and Princess had become part of the daily life. The skittishness, hesitance and sadness in large brown eyes as he clung tightly to Fett’s side every time he was in public, the slump of his shoulders and the way he sought comfort from the scarred King.

The day had begun normal enough, though a few had noted that Fett had a pillow resting on the floor between the his feet. It had been dismissed, ignored as a stray item no one had bothered to pick up despite looking quite expensive with the clear indication of the pillow being both large and properly stuffed. There were a few items like that around the palace that people paid little mind to but had been the first sign that something was going to be different today.

Another sign was Shand, the way she would sometimes pause on the arm of Fett’s throne, glancing around.

A few had speculated that she was missing the bounty hunter that was always leaning on the throne too, many thinking the man was of on one of his hunts that Fett sent him of on.

Fett had just dismissed a New Republic liaison and set his helmet on the empty arm when it happened.

“Buir’ika?” A low and somewhat unfamiliar voice interrupted the normal sounds of the court, several people eyes going to the door they knew lead to Fett’s private quarters.

It was open, a naturally darker hand gently curled on the doorway as a brown haired man peered around the corner, brown eyes wide as he peeked out nervously, sucking on a thin bottom lip.

He was a pretty thing, that was for sure despite the clear nerves he was having, the brown hair curling lightly around his ears, a thin groomed mustache on his lips with his large eyes being expressive over a hooked nose.

“Ah, Princess, there you are,” Fett smiled slightly to many’s surprise, sitting up in his throne before holding out his hand. “Come here sweetheart.” He ordered, patient as the other man shuffled a bit in the doorway before he finally slipped out, giving everyone their first proper look at him.

Tall and tanned with muscles all in the right spots, which coupled with the scars told about a fighter throughout life, wearing a silver collar with a ring in it that a few recognized as beskar from Djarin walking around, bare feet padding lightly on the floor.

But more notable than any of that was his state of dress, a soft peach pink babydoll that was thigh length and somewhat sheer, enough to see that the man was wearing a pretty lacy thing underneath even if they couldn’t see it clearly through the babydoll.

A pleasure slave.

But… Fett had dismantled the slavery trade.

Yet he was keeping one himself?

He had killed people for less offenses.

A few muttered among each other at the hypocrisy of it, watching closely.

This Princess gave an uncertain glance towards the people in the room before slowly but smoothly making his way to Fett, grasping the gloved hand.

Instantly Fett pulled him around the throne and guided him down between the sprawl of his legs, right onto the puffy red pillow everyone had noted earlier and been confused about. Princess shifted a bit around before settling down on his rear with his feet tucked out to the side on the inside of Fett’s foot, holding onto Fett’s hand tightly by the look of his whitened knuckles.

The grip eased though, when Fett ran his other hand over the man’s feathery hair, murmuring something in mandalorian before guiding the others head until it rested against his thigh. Slowly, Princess let go of the man’s hand and instead wrapped his arms around the man’s other leg, rubbing his cheek to the thigh with a low noise. “Better?” Fett rumbled, eyes tracking the others movement.

A hum escaped Princess, the man smiling shyly up at Fett. “’Lek buir’ika.”

Fett patted at the dark hair again, teasing a few of the curls as he settled back against the throne. “Jate, just stay there for now.” He murmured, his hand still settled in the others hair.

The man was obviously mandalorian, seeing as he spoke it as a second nature but the name princess…

It was obviously not a title and not a real name, but maybe a nickname to go between the two, as if Princess’s real name didn’t matter and maybe in the space between Fett’s thighs, it didn’t?

It was still strange.

The court took days to adjust to the presence of Princess and Princess himself spooked easily, turned skittish if stared at too long.

But every time it looked like he was on the verge of fleeing, Fett would do something and it would relax the man.

Never something as crude as drugs, no, Fett’s actions were simple things that seemed to sooth more than it made Princess compliant as drugs would.

A gentle ungloved hand stroking through hair or over the nape, a low question in mandalorian, the offer of something to eat or drink or even carefully drawing the other up into his lap.

All of it served to relax Princess every time his muscles tensed up.

Especially the latter one, as Princess took full advantage of being in Fett’s lap to hide in the man’s neck.

Almost delicately, depending on the position Princess had as sitting across or straddling the lap, Fett would run his bare hand over the others smooth looking thighs or gingerly around the ankle.

A steady form for touch, a comfort for the slave that sometimes, despite how skittish he seemed, would disappear under the skirt of Fett’s clothes to pleasure him.

The speculations were ripe.

Everything from a fallen noble of the old mandalorian clans to a disgraced warrior turned slave turned Fett’s pleasure toy.

A completely fantastical one even suggested it was the bounty hunter but the person who suggested that was laughed so hard out of court he didn’t come back until a month later when the hubbub of the court had settled with the new addition of Fett’s pleasure toy.

After all, they had seen the ferocity of Djarin, the idea of him kneeling at Fett’s feet, skittish like a feral tooka like Princess was the height of hilarity to many. Even if they had no idea how Djarin looked under the helmet, many doubted it could possible be the competent hunter when Princess was so easily spooked by simple if long looks.

As far as his apparent hypocrisy went, it was a pretty addition at the very least and once Princess wasn’t so skittish, he did wander around on new sandals Fett had clearly gotten him despite the thin beskar chain sometimes hooked to the ring of his collar.

So not a broken slave at least but maybe one that needed the dependency?

Fett did not seem to need Princess, despite his looks, many would go to bed with him for the power, so it wasn’t co-dependency.

But maybe it was pity for a very pretty little thing when he had been so skittish and clung to Fett so hard in the first few weeks and months. Maybe someone had broken in Princess before the slavery on Tatooine was shut down or maybe Fett himself had but it was clear he didn’t want to be far from the man, he wouldn’t be the first slave struggling to find their path after being freed.

And many of those came to Fett’s palace where they found purpose, maybe this pretty little toy had also come to Fett’s palace.

Well, the little thing was pushing it, Princess was taller than Fett, but pretty for sure despite the white lines of scars on his body from whatever had injured him in the past. And even prettier for the outfits that bought out the glow of his skin and the color of his eyes.

As far as hypocrisy went, maybe this one could be tolerated at the very least.