Human!Reader Being Traded To Fae!Price To Keep The Peace. Like I Heard Once In Ancient China, Actual
Human!Reader being traded to Fae!Price to keep the peace. Like I heard once in ancient China, actual royal daughters wouldn't be married off, other girls would be married in their place, so maybe reader's parents volunteered her to be married instead of the king's beloved daughter?
see you perfectly get me đ©đ© i hope you donât mind me using this as a chance to yap <3
The fae had no love for you.
You had known this from the moment you stepped into the obsidian palace, its towering spires slicing through the mist-laden sky like blades. You had been dressed in human silks then- pale, delicate, and utterly wrong in a court where darkness was beauty, where even the air shimmered with otherworldly grace. The moment you crossed the threshold, every gaze in the room had cut into you, assessing and dismissing in the same breath because not a single one of them wanted a human amongst them- least of all as their queen.
The words had not been spoken aloud, but you had felt them all the same, woven into the murmurs that rippled through the court. They had expected the human kingâs beloved daughter (even if they would have hated her all the same), a princess groomed for diplomacy, raised in luxury. Instead, they had been given you- the daughter of an unimportant noble, a substitute barely trained in courtly graces but more than capable with ink and parchment, a woman who had spent years buried under the work the princess refused to do.
They had not wanted you.
And neither, it seemed, had your husbands.
King John Price, your husband, had barely acknowledged you beyond what duty required. He had spoken the vows in the old tongue, words and sounds you could never hope to replicate with a human tongue, and sealed the marriage with a kiss so fleeting it barely brushed your lips, then turned away to his own husbands- also yours, but they werenât kings, so no kiss was required between you and them.
(The concept was still so strange to you. Humans practiced monogamy at the very least, in public- yet you had learned fae cared very little for such things.)
They were his advisors; Johnny, Simon, Kyle, and they were no different. They were powerful men, sharp as the wind over the mountains, and just as untouchable.
You were an outsider, a human intruder in a world where every glance from you was considered an insult, every word a nuisance.
They did not mistreat you, no. They simply ignored you, and you told yourself that it was worlds better than being hurt anyways⊠even if the loneliness hurt.
And so you threw yourself into the work. The human princess had forced all her duties on you for years, and it was no different here- except now it was fae treaties, fae disputes, fae taxes, all of which they happily let you drown in. You handled it all without complaint. The paperwork was easier to deal with than the loneliness. And if they noticed the way you handled the endless the endless paperwork that the court so conveniently let pile up on your desk, they gave no indication.
You were a human among fae. And in their eyes, that made you insignificant.
Your days blurred together in a haze of ink-stained fingers and stiff-backed chairs, the weight of the crown heavier than you had ever imagined. It might have continued that way- silent, distant, suffocating- if not for the day the Queen Mother descended upon you.
She despised humans. You could see it in the way she sneered at you, the way she spoke as if addressing something beneath her. But she was old, cunning, and- unlike her son- unwilling to let a political marriage go to waste. She had entered your chambers one evening without announcement, her presence crackling in the air like a brewing storm.
For a long moment, she had said nothing. And then:
"You look human."
You had stiffened at her tone. It was not a compliment.
"That is your first mistake."
She had circled you then, her gaze stripping you bare. "The court despises you. My son ignores you, as do his husbands- they do not even see you. Why?"
You had swallowed, resisting the urge to drop your gaze. "⊠Because I am human."
A flicker of a smile, cold and knowing. "No, child. Because you make no effort to be anything else. You are no longer within humans.â
That night, your wardrobe was stripped away- every pale gown, every soft fabric, every piece of jewelry that marked you as human. In their place, the Queen Mother had garments brought in that dripped with fae elegance.
Your dresses were no longer delicate, but sharpâcut to flatter the lines of your body, corseted to perfection, woven with fabrics darker than midnight and embroidered with silver-threaded fae flowers that shimmered when they caught the light. Your silks no longer billowed, but clung, whispering around you like shadows given form.
Your jewelry transformed you further. Earrings that mimicked the elongated points of fae ears, tapering into elegant curves. Rings shaped into sharp, clawed talons that gleamed when your fingers moved. Tiaras twisted into the illusion of horns, their dark metal twining like the antlers of the fae lords. Even your hair was adorned with woven fae flora, petals shifting as though alive.
When you stepped before the mirror, you barely recognized yourself.
You were still human. But you no longer looked like prey.
The court noticed first. The whispered mockery did not cease, but it changed- less scornful, more wary. Some sneered that you were playing dress-up, but others looked twice, their gazes lingering in ways they never had before.
Your husbands were slower to react, but when they did, it was irreversible. It was the point of no return- even if you did not know it at the time. Did not once suspect this had been the Queen Motherâs plan from the start.
Johnny cracked first.
One evening during another dinner where you were supposed to be ignored once more, as you reached for a goblet, he caught your hand- his calloused fingers brushing the rings now shaped like talons. His thumb grazed over the curved metal, blue eyes flicking up to yours with something thoughtful, something curious.
ââŠThis suits you, lass."
A simple statement. But his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. You did not allow yourself to think more of it, as he eventually turned away from you and returned to ignoring you.
Kyle was next. It was not the rings he noticed, but the way the darker fabrics shaped you, the way the fae silks whispered around your form when you moved. His sharp gaze assessed you, and when you met his eyes, he hummed- low and appreciative.
"Fascinating."
Simon was the hardest to read, but you caught the way his head tilted slightly when you walked past him, the way his gaze lingered on the flowers adorning you, unreadable but lingering. He did not speak on it. He never did speak to you, not eveb now. But he watched.
And for the first time since your marriage to John, he truly looked at you; not past you. Not through you. But at you.
The next time you stood before him, spine straight, chin lifted, cloaked in the elegance of the fae, John leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His eyes raked over you in quiet thoughts, but there was something different this time- something sharper, darker.
You had changed.
And the court had noticed.
He had seen the way the nobles looked at you now- the way their gazes lingered too long on the curve of your throat, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown. The way their admiration had shifted, no longer dismissive but hungry. Once, they had sneered at your presence, insulted by the mere thought of a human in their midst. Now, they sought your attention, vying for your favor with soft smiles and murmured compliments.
It soured something in him.
His fingers curled against the armrest of his throne, a slow, thoughtful movement. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He had ignored you first. Had dismissed you, had treated you as a necessity rather than a wife. And yet-
He did not like the way they looked at you.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the way the others reacted as well. Kyleâs jaw was tight, his gaze sharp whenever a noble leaned too close. Johnny had grown restless, the usual brightness in his eyes dimming whenever he caught another fae whispering to you, their voices dipped too low. And Simon was a shadow at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving, but his cold stare was a warning, his claws tapping idly against the hilt of the dagger at his belt.
They saw it, too.
You were theirs.
And now, far too many in this court seemed to be forgetting that.
Johnâs grip on the chair tightened before he forced himself to relax, schooling his expression back into something unreadable.
Well, he may have been a neglectful husband to you in the beginning⊠but no time better than the present to fix his mistake.
More Posts from Theartgremlin and Others
As an artist, I take umbrage with this!! Crayons are so much fun to work with! They blend in a really different way because theyâre wax-based and you can melt them to make drippy, wet textures!!
What we know as crayons actually got their start around the late 1400s. These were more similar to compressed charcoals and chalk pastels, though. Artists like DaVinci and Michaelangelo used them primarily in the sketching stage of paintings, and for DaVinci in his journals. In the 1800s the charcoal pigment was replaced with colors and the crayons started being able to be mass produced thanks to the Industrial Revolution, and thatâs when they first started making their way into classrooms. But they were still primarily marketed towards artists. Itâs really only in recent years that theyâve been excluded from the artistâs toolbox, for whatever reason.
Theyâre very good for us because theyâre relatively cheap (if youâre an artist, you know how important this is to us XD) and theyâre good for filling in large areas with color or texture. And for those of us who work on unusual canvases (leather, plastics, drywall) theyâre very helpful because their wax and oil binders let them stick to weird surfaces pretty well. Youâd probably actually appreciate them if you used âem, Tech! They donât conduct electricity, so itâs be safe to write with on wires and theyâre waterproof, so you can use them in wet environments like underwater or in a storm!
Do you like crayons?
Do your parents know that you're on the holonet, little one?
This is fantastic!! You can learn so much about someone from looking at how they treat their personal space. I had the most thoughts about Crosshair here, so heâs the only one Iâm gonna analyze, but I have thoughts about all of them XD
Crosshair is all about control. Not control outside himself, as with Hunter, but self control. The way he interacts with people and with objects is painstakingly crafted to give off the exact impression he wants: collected superiority to outsiders, cool emotional distance to his brothers, and affection only on his terms. Heâs walled off his bunk and given himself a safe space in which to repair that control when it slips, or maybe to hide when heâs lost it entirely.
And I think itâs also important to note Crosshairâs bunk placement in relation to the others. He is between Echo and Wrecker, and the furthest away from Hunter. We know that he and Wreckerâs relationship is pretty affectionate: they play games, rough-house, and Crosshair is very conscious of what Wrecker does and does not understand. He is often the first one to explain something to the big guy, and we have yet to see him say something that would confuse him. I think Crosshair is the most comfortable with Wrecker than he is with any other member of the Batch. And I think the reason for this is because of Wreckerâs authenticity. He is never ashamed to be himself and he wears his heart in his sleeve at all times. A part of me thinks Crosshair might admire Wrecker for that. I believe he also feels more protective of him because of it, because if his brother wonât protect his heart, Crosshair sure as hell will. Itâs comfortable for him because itâs his assigned role. He is the sniper: the guy who watches over the battlefield and protects his brothers from threats they canât see.
I have more thoughts about Echo and Hunterâs room placement, but theyâre less coherent.
Hello all. Can we talk about Clone Force 99's barracks on Kamino and what I think this says about the Bad Batch?
So we first see their barracks in TBB Episode 1.
I'd like to break down each sleeping area and what I think this says about it's residents. Echo also makes a comment about the smell but, frankly, I don't want to know, so we'll leave that out.
I also want to ad that I love this show and the characters, so any snark here is not ill-willed on my part.
(The majority of the images here are concept art by Jason Pichon, with a smattering of screenshots plus one epic official artwork. I'm largely using these as the basis for my wild speculations.)
Let's begin clockwise starting from the door.
So let's start with Hunter.
His bunk is neat. Sheets folded. No mess. There is a chest/locker with Clone Force 99's logo on it and "Hunter" written in Aurebesh.
The above is neat, uncomplicated and says military and we know that Hunter takes his job seriously. And outwardly Hunger is all business.
There is what looks like a ?canteen? on the shelf plus some medals - which is interesting as Hunter and Co. decline Rex's offer of coming with them at the end of their arc in The Clone Wars Series 7, because accolades aren't their thing. But he's kept these. If anyone can shed some light here please do.
Hunter does have his team's insignia painted on the wall by his bunk however, and this is a nice little insight into his psyche. Because having his team's crest where he sleeps and where he rests is quite lovely when you think about it. This is the first thing he wants to see when he wakes.
If we have a sneak peek inside his locker, courtesy of Omega's snooping, we also see that he has a photograph of his team, Echo included. Which I think is wonderful. He views Echo as one of them even though Echo has been with the Batch for a relatively small amount of time.
And is this something Hunter takes with him on missions? (My heart)
Now Tech:
Tech's bunk is next to Hunter's and we can see it's a chaotic, messy -but not unclean- place. But it obviously the disorder here makes sense to him.
How would he even sleep in this? But this points towards the fact that Tech's approach to rest is a little different.
Where he is comfortable is where he is working or letting his mind wanter to different experiments and projects. If we're honest he's always going to be the smartest man in the room and when you're working on a purely hypothetical and theoretical level perhaps what you crave is mental stimulation? And this is what Tech's sleeping space shows us.
When he relaxes he doesn't necessarily shut off, but he uses these tasks to relax his mind. I assume he sleeps at some point.
He's done a bit of rewiring and hasn't bothered to put it away; clearly tidying wasn't important.
There look like equations and diagrams of projects Tech is working on and these projects might be what are spread around the room - see the thing on the table he tinkers with in this episode.
To me this is almost like Tech extending the field of his personal space and he claims most of the surface area on the room. I'm reading into this as, as much as he is on another planet with his intellect he wants to at least orbit his brothers.
See how he also called the Havoc HIS ship in espisode 4; Tech takes up space like a cat - any space occupied by him is one he will fill.
And I love how it's messy as hell, actually.
As for Echo:
Well, he doesn't have a bunk as the barracks were only outfitted for 4 clones. However we can see a hammock rigged up between Tech's bunk and the window.
I've seen lots of complaints about this, so let me just say: the rest of the Batch didn't have to make him a bed, but they did.
They could have just given him that sofa/bench thing, as presumably they'd be out on missions more often than not and stays back on Kamino would be brief, but they have made him somewhere to sleep.
It's in a quiet corner by the window with a view of the sky. Imagine you're Echo and you've been trapped in that ordeal for all that time, stuck wired in to that tank; you'd want to see the sky too.
It might not be perfect, but it's cozy. A hammock would support him as he slept. It would also bundle him up and give him a little bit of privacy if he needed some space and alone time, rather than him going into an open sided bunk.
It's also fairly common for people serving in the armed forces to sleep in hammocks (source: my dad, uncles, grandfathers - you get the gist?) so this wouldn't be an out of the ordinary experience for Echo. This is some semblance of the familiar for him.
Plus he's close to Tech. And I wonder if this tells us a little about their relationship?
Tech is the one who carried Echo through that vertical shaft / duct during the Skako Minor rescue. They often grump and snark at each other but non-aggressively, the same sort of way that family members often bicker.
Also Tech would be close by if Echo needed any help with his prosthetics/cybernetics.
Now Crosshair:
And he's interesting. If we look at his bunk, it's the only one with crates stacked directly in front of and to the side of it, like a wall:
It's almost like Crosshair has made a partition here to define the boundaries of His Bunk, given himself a modicum of privacy and tried to preserve some semblance of personal space here.
Which I think is fitting as he would be the hardest one to reach. He is aloof and apart by preference but I'm also reading an element of vulnerability here.
I think of this being bit like the opposite of Tech's bunk: Tech spreads out whereas Crosshair contains.
But his metaphorical distance doesn't stop him from some elements of personalisation, namely decorating his bunk with targets from the firing range. I wonder if these were from training sessions that he enjoyed, or shots that he deemed good? But I do know that the centre poster has bullet holes that make out the letter "C" in Aurebesh.
Yes. MF shot his initial in target practice. Yes he did. Because as aloof as Crosshair is, he's been better than you since 32 BBY and he wants you to know it.
His spare blacks are also folded, similar to Hunter's - we can read into this as someone who likes things precise and in their place.
This is a mirror for his demeanor too. His marksmanship is sharp, he is direct without preamble and even his speech is deliberate and precise.
Now Wrecker:
And oh where to start. My boy has probably the messiest bunk (and I'm including Tech's in this) with food bowls, ?fruits? and his blanket strewn haphazardly.
There are weights nearby and we know that Wrecker enjoys working out (see him powerlifting Gonky, the Batch's GNK droid aboard the Havoc Marauder).
He also has his spare blacks hung up across a cable he's rigged to the ceiling of his bunk. This says "I need space but I'm not too bothered about aesthetics", suggesting that he's not much fussed by other's impressions.
He's a simple man and this is a simple expedient. He's a guy who's not fussy where he crashes and this also suggests someone who is fairly carefree.
And we know this is who Wrecker is at heart. His voice actor calls him a simple guy with "not a lot of clouds in that sky". There is no façade with Wrecker - what you get is what you see.
Also, the Batch's "wins Vs losses" board, carved into the wall is closest to Wrecker's bunk and I think he is the one who most enjoys adding to this.
Bonus:
When the Elite Squad move in, is it just me or is it brighter in there?
I can't help but wonder if -most likely- Tech did something to dim the lights so they wouldn't affect Hunter's heightened senses so much...
Now the batch have gone, the room has been stripped, tidied, and restored to default settings.
(Crap, I just made myself feel sad.)
This art work is from the official Instagram.
Over all I love the level of detail here and I love how much effort the animators put into creating this space.
I really think it showcases each Batcher's personality, foibles and quirks, how they treat this space and how they all fit l together - and they do! These men are so drastically different and you wouldn't expect them to coexist comfortably but they compliment and balance each other very well.
đ€â€ïžđ€
I canât be the only one who wants to know what âNOâ isâŠ.
I love looking through my drawing files because you have the boring ones like âuntitledâ or âhand practiceâ or âjack of spadesâ but then you have the ridiculous ones like âvulture bitchâąïžâ or âtemplequisitorâ or my personal favourite, âNOâ
About the Zine
For a Fistful of Credits was inspired by the incredible art and writing of the fandom where creators turned our favorite space characters into rough cowboys and outlaws. This zine wishes to bring all these creators together for the greatest collection of Star Wars in the wild west. Header and pfp by the wonderful @pinkiemme
Status: Interest Check
Socials: Carrd | Instagram | Twitter
Updates: Carrd now posted to all social accounts. FAQ posted and current mod team intros.
Date Edited: May 2nd, 2023
âCrosshair wasnât expecting that. He doesnât know what it is sheâs proud of, heâs just the same as heâs always been: ornery, cruel, fearful. He is not a good man. But if this little girl says sheâs found something to love in him, maybe⊠maybe there is hope for him after all.â
A friend of mine and I were messing around, and this idea struck me
Working on something sad. Some recent⊠experiences have informed Peggy and Königâs story
He hold her littol hand so gentle
Summer pfp time!!!
Iâve been working on one but I didnât think Iâd announced it yetâŠ.
Can 11/11 be your day since the numbers look like four* little pics of you standing in a row? *
*five, if the middle one is you leaning backward
Of course it can
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A place for me to share my art as I learn how to draw digitally! (Apparently itâs important to share your age on this website now. Iâm uncomfortable about posting my exact age online, but I am mid-twenties to early thirties. Donât come at me, my joints ache)
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