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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PrizeMany577 on 2026-02-19 20:10:10+00:00.

A pale white tower jutted out from the lush, emerald lands of the Gekkonid homeworld, looking like a solitary mountain rising from a calm ocean. Its obsidian roofs curved sharply, resembling midnight-black claws reaching toward the soft purple sky of the early evening.

Suddenly, a velvet pillow flew out of a grand window on the third floor, plummeting toward the courtyard below, followed immediately by a piercing scream.

"How dare you!" shouted Princess Lianna.

Standing in the center of the royal bedroom, Madame Vex, the most senior tailor in the empire, did not so much as flinch. "I am a woman of culture, Your Highness. And honestly, you may be the princess, but I do not make dresses for promiscuous dregs. You should behave properly, not like the common slum rubble you seem to aspire towards."

"It's fashion! And it changes, you old hag!" Lianna shouted at the woman.

"I might be old-fashioned, but at least I have standards," the stylist huffed. Without offering a bow, she turned on her heel and walked out, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind her with a dreadful thud.

The princess sighed, the fight draining out of her. She sagged onto her bed, her mind racing with chaotic thoughts of her upcoming coming-of-age ceremony. With a frustrated growl, she grabbed another pillow and threw it blindly to the side.

"Princess Lianna?" asked Audrey, one of her handmaidens, stepping tentatively out from the shadows of the dressing screen. The poor girl looked entirely unsure of what to do.

"It's fine, Audrey..." The princess sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm not about to be stopped by the peer pressure from dead people."

"Uh...?" Her attendant tilted her head, clearly not following what the princess was talking about.

Princess Lianna was starting to stress-molt. It was an embarrassing biological response. Her emerald-green scales, normally shiny and flawless, were currently dull, patchy, and beginning to flake onto the expensive velvet cushions.

Getting up, she began to pace the length of the massive room, thinking of what she could do to salvage the situation. Her long tail twitched erratically, her adhesive toe-pads sticking and unsticking from the marble floor with agitated, rhythmic thwip-thwip sounds.

"I have no choice... I think I need to call in a fashionista," the princess said to nobody in particular.

This caused a collective gasp amongst her attendants, who had been trying their best to blend into the tapestries.

"Princess, please think carefully about this..." Audrey pleaded, stepping forward with her hands clasped tight. "Those... those humans are dangerous."

"What else am I supposed to do? Go to my own coming of age looking like a frex-toad dragged off the pavement?" The princess retorted. Her large eyes narrowed as she steeled her resolve. "Get me a Fashion Diva."

"Your Highness!" the attendants gasped in unison.

Another maid asked in shock, "Are you sure that's wise, Your Highness?"

Lianna stood still for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Then, she swiped her arm through the air with absolute authority. "No! Get me a gay Diva!"

The second she uttered those words, it was utter chaos. Maids yelped in genuine fear, two fainting and falling to the floor like sacks of rock. Another pulled a letter of resignation from seemingly nowhere, placed it on the desk, and ran for her life. The remaining attendants scattered, their frantic whispers echoing down the stone corridors and spreading the terrifying news through the palace faster than a wildfire.

It wasn't long before her father burst into the room, causing the stained-glass doors to rattle in their frames.

"Lianna! What do you think you're doing?!" he bellowed, yet there was a notable hint of fear in his booming voice. "Summoning those fashion demons to our domain... Be reasonable, my daughter."

"I am not wearing another high-collared modesty-tunic! Those things make me look like a wilted kelp stalk! I want to look powerful."

"Wear the ceremonial armor! Wear power armor! But do not bring them here!" Zogath pleaded, rushing forward to grab his daughter’s shoulders.

"They are planet-crackers clad in silk and jewels, Lianna! They are the most volatile entities in the known universe! Do you know what happened to the Orion Syndicate? A Diva initiated a trade embargo over a stupid coffee shop and starved them into submission!"

"Vex quit, Father! And what's more, she dared call me a dreg! A promiscuous dreg in my own palace!" Lianna retorted hotly. "I won't stand for that!"

Her father sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. "Darling..."

Rounding on her father, eyes wide with frustration and a glint of tears, Lianna laid her heart bare. "My twenty-first birthday is exactly one standard galactic month away... and as you know, Father... For a Gekkonid royal, this isn't a mere celebration of age, it's about me stepping onto the stage... it is a formal declaration that I have become an adult."

It was the moment she would step out from her parents' shadow and present herself to the galaxy as a fully fledged sovereign entity. The stakes were astronomical, especially for high-society women who were judged on their poise and presentation.

The Emperor looked at his daughter's resolve and sighed, a long, rattling sound deep in his chest. "Do whatever. But I will not be here for that devil. My life and sanity are worth more than some fashion."

Within the hour, the Emperor had boarded a stealth frigate for a "highly classified, incredibly urgent diplomatic mission" three sectors away. Her mother, the Empress, packed three anti-gravity trunks of luggage and left for the northern hemisphere, loudly claiming to her guards that her scales simply could not handle the stress of a human aesthetic critique.

Lianna paced her empty quarters, looking out at the stars. "Weaklings. They're just words." She would come to regret her choice of words very soon.

Three days later, the Diva's ship dropped out of hyperspace. Named the S.S. Haute Couture, the vessel possessed a rose-gold hull that shimmered with an iridescent, pearlescent finish. It was sleek, aerodynamic, and entirely devoid of ugly, exposed weaponry. It flaunted its elegance to the stars, descending toward the royal landing pad without making a single sound.

The landing ramp extended seamlessly. Where a normal ship would release a crude, loud hiss of pressure seals and a cloud of mechanical vapor, this vessel was different. A soft, intoxicating scent of crushed roses and lavender wafted out from the ship's interior, filling the courtyard with an unnatural, perfect springtime aroma.

Two impossibly graceful human female attendants, dressed in flowing silver silk, glided down the ramp. In perfect unison, they rolled out a plush, midnight-blue carpet, gently tossing handfuls of glowing, bioluminescent flower petals that settled softly onto the fabric.

Then, down the ramp strode Emile. He stopped at the bottom, lowered his frameless black glasses just a fraction of an inch, and surveyed the Gekkonid architecture.

Most intergalactic travel guides would describe the palace as a masterpiece of design, featuring vast, sweeping archways of polished white stone, towering pillars, and enormous terrariums filled with rare, glowing flora.

Then there was Emile.

"Dreadful," Emile murmured. His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a sharp acoustic quality that carried perfectly across the courtyard. "Gothic-reptilian-chic. It’s very... prehistoric. Very depressing. But I suppose we can work with it, provided I don't look directly at the molding."

He snapped his fingers once.

Two massive, heavily muscled male assistants, wearing identical, tailored black suits, walked down the ramp behind him. They carried the heavy, floating luggage trunks. They moved with the silent grace of trained assassins, ready to do the physical labor their master would never stoop to perform.

Over by the courtyard columns, several of Lianna's female Gekkonid attendants peeked out. Audrey clasped her hands over her chest, her scales flushing a deep, embarrassed pink as she watched the stoic, broad-shouldered human men carry the trunks. The two women in silver silk noticed the staring maids and simply offered a polite, knowing smile, entirely used to the effect their colleagues had on local palace staff.

Emile did not wait for an escort. He simply began to walk, entirely taking command of the palace with his sheer presence. Gekkonid royal guards, towering warriors armed with plasma pikes, instinctively pressed their backs against the walls as he passed, sweating beneath their armor. Emile marched through the grand halls, his shoes making sharp clicks on the marble, until he reached Lianna's quarters.

He didn't knock. He just barged through the heavy oak doors.

He paused in the doorway, taking her in... her flaking scales, her slumped posture, the general air of panic.

"Oh, you poor creature," Emile said softly, pressing a gloved hand to his chest. "Stress is an absolute thief. Hydration, immediately." One of the hulking male assistants instantly stepped forward, applying a glowing, gel-like face mask to Lianna's snout with terrifying gentleness before stepping back into the shadows.

Lianna nervously handed Emile her datapad. "My tailor said my design was impossible. She said it was promiscuous and the fabric would collapse."

Emile took the datapad delicately. He looked at the glowing blue lines of Lianna's dream dress.

"Promiscuous?" Emile's li...

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