#bard eddie

[penny00dreadful]

Been working on some art pieces for my upcoming D&D au and I’m so EXCITED to share 🥰

[lingeringmirth]

The prince and his bard

Written for @steddie-week day 1 prompt "secret relationship."

T | medieval au, fluff, steve's dad is a grade-a dick, prince steve, bard eddie | 444

Also on AO3.

-

They had to hide their relationship, because such a thing was just not done. The prince only fell for the bard in courtly romances and ballads, and even then, the bard was always revealed to be royalty in the end.

Edward Munson, Eddie, was not royalty.

And he’d known, he’d really known to not be swayed by a pair of pretty eyes. But those eyes had come with such a handsome face and irresistible smile, paired with just the right words to break down his barriers and make him act foolish.

Eddie shouldn’t have acted foolishly, yet he did, swayed by a smile and a kiss.

Then once became twice, thrice, often. His prince was handsome but soft inside, slashing with his words in public but loving in private, doting and kind. They were courting with disaster as much as they were courting with each other, skirting on the edge of too much in public.

The bard held the prince’s heart as did the prince the bards.

But a secret was only a secret when the two sharing it knew, add a third and they were exposed.

...because the bard was not the only one who had eyes for the comely prince, who yearned to touch more than was allowed, who was jealous.

Pining had simmered in the heart of Knight Hagan, whom Prince Steven had thought a trusted friend. Maybe he would have been, in other circumstances, but ugly jealousy had bloomed in his heart, festering, eroding his loyalty to his prince, his friend. It was him who deceived them, exposed them.

Banishment was too kind to the bard who’d dared put his hands on the prince, no matter what the prince himself said about having consented, despite his professing his love, undying and unwavering, putting himself between himself and his father, the King.

”Let the tide deal with him,” the King degreed, making the prince gasp. Some said, later and in hushed whispers, that the King seemed to enjoy the prince’s pain.

But while a doomed love between prince and bard might be worthy of ballads, Lady Fortune could be swayed by a good story and gift a happy ending more often found in storybooks and not real life.

So, the Prince saved his true love, swimming to him where the bard was tied to a pole on the shore to be claimed by the unforgiving rising tide, and kissed him back to life for all the cheering crowd to see.

Then the prince and the bard stole away, only to come back later to overthrow the King and his unjust rule, steering the land toward a time of peace and prosperity.

[semetarycosplay]

I am so beyond excited that Avalonne Cosplay and I finally got to do our Medieval Steddie AU together. This was a dream ever since I met them, and they looked SO GREAT. Photos: AVM Cosplay Photography

[copingmechanizm]

Prince Steve and Harpist Eddie AU (steddie)

Steve Harrington is the only son of the ruler of the Great Hawkins Kingdom. He's supposed to inherit the throne in the future and become the king Steve one day. Also he's definitely supposed to marry some beautiful young lady from a good family and make future successors of the Harrington bloodline. There are some problems though. Firstly, he doesn't even want to rule. Secondly, he's very much gay. Obviously his parents don't know about it and if they knew they wouldn't acknowledge it anyway. He has to do it and there's no room for negotiation.

So for his twenty first birthday the king throws a party inviting all nobel families who have yet unmarried daughters close to steve's age. They want him to choose his future wife on that party and if he won't - they'll choose for him. The day of the party comes way too quickly and he finds himself standing next to his parents' thrones at the head of a ball room. He's looking at all those girls hungrily watching him with the growing dread in his stomach.

His eyes wander until they land on the band playing on the balcony. To be exact - on the devilishly handsome harp player on the left. Long dark curls, eyes contured with a bit of coal as is popular among the bards, halfly closed in dreamy manner. He has never seen anyone as beautiful as him. How Steve is supposed to find himself a wife when a man of his dreams is in the same room? The answer is he can't.

Against his reason, when he sees the band retreat for a break, he excuses himself to his parents and sprints to the second floor, where he's hoping to catch his dream boy. The heavens must be on his sides, because as soon as he turns the corner of the staircase, he sees his target. He calls out to him and walks the remaining distance trying to catch his breath and gather suddenly lost courage. The dream boy looks rather confused and guarded as he wasn't expecting prince Steve here and he can't imagine what interest he would have with him other that something that means trouble. He begins to kneel as is expected of anyone meeting the royalty but Steve quickly says he doesn't want him to. He looks at the young primce's face and he's met with a strar struck gaze. As if the harpist was another world wonder. He's clearly nervous too and the long haired couldn't be more lost about what's going on here. Then Steve as if he heard the harpist thoughts, says he was amazed by their play and he wanted to meet the band personally. He asks them their names and introduces himself too as if they don't know who he is.

Steve feels ecstatic that he managed to praise them without making a fool of himself and now he has a name of the dream boy! Eddie. He's already imagining what this name would look like next to his in the royal chronicles. Eddie, a little charmed by the prince's nervous behavior and not immune to his more than good look, moves past the previous apprehension and starts to chat with Steve as if they were on the same status. He talks about his music and life as an artist while the prince confide with him with the true purpose of this party and why it's impossible for him to choose a girl. They talk standing by the wall with no care to the rest of the world. They both don't know why they feel so comfortable telling each other so much about themselves when they just met but it's like something moves into right place inside them the longer they're together. The peace doesn't last long though and soon they hear guard calling out to Steve, evidently looking for him. Thank heavens they don't see the two just yet so Eddie has enough time to run where the rest of the band went off to some time before. The guards take Steve back to the ball room and for the rest of the night he feels Eddie's eyes on him, as he dances with the girls. He doesn't dare to lift his own gaze back to the harpist as he knows he won't be able to resist going up there again.

Soon the night comes to an end and he chooses the only girl that appeared as much opposed to the idea of marrying as him. Her name is Robin and she was also forced to come to the party by her parents. And evidently the girls here were more interesting to her than him. So he took a risk and made a proposition that if she doesn't want to marry a boy and he doesn't want to marry a girl they should team up and marry each other to please their parents but at the same time keep meeting who that really want. To his surprise she agreed. His parents satisfied that he chose himself a wife leave him alone for the next few days, busy with preparation for the formal engagement and future wedding.

He uses the free time to come to the city in a disguise to look for Eddie. He only has his name and the name of the band. It's enough though. Turns out the band is more popular than he thought and soon he has the name and the hour of their next gig. He's lucky again, the show is in few hours. He finds the place and pay for one of the room upstairs to wait. When the time comes he stands close to the scene waiting for the artist to come. Finally Eddie walks in front of the crowd and immediately notices Steve. His smile is truly blinding and it's like he's energy doubled. He plays with new found purpose, this time also singing a few parts. Steve keeps his eyes on him throughout the concert enraptured by his play and voice.

When the show ends they both stay at the bar drinking together and talking until late hours. When it's closing time Steve takes the musician upstairs to his room where they fall into each other in an embrace, their lips finally meeting. They lay in bed and soon they fall asleep curled together. In the morning Steve tells Eddie about the marriage and his plan made with Robin. Suddenly looking nervous he asks if they maybe could keep meeting even after his wedding? Of course Eddie agrees, he honestly couldn't say no to the prince who apperently stole his heart.

[juicinmyjams]

Oooh bard Eddie for the wip game please 😍

big apologies for the absolute eon it took me to answer this!!

thanks for sending an ask in!!

I love literally every iteration of bard Eddie

____________________________________________________________

Taverns used to be his bread and butter. 

Since Chrissy, they’ve been a bit of a tough sell. 

Still, the Party is close to mutiny, and they have a nice purse full of coin from Steve’s recent favors. 

They deserve a warm meal. And a place to sleep. 

Eddie is just having a moment. Maybe a little bit of a continuing complex about the whole thing. One that no one else shares, clearly, as they hustle in, bumping against the doorframe and sending the beer maid whirling away to keep her steins full. Robin is telling them to behave, even as she leads the pack to a table. Why would they? They aren’t wanted criminals. 

Well, not like he is. 

There’s a bite of cold against Eddie’s back as he toes the entry, lingers. A roaring hearth in the center of the room, calling him in. The smell of food, hot stew and minced pies and stale ale are there too, and that more than anything has him thinking of home, of sticky floors and the table in the back corner where he had carved his initials, planned to live and die in his wobbly chair-

A hand, searing, either from heat or cold, lands on Eddie’s shoulder, and he jumps. Turns to find Steve, divested of his helm and his breastplate, eyes wide. Eddie’s caught in the gaze for a moment, as Steve gives him the typical once over, checking for all limbs attached. It’s standard practice, this. Even in non-life threatening situations, Steve’s given to mother-henning. Eddie’s tempted to say something about it, has something right on the tip of his tongue. 

But Steve’s eyes flick back up to his face, wide and molten brown in the cast from the hearth. 

Suddenly, Eddie’s got nothing to say at all. He trips over it, mouth open for a teasing that’s disappeared, left him off beat, unable to take a breath, where his cadence is all off. 

“Oi! You two!”

Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin, one foot already moving for the treeline. But Steve’s hand keeps him steady, holding him in place. Still, he’s got his eyes fixed on the woods, knows just how far he can get before he has to hide. He’s still got bread in his bag and his lute strapped to his back. 

It’s all he needs.

All he’s needed. Warm fires and stews are unnecessary.

“Yer letting Father Winter in here with all that loiterin’.”

There’s a gap in the trees, just across the clearing. Eddie can make that-

“Sorry ma’am.” Steve’s voice is all hometown hero honey. Eddie knows what smile he’s got on. “We’re just making sure we didn’t leave anyone behind.”

“Don’t care. The rest of us won’t be sufferin’ for your stragglers. In or out!”

[humanityinahandbag]

Steve would absolutely be down to play D&D with Hellfire. The only condition is that he gets to be whatever character he wants (with Eddie's help crafting the sheet, of course), and Eddie is so completely enamoured and excited that he agrees wholeheartedly.

Turns out, Steve didn't really understand the concept of fantasy characters and assumed that it included all kinds of fantasies. Elves, Dwarves, Mages.

And naturally the lineup of Steve's 1987 Fantasy Basketball League.

The rest of Hellfire is ultimately accepting of it, and even gets into the character as time goes on. But those first few sessions were confusing as hell. Especially because they weren't quite sure what to think when Steve's only supplies and weapons included sports bars, tiny shorts, and a basketball.

Eddie though?

Eddie's been having a goddamn field day with the chaos his beloved hath wrought.

"Alright Steve. Roll to attack."

Steve rolls and lights up. "Eighteen!"

The other players cheer.

"Good luck," said Will sullenly after his magic missile failed to take the villain down. In fact, so far, nearly every attack from each member had failed to do enough damage to even make a dent.

Eddie writes down a note behind his DM shield. "Alright so the ghost approaches you. What are you..." He pauses. "Wait. Sorry what's your name again?"

"Larry Bird," says Steve helpfully.

"Right. What are you, Larry Bird, going to do to the Ghost?"

"I'm going to dribble across the enchanted bridge and hit him with a hook shot."

"This is the weirdest thing we've ever done..." Dustin whispers.

He's shushed by everyone else who has become absolutely invested in the fate of their resident Point Guard Paladin.

(the best part is that the end of the campaign in what was meant to be a difficult and long battle, in which almost every single Hellfire character dies a gruesome death, Steve effectively ends it by rolling a single D20 and dunking a zombie's head into the Boss' face.

Hellfire is elated but isn't sure how to explain to future Hellfire members that a kill shot was once carried out by the small forward of the Boston Celtics.)

[domsaysstuff]

Okay so this idea has been rocking around my empty skull for some time now just we know that Eddie can be a pretty mean DM and a shithead and I've been thinking abt romances in D&D and how it would work in Hellfire

And I had this thought that Eddie would like be "no romances!!" to the Corroded Coffin group (before the kids joined) and they're like why? and Eddie just to tease them says that he doesn't want to pretend to fall for their smelly ugly faces

Which just motivates them to try and seduce like every character that Eddie introduces for a fucking month and it leads to the creation of the rule: Every romance/seduction directed roll must be rolled above 15 to succeed AND if Eddie decides that the attempt is particularly bad the roll is with disadvantage

The Corroed Coffin boys are obviously teasingly like ohhh so we get an advantage if it's good?

"Doubt that would happen boys, but sure, if you make me, Eddie fucking Munson, to blush like a fair maiden then you'll get the advantage on the roll"

They try, they really do, but all the CC boys succeed in doing is killing off all of their party in three sessions and Gareth who is a little shit is actually rolling his third character (because the consequences of a failure are fucking brutal) by the time Jeff and [unnamed freak] give up

After that they know better (except Gareth who still sometimes does that just to annoy Eddie and be a little shit) to try and then the kids join Hellfire and Eddie has even less of an desire to flirt with fucking Wheeler, Henderson and Sinclair (they're baby children!!)

But the kids are a little shits too and they see Gareth being a little shit so they copy

It ends badly for them, they gripe about Eddie being unfair because like "all three of us have girlfriends Eddie and you don't so we clearly know more about romance then you do" Dustin not only gets a flick on the head for that but his character might have ended up being put into situations™ throughout the session that are "totally unfair!"

But fair to say all of Hellfire knows the rules and all of hellfire knows that no matter how well they try and how smooth they are (they really aren't ever smooth) Eddie will not blush or even consider they attempts as "good", the best they got was "tolerable" (Lucas got it and he's still very proud of it, as he deserves okay?), Eddie is impossible to fluster and so it's just is this fun thing they sometimes do when they feel particularly like little shits

And that's it about it

Until Vecna and all the upside down shit and the surprising friendship of Eddie and Steve happens

And suddenly Steve Harrington is not only sitting but playing D&D

Everything is going actually pretty good and Dustin practically vibrates out of his chair at how proud he is of Steve for how well he is doing so far and then

And then Steve tries to flirt with a pretty bard

Dustin deflates, he is ready for the absolute disaster that is going to fall upon Steve, he makes eye contact with Lucas - both of them ready with "it was actually a pretty good line tho!" at the tip of their tongues to defend Steve's decisions, he doesn't know Eddie's special rules after all and it would be funny to see Steve fail, sure, but it's Steve's first game and the kids wanted it to be good for Steve so convincing him to play again would be easier

But now Eddie is going to absolutely rip into him and Steve will never want to play again and-

"Roll with advantage" Dustin gasps, audibly, loudly, the room is silent, except for Steve who's very unaware of the chaos he just created and just rolls the dices, his usual confidence in place

And if someone looked closely - and all of the hellfire is fucking looking - Eddie Munson has indeed a light blush on his face

[flowercrowngods]

⚔️ bard!eddie/knight!steve part 2 (~6k)

After the confrontation with Lord Harrington, Eddie is riddled with feelings of anger, guilt, and shame. At a lavish banquet, he finds his world turned on its head once more and he begins to understand just who his love really is.

⚔️ read part 1 here (~4k)

Eddie spends a maudlin few days wallowing in newly found misery and dramatically bemoaning the lack of inspiration and muse, to which his uncle merely instructs him to help him in the smithy, claiming that physical exertion would help with the wretched guilt. 

Eddie is loath to let go of his feelings just yet, though, hoping they would turn into self-righteous anger at the Lord after all. But he has no such luck. Night after night of pondering the Lord’s words and the hurt expression Eddie was met with not even a fortnight ago leave not a shred of doubt as to who is at fault. For years, unwittingly or not. 

But wit is not what will get him out of this mess, no. It can only be cleared by sincerity and vulnerability — something that Eddie has sworn to never show this town again, only worsening his predicament.

It tears away at him for days upon days, leaving him unable to sing, unable to play, unable even to sleep, cooped up though he is in the room of his childhood. It is a time he longs for with an aching heart, if only to take back his promise to never be vulnerable within these walls again, if only to be sure he doesn’t betray himself more than he betrayed Lord Harrington and both of their hearts. 

Time, seemingly done with Eddie’s mental back and forth, eventually pulls the floor from beneath his feet one night when he finds a written invitation from Princess Chrissy to attend her banquet tomorrow night as both highly esteemed bard and dearly welcome guest. 

At the banquet, Eddie knows, he will see Lord Harrington again, and there will be no way to avoid him any longer. He imagines there will be more scalding glances, more sharp words from a sharper tongue, and more of his honour questioned. 

And the Lord would very well be in his right to do so. 

With a deep sigh and an even deeper pit in his stomach, Eddie goes on his pitiful journey to find some rest beneath the sheets. 

~*~*~

It is always a lavish affair when Princess Chrissy decides there is something to celebrate, and despite his nerves and a horrible anxiety that has been his steady but unwelcome companion all day, Eddie finds himself smiling at the view of the ballroom. 

It occurs to him how far he has come as he takes it all in, his eyes surely wide as saucers at the display of grandeur and opulence before him. Men and women alike dressed in finest fabrics and the brightest of colours, servants bustling about with wine and delicacies for the Princess and her guests. 

Years ago, the people of Hawkins took it upon themselves to chase him out of the city, and not even the Princess’s grace and friendship were enough to make him stay where clearly he was not wanted. And now here he is — highly esteemed bard and dearly welcome guest. He cannot help but feel vindicated and proud, having spited Hawkins and her people like this; he has sailed with pirates and travelled with adventurers, learned from master craftsmen and sung for emperors. 

All of it to show this city that he is more. That he is better. 

And yet, he reminds himself with a heavy heart, he cannot sing today, and Hawkins will be the victor once more.

Eddie reaches for a goblet of wine offered to him by a most curteous girl flashing him a shy but charming smile, and it is almost enough to improve his mood, almost enough yet for him to gain the courage to approach the Princess about his predicament. He follows the servant with his eyes as he brings the wine to his lips, stalling the inevitable just a second longer, when suddenly they fall on a familiar, tragically glorious figure clad in the deep blue colours of his family. 

Lord Harrington, tinged in hues of gold more than anything else as the light of the flames dancing along the walls and ceiling alike catches in his hair in a way that Eddie has heard will make kings succumb to madness, is laughing along to the excited gesturing of a woman Eddie cannot seem to recognise. But it is not she who has caught his eye. It is Lord Harrington, standing there with a look so impossibly gentle and a dress so regal that it makes Eddie’s legs weak and his heart ache. 

Where is that pompous air that Eddie remembers so well? When was it replaced with elegance and beauty so blinding, accompanied so wonderfully with that smile on his lips? And how can a man who has been wronged so endlessly still smile like this, look like this, hold himself like this? Like the world is but an old friend he likes to carry on his shoulders so it can have a better look at what is ahead. 

Like the kindest songs must always have been about him, wittingly or not. Like he is more, so much more than what Eddie thought him to be. Like he is exactly who Eddie needs him to be. Wants him to be. Has dreamed him to be. 

And still, despite the fondness in his eyes and the lavish joy displayed by everyone in the opulent room, Lord Harrington has a steady hand on the sword by his hip. It is only for display of his rank as a knight and as a Lord, likely blunt and too light for proper defence, let alone offensive strikes against a sudden enemy. 

But Harrington’s hand is woven around the hilt. Clinging to it, as though reassured by its presence. As though anxious were he not to feel it by his side, cold metal and leather resting against his palm. 

His words echo in Eddie’s head again. Making a mockery of me, stealing from me every chance to tell my tale in my own voice, in my own tempo. Entire kingdoms will know before I will have had the chance to wake up from a nightmare, and they sing about it, sing about pain they did not have the misfortune to suffer, sing with a smile, with booming voices because you make them. And yet the only one without a voice remains the one who slew the beast.

Stealing a man's right to flee from the horrors he lived through, acquainting every tavern in this kingdom and the next with his horrific and desperate deeds.

Can he not flee? Can he not lay down that feeling of horror even on a night like this? Need he cling to his sword, any sword, like that, even unconsciously? Did he forgt about the sword on his hip before the Knightmærs? Was it Eddie who made him cling, who kept him from forgetting, even for one night, that dangers tend not to lurk in the well-lit corners of a golden ballroom?

The guilt threatens to devour him wholly, and Eddie might just let it if only some of the weight were taken from Lord Harrington’s shoulders. Desperately, Eddie tears his gaze away from the Lord’s hand and back up again, travelling over ocean blue and sunset gold, drinking him in more hungrily than the wine in his hand. 

As though summoned by Eddie’s pathetically beating heart, Lord Harrington chooses that exact moment to look up and away from his partner, and by some cruel twist of fate, out of the hundreds of eyes in this room, he meets Eddie’s. The gentleness fades, the smile paling into something tinged with regret, and it takes every ounce of strength Eddie has not to cross the room and fall to his knees to beg forgiveness. 

He swallows and lifts the goblet to his lips once more, his breath hitching as Lord Harrington mirrors him, and they both take a slow, excruciating sip, their gazes never once wavering. 

I will not sing tonight, Eddie promises, wondering if it is at all possible that Lord Harrington has the gift of clairvoyance and knows exactly what Eddie is thinking. I will do right by you, even if it is too late. Even if it costs everything. 

In the end it is Lord Harrington who looks away first, his attention caught once more by his companion, and Eddie withers as he sees the gentleness returning to his gaze. He is not quick enough in tearing away his eyes, however, because Harrington’s companion, another bard, he assumes fom the look of her, turns towards him just a second later — and if looks could kill, Eddie would find himself dead six times over. 

Fate does not possess the grace to let him die on the spot, however, the daggers in the bard’s eyes not sharp enough to end his life, but more than sufficient to snuff out any sense of bravery he could have possessed to approach Harrington anytime soon. Eddie finds himself almost grateful for the admittedly rather lame excuse that only comes to prove his cowardice, but he decides not to dwell on it for now. 

Or he tries, as he downs the wine in one go and lets his eyes travel in search for familiar, friendly faces, and finding the Princess already approaching him with a smile so bright and warm it alleviates the anxiety thrumming through him. 

“Eddie!” she says, smiling even wider when he remembers to bow before her — something they had to practice a lot when they were children and she would sneak away from her lessons and appearances to play with him instead. It feels like a lifetime ago; she is the prettiest person he knows — always has been, but she kept the spark of glee even as an adult. It makes him weak in the knees with happiness, having her friendship so deeply ingrained in his soul even after all this time. 

Her eyes travel over his doublet made of silk so deeply red it appears black if the light plays a trick on your eyes. It is one of his finest possessions, and it takes everything within him not to preen in front of her. 

“And to think of the way you scoffed so offhandedly when I told you ages ago that silk would suit you. You have grown to be so very handsome, my dearest friend, I can hardly take my eyes off you lest I have to fear your untimely disappearance once more.” 

Eddie smiles, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks, entirely aware that he had not yet enough wine to solely blame it on that. 

“I am here to stay for the time being, Your Highness, so fret not. If only to show Hawkins how right you were, my dear, for I do look fabulous in silk.” 

Chrissy laughs, a joyful sound echoing through the hall and pulling many a pair of eyes toward them, but Eddie pays them no mind even as nervousness makes an eerie reappearance in the forefront of his mind. 

“I cannot wait to hear you play tonight,” the Princess continues, unaware of Eddie’s dilemma. There must be something in his face, though, for she reaches out to take hold of his hand. “You will, right? Tell me you will, Eddie. What reason have you to look so filled with gloom?” 

Eddie turns his hand to hold onto hers, propriety be damned even as he hears a gasp or two followed by scandalised whispering. For Hawkins, everything he does is scandalous, even merely existing. Holding the Princess’s hand is but another item on the list. 

“Forgive me, my Princess, but I cannot play tonight.” 

“But—“ 

“It is the Knightmærs that you long to hear, and it was always a dream to fill these halls with song sprung from my own feather, believe me. But it seems I am a fraud, and I need to do right by someone first before I will ever take to my lute again.” After a moment of silence he adds, “If you should like me to leave, I understand. But I will not sing.” 

The Princess looks at him for a long time, reading something that might be written behind his eyes, but she keeps a hold of his hand. 

“He sought you out, then.”   

Eddie’s heart falls as he grasps the meaning of her words. She knows about Lord Harrington and his involuntary ties to Eddie’s renown. Everyone in this room might know, might have heard of his deeds, might have seen his wounds as he returned from the battlefield that seems to follow his every step, while Eddie was out in the world living a lavish life with the title he earned from another man’s tales of valour and agony. 

“He did,” Eddie whispers. “And I need to make things right. He never deserved that.” 

She frowns, a crease appearing between her brows that does nothing to hide her gentleness and beauty. “Never deserved that? But Eddie, you made a hero of him! You wove battles he fought out of he goodness of his heart and the bravery in his bones, wove them into tales grand enough to outlast even the passing of time itself! I know many a knight who would kill to be made into that kind of a hero.” 

Even as she speaks, Eddie shakes his head, vehement to contradict her and make her see what he himself took so long to understand. 

“It is not I who turned that man into a hero, my Princess, that was his own doing. What I did was turn him into a legend, turn him into something untouchable by real emotion when he… seems to be so full of them! I took his story, all of his stories, and made them my own, stole the words out of the deepest dungeons of his heart and wrote epic ballads about pain that is strong enough to bring the bravest man to his knees with sorrow and— I took from him what was only his to give. The right to grieve. The right to be his own person. The right to his story, his pain, his own consequences to come from actions he was forced into.” 

Eddie swallows, beginning to understand, really, the scope of his actions as he speaks the words for the first time, and his throat rapidly closes up on him. 

“I took all of that and made it my own, and in the end it was only I who gained something. And worst of all, he never complained to me. Never exploded in my face or, or exposed me for the fraud that I am. In fact, it was I who confronted him about disappearing whenever I would sing my Knightmærs, because I found myself with hurt pride and—“ 

A breath, forced into his lungs to keep the tears welling in his eyes from spilling. 

“That man,” Eddie finishes with unsteady voice but iron conviction. “He deserves the world. He deserves better. He is a hero and he deserves to have a choice, but he is too good to make it. So I am making it for him.” 

He tears his wandering gaze away from the silhouette that seems to always pull him in, no matter how hard he tries to stray, and lays them on the Princess.

“I am not playing tonight.” 

Chrissy, too, has tears in her eyes after his speech, and she reaches up to cradle his face with both of her hands. Warmth floods Eddie where before he was bereft, and it takes everything in his power not to lean into her hold. Not when people are watching them. Gentleness like that is reserved for quiet, dark corners on stormy days long since past. 

“Oh, Eddie,” she says, her laugh a little wet. “See how much you have grown. You are the best person I know; always have been. You are forgiven, my dearest, loveliest friend. I shall not make you play, and I shall not stand it if people disapprove of it.” 

Relief washes over him, his body still trembling ever so slightly from his passionate outburst and fear of rejection, and he smiles as he casts his eyes down. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

She hums and wipes at the wetness beneath his eyes before retrieving her hands. 

“Anything for you, Eddie. Anything in my power.” She turns to leave and Eddie has not the strength to ask her to stay, not when he knows she has royal etiquette to follow. But before leaving him to his heart still heavy with guilt, she speaks again, “It will be fine. I know it will.” 

God, I hope so. 

Eddie doesn’t dare to look and see if Lord Harrington and his bard were in earshot just now. Instead, he turns swiftly and retreats to one of the lavish balconies to clear his head with some fresh air. He finds it blissfully empty as he takes a trembling breath. 

It will be fine. I know it will. 

Eddie breathes, crisp air flooding his lungs that he does not feel all that deserving of, but he is grateful for it nonetheless. He cannot blink away the image of Lord Harrington’s downturned eyes, the smile that adorned his lips but a moment before fading in the face of Eddie’s presence. He cannot keep his heart from racing, hammering away rapidly at his ribcage, mimicking a spooked bird’s fluttering wings. Aiming to get out. Out, out, out, away from its hold and back where it belongs. Back to the man dressed in the blues of his family, the colour of his name, like armour against any sorts of attempts dared by lowly boys who think themselves to be bards of great renown.

It aches, his heart. And with every beat against his chest, the pain only carries further until it reaches his eyes with stinging force. It is a pain of guilt and sorrow, mixing with a longing so deep that it cuts him in half, torn though he is. 

Just one more breath and the air will be enough to tear him apart down the middle, right through his heart that is long past saving. The feelings he has been harbouring for years for a love unknown have not disappeared with Lord Harrington’s accusations. Instead, they merely gained a face and a name, turned into something real. Shifted, just so, to make room for the reality of Lord Harrington and every tidbit of information Eddie can learn about him, even when he tries not to listen, even when he tries to let go of misguided emotion for a man whose heart he has broken and abused already. 

But everyone talks about him. Now that Eddie knows where to look, he sees the respect for Lord Harrington in everyone’s faces. Sees the gratitude, sees the fondness, sees the reverence. 

Eddie closes his eyes against it, but it only serves to make the images more vivid. Lord Harrington positively gleaming in that ballroom, shining as golden as the sun right before she bids the day farewell, looking so fondly upon his friend. His bard. His companion. Looking so regretfully upon Eddie. Looking until he could no longer bear it. 

He needs to leave. It is sudden, that urge, filling the cracks of his being and glueing him back together with that all too familiar feeling that he’d thought himself to have moved past on the same day that he left Hawkins all those years ago. But it is back now, getting stronger by the second, urging him to leave, leave, leave. 

He will talk to Lord Harrington and beg for his forgiveness later. Tomorrow, surely, or the day after. In a fortnight at the latest, or in a month. But for now, he has to leave. Needs to leave. Must. 

On unsteady feet, and with an unsteadier heart yet, Eddie turns abruptly and all but stumbles his way back through the large doors and into the ballroom, which has filled with even more guests and even more servants and even more people who will steal the air from right beneath his nose. 

It leaves him frazzled and shaking, and his heart falls anew when he realises that he needs to cross the room to leave. 

As if pulled in by string or higher power, Eddie finds Lord Harrington immediately, the man’s broad back turned toward him. His hand still rests on his sword as he watches his friend — the bard with daggers in her eyes — approach the dais, lute in one hand and flute in the other. It’s a thin one, and made not of wood but of some kind of metal, and Eddie feels a flash of jealousy at her blatant display of talent and proficiency in more instruments than one. Even greater jealousy still when Lord Harrington keeps his attention on her — oh, and how well Eddie is acquainted with his attention, heavy and intense and leaving him hungry for more. Starving. 

He yearns for it. Longs to approach the stage and join the other bard as she begins to play, if only to be in the vicinity of that attention. That affection. All that gentle intensity. 

But he can’t. 

So he turns, twisting away from the mirage he so longs to touch, feeling phantom tingles on his palms where he imagines strongly enough. Entangled in the web of guilt, longing and imagination, though, he twists a little too far and nearly falls over his feet in his haste to get away. And then he quite factually runs into a figure he’d hoped to never see again, much less share the same breath as them. 

Before Eddie can utter an apology and continue on his way out of the ballroom and back to the safety of his childhood bedroom where the ceiling is a little closer to him and the air won’t feel quite as stuffy, Jason Carver’s voice cuts through the room and his patience alike. 

“Munson,” Carver sneers, somehow managing to look down on Eddie even though they are of the same height. “So the rumours are proven true at last! I did not think you possessed the gall to show your face here again. But you seem to be a lot stupider than you let on — and you do let on a lot.” 

The throng of people around Carver make themselves known with a vile chuckle at Eddie’s expense, and if he were a stronger man, if he were a more vicious man tonight and not hung up on guilt and longing, he’d have a snide comment on the tip of his tongue. 

As it is, though, he stands no chance but to let Carver speak on. He seems to have climbed in rank, moved on from being a simple guardsman to someone wearing white silk and a decorative sword on his hip. It is more imposing than Harrington’s, the hand around the handle more like a threat to Eddie than anything else. Especially accompanied by that sneer. That godawful, entirely too punchable curl of his lips. 

“Though the good Princess proves her taste in music and people once more, servicing her people and not letting you play on an occasion such as this. What a shame it would be for all of Hawkins to have your… talent… be showcased like that. What humiliation for you. I’m glad she chose a bard who can sing. And play. And entertain Her Majesty’s guests accordingly.” 

Carver’s words cut deep, and there seems to be no end to them. It shows on his face, Eddie knows, but he can’t… Suddenly he’s young again, suddenly he knows no longer who he is, who he wants to be in this world and how we will get there. Suddenly the urge to run away is no longer gluing him together but tearing him apart, tearing him in every possible direction just to get away from Carver and his lackeys, until he will shred himself into a million pieces. 

And still he has no words to retort the venom leaving Carver’s lips. He is shaking, fuming, something boiling inside him, and yet he has no words. 

Just as Carver opens his mouth to spit yet more lies about Eddie and his craft that leave his ears ringing, something behind Eddie makes Carver’s big mouth snap shut with a loud clack. 

Before Eddie can regain control over his mind and body to turn around and see what happened, a familiar voice fills the silence so blatantly left by Jason Carver. 

“Such vile words from someone who knows neither talent nor skill himself, and who displays an utter lack of craftsmanship and tact.” 

Lord Harrington speaks in such condescending tones with Carver that it makes Eddie freeze all over again, not daring to move lest he pull that condescension toward himself. And still he aches to turn around and drink him in. 

He stands so close. Eddie can almost breathe him in, and it’s almost enough. 

Before him, Jason flushes an angry red, unprepared to be confronted thusly by Lord Harrington, who outranks him in both title and popularity — and, perchance more importantly, in eloquence and intelligence. 

Carver’s mouth remains firmly shut, but Lord Harrington is not done yet, it seems, as he moves from behind Eddie to his side, the hand on his sword so dangerously close to Eddie’s hip. It takes all his might not to sway and lean to the side just briefly, just to feel the warmth of his hand through his clothes. 

“You know, Carver, I found myself pondering whether upon the arrival of Eddie the Bard you would find yourself starving for his attention once more, the same way that you did when you and your band chased him away.” 

The blood freezes in Eddie’s veins and yet he feels flushed with heat, especially when people turn toward them with curious and scandalised eyes.

Lord Harrington is not perturbed, however. “And here you are indeed, yearning for his words directed at you, aching for his attention, and wishing at least one of his songs were dedicated to you, written in your honour. Unfortunately still, you wouldn’t know honour if it spat you in the face. And you have miscalculated, good man, for you are irrelevant to a muse such as his, and too much of a coward for heroic tales of valour and sacrifice. The only thing you know to sacrifice is my patience. You are of no greater importance to this world, this kingdom, and  even this very moment, Jason, than an overgrown roach in a dead man’s kitchen.” 

The noise that leaves Eddie’s throat is not as embarrassing as the one Carver makes, and covered, too, by several gasps sounding around them. Lord Harrington has drawn quite the crowd — and for once he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it, smirking as he is, regarding Carver like he means every last word of what he just said. 

It makes Eddie weak in the knees. 

And Lord Harrington takes yet another step forwards, placing himself between Eddie and Carver, shielding him not only from the man’s words and presence, but directing the attention of those around them away from Eddie. Pulling it towards his own person and Jason’s form, trembling with anger and humiliation. 

Eddie blinks, heart racing again, his mind running faster than a spooked race horse. Why would Harrington come to his rescue? Why would he pull all the attention toward himself when he should be rejoicing in seeing Eddie humiliated and beaten with his own weapon of choice? Why, when all the good Lord should want is to see Eddie fall from grace and from his high horse alike? 

Jason is sputtering some kind of response, but Eddie is transfixed by ocean blue and sunset gold so close to him that he could melt into him if only he had the right. So transfixed, indeed, that he doesn’t hear what Jason has to say. It is only when Lord Harrington speaks again that the world returns to him. 

“Leave the bard alone, Carver, you humiliate yourself with the way you’re leeching off his attention like a schoolboy with his first bout of attraction.” And then, closing the gap between them and speaking into Carver’s ear, just loud enough for Eddie to hear, Lord Harrington says, “Leave him alone. Speak of him again anything but praise, and I will have you emasculated per royal decree, and I shall see to it myself.” 

Where before his face was flushed red, all the colour now leaves Carver’s face as he blanches and swallows heavily. He looks between Harrington and Eddie, confusion and fear so clear on his features that Eddie would grin if he weren’t so shaken by the Lord’s actions and words. 

Carver takes flight the very moment Lord Harrington steps back, and suddenly Eddie finds himself alone with him. 

And words have not yet returned to him, especially when Harrington turns and lets down the smirking mask of condescension and instead regards him with an expression of worry and gentleness. 

“Are you all right?”

Eddie blinks, all but feeling the confusion and wonderment spill out of his big, dumb eyes, unable to hide it from Harrington and his golden skin. 

This is the man who has slain the man possessed by the Devil himself and took in his younger sister to live with him and get an education. This is the man who protected the Princess and this whole kingdom so many times, slaying foes and beasts alike and returning home a hero who refused his own celebrations. This is the man who would be King if the world were anything like Eddie wants it to be. 

The man who smiles so fondly, so gently, upon the people dear to him. The man who opens his estate in the winter to those whose houses stand no chance against the cold bitterness of the season, and thus defeats both lonesomeness and bleakness in one graceful gesture of kindness and compassion.

And still, this is the man who had his life twisted and glorified in song and poetry, the man who had the floor pulled from beneath his feet when his pain was made into something desirable. The man who stands in a ballroom filled with joyous laughter, wine, and dance, and keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword. The man who was wronged so endlessly by the ingenious bard who claimed to love him. 

And yet. He stakes his claim. He stakes his claim on Eddie. Protects him. Rather publicly, too, and now everyone knows of a connection between them that doesn’t exist, a connection that Eddie snuffed out before it had the chance to spark because he was so obsessed with the notion of grandeur and drama and love. A love that would survive it all. A love that would slay beasts and brothers possessed, a love that would be immortalised in song and poem, a love that… 

Would look at him the way Lord Harrington does. 

But it’s not love. Eddie knows nothing about love. How could he, when he hurt the man so? How could he, when he cannot find even the simplest apology, when he cannot utter a single word with the way his throat is closing up on him so rapidly in the face of that tenderness. 

“Eddie,” Harrington gathers him out of his reverie, a hand on his forearm. “Would you step outside with me?”

Another claim staked right through Eddie’s fluttering heart. He cannot bear it. Stands frozen to the ground.

“You need not have done that,” he says at last, his voice no louder than a whisper. It makes the Lord lean in closer, as though he has difficulty to hear Eddie otherwise, though he’d like to imagine that Harrington is just as drawn in by Eddie, and is powerless against it. 

The man smiles, though there is no fondness in it, and Eddie wants to recoil. 

“Jason wouldn’t know talent if it spat in his face. Which,” he adds as an afterthought, “is not a suggestion.” 

Despite himself, Eddie smiles genuinely, feeling a bit of the ever-present tension lift from his shoulders. “Do my ears deceive me, or am I right in my understanding that you think I have talent, milord?” 

The smile fades a little, leaving behind some hidden trace of genuineness that weighs so heavy in the air between them even as Harrington inclines his head politely. As though Eddie deserves politeness. As though he were of a higher standing than he is. And higher yet than Lord Harrington himself. 

“I would have to call myself both fool and liar to claim otherwise,” he says, his tone shifted to match his posture. Reverent, almost. Eddie wants him to straighten those shoulders and look down on him again, to do everything in his power to stop the wild beating of his heart that still cuts the words right from his tongue. “You have a way with words that is yet to be matched.” 

He looks up again when Eddie says nothing, and their eyes meet. Lord Harrington’s beauty is unmatched, and Eddie finds himself willing to look at him forever. Wanting. Longing. 

Whatever spell the Lord found himself to be under until just a second ago, it shatters now, dissipates into thin air as his expression shutters. And where before it was Eddie’s words that dealt nothing but damage, now it is his silence, for Lord Harrington steps away from him with a regretful expression and inclines his head once more. 

“Forgive me, I overstepped. I am aware of your opinion of me, believe me, I just… I simply… Forgive me. Please. Good night.” 

He turns, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword as though he were drowning in the ocean blue of his family name and the sword were keeping him afloat. Not a trace of pompous air emanates from him, and Eddie finally feels himself tearing in two as in that gold-sparked moment his knight and Lord Harrington become one right before Eddie’s eyes. 

And the bard is helpless when he calls out, “My Lord.” Nothing, as Lord Harrington steps away from him. “Steve.” 

He stops. 

And so does time. 

But Eddie didn’t think this far ahead, knows not what to say, how to make sense of the words trapped inside him that leave his hands trembling and his legs shaking, words that he needs to bring in the right order yet, lest he ruins everything again. 

There is only the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart against his ribcage and the eyes of their unwilling audience turned towards them. The eyes of people who want to see Eddie fail. Who want to see him flail and fall and crawl back into the winter’s night months after his birth, left outside his uncle’s doorstep as his father lost his life over years of debt he had no means to pay off. 

“I…” 

Words fail him. When he needs them most, when he needs them not as a weapon nor as a caress, they deceive him. And Eddie watches as his time runs out, like sand pouring between his fingers no matter how hard he tries to hold onto it. 

He watches, desperately, as Lord Harrington tears himself away. As he weaves through the groups of people, reaching for a goblet of wine as he does, and downs it in one go before he reaches his bard where she is standing off to the side for a short break. He watches as she takes the Lord’s hands in hers and pulls him into a quiet corner and then through a large door onto one of the balconies. 

He watches until his vision blurs with tears unshed. He watches until he can no longer stand it, and flees from the ballroom as more of a coward than ever before. 

tagging: @itsall-taken @pukner @mugloversonly @devondespresso @hellion-child @fairytalesreality @maya-custodios-dionach @awkwardgravity1 @bubblemixer @paperbackribs @the-redthread @stevesbipanic @gregre369 @chaoticvictorianspirit @cuoredimuschio thank you for reading, i hope this was okay 🤍

[a-little-unsteddie]

secrets

written for monster lovetober day 1: royalty

word count: 1.4k || rating: t || cw: suggestive thoughts at one point

hi!! this turned out longer than i thought it would wishfhebd but!! i finished it with *checks time* six minutes to spare! not edited, so forgive any mistakes.

Everyone knew that the royal family had secrets. The way they presented as the ‘perfect family’ to the kingdom had always had an air of insincerity that most could spot from the next kingdom over. It was a known fact. The sky was blue, the trees were dying, the royal family had secrets.

Of course, as is usually the case with secrets, no one knew what they were, exactly. Everyone loved to gossip about it, sure. Eddie had heard all sorts of things during his travels.

They weren’t the real Royal Family, capital ‘R’, capital ‘F’. They were clones.

They hunted peasants for sport on the weekends.

They were vampires, which honestly, Eddie could kind of see, especially with how stoic and elegant the King and Queen were, with their gazes of steel indifference.

Of course, reality was usually much less exciting than fiction, so as much as Eddie enjoyed listening to whatever theory that a commoner had cooked up, he knew the reality was likely less glamorous.

However, that didn’t stop him from being far too curious for his own good, so when the opportunity arose to visit the royal family, to potentially become a personal bard, well. Eddie simply couldn’t refuse.

He only prayed that the truth of the matter wasn’t that the royal family hunted the poor for sport.

Meeting the royal family was—not underwhelming, per say, but it certainly did not meet Eddie’s expectations. He had expected the cold exteriors from the king and queen, the seemingly flippant disregard for commoners such as Eddie. What he ^hadn’t expected, was that it appeared as though the prince didn’t hold the same disregard. Prince Stephan seemed to take an immediate interest in Eddie.

Throughout the dinner that Eddie had been invited to as the entertainment, he had felt the gaze of the prince on him. It was impossible to miss the way Prince Stephan watched him, even when he wasn’t singing or playing.

Eddie hadn’t expected Prince Stephan to approach him at all. And yet.

“Edward, is it?” The prince asked with a warm smile, sometime after dinner had been cleared away and most of the guests had migrated outside and were mingling amongst themselves in the courtyard. Eddie nodded and bowed shallowly, palms sweaty with nerves.

“Yes, your highness,” he responded, to which the prince grimaced.

“Just Stephan, or Steve, is fine when we’re in private,” he told Eddie, in such a way that Eddie thought could have been flirting if he were slightly more delusional.

Eddie looked around the mostly empty room, “And we are in private?” He asked doubtfully.

“The only ones inside now are servants,” Stephan responded, which was true. Eddie hummed quietly.

“Eddie, is what my friends call me.”

Stephan brightened considerably at that, “Eddie,” he repeated, testing the name in his mouth. Eddie ignored how it caused butterflies to erupt in his stomach.

“So, we’re friends, are we?” Eddie asked with a raised brow.

“Friends,” Stephan confirmed, eyes focused intensely on Eddie as he smiled at him.

“Shouldn’t you be outside with the guests?” Eddie asked, trying to not be overwhelmed with the attention. “The party is in your honor, after all.”

Stephan laughed softly, Eddie was immediately addicted to the sound. “These parties are for one reason and one reason only,” he said with a shake of his head.

Eddie assumed that he meant that it was for appearances, to make the royal family look good, although he couldn’t stop himself from commenting playfully, “It’s not to ritualistically hunt the commoners, is it?”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, before his head tilted back and he laughed loudly. Eddie felt jittery from making the prince laugh so freely.

“No,” he answered after he calmed down. “No, the parties are for me to meet as many people as possible,” Stephan admitted. Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, adjusting the strap that kept his guitar on his body.

“Why?” Eddie asked, ever curious.

“Well,” Stephan started, before stopping and sighing, “it’s hard to explain, and I’d rather get to know you,” he deflected with a charming smile. Eddie saw it for the distraction it was, but let it slide, if only to express his confusion.

“Me?” Eddie asked doubtfully.

“Is this him?” A feminine voice interrupted, and Eddie looked in shock as Queen Gloria appeared seemingly out of no where. The king was next to her, looking at him appraisingly.

“Yes,” Stephan said enthusiastically, which only served to confuse Eddie.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, darling. Edward, was it?” The queen asked, a warm smile on her face. The juxtaposition between this version of the queen, and the version that had been hosting the party thus far was jarring.

“That is correct, your highness,” Eddie said, unsure what was even happening. The king looked like he might have been sniffing the air, but that would be absurd.

The queen laughed lightly, “Just Gloria while we’re in private,” she said with a teasing smile.

“What is..” Eddie paused, unsure if it’d be rude to ask what in the world was going on.

“I’m sure you’re very confused, Stephan rarely takes the time to explain things before diving head first,” Gloria said with a shake of her head.

“I was getting there,” Stephan said with a frown, crossing his arms. Eddie eyed the way the motion caused his muscles to bulge slightly, mouth dry. Stephan smirked, nostrils flaring slightly, flexing his arms a bit. Eddie snapped his gaze away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“I’m sure you were darling,” Gloria soothed, rolling her eyes. “It won’t be long now, the guests have been dismissed, and the grounds are empty.”

“The grounds?” Eddie asked, following at Stephan’s insistence as they started walking towards the doors leading to the grounds.

“It’s more…freeing to be out here,” Richard said, speaking up for the first time, just as they stepped into the courtyard that lead to the grounds.

Eddie had a feeling he was still missing something, even if he agreed that it was more freeing to be in the outdoors, he had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“We have some time before the change,” Stephan said, leading the way towards benches at the edge of where the forests started.

Eddie wondered if Stephan had lied earlier, about his family hunting the poor.

“I’m sure you’re aware that we have secrets,” Stephan started, taking a seat. The king and queen smiled encouragingly, but didn’t linger. Eddie watched in confusion as they vanishrd into the woods.

“Everyone is, yes,” Eddie said, turning his attention to the prince. He sat next to him when Stephan gestured to the bench. “Not that anyone knows what the secrets are.” He teased.

Stephan laughed, a musical sound that Eddie was quickly becoming obsessed with. “I imagine not, it is a very closely guarded secret. A need-to-know.”

“And you’re going to tell me?” Eddie clarified, to which Stephan nodded.

“You need to know.”

“Why?” Eddie asked with a frown, “I can’t be so important that you tell me the day I meet you.”

“But you are, Eddie.” Stephan insisted, reaching to take Eddie’s hands in his. Eddie allowed it, staring where their hands were joined together.

“How?”

“Well…these gatherings are primarily used to find someone.” Stephan began explaining, rubbing his thumb across Eddie’s knuckles. “You.”

“Me?”

“Well, not you exactly,” Stephano admitted, “my mate. Which happens to be you.”

“Your what?” Eddie exclaimed in shock, eyes wide.

“Mate,” Stephan insisted, “you’re my mate. The Harrington family are all werewolves, my parents are mates, my grandparents were mates. You…are my mate.”

Eddie felt his heartbeat quicken and he knew he wasn’t opposed to being the prince’s mate, but werewolves? That’s the secret?

“Oh,” he breathed, unsure what else to say. He was sure his face was bright red, could feel the way heat spread from his face and down his neck.

“Oh,” Stephan—Steve? Eddie should probably refer to his mate (Was Steve his mate? Or was he just Steve’s mate?) by the name he asked him to—repeated, looking sheepish. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I have searched my entire adulthood for you. I would have preferred to have this conversation later—but, well…my parents obviously thought I should tell you right away.”

“I’m glad you did,” Eddie said, squeezing Steve’s hands. “Tonight’s a full moon, isn’t it?” He asked, to which Steve nodded.

“I would like it if you spent it with me.” Eddie’s eyes widened.

“As in—”

“Oh! No, no, just…on the grounds with me. As my mate.”

Eddie relaxed, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to become a werewolf himself—if he ever would be. “I can do that.”

Steve’s face lit up, smile widening into a blinding grin. “Wonderful,” he said, standing.

Hand in hand, they walked into the woods to spend their first of many full moons together.

[foxprism]

tiefling bard Eddie Munson!! Feel like he would start fights at taverns just for fun lol

(I'm kinda mad at the fact that the colours look way different on mobile than on my pc and drawing tablet - Eddie is actually supposed to be way more crimson red than brick red TwT, but oh well)

[fbfh]

your daughter Rose is obsessed with the cartoon adventures of the gummi bears. Eddie is too, if you're being honest. he's just so over the moon that there's fantasy shows and movies that aren't too scary for kids. if he had to wait until his Rosie posie was older to show her all the wonders of fantasy magic and dungeons and dragons, that would be the longest wait of his life. so while the band is working on corroded coffin's next album, Eddie starts to get an idea. he pulls some strrings and starts working on a super secret surprise, so secret that not even you know what it is. After a few months, Eddie takes the day off. He makes up a mess of popcorn and candy - and of course, gummy bears - and gets you and Rosie settled into your squishy cozy couch together just in time for the new adventures of the gummi bears special. for the next 40 minutes you watch the two part special, "bard day's night". when you see the words in the credits special guest stars, corroded coffin, you scream in excitement. Rosie, who's still learning to read screams right along with you. then again when you read it out loud to her. the second you hear the cords of the cartoon electric lute on screen, you know who's playing. Rose practically tackles Eddie, glued to the screen as she watches his cartoon counterpart and the rest of the animated band get up to all sorts of hijinks and shenanegins right alongside her favorite cartoon characters. at the end, when the gummibears and the magical metal minstrals save the flower fairies, you notice the flower fairy princess with a sparkly rose motif bears a striking resemblance to your little girl, and Rosie notices the flower fairy queen looks just like her mommy.

[penny00dreadful]

Heyyy

I accidentally went down a rabbit hole for the devotion art, and I was wondering if you filled out character sheets for the boys and if so, would you be willing to share them??

No worries if not in either way!

The stat blocks need not exist, not do you have to share them even if they do.

Hello hello! Thank you for asking! I actually did fill out character sheets for the boys at Lvl. 3, Lvl. 10 and Lvl. 15 for my upcoming D&D AU, Devotion.

And then I put them down and now I can't find them again to share 😭😭😭

But I DO HAVE AN ANSWER FOR YOU! And I do have the few notes I could find. I saw your reblogs about Eddie's Lvl. 10 stats and you're so right, his health is really low 😬 BUT I have an in universe reason for it! 😅

When I was filling out their stats and figuring them out, I knew I wasn't going to be building them to min/max them, you know? Like I wasn't going to level them up the way one might usually with a character they are playing. Like I wasn't gonna say:

There might be battles up ahead so I need to increase their stats here and here.

Instead I went more in the direction of:

At this stage in Steve's life, he's 16, he thinks he's hot shit because he's got his expensive gold armor and he's at the start of his story arc so, for example, his Wisdom is very low (-1) at Lvl. 3 and he also has NO experience in combat of any kind, he's only fought when in training, never in a real world scenario.

Then as he gets up to Lvl. 10, he learns, he grows. He's 21 year old now. He's become more wise to the ways of the world, he's learned to fight, his weapons have changed, he's gotten stronger. He's at a +0 for his Wisdom now as he's learned more of the world outside his small town.

It's the same story for Eddie. While I don't want to say too much because of potential spoilers, I can tell you he has the 'urchin' background sooo... 😬😬😬 That might give a hint. 😅 But as a Lvl. 3 Bard at 17 years old, growing up in the poor part of town, he doesn't have a lot of access to the kinds of benefits Steve had growing up. Y'know, sometimes you gotta busk to eat and sometimes you go home empty handed.

So this poor fucker is STARTING OFF at a +0 Constitution.

Which... doesn't get better. Because his situation does not get better.

There is a reason he multiclasses into Wizard, and it is very reflective of his story in the show. Like, in a sense his situation gets better, he has his people around him, but he also ends up leaning into the freakishness, hence the School of Necromancy.

But none of this is conducive to growing up healthy. So by the time he is at Lvl. 10 at 22 years old, he's still at +0 Constitution because... well... because there's only so much one can do. Regular meals and a constant training regimene is not something he had access to for the longest time.

(And listen, as someone who's favourite character I played was a School of Necromancy Wizard who was the most glass of glass canons, I feel you, Eddie 😅)

So like, he's got 3d8 HP when he's at Lvl. 3 and I believe he rolled fairly high with his +0 and I think he was at 21. Then he took 7 Wizard levels (still at +0) which was 7d6, leaving us with ~30 HP gained.

So I suppose, long story short, I am approaching these stats from a storytelling perspective, rather than trying to buff them up for any future battles, you know? Along with a little bit of homebrewing or just straight up ignoring some things that I need to.

Like as a DM, if something needs to be ignored or overlooked to make the story more entertaining to my players, I'll do it. The Rule of Cool is always in effect with me. 🤣

So I kind of see it as me being the DM of their story, but of course, rather than me being the DM and them running off in the opposite direction I want them to, like my players so often do I am also the author, and I know exactly what direction the story is going to go in and what's going to happen and what their motivations are.

I dunno, it's a really fun thinking exercise and it has allowed me to get so deep into their characters.

Anyway I am SORRY this explanation has gone on so long and I've gone so far in depth when you probably just wanted something short and sweet but I love talking about this so, I took the opportunity and ran with it. 😅

So here's the notes that I found on their character sheets on scattered scraps of paper 😅 (and I know some of these might not line up with what's supposed to be done, but isn't the main point at the end of the day to have fun? 😊)

Eddie Lvl. 10:

Keen Mind Feat STR: -1 DEX: +1 Con: +0 INT: +3 WIS: +1 CHA: +3

Steve Lvl. 10:

STR: +3 DEX: +0 Con: +2 INT: +1 WIS: +0 CHA: +3

[royale1803]

The Party against the boss fight ✨️

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[frozensoldier-png]

Let us listen to the sound of silence ~ ♫ ♬ ♪ King Steve

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[symbioticsimplicity]

Okay so I know we all headcanon Steve as tolerating DND because his loved ones are into it, but he’s not into it himself when they all but strong arm him into trying it.

But I would like to submit the idea that he get stuck playing the wrong class the first time.

Dustin designs him a paladin for his first run. It seems like the obvious choice, plus who doesn’t need a paladin in their party?? Steve is their literal knight in shinning armor, it tracks.

He hates it.

He doesn’t get most of the mechanics, trying to keep track of spell slots is a pain, remembering to do all the shit with his patron is annoying, the character themselves is kinda basic (no offense Dustin), and playing strictly Lawful Good is just so fucking boring. He figures he just doesn’t like DND, and resolves to play this campaign out with them but never do it again.

Then his character gets killed unexpectedly during a boss fight, so he has to make a new one.

Eddie, who’s a great DM and also has been paying attention to Steve because of course he has, suggests Steve build this one himself. Steve is of course unsure about this and argues that he’d have no idea how to do that, so Eddie offers to help walk him through it. Steve stays a little later that night and they work on making him a character he’ll actually enjoy playing.

Thus is born Riot the Rad, the most self indulgent bard to grace their humble party.

The difference is immediate. There’s less to keep track of, and Eddie made sure to explain the things he did need to keep an eye on. Steve actually finds himself engaging the story, trying things he wouldn’t have before and getting into his character. Especially the flirtiness, which flusters the shit out of Eddie though he does his best to seem like it doesn’t. Eddie wants to be mad that Steve just seduced one of the villains but he just can’t quite muster it, especially when Steve is improving a song about the villain’s “Big pretty brown eyes”.

[fuctacles]

Midsummer Night's Dance

T | 1257 | knight!Steve, bard!Eddie, pre-Steddie, platonic Hellcheer | Ao3

Steve had already made up his mind and was on his way to the stables by the time Jason Carver found him.

"You're as good as dead, Harrington,” the man sneered into his face. “That freak is going to kill you in your sleep.”

"He's just a minstrel, Carver."

"He is a murderer!" Jason yelled, his face going red. Steve could feel his hot breath on his face. It reeked of alcohol. "He and his devil worshippers killed Chrissy!"

"Lady Christine disappeared," Steve reminded him. "There is no proof Munson had anything to do with it."

"He was drugging her! Everyone knows it!"

By now Steve moved past Jason, making his way deeper into the stables where Dustin, his squire, should be waiting with their horses. Carver followed him with uneven steps, breathing down his neck. 

He felt a tiny bit of relief when he spotted the teen. They nodded at each other, Dustin's eyes flicking behind him and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Wisely, he chose not to speak in Jason's presence. They silently prepared their horses, letting the man tire himself out with yells and accusations.

"Can't believe you're dragging along a kid," he baffled watching both of them leave the stables with their horses. "At least your corpses will finally prove I was right about that freak!"

Steve couldn't help the roll of his eyes.

"In that case, I’m glad I’ll never have to see you again," he said, leading his horse towards the stoned path that lead all the way from the castle grounds to the front gates and the forest beyond. Dustin followed behind him.

As soon as they left the shade of castle towers, he sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"This better not bite me in the ass, Henderson," he said, eyeing his squire.

Dustin deflated, like Steve just gave him permission to unleash everything that he's been holding inside.

"Eddie's cool! You can trust him! You can trust me!"

"Yeah? Like with Darth?"

Dustin bristled. 

"Don’t bring him into this! I wouldn't trust Darth with my life. But with Eddie, I would."

Steve squinted at him.

"His dramatics are rubbing off on you."

They reached the local tavern, Dustin running inside and then out to get Eddie's horse. Soon, the man of the hour was out of the door, his shirt askew, hair sticking out, sleep still gluing his eyelids together.

"You were… sleeping," Steve half-asked with disbelief.

The bard only grunted in response.

"It's almost noon!"

"It's nine," he hissed back, as if they shouldn't have left at dawn. "Hellfire!" He immediately lit up when Dustin appeared with his horse, black like midnight. He nuzzled gently her snout, cooing at her.

Steve melted a tiny bit inside, always touched by a sight of a loving horse-owner. Too many knights treated them like expendables.

He coughed into his fist to hide his reaction.

"Let's go."

They walked the rest of the length of the cobbled path, making a stop at the market to get some food for the road. Eddie disappeared minutely, and just when Steve was about to get angry, he reappeared, brandishing a marmalade stuffed bun for each of them.

Grumbling, Steve bit into the offering.

"Trying to bribe me?"

"Why would I? You already agreed to take me," Eddie answered after swallowing. "I just wanted one and thought it would be nice to share." He shrugged.

"Well, thanks."

"Steve has a sweet tooth!" Dustin offered the information happily, ignoring the glare his knight threw him.

"Ahh, now I know the way to Steve Harrington's heart," the bard smiled at him mischievously.

In answer, Steve hopped onto his horse and trotted away, forcing his companions to hastily follow his lead. Soon, their little troupe was out of the town gates and towards what Munson dubbed a ‘song-worthy adventure’. Steve just called it a routine patrol but, to each their own.

****

Eddie made for a surprisingly good travel companion. As a bard he had a lot of stories and songs to fill the boring stretches of the road, as a… herbalist he knew his way around the forest flora and had a satchel of fragrant tea he brewed for Steve on the first morning of their adventure/patrol.

It took him two nights to notice something was off. On the third, he took action.

"Where's Eddie?" he asked Dustin when it was his turn to take the night watch.

The boy shrugged.

"Taking a dump, I guess?"

"How long has he been gone?" Steve frowned. Dustin rolled his eyes like the idea of something bad happening to his friend, in the middle of the night, in a forest he didn't know, was an absurd concept.

"You know these artist types, they love their midnight strolls," he waved his hand dismissively. "He said to give him half an hour before worrying."

Okay, so there was that at least.

"Fine," Steve scoffed. He stretched and looked around the darkness surrounding their patch of grass. "I'm gonna take a leak and switch you up."

"Okay."

But as he was tying his pants back up, a stubborn plan solidified in his head. Without a second thought, he followed the trail of disturbed bushes. He stumbled a bit, since the barely-there path was lit only by a sliver of moon.

He almost walked right into them. One second the forest was dark and empty, the only sounds made by his footsteps and the quiet nightlife, and the next only a tree trunk was separating him from a clearing that bustled with energy.

The bodies crowding the place glowed their own ethereal light, fair lithe forms covered only by overflowing hair, wings, and shimmering slivers of fabric. They danced in a circle, happy and smiling, flowing above ground. Beside the gathering of faeries - a bard, accompanying them with his lute. Not just any bard. Steve's bard.

His voice flowed around, intertwining with the instrument and almost tangible in the pulsing air. It made Steve feel the urge to dance, but he knew it would be wrong to join them as a mere human being. Instead, he watched. The sight of fairies made him feel dizzy, their bodies unfocused, tethering on the edges of two realms. Or maybe his human eyes were at fault here, not designed to seeing them. He had no trouble focusing on Eddie, though. His milky skin was glowing just like the faeries’, and his hair flowed with a non-existent breeze. He fitted among them perfectly, and the thought that he couldn't be fully human, crossed Steve's mind.

There was a shift in the circle, a figure emerging and reaching out. Eddie smiled, abandoning his lute in a grasp of another faerie who continued the tune without a hitch. And then they were dancing, twirling around each other, singing together.

Steve could see both of them clearly.

He's met Christine Cunningham before but here she looked nothing like what he remembered. Where she used to be sickly pale and have an aura of melancholy around her, here she was alive with magic, fitting right in with the menagerie of mystical creatures.

Steve’s reasons for agreeing to the bard's company were many. A lot of them were tied to the widely spread rumours of his involvement in the disappearance of Lady Cunningham. He had a gut feeling the man was no murderer but the truth facing him was much bigger than he could ever imagine.

Not a murderer nor a kidnapper, Eddie Munson had simply returned his friend to where she always belonged.