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Once upon a time, there was a prince. He lived happily with his family, ruling over Hawkins. He was loved by his parents, his friends, and his subjects. The king ruled with a strong hand, but Hawkins was flourishing. They have had years of bountiful harvest, blessed with sun and rain. Proudly the prince had joined the cheerful procession during the harvest festival, unsuspecting of what’s to come.

There was music, people celebrating. All around, couples danced. Children twirled in circles, giggling and laughing loudly. Cheers erupted when the parade marched into the city center. Baskets filled with apples and pears were draped on the stairs to the castle. Sacks filled with potatoes and long bundles of corn lined the sides. In the middle, at the foot of the stairs, they had arranged for a table. Three seats - one for the king, the queen to his left, and one chair for the prince.

Jesters and jugglers entertained the townsfolk gathered in the city center. Multiple fire pits burned brightly and meat roasted over the flickering flames. The smell of wine and beer mixed in the delicious scent of soup and stew.

With a bright grin, the prince broke away from the masses to greet his parents. His mother smiled gently at him, always proud of how much he loved his people and was loved by them in return. His father gripped his shoulder tightly and nodded at him approvingly. He took his seat by the king’s side as it was intended.

He listened attentively as the king praised the people for their hard work and thanked the deities for looking down on Hawkins with love. They raised their glasses and toasted to a good year.

Together with all the residents of Hawkins they ate and celebrated. Pumpkin pie was served and the prince enjoyed every bite of it.

As the night progressed, the dances became more and more frolicsome. The prince’s parents encouraged him to join the festivities, silently hoping someone would catch his eye. They never openly talked about it or asked him, but he had reached the eligible age just the summer before.

So, he followed their bidding and joined the young people, circling to dance partners of every gender. He laughed and cheered with the crowd. When the king and queen were animated to get up and kiss, he whistled like everyone else and joyfully clapped his hands. The smile on his face couldn’t have been any wider. He felt like flying that night. He twirled around the girl at his arm and watched her dimples as she smiled at him. More pints of beer were passed along. More people joined the dances. The prince felt so slaphappy, he didn’t even mind when someone spilled wine over his trousers. They apologized profoundly, but he assured them over and over again he didn’t care. He bowed out of the dance and stepped away to run some water over the stain.

Even though he enjoyed the energy of the festival, it felt good to step away for a moment to get some air. He could still hear the music and the cheers and the feeling of it all lingered in his chest, dancing like his own happy little flame in his heart. 

He turned to return to the festivities when suddenly the music cut off. Ominous growling sounded through the alleys, directly followed by frantic screams. An anxiousness settled over him, knotting his stomach in nervous coils. His feet took him back to the city center almost automated. With each step he sped up, hurrying towards the yells and wails.

Townsfolk came running past him, all looking spooked and pale. Someone tried to drag him with them, but he shook them off. Hectically, he rounded the corner.

The smell of blood and fear pierced through his nostrils, the acidity making him want to vomit. Then, he caught up on the scene in front of him. The musicians laid dead. Those who had survived were battered and bruised, desperately trying to get away. The people had scattered, only hurt remained, unable to run.

A group of men, heavily armed, threatened and controlled the remaining townsfolk. Men, women, children - all huddled together, sobbing and crying in panic. People begged for their lives.

The eyes of the prince darted around, desperate to find someone who could help, but he was out of luck.

The palace guards were slain. Pools of red stained their silver armour. Panicked, he searched the city center for his parents. His gaze landed on a familiar dress, peeking out behind the table. Unmoving. Dead.

The prince was frozen. His heart jackhammered in his chest. Terrified, he fought to breathe. His eyes flitted across the table but the place where his father had been was empty.

That's when he spotted a dog-like creature. The one emitting the fright-inducing growling, like nettle, stinging across the skin, clawing deep under the surface. It turned his faceless head towards him and he needed no further information about who had so brutally ended their harvest festival. Vecna’s Raiders. A terrifying group that had moved up from the South.

He's heard enough stories about the destructive leader and his horde of transformed monsters. A wielder of dark magic, followed by few, feared by everyone.

As if summoned, a tall blonde turned. His sword digging into the throat of the king. The townsfolk, threatened by the Raiders, begged for their king's life. But the blonde just laughed, throaty and piercing.

A low growl from the monster closing in on him brought attention to the price. He stiffened when the leader of the Raiders shifted his way. Cold eyes drilled into him.

His father looked at him pleadingly. The blonde said something, but the prince couldn't hear it over the blood rushing through his ears. The Raider motioned something to his underlings and three started moving towards the prince. The creature closed in from the side.

He couldn't move, just watched it all unfold like he wasn't in his body anymore. He tried to make sense of the situation, but he was unable to comprehend all the horrors he had witnessed. Petrified, he waited for his inevitable end to come.

“Steve, RUN!!!”

The king's voice cut through the night, past the crying and the screams and the whimpers and groans of dying people around. The familiar voice ripped the prince from his stupor. Just as he obeyed the order and started to turn, the sharp blade slashed across the king’s exposed neck. Blood sprayed from it and showered the area around in dark red drips. Horrified, the prince watched the ordeal, before his feet carried him away. As told, he turned and ran.

He sprinted down the alleyway. Right behind him he could hear unnatural paws hitting the pavement. Armour rattled and people screamed. An arrow whirred past his head, missing him by just a few inches. 

There was no time to let it sink in. Instead, he continued his escape. These alleys were his home. He knew them like the back of his head. He dodged a few crates shortly after he turned right. But he didn't get very far. Only years of training with the guards he had to thank that he spotted the blade coming from the side. He sidestepped the attack, just barely. The sword sliced into his arm. A surprised yelp came past his lips. The Raider grinned at him sardonically, but it didn't last. Steve's only goal was to obey his father and get away. He swiped the attackers legs in a swift turn.

The sword clattered to the ground and the prince hurriedly picked it up. Without a thought, he drove it straight into the man's chest, whose body went limp instantly. 

One of the wooden crates behind him splintered and that was all the warning he got before an array of sharp teeth dug into his leg. The pain zipped through his body and almost made him drop the sword. He sank to his knees as the doglike monster pulled at his calf. It growled as it tightened his grip around Steve's leg.

In a knee jerk response, he wielded the sword and tried to hit the creature, desperately hoping to fall short of his limbs. But it was impossible to strike it.

It shrieked and trashed, dragging Steve's back across the floor. The pain was overwhelming and for a split second he became limp. Laying on the floor opened up a new vantage point and in a herculean effort Steve used the sword to pierce through the monster. The screeching wail it let out made his blood run cold. Shouts echoed behind him and he struggled to free himself. The bite marks burned and his leg shot pricks and needles through his body whenever he put pressure on it, but he had no time to care.

He tried to free the sword but it didn’t budge. Voices grew closer. In a hurry, he grabbed the Raider’s satchel and made a break towards the woods. Uphill, he fought his way through the thick bushes and thorns. In the dark, he had trouble making out obstacles and repeatedly struggled not to fall.

When he thought he had lost his pursuer, he took a moment to take care of his leg. He ripped off his unscathed sleeve and wrapped it tightly around the bleeding wound. After a few deep breaths, he continued his escape.

He had to get away as far as he could. Get to safety. Get help.

He climbed uphill, further and further, until his legs gave out.

With a start, Steve shot up. Pain coursed through his body and he let out a pitiful whimper. 

He was laying in the midst of a bush, stones underneath him covered in moss and dry leaves. In a flash, the images of the past night came crushing down on him. 

People, slaughtered on the ground.

Begging for their lives.

Terrified townsfolk running past him.

The Raider’s gruesome laugh.

His mother's limbs, sprawled behind the table, unmoving.

Blood gushing from his father's neck.

He just about managed to turn before he threw up. The acidity of it only made the situation more real. He struggled as he heaved and coughed.

They were dead. They were all dead, or close to it anyway. His whole town, the people he grew up with, who he loved. Gone.

Tears stung in his eyes as he sputtered and hackled. 

Between the treetops a light blue hue coloured the sky, brightening towards the horizon. In the faint light of the rising sun, Steve dumped the contents of the stolen satchel on the forest ground. 

Eagerly, he reached for the waterskin, parched from a night of running and to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth. Instead of water, wine hit his tongue. Surprised, he spit out the alcohol only to greedily take more. 

The satchel contained a small knife and a flint, half of an apple and something that looked like dried meat or leather. Disappointed, Steve sighed deeply. He'd expected that Raiders that far from their home would be better prepared.

His gaze wandered up the hill to where he knew there was a cave, hidden behind the treeline. There was someone who could help him. Something.

Something his family had sworn to never call upon.

But if he didn't act fast, his people would all be dead and with them, his kingdom. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he mumbled to himself as he slowly got up. His wounds ached and his whole body was sore from running and sleeping on the rough forest soil.

With every step, his feet burned and he heaved. At some point during his ascent, he had picked up a sturdy wooden stick to support his weight and keep pressure off his wounded calf. He didn't recall the mountains being that far away. His progress was slow as he was tired and exhausted.

The burbling of a stream made him perk up. He determined the direction to seek out the water.

Relived he washed dried blood and dirt off his soiled hands before taking a few greedy gulps of fresh water. He scrubbed his face from grime, even though the coolness stung. 

The contents of the waterskin he poured in the stream and watched it get washed away. He replenished the contents with fresh spring water.

He tried to clean up his wounds as well, but the efforts proved futile. Part of him didn't want to risk a glance at the bite marks either. So, he continued his climb.

He pushed past the aching of his limbs and the dread that settled in his stomach. He knew fully well his parents wouldn't approve of his decision to seek it out. But they were gone.

With each burning step, the hatred towards the Raiders rose. He would never forget that malicious smirk on their leader's face as he had ended the king's life. 

The sun rose higher and higher and Steve walked. Over tree trunks and boulders, dried leaves and mossy ground. He only stopped twice to drink some water, ignoring the rumbling of his empty stomach. Alone, the idea of food made him queasy, plus he didn't have time to lose.

Who knew what his people endured in that moment?

He sighed, relieved when he found the cave entrance he'd been looking for. Just after the clearing, the opening trailed off into pitch black darkness. That would prove a massive issue. How was he supposed to see anything in there?

The prince spotted a few pine trees nearby, one of them with damaged bark. Dried resin stuck to it. Eager, Steve hobbled over. He untucked the small knife from the satchel and carved off the resin. From his trousers, he sacrificed some fabric and pressed it against the wood. He wrapped the glob of resin in the soaked sticky cloth and wrapped it around the end of his trusted walking stick. 

Under strain and with cursing, he managed to light the improvised torch and then descended into the depths of the cave. 

The tunnel was so vast, his subtle light didn’t even reach the wall on the other side, but the size was not surprising, given the resident of the den. Keeping one hand on the side, he followed the way down.

Even though the flame flickered in the draft, the air felt stuffy around him. Cold sweat and goosebumps covered his body. Even his wounds hurt more than before, but he wasn’t sure if his mind didn’t fabricate that bit due to nervousness. 

The descent was shallow and the ground was surprisingly even. With each step the light off the outside world dimmed behind him until only the small area around him was illuminated. Part of him wanted to turn back and leave, but he couldn’t risk missing out on a chance to get his people the help they needed. He barreled through his doubts and fears and steadily went further down the cave. 

The black tunnel seemed almost endless. If it wasn’t for his hand trailing along the wall, he couldn’t have been sure to not be turned around. There were no anchor points and everything around him was black, black and black. His eyes refused to get accustomed to the lack of light. He reached out, hoping the soft light would show him something, when- -

“What do you want?”

Upon hearing the deep voice, the torch clattered to the ground as Steve lost his grip. The soft glow lit up scales, as dark as the night. Fangs, sharper than any sword the prince has ever swung. Claws, so long and dangerous, the sheer sight of it made his knees weak. In the shadow, horns protruded from the creature's head. But the most terrifying thing were the red eyes, staring him down with inescapable intensity. 

He had found it. The black dragon. 

Only with great effort he fought down the urge to run. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest, he was sure the monster in front of him could hear it too. 

“Oh… Oh, great dragon. Please hear my entreaty. I, Prince Steve of Hawkins, came to implore for your aid. We were attacked by Southern Raiders, slaying many people, including the king and queen. They will take our harvest, and those who don’t die by their hands will starve during the winter. I… We can’t fight them off by ourselves, but with you by our side, we could rain down justice.”

He hated how his voice trembled and how panicked cold sweat pooled from every nook and cranny. Tense quiet settled over the cave. The only sounds remaining were the low crackling of the fire and both their breathing. It felt like an eternity until the creature spoke.

“Why?”

“Because we…”

The creature huffed in annoyance. 

“No. That's not what I meant, your Highness. The likes of you have ostracized me to this mountain, fearing me for centuries. Yet now you call for my aid. So why should I help you? What do I stand to gain?”

Of course it wouldn’t help them of the goodness of its heart. The townsfolk and Steve’s parents and grandparents all spoke of the dragon in hushed whispers at most. Dread and horrors filled the stories and myths surrounding it. No one had dared to climb the mountain in decades and trades with mystical creatures always came with a price. But there wasn’t much Steve could offer. Their kingdom was small, and aside from vast lands and rich soils, Hawkins didn’t have much. But the prince decided to trade it all - for his subjects. 

“The… the kingdom’s riches shall be yours. All of the gold and gems we have. I can offer you acres of land. A… a quota of our harvest, for as long as you shall live. What- whatever you want, it's yours, just as long as you help me and my people. Please. I'm begging you.”

The dragon pondered upon the offer. It tilted his head in thought. Steve didn’t dare to interrupt. He barely allowed himself to breathe. Analytically, the red eyes swept over him. The black nostrils flared as the monster huffed. It surprised the prince with a question.

“As I see it, you stand to be king, isn't that right?”

The thought alone made the prince’s stomach churn. Facing the situation realistically, he knew he would take on his father’s legacy, but the man wasn’t even dead for a full day and the mention of inheriting the throne stung painfully in his heart. 

Unperturbed by the prince’s quiet, the dragon continued, “What if I asked something of you you won't like?”

None of the compensations he’d listed he really liked. They couldn’t afford to lose a share of their crop. With the Raiders’ attack, they had likely lost a lot already. Hawkins’ didn’t have many riches either and the bit they had they needed for trades. Giving up arable land could affect them for centuries to come, considering how long mystical creatures like dragons lived. But Steve couldn’t think of anything else to offer. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, he would have never tried to appeal to a dragon in the first place. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

“If it's something I can give you, it shall be yours. As long as you help to ensure my people's safety and well-being.”

“What a truly remarkable leader you are, your Highness.”

The way he accentuated his title, it sounded like the creature was mocking him. Steve was still pondering whether the dragon thought of him as a worthy leader, so he was completely caught off guard when the black monster finally named his terms. 

“Then I'm asking for your hand in marriage.”

Steve spluttered. His eyes widened in disbelief. He stared up at the red eyes, blinking and wondering if he had misheard.

“But… you're a dragon!” His voice squeaked at the end, making it sound more like a question than anything else.

It earned himself an amused chuckle, like he made a joke.

“Oh, you poor humans with your limited minds,” the dragon muttered condescendingly. “This may be my preferred form, but it is by far not the only form I can take. Though I am certain it'll be extremely helpful to grant your attackers a quick but painful ending.”

“As a good leader, you do what’s best for your people,” that’s what his father has told him time and time again. A wisdom he should now live by. Steve couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth, but he said, “Alright. I will marry you.”

Then a thought crossed his mind and he was thankful for his quick thinking. “But,” he hurried to add, “given your long lifespan, you can’t rule the kingdom as king consort. Once I die you’ll abdicate and leave the throne for someone else to rule.”

He expected the dragon to refute his conditions but surprisingly it looked almost intrigued.

“And who shall rule once you’re gone?” it challenged. 

“I don’t know yet,” Steve confessed meekly. “But we can discuss this in depth later on. Now my people need your help.”

“Don’t you mean our people, your Highness?”

Steve readied himself to argue as the dragon rested his back and lowered his wing. The prince stared at the dragon in confusion. 

“Climb on my back,” it said. “We’ll be faster if we fly.”

He must have been possessed when he had willingly climbed onto the back of the beast. Desperately, he clung to the rough scales on the beast’s back. In a fraction of the time he had needed to ascend the mountain, the dragon took them both to the main town. From above, he was able to spot carts and carriages, packed with fruit and vegetables. Shackled people shuffled after the caravan of stolen goods. The sight made Steve’s blood boil with rage. 

“There!” He pointed, raising his voice over the rushing of the wind. “My people! And our harvest! We need to save them. Kill anyone else.”

He was shocked how earnestly he meant the harsh words. But realized how true they were the moment he spoke them. Vecna and his men had ambushed them on their happiest day, after weeks of taxing work and reaping. They had inflicted horrors beyond compare. Steve wanted them to suffer. He wanted to take revenge for the attack and for the death of his parents. 

The dragon easily complied and moments later targeted breaths of fire filled the air. The people who had looked up at the dark monster with shock were now screaming and crying. Raiders had caught on fire. Their anguished wails drowned out anything else.

Frantic commands were yelled, and swords and spears were thrown at the dragon in a desperate, futile attempt to fight it off. With a few determined flaps of his wings, the beast dodged the attacks. The gust of air knocked over some of the Raiders. They scrambled to their feet too late. With another fiery breath, they were engulfed in flames. 

When the realization of their loss settled over Vecna’s men, they tried to scatter. They abandoned their loot and ran towards the woods. But the dragon didn’t let them go far. A glade of red hot fire cut off their paths. 

The smell of burning flesh hit Steve. The awful smell gouged deep into him, setting his teeth on edge. Driven by rage, he fought the urge to barf. He clawed his fingernails in the thick flesh of the beast’s back. After blinking the tears from his eyes, he focused back on the task at hand. 

He diverted the creature’s attention to the head of the convoy. There, on the back of a horse, was a blonde. Vecna. It had to be him. His sword raised and furious, by the looks of it. Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Loud snarling echoed over the clearing and at least a dozen deformed monster dogs emerged from the woods. Fast and agile as they were, they managed to dodge the dragon’s attacks. 

It didn’t take long for them to circle the dragon. They snapped at it and growled threateningly. As his fiery breaths proved futile, the dragon was forced to take a different approach. It lowered itself and swept its paw at one of the beasts.

But then, one of Vecna’s beasts lunged and clawed at the dragon’s wing. The pained roar was earth-shattering. It nearly made Steve black out. He yelped, surprised, and scrambled to find a footing as the black dragon shook off its attacker. 

With a snarl, it flung the demon dog to the ground. The heat of the fire burst that followed stung the prince’s face.

Enraged, the black dragon fought off the dog-like monsters with loud roars and slashing claws. On its back, the prince struggled to hold on. More and more of Vecna's deformed army got turned into charcoal. Their terrible screeches and clicking as they burnt to crisps would follow Steve for the rest of his life.

With every dead demon dog, Vecna's screams got louder. He tried to command the beasts and his men, but no one seemed to listen anymore.

Triumphantly the dragon howled and bowed up as the last monster fell target to the dragon’s sharp claw. 

It lifted off into the air and purposefully booked it for Vecna leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Steve was prepared for a fierce fight. The fire of rage burned in his chest, fueled by the wish for revenge. As they closed in on the leader of the Raiders, his horse reared up in fright. The man tumbled from its back with a yell.

In a heartbeat, the dragon was on him and trapped the man under his big claw. Vecna struggled and screamed. Profanities and curses were thrown their way, but the dragon was unfazed.

For the first time since they've left the cave, red eyes turned towards him as the dragon looked back to his rider. “Do you want to end him or shall I?”

Cold disappointment settled over Steve. It shouldn't have been so easy, could it?

The prince could taste blood in his mouth.

Vecna still thrashed in the dragon's hold, but couldn't break free. A calculated cold spread from Steve's heart. This pathetic man had caused them all so much. But he couldn't be bothered to dismount and find a weapon. He just wanted this man gone.

“Kill him,” he ordered, unfeeling. “Make sure he's dead.”

The dragon complied. In a display of violent power, it sunk one claw into the Raider's chest. Deeper and deeper, as the screams of the man grew more frantic and shrill, and then the light of his eyes went out and his body went limp. Nonetheless, the dragon impaled the whole length of the impressive claw through the Raider. 

It pulled out and, to Steve's shock, slashed Vecna's neck, decapitating the leader post-mortem. 

The triumph over the Raiders felt anticlimactic. All they had needed was one dragon and they had defeated all these men and monsters within the hour.

Steve took one last glance at the pitiful display of the man that had been their biggest threat. His face involuntarily shifted into a disgusted grimace.

He shook it off and urged the dragon to take him back. He quickly dismounted and, with weak legs, he stumbled towards the wrackage.

When the dust finally settled and with the new vantage point, Steve became aware of the utter chaos they had caused. People on the ground, covered in grime, crying and frightened. Carts were turned over by the wind and the fighting. Burned corpses littered the ground. The smell was obnoxious and terrible. 

But even through the terrors, his people appeared to be relieved to see him. Some cried out for him, others turned to their neighbours and whispered something. Wary glances were shot in the direction of the dark-scaled mystical creature that towered over them all.

Steve picked up a sword off the ground and started to shatter the shackles. He advised the people he freed to follow his example and continue to rescue their folk.

They made quick work and soon they heaved up carts. To the prince’s pleasant surprise, the dragon aided them. They picked up all the scattered goods and left the battlefield behind as soon as possible. 

Returning to Hawkins wasn't as rewarding as he'd expected. The remaining residents were visibly relieved to see them. The sight of families reuniting in tears caused a small flicker of hope in his chest.

It died down again when they reached the city center. The bonfires were burned down, dishes of the feast laid scattered on the ground amidst pools of blood and the unmoving corpses of the people who had lost their lives during the attack.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on him. Those who weren't desperate for the prince’s advice had turned their gaze towards the dragon with fear. 

Steve took a breath through his mouth, eager for air but wary of the foul smell. He stepped forward and turned to face his subjects to address them properly and explain their situation.

“My people, we have successfully defeated Vecna and the Southern Raiders. I called on the black dragon for aid and it agreed to help us. This is the only reason we are not facing any more losses today. Please, return to your families. Those who can, I ask you to stay and take our friends and neighbors to their final rest. Today, we mourn our losses and celebrate the return of many. Tomorrow we will clean up and start to rebuild. And the day after…

“I will take the dragon as king consort, to rule by my side and protect you all!”

The contents of the speech lingered heavily. Quiet settled over them. Unsure glances wandered between the prince and the dragon. The people seemed thankful for its support, but couldn't comprehend the rest of the deal.

Then, dark clouds covered the dragon. Everyone stepped back, frightened and surprised gasps ran through the masses. Through the mist, the form of the dragon shrunk significantly and once the clouds lifted they revealed a man. Tall and lean, with impressive wings on his back. Black claws grew from his fingers. His arms were covered in black scales, so were parts of his cheeks. Two mighty horns rose from the top of his head in the midst of long dark hair, as well as black pointy ears on the side.

Steve's face mirrored the surprise of his subjects. All eyes are on the humanlike form of the dragon. He had teased the prince about his limited imagination, but Steve had to admit that he was caught off guard despite the prior announcement.

Murmurs started and people whispered to each other. Some pointed at the wings and horns as the man stepped forward to reach for the prince's hand.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” he spoke. The rough voice sent a shiver down Steve's spine. “I am the last remaining shadow dragon of the East. Edmondius Draconian. You may call me Eddie.”

Steve stared at the man wide-eyed. When the clawed hand wrapped around his, he shook it purely out of habit.

The marriage, after most of the city center had been restored, was a quick affair. It wasn't an union born of love or a big event to join two kingdoms, as Steve has been prepared for all his life. It was simply to honour his end of the deal.

Being back in the city center for a celebration felt wrong in every way. Steve didn't fault any of his subjects who stayed away that day, too scared to attend any festivities. Others weren't in the mood for celebrations, having just put loved ones to their graves.

Overall, it was a somber event. Steve hadn't even bothered to dress up. Eddie, as the dragon had requested to be called, hadn't put in much effort either.

Their arms were bound together, and the uncomfortable looking minister asked them for their vows, and within a few minutes they were husbands.

Their kiss was fast and chaste, and though Steve's natural urge was to linger, he pulled back as soon as the lips left his. 

The following swearing-in ceremony of Steve as king of Hawkins and Eddie as his consort was a whole different ordeal. He had to vow to the throne, the kingdom, the safety of his people. Pray for bountiful land and blessed harvests, and swear to give his life to protect his nation. That one was the toughest and the words felt like ash on his tongue. Noticing his hesitation, Eddie rested a hand on Steve's arm in silent support that Steve felt oddly thankful for.

The festivities didn't go on for long. There were still a lot of tasks of rebuilding and reconstructing waiting for the next few days.

After they bid goodbye to the attending people, an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty clawed at Steve's chest. They were husbands now and he wasn't sure what Eddie would expect of him.

But like the two days before, they separated at the hallway - Steve going to his room and Eddie following the hall down to one of the guest chambers. When the doors closed behind him, Steve let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

They saw each other at breakfast the next day. With most of the cleanup done and no tasks that called for their attendance, Steve felt lost.

“Care to show me around, husband?”

What surprised him more, he couldn't tell. But Steve coughed up his tea, gasping for air. Tears stung in his eyes and he blinked them away.

When his view cleared, Eddie, across the table, looked apologetic, like he genuinely hadn't meant for that to happen.

He was right, Steve supposed. They had sworn their life to each other - part of a deal or not - so it was advisable to get acquainted at least.

Steve walked them through the castle. It wasn’t as luxuriant and stuffed as other palaces and mansions he’s been invited to before, but it was enough for them. Hawkins was one of the smaller kingdoms after all. They still had a study, a music room and a small library. Especially the last one made Eddie light up.

“I haven’t seen a book in ages,” the winged man lamented. 

“You can come in here anytime you want.”

Aside from the king’s advisers, not many people found themselves in the library. Not even all of the townsfolk could read. A fact that had always bothered Steve because he thought it made communication, specifically written communication, unnecessarily hard. He made a mental note to bring the issue up with the advisers.

Which made him painfully aware that he had to face the couple of old men and explain his actions. They had been shooting daggers at him with their glances during the ceremony. It wasn’t like he could have asked for their opinion while on the run. They were lucky they were all still alive. They must have fled and hidden immediately during the ruckus, he realized. Cowards.

The next few weeks they were busy taking care of damages to the city. Steve and Eddie developed an easy routine. They took their breakfast together before heading out. Wherever needed, they lended a hand. It certainly wasn’t the duty of the king, but Steve had helped out many times before. It helped him feel close to his people and gave him the sense of making a difference. 

Even though the townsfolk were wary of the new king consort at first, Eddie soon eased their minds. He was charming and well-spoken. Quick-witted, with a sharp tongue. And he didn’t shy away from voicing his thoughts and concerns. 

In the evening, when they both found them in the sitting room, he often pointed out things he had witnessed that day or suggested changes they could make, improving the kingdom moving forward. 

Despite his appearance, Eddie was a genuine man. Or creature. Steve found himself relax in his presence and, more often than not, sought advice from him rather than his advisers. 

When winter came, they hosted the annual winter ball and introduced Eddie to other nobles and a handful of royal families. To say they were shocked would be an understatement. Though, many thanked Eddie and Steve for bringing an end to the reign of terror of Vecna and his men. 

They socialized for hours and although some nobles would gossip about the unusual king consort, no one was outright rude to Eddie. It caught Steve by surprise how important it had become to him that Eddie was accepted. 

“May I have this dance, your Highness?”

“What?”

Steve stared at Eddie. Their public appearances usually didn’t consist of performative displays of their “relationship”, yet Eddie looked at him expectantly, his hand offered up for Steve to take.

“A dance,” he explained with a smirk. “This is a ball. Or so I’ve been told.”

“You are right. It would be strange of the hosts not to dance. Lead the way, your Highness.”

One dance turned into two and soon enough other people lined up to dance with the new king of Hawkins as well. Those who were brave enough even asked Eddie for a dance.

Their night ended when the sun rose on the horizon and Steve flopped into bed with an easy smile on his lips. He had his apprehensions about the event in the weeks leading up to it, pondering if he should cancel it. It was Eddie who encouraged him to keep the tradition alive and it had been him who had brought back the lightness and joy of the ball.

After that, something between them changed. Steve couldn’t put his finger on it. His eyes started to follow Eddie around. In the mornings, he looked forward to seeing him for breakfast, and in the evenings, he buzzed with excitement of joining him in the sitting room. 

But Eddie’s behaviour changed, too. Ever so slightly. Whenever he handed Steve something, his fingers would linger a tad longer than necessary. Some days, he walked Steve to the office, close enough that his wings would touch Steve’s back. 

In the height of the winter, Steve got sick. Although he had maids to take care of him, Eddie stuck by his side, feeding him soup and carding through his hair. That night, he was shivering and no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the cold. But Eddie’s hands on him were warm, and when he softly requested him to join him under the covers to keep him warm, he did.

The center of Eddie’s chest emitted a special kind of warmth and Steve curled up against his torso. Eddie had tensed for a heartbeat and then curled his arm around Steve’s back before covering him with his wing. Like a grub in a cocoon, Steve felt protected and safe. He slept better than ever. Even after his convalescence, Eddie stayed by his side at night. They never talked about it, but it didn’t feel like they needed to. 

Just as naturally it came when they wandered through the flower garden in spring for Steve to take Eddie’s hand. They strolled the courtyard as Steve filled Eddie in on his idea to send one of the many royal tutors down to the city to teach children to write and read.

“I think that is a wonderful idea, Steve.”

Eddie’s genuine smile made his heart flutter like the wings of nearby butterflies. Steve had squeezed his hand and looked down fondly.

It was a hot night in summer when they found themselves on the roof. Desperate for a breeze, Steve had his arms outstretched. Playfully, Eddie flapped his wings and Steve laughed, carefree and genuine, for the first time in what felt like forever. And that's when he knew.

He had laughed like his father, when the mask of being king slipped whenever he was at ease with his wife. Steve had the pleasure to watch it many times. The way his shoulders looked lighter and the softness in his gaze when he looked at the love of his life.

It must have been the same way Steve felt then, looking at Eddie, who entertained his antics in the dead of the night.

With a wide grin he stepped closer and cupped Eddie's face, just below the black scales that adorned his cheekbones. Dark eyes found Steve's, flitting across his features, searching.

He must have found it because Eddie's confused expressions melted away to what Steve could only describe as fondness. Their kiss under the starry night felt inevitable and right.

Impatiently, Eddie pressed them closer. Steve couldn't help but sigh contently as they deepened their connection. 

Too soon, Eddie pulled back. Breathless he asked, “Are you sure?”

Like he couldn't comprehend why Steve would want this. Want him. As if he expected Steve to turn him away or to leave him on the roof.

In lieu of answering the question Steve whispered, “I love you.”

Only moments later, Eddie lips found Steve's again. “I love you too,” he mumbled between kisses.

Planning the harvest festival after what happened the year prior felt like a herculean task. His mind wandered to the attack, the panic, the pain.

No matter how safe and comforted he felt in Eddie's arms, he couldn't keep the nightmares at bay. 

“It hurts me to see you this way,” Eddie had voiced his concerns. “Maybe you should consider skipping this particular tradition.”

And Steve knew he was right. But Hawkins was healing and his people had worked so hard all year. They had cultivated the fields no matter how harsh the sun cast its rays. They had spent days and weeks on their knees, plucking weeds and harvesting crops. They had earned this celebration. And they all needed this to continue healing. To finally move on from their fears.

And as so often when doubt came, he forced himself to think of Eddie. How it all had led to their encounter, like fate. 

Maybe he could give the festivities a new purpose.

An idea festered and he couldn't let it go.

“Eddie, let's get married!” he blurted out during dinner.

Unfazed, he just chuckled.

“We are married, my love.” 

“I know. But I want to do it again. For real this time. Not because of a deal or because I felt like I had to. I want to marry you with the knowledge and feelings I have for you now.”

And how could Eddie have said no to this?

Steve invited everyone he could think of. It turned into the biggest harvest festival anyone could remember.

The vows were heartfelt this time, deep and full of meaning. Both of the grooms had misty eyes, but wouldn't confess to the fact if pressured.

When they kissed, it wasn't rushed and certainly not chaste. Townsfolk cheered and hollered, all genuinely happy for their king and consort.

“You know,” Eddie said when he twirled his husband on the dancefloor, “you never specified who should get the throne after you.”

Steve huffed a low laugh, reminiscing his demand, that fateful day in the cave.

He leaned in during the next turn and gently stole a kiss from his husband's lips.

“We have ages to figure that out, my love. Together.”