Chapter Text
Under the sea, down in the abyss, where no man nor god has ever set place, there is a world called the Upside Down.
In this place of despair and ruin, someone lives. Sailors tell stories of him, to scare the young cabin boys, brave and dull in their innocence. They tell stories that make even the strongest of men shiver, stories of a creature called Vecna.
Vecna is the name that was given to him by pirates, by the people of the sea, coined so for the fierceful tone one uses to pronounce it. Vecna’s real name, the one that his parents gifted him with, so long ago stars still didn’t shine and men hadn’t even set sail for the sea, is Henry Creel.
No one knows what has happened to him, what has made a simple man with a simple name, become a vicious creature from another world. Sailors think he’s a God but no one worships him. He’s the tale that no one wants to hear, the nightmare that snatches kids from their mother’s embrace. He's handsome, devil-like, his hair blonde and eyes so blue, they say they shine, luring men into the shallow waters, to never be seen again.
He has an army of monsters at his command and it is said that, when he’s bored enough, he sends them up, in the human world, to cause chaos. The burning of war, the screams of the dead, the fall of kingdoms; that’s what makes Vecna nurture. That's what entertains him, that’s what makes him happy.
Vecna is bored now. Isn’t that how all stories begin?
“Wake up, my beauties. Rise and shine,” he says, his piercing eyes focusing on the globe seated in front of him, showing in detail whatever is going on up, on the surface. The tentacles attached to his body welches and the creatures slumbering at his feet open their black eyes, waiting for an order. “It's a brand-new day, and the mortal world is at peace. But not for long.”
Vecna smiles, his hands hovering the globe, feeling the electricity on his palms. The images show a ship chasing another, cutting the distance that separates them in the bat of an eye.
“Just look at them. I pull one tiny thread, and their whole world unravels into chaos. Glorious chaos. And what could be more perfect than this?” Vecna points his eyes on the chased ship, military like, and then trays his gaze on the chaser. “A noble prince, a priceless treasure, and a black-hearted thief. Oh, this is going to be fun.”
He looks around, among the monsters that hover around him, trying to decide who would be the one, the one that will start his plan. Vecna looks over his shoulder and smiles, that cut of lips that makes mortals lose reason. The creature he chooses is one of the most vicious, the tentacles so big they’re able to crush an entire ship in the matter of seconds, mouth so eager to eat every last man standing. It’s perfect.
“You know what to do” Vecna tells it, caressing its head before letting it float up, towards the surface, towards the beginning of chaos. “Let the games begin.”
✦
Eddie Munson is not a name that escapes pleasantly out of people’s mouth, it’s said with spite, disgust, not a low dose of hate. Eddie is used to it, you can’t be a pirate without making enemies. It's sort of part of the job.
He jumps down the mast, his way too old leather boots landing softly on deck. Eddie breathes in the salty air, filling his lungs up until they burn, the breeze making his hair fly in front of his face, the bandana tied on top of his head doing very little to keep his curls in place.
He adjusts the swords’ holters on his hips and the guns that he keeps tugged at his chest, even though he never uses them, too much trouble loading, too much trouble cleaning.
Eddie ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks beside him, all their eyes fixed on the ship running in front of them. Robin whistles, her hands keeping the helm steady, and Eddie smirks.
“Fellas,” he says and he loves the rush of adrenaline that pumps in his veins in doing so. He loves the speech before the battle, the fueling before heading into danger, not really knowing how it’s going to end. Eddie loves being free. “This is what we've been waiting for. The world's most valuable object is on its way to Hawkins. It's a shame it'll never get there.”
The crew of the Hellfire roars, laughing and raising their swords up, the metal glistening against the warm rays of the sun. Dustin, next to Eddie, does very little to hide his excitement, that gummy smile that has become his signature pose making Eddie smile back.
“After today,” Eddie screams, his voice barely audible over the breaking of the waves and the chanting of his crew. “We retire. Maybe a nice island, where our Argyle here could cook all the pineapple he wants– isn’t that right?”
Argyle nods eagerly, his hair shining and no matter how many times the rest of them tell him to, he still refuses to tie it up.
“Aye, Captain!” Argyle deadpans, his eyes unfocused and a moppy smile pulling at his lips, probably already thinking of the delicacies he will make with the beloved fruit.
Eddie claps his hands, the rings that adorn almost every one of his fingers clinging on each other. He feels ecstatic, his heart drumming in his chest playing a song that only he’s able to hear.
“Well then,” Eddie says, nodding at Robin, who salutes him, before starting to roll the helm to the side, directly aiming for their prize. “Let’s get rich.”
It’s something else, really, the feeling that bites at Eddie’s lungs the few seconds before boarding a ship. It’s different every time, unique in its own peculiar way, but the overall sensation it leaves Eddie and his crew it’s always the same; that fuzzy hitching that makes his fingertips feel like sparkles. It’s addicting almost, the stillness before the storm, like being tugged away in a portrait, painted still among the figures in ink.
Then everything rushes back in, finding the familiar pace time usually works in, water splashing below him and the sun winking at him from above, wishing him luck in his quest.
Eddie shouts his order, hands tightly holding the shroud, his feet balancing on the tiny rope like it’s their second nature, not a moment of hesitation or discomfort in the manner Eddie Munson sports.
Grappling hooks are thrown and when they land on their prey deck, rattling as they settle, cutting through wood, Eddie feels like they have already won, somehow.
He laughs, because he really can’t help himself, and with one final glance at the sun, taking the scorch it burns on his cheeks as a blessing, Eddie launches himself into the mouth of the lion.
He’s immediately greeted by a couple of sailors who still think they have the upper hand, no matter the amount of their companions unconscious at their feet. They grit their teeths and march towards Eddie as one, their heavy swords pointing menacly at his throat.
“Gentlemen,” Eddie says, backing away, hands up in the air. “Let’s talk about this, shall we?”
The one on Eddie’s left laughs, low and noisy and it’s kind of funny really, the only time that Eddie doesn’t make a joke is the one that grants him an appreciation of his performance. But after all, who is he to judge the sense of humor of a fellow man of the sea?
He grips his hold on his sword, knowing exactly what is going to happen next.
Just as he predicted, the sailor with the poor sense of humor swings forward, his sword dangerously close to the precious skin of Eddie’s throat. Eddie swirls just in time to avoid what was going to be an agonizing death and, when the man loses his balance, so caught up in hurting Eddie to forget his stance, Eddie collides his elbow against the man’s throat, knocking the air out of him and sending him tumbling to the ground, gaping.
Eddie never goes for the kill, not until it’s absolutely necessary, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t participate in a good maiming every once in a while.
The sailor still standing is staring at his companion laying on the ground, mouth agape and eyes wide, sword held in his fist so hard Eddie can see his bruised knuckles turn white. Eddie smirks.
Oh, he thinks, this is almost too easy.
Taking advantage of the situation, Eddie slits his own sword down the back of the sailor’s hand, slicing the skin and leaving a cut deep enough to make the man scream and drop his weapon. As the man tries to stop the blood, head laying low above his injury, eyes unfocused, Eddie headbuts him, hard. He smiles when he hears the unmistakable crack of a nose being broken and when he comes up to see, head slightly spinning, blood is gushing out of the sailor’s nose, tinting his teeth red when he shows them in a snarl, then his knees give up underneath him and he crumples down next to his friend, unconscious.
When Eddie turns around, gleaming, he finds Robin behind him, arms crossed over her chest. She has a smudge of gunpowder on her cheek and is piercing Eddie with her annoyed look.
“Did you catch that last move?” Eddie asks, cleaning the blade on his coat, leaving a trail of blood on the fabric. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Robin rolls her eyes, passing her hand over her forehead, dirting it too with black gunpowder. Eddie knows better than to tell her to stop messing with the barrels below deck.
“Why do you keep guns on you if you never use them?” she asks.
Eddie gasps, doing a show of clutching his pearls. “Because I look cool, obviously”
Robin shrugs. “If you say so”
“If I say so— Robin!” Eddie sways to the left when a man tries to charge against him, nudging his boot to let him trip overboard. He’s sure he’ll be fine. “You’re my quartermaster! You shall always think I look cool”
“You know I hate raides!” Robin bites back, following with her eyes the rest of the crew, disperse on the ship. Eddie sees Dustin and Max tying up a few men, glorious smiles on their faces. “I prefer staying on the helm!”
“But was my move cool?” Eddie asks.
Robin smiles and Eddie thinks he could have never chosen a better person to be his second.
“I thought you overworked it. Just a bit.”
Eddie looks scandalized. “Overworked it?”
Robin rolls her eyes and just then, when Eddie is about to say how much he didn’t overworked it, thank you very much, a man screams and runs towards them. Robin is quicker and with a punch that probably broke the man’s jaw, she sends him overboard.
“Fuck!” She hisses, looking at her knuckles and Eddie sees the drawn blood, the cracked skin. He takes off his bandana and gently curls it around Robin’s hand, ignoring her protests.
“And I was overworking it?” he asks.
“Do you think it’s broken?” Robin starts vanting, her eyes glued to the piece of fabric that is engulfing almost entirely her hand. “I mean, I’ve never had a broken hand but this hurt like a bitch and how am I supposed to stay on helm if I can’t move my hand– oh God, you’re going to fire me and I will find myself drinking to death in a squalid pub in the–”
“Robin” Eddie shakes her, smiling. She stops rambling, mouth still ajar. “It’s not broken.”
Robin looks at him, and Eddie can tell by the crease of her eyebrows that she's not entirely convinced.
“How do you know?” she asks.
Eddie smirks and, now that his hair is not held back by his bandana anymore, sputters the strands that stubbornly find their way into his mouth. He should have brought his hat.
“Do you want me to kiss it better, Buckley?”
Robin, honest to God, laughs, the tension in her shoulders finally dropping. Eddie laughs with her, the wind screaming in his ears.
“Fuck you, Munson.” Robin pushes him, smiling.
Eddie mocks a courtesy, before turning around to assess their situation. His crew is still fighting and yeah, maybe he underestimated the situation a little, because they are definitely outnumbered. Not that it matters really, they just need to get the prize and Eddie simply needs to understand where the hell it is.
He smiles when he sees that the captain’s cabin is heavily guarded, the sailors there not moving an inch from the closed door, making everyone that attempts to attack them retreat.
“Robin” he says, not moving his eyes from the wooden door.
“Yes, captain?”
“Call the little sheeps, will ya?” Eddie asks, starting to move. And there it is again, the rush of adrenaline that leaves him gasping for air. He takes out the tissue he always keeps around his wrist and, with a swift move, he knots it around the lower part of his face, covering his mouth. “We need a diversion.”
Robin nods and without adding another word, she whistles, loud enough to pierce its way into Eddie’s ear, leaving them ringing.
Eddie watches as a few members of his crew gather around the poor men that are guarding the cabin’s door, not a single soul moving, the air still around them. Then Robin whistles again and Lucas, hands steady and breath heavy, lets the little sphere he was holding fall to the ground. Eddie watches and watches and watches and, just when he thinks that their luck has turned, the sphere explodes, dispersing fog all around them.
Eddie sneaks around as chaos endures, a hand hovering above his sword, ready to draw it at any given moment. The door is not locked and Eddie slyly enters, adjusting his eyes to the darkness that hovers the room; the only source of light given by the sand grains falling inside a big hourglass, positioned on top of a table just in the center of the room. Eddie smiles. Sure, he has heard stories of it, read books about it, but seeing it with his own eyes, basking in the red light it shines with, it’s different.
The Hourglass of Equilibrium, which Eddie still thinks is a ridiculous name for a powerful object such as this, is in front of him, luminous and vibrating with unknown power and Eddie just needs to stretch his arm and it will be his.
He’s about to do just so, when he feels a hand gently touching his shoulder and primordial instinct, the one that allowed him to survive for all these years, kicks in, making him react immediately, blinding him. He draws the sword out of its holter and, mustering all the strength he has, he shoves the hand and the person it's attached to against the nearest wall.
The man grunts when his back hits the solid wood and in the back of his mind, Eddie is glad he didn’t just menace Robin with his sword, he would have never heard the end of it. He points the weapon against the man’s throat, noticing the multiple moles it's covered with and pressing just enough to make the man hold his breath in. The tissue he used to cover his face has fallen around his neck and Eddie knows how he must look, frightening in the dark, a freak ready to slaughter. He breathes in, not moving his eyes away from the smooth skin of that unfamiliar neck, seeing its Adam’s apple pop up and down, ignoring the man’s face, his eyes.
It’s better, Eddie thinks, if he doesn’t remember the face of who he’s about to kill, it will not haunt his dreams, at least.
But then the man speaks and Eddie thinks that he will haunt his dreams, anyway. He has been haunting them for a very long time, after all.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Steve Harrington says, out of breath.
Eddie feels like someone has just taken his heart out of its ribcage and mercilessly squeezed it. He gulps down the bile that has formed in the back of his throat and finally looks up, meeting Steve’s eyes. It’s weird, looking at Steve Harrington after six years and seeing the same smile, like nothing has changed.
“Steve” Eddie breathes and he hates, loathes, the way his voice quivers, slipping out of his control.
“Eddie” Steve tilts his head and Eddie watches as the sword he’s still stubbornly pointing at his neck gently paints a cut in the delicate skin. He doesn’t draw it away, following with his eyes the single drop of blood as it settles in Steve’s collarbone.
Eddie can’t do this. Not right now. Not like this. Not ever.
Just then, he feels something sharp pierce the side of his lower stomach and, despite the situation he finds himself in, Eddie smiles.
“Is it a sword in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” he asks, his eyes returning to Steve’s, like a habit he will never grow out of.
“Technically, it’s a dagger” Steve says, his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you.”
Eddie lets go of him and watches as Steve kneels down and breathes for air, even though Eddie feels like he has been the one being deprived of it. He needs to leave.
“Eddie. What–” Steve calls him, voice still rasping. “What are you doing here?”
Eddie turns around, focusing all his attention to the Hourglass, his skin prickling.
“I’m working” he says, and he’s glad his heart is not threatening to burst out of his throat anymore. “You?”
Steve ignores the question, circling him until they are in front of one another yet again. Eddie doesn’t look at him.
“Where have you been?” Steve asks and, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he would have thought that Steve was demanding, like he needed an answer.
An answer Eddie couldn’t give to him.
“Would love to stop and catch up” he smirks, gently shoving Steve away. “But I've got things to do, places to go, stuff to steal.”
Steve doesn't move, eyes narrowed. “It's my job to bring the Hourglass safely to Hawkins”.
Fuck. Steve wasn’t part of the plan.
“Really?” Eddie smiles, toying with one of his rings, rolling it back and forth on his finger. “Now I just feel bad, because you're going to get fired.”
“You can’t be serious.” Steve passes a hand through his hair and Eddie’s eyes linger on the stubborn curls as they settle back, perfect. “You disappear for six years, show up and rob me?”
Eddie sways towards him, the floor creaking underneath the pressure of his boots.
“I wish it wasn’t you.” Eddie says and finds out he actually means it. “But–”
“But it is me, Eddie” Steve says and it sounds like a plea.
“Harrington,” Eddie cannot stress enough how much he needs to get out of there, before doing something stupid that he will definetely regret. “We were–”
“We were friends!” Eddie flinches at the strength of Steve’s words. “You're not going to steal this. Not from me. And what would you do with it anyway? The Hourglass protects all of us from the Upside Down”
Finally, something Eddie can answer. Something tangible that doesn’t claw at his ribcage to get out.
“Exactly.” Eddie clicks his tongue. “So, just imagine how much all of us will pay to get it back.”
Steve snorts, hands on his hips. It’s the first time Eddie sees him in six years and he can’t help his eyes from wandering on his figure, on the loose white shirt that does very little to cover his chest and its hair and the boots high on his calves. Steve looks like Eddie remembers him and nothing like he expected him to.
“Let me say it again.” Steve says. “A long time ago, you and I were friends. If that ever meant anything to you, prove it now.”
And Eddie pretends it doesn’t sting, the way Steve is talking about their past, because he doesn’t have any right to be sad about it. He was the one who ran away, after all.
“You're right.” Eddie smirks, “That was a long time ago”
Eddie is about to take the Hourglass in his hands, he already feels the heat in his palms, when Steve tackles him, making them both roll to the ground. Eddie swears and when he finds enough strength to get to his knees, Steve is standing in front of him, sword held under Eddie’s chin.
“If you want it, you have to get through me.” Steve breathes, his chest heaving and Eddie feels heat burn in his belly. He’s about to reply, to draw his sword and fight, when the windows of the cabin crashes and Eddie feels pieces of glass cut through his cheek, near the soft skin of his eye. Steve immediately helps him get up, the ship shaking under their feet. They look at each other and suddenly, the reason why they were about to fight is forgotten as they rush outside.
Outside, where a giant creature is tearing the ship to pieces, tentacles squeezing and snapping the masts like they were toothpicks. The screams of the men as they are thrown overboard are haunting and when Eddie looks around, panic crawling in his chest, he’s relieved to see his crew is already on the Hellfire, clearly just waiting for him to get the prize. Robin, on the helm as she keeps the ship steady, is signaling him to get a grip and hurry.
“Well,” Eddie claps his hands, avoiding for an inch a tentacle that flies just above his head, hitting the shrouds. “I see you're busy. So, uh, stay in touch.”
Steve’s eyes widen as he turns around to look at him. Eddie has already a hand on the rope that will lead him back to his ship, a sense of void eating his stomach alive.
“Wait!” Steve grabs his shoulder, squeezing just enough to make Eddie catch his breath. “You’re just going to run away?”
Yes, Eddie wants to say, that’s what I do. But someone must really hate him because the ship suddenly veers and he’s too far away from the Hellfire to jump. Eddie curses and stumbles backwards when one of the tentacles tries its luck on him again, Steve yanking him by the back of his coat just in time.
“Thanks” Eddie croaks, feeling the warmth of Steve’s hand at the nape of his neck.
Steve firmly nods. “Let’s go.”
“Wait” Eddie looks up, at the spike of the broken yards, still held together by pure will and a few ropes; they are just above the creature’s head. If only— A stupid, dangerous idea sparks in his mind. “Stand your ground.”
Steve looks at him like he has gone mad and, in all honesty, maybe Eddie has. He hands him one of his pistols and Steve takes it without questioning.
“Do you know how to use it?” Eddie asks, dodging another tentacle, his hair frizzing.
“Do you?” Steve retorts, weighting the pistol in his hand.
Eddie smiles. “Fair enough.”
He turns around to start running towards the nearest mast when Steve grabs him by his wrist, the firm grip sending sparkles all the way up to Eddie’ shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Steve screams over the roar of the sea, of the monster. His eyes are big, the pupils blackening the honey in them.
“Worried about me, big boy?” Eddie asks and it’s supposed to be a joke, like the ones he made when they were kids, but it comes out suffocated, like the actual idea of Steve being worried is unbearable.
Steve tightens his grip and Eddie feels the pressure of Steve’s fingers on his wrist like they were molded there.
“Don’t try to be a hero,” Steve says, letting go of him.
“You know me” Eddie shrugs, his skin burning. “I’m not a hero.”
He ducks to grab a rope that it’s curled around his feet and, with a final look at Steve, he starts to run.
“Distract it for me!” Eddie screams, starting to climb the main mast, his legs burning from the effort and the rope cutting into his palms.
By the time he reaches the top, he’s out of breath, lungs heaving for relief, the salty air making his nostrils feel on fire. He looks down to see Steve using his sword against the tentacles, doing his best to dodge them and avoid getting crushed. Eddie tries not to think that if his plan doesn't work, they’re probably going to die and it will be the last time he will ever see him. Instead, he grabs his dagger and starts meticulously cutting through the ropes that still hold the yard together.
When he’s almost done, he whistles and both Steve and the monster look up at him and all of that attention would have been pleasant, if it didn’t come from the black eyes of that ugly thing.
“What’s the plan?” Steve screams and Eddie is barely able to hear him, his ears roaring against the wind, hair falling in front of his face.
“How about try not to get killed?” Eddie shouts back, taking his pistol out of its holster. Who would have thought he would have actually needed them? Take that Robin. “Make aim!”
Steve seems to finally understand, cocking the pistol before carefully aiming to the yard on the other mast, one eye closed. In seeing Steve like this, ready to fire at his order, Eddie has to bite down the feeling that starts to form in his chest, tugging it behind his ribcage, hiding it away. Six years is a long time to keep something locked up, Eddie can handle a few hours. He just hopes that his idea is not as terrible as it looks like right now.
He waits a few seconds for the tentacles to wrap around the mast, trying to reach him, his knees wobbling with every movement of the ship.
Then– “Now” Eddie screams and both he and Steve fire, the recoil of the pistol making Eddie’s hand throab. The remaining ropes snap with a sickening sound, sending the sharp yards directly into the monster’s head. The thing roars, a wet sound that makes Eddie shiver, before dropping dead.
Eddie catches his breath and when he looks down at Steve, far away on deck, he sees him already looking back at him, eyes big, eyebrows creased in worry.
Eddie tightens his hand around the rope and with a final look up at the clear sky, he jumps, landing on deck with nothing more than a few scratches and a bruised cheek. The crew cheers around him and Steve is on him in seconds, crowding him, his smile big and relieved. Eddie can’t handle it.
“You okay?” he asks, handing back the pistol. Eddie takes it, careful not to brush his fingers against Steve’s and making a show of adjusting it into its holster.
He touches his cheek and flinches when he feels the sharp cut the glass left there, the blood already drying, leaving an ugly crust.
“Yeah” Eddie says and Steve nods, biting his lower lip, like he wants to say something else but he’s not sure of how to do so. Eddie knows the feeling.
“Thanks for sticking around.” Steve settles with, raising his hand to touch Eddie but stopping, his mouth a thin line.
Eddie ignores the churn of his stomach. Too much adrenaline might as well kill him right now.
“Just like old times”
He really needs to leave, he can feel it in his bones, when he sees one of the creature’s tentacles rising, ready to grab Steve and, before he can even think, Eddie shoves him away.
“Look out!”
The tentacle grabs him instead, because of course it does. Eddie just has the time to hear Steve call out his name, to see his figure trying to jump in the water to save him, before he’s dragged down underneath the sea surface. Eddie is not really good at holding his breath, he knows that, not that it will help him in this situation. The tentacle is squeezing him so hard he can feel his bones cracking and through his blurry vision, Eddie isn’t even able to see the light of the sun anymore.
Oh, well. This is the end.
It’s a stupid way to die, if he’s being honest, squeezed to death and drowned by an ugly fish. Maybe they will make ballads about him, drunken sailors singing of his demise while spending all their savings in stale ale. Eddie wonders if Steve will be sad and he thinks that, if this is really his end, he’s glad to have seen Steve Harrington one last time.
He’s surprised when, a few seconds later, he starts to breathe again, the air filling his lungs so unexpectedly Eddie chokes on it, spluttering salty water. He’s even more surprised, when he realizes he’s still pretty much at the bottom of the sea. Maybe he’s dead?
“The day began with such promise” A voice says, a man’s voice, if Eddie’s ears don’t deceive him, a voice soothing like a drag of rum after a hard day, burning just the right way in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. “And now look, my monster is dead, and I still don't have my Hourglass.”
The voice seems to come directly from Eddie’s head, wrapping the words around his mind like mist in the early morning. Eddie tries to look around, to understand where it’s coming from, but in the deep of the blue, there’s no one except him.
“All because of you, Eddie” And now, the voice has a face, a charming, very much human face. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat as he watches the man approach him, with his blonde hair and piercing eyes, wearing nothing more than a loose red shirt long enough to resemble a nightgown, moving like blown by an invisible wind, dark mist wrapping like silk around his thighs and Eddie would definitely lie, if he said he doesn’t let his eyes linger there for just a moment. His teeth are white, nothing rotten or festering when he shows them in a sly smile and his long fingers are tinted a scarlet red, the color fading just above his wrists, like he immersed his bare hands in the cavity of some poor soul’s chest and ripped their heart out, squeezing it.
Eddie is definitely dead.
“And you are?” Eddie stutters.
The man halts his walk just a few inches away from Eddie, tilting his head to the side, a crooked smile pulling at his lips.
“Vecna, the God of Discord.” he simply says. “No doubt you’ve seen my likeness in one of your many books.”
Eddie knows who Vecna is, of course he does. Every sailor who calls himself as such knows about Vecna. But the man standing in front of him looks nothing like the figure Eddie has seen in his books. Vecna is a creature destroyed by time, with no hair on his head, his skin burned, reddish and raw, with black eyes that show no mercy and tentacles attached to his body like appendices, squelching and choking their victims until death succumbs.
The young man Eddie is looking at, on the other end, wouldn’t look out of place in a court, holding a cup of wine with his slender hands, sipping the liquid without showing any hint of emotion, making court ladies faint by simply nodding in their direction.
“You’re not a God, though” Eddie says, because what else could he say to a beautiful man that just presented himself as the reason sailors often retired from the sea? Vecna’s eyes flare, turning red from rage, but just for a second, then he steps closer and lets his arm fall on Eddie’s shoulder.
“Would you like for me to be something else?” Vecna asks, sweet like poured honey. Eddie can feel him playing with his hair, scratching his scalp. He begins to understand why men jump overboard from the safety of their ships when Vecna calls for them.
“I’m sorry about your monster.” Eddie manages to say, “I don't suppose a heartfelt apology would do.”
“Heartfelt? From you?” Vecna chuckles, the sound resounding pleasantly inside Eddie’s throat. “Eddie, you don't have a heart. That's what I like about you.”
Vecna’s eyes are piercing right into Eddie’s soul and, this close to him, Eddie can see that there’s nothing behind them, just deep neverending blue. And he knows, in all honesty, that he should step away, demand the reason why he had been dragged there, but Eddie can’t help but be drawn to him, by those soulless eyes.
“I’m going to let you live.” Vecna continues, letting go of Eddie to circle around him, like a shark with its prey. “But there's just one little thing you have to do. Get the Hourglass and bring it to me.”
Good way to burst a bubble.
“Right” Eddie says, pretending to think it through, scratching his slightly stubbled chin. “That’s a problem for me, because I had my own plans for it, you know. Ransom, get rich–”
Vecna smiles at him, once again letting his hands wander up Eddie’s arms, leaving goosebumps with every cold touch of his fingertips.
“You’re not thinking big enough, Eddie.” Vecna whispers, lips brushing against Eddie’s ear. “Steal the Hourglass for ransom, and you'll be rich enough to lounge on an island’s beach. Steal the Hourglass for me, and you can buy the beach, the island and the world.”
That doesn’t sound so bad.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Eddie asks, mind revolving around the downside of making a deal with a creature who calls himself a God, even if he isn’t anything of the sort.
“Eddie” Vecna smirks, hands lowering down, down, following the line of Eddie’s spine, Eddie arching into it, before landing on the dagger he keeps there, in his belt. Vecna takes it out, playing with the blade before using it to carve a cross over his chest, just below his bare collarbone. Eddie watches as the dagger doesn’t draw blood where Vecna has cut himself, but rather a viscous black substance that makes Eddie’ stomach drop.
“You have my word.” Vecna continues, gathering with his finger the black blood that’s running down the blade before licking it, eyes never leaving Eddie’s.
“All right” Eddie gulps. “You’re on.”
“Good.” Vecna breathes, eyes shining with something Eddie would rather never see again. “When you've stolen the Hourglass, follow the northern star beyond the horizon. There, you'll find a gate for the Upside Down.”
“Upside Down.” Eddie nods. “I’ll see you there.”
“It’s a date, then.” Vecna uses the dagger to tilt Eddie’s chin, the metal cold against his skin. “Now, where were we?”
Eddie doesn’t speak as Vecna drags him impossibly close, his breath grazing over Eddie’s mouth.
“Oh, yes.” Vecna murmurs, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You were holding your breath.”
And then Eddie is drowning again. He looks up and is glad to see the light of the sun, the blurry figure of a ship just above his head. He starts to swim toward the surface.
“He’s so cute.” Vecna smirks, still playing with the dagger, drawing lazy shapes in the water. “And so gullible.”
He caresses the head of his monster, watching as the pirate swims, bubbles forming around him.
“Good job, my dear” Vecna says, eyes darkening with mischief.
Eddie breaks the surface of the water and he doesn't even have the time to open his eyes that someone is scooping him up, gently laying him on solid ground. There’s voices around him and Eddie has never been more happy to hear his crew talk over one another. He sputters water, feeling hands patting his back amiably.
“Eddie, you’re alive!” Gareth says, circling Eddie with a rag, gently moving his hands up and down Eddie’s arms to warm him. Then, Gareth looks at the rest of the crew, demanding to be paid for winning the bet.
Eddie gets up, knees threatening to give up underneath him. Robin is hugging him as soon as he stands upright, stealing air from his lungs once again.
“What happened down there?” she asks, letting go of him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.
Eddie gasps, throat so dry he finds it difficult to speak. Jonathan, apparently able to read his mind, hands him a flask full of water and Eddie drinks avidly from it, feeling fresh drops of the liquid falling down his neck.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, '' he finally says, patting Jonathan on his back to thank him.
Robin crosses her arms over her chest. “Try me”
Eddie looks over the rest of his crew, all waiting.
“All right.” he shrugs. “I met Vecna, the God of Chaos. He’s got a major crush on me and invited me back to his place.”
There’s an awkward moment where nobody moves or says anything and then Robin snorts, shoving him by his shoulder.
“That’s a good one.” she laughs, walking over the helm. “God of Chaos?”
“He’s not technically a God” Dustin says and Eddie looks over at him, eyebrows raised.
“Is that what you’re going to focus on?” he asks, but he can’t help the smile that forms on his lips.
“Well, he’s not!” Dustin insists and Eddie tackles him, hugging him close.
“That’s it then?” Max separates them, huffing, her red hair flaming over the dim light of dusk. “No Hourglass. Now what do we do?”
Eddie looks over the horizon and, with startled surprise, he sees Steve’ ship is still there.
“Patience, Red.” he says, meeting Steve Harrington’s eyes. Steve nods at him, the wrinkle in between his brows disappearing. Eddie feels like he’s drowning yet again. “It’s not like we don’t know where it’s going.”
✦
Hawkins is, without any term of endearment, a place Eddie would rather watch from afar than set foot in ever again.
Sure, he knows its alleys like the palm of his hand, the sensation of its pebbles under his bare feet, the scorching burnt it left there after running for miles, avoiding royals guards and bullies alike.
Hawkins is the place where Eddie was born, where he first learned to walk, where his mother taught him how to play the lute. Hawkins is also the place where his mother died, soft skin turning cold when Eddie had cuddled next to her in her bed, it’s the place where his drunken father had thrown him out of his house, leaving him nothing but a satchel with a piece of stale bread in it. Hawkins is the place where he learned how to survive, it’s the place where his uncle Wayne had hugged him when he knocked at his door on a torrid June night, welcoming into his home a scrawny kid with nothing more than an empty satchel at his feet and cheeks covered in dirt.
Hawkins is the place where Eddie has met Steve Harrington, where they became friends, where they laughed and drank awful rum and talked about their future. It’s the place where Eddie fell in love.
However, in the last six years, he avoided walking those same streets like the plague. The Hellfire often anchored in the Hawkins’ harbor, at least once every couple of months, with Jonathan wanting to visit his siblings and the rest of the crew also having family there. Eddie though, during those quick visits, stayed closed in his cabin, busing himself by writing down stories to tell the crew at night, the light of the oil lamps ghosting strange forms on his face and on the paper.
Sometimes, when the loneliness was unbearable, he would send Dustin to call for his uncle and, together, they would drink rum straight from the bottle, Eddie talking about his latest adventure and Wayne laughing, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. When it was time for his uncle to go back home, Eddie would try to give him some of the gold from the Hellfire’s latest raid and Wayne, good old uncle Wayne, would always refuse, telling Eddie that he needed it more. Eddie would help him put his waistcoat on and let a few golden coins slip into his pocket.
The first time Eddie came back after leaving Hawkins and he sent word to his uncle, he expected Wayne to be angry at him, even though in all the years he lived with him, Eddie had never even heard his uncle raise his voice.
Instead, after his uncle hugged him tight and they were seated in front of one another in Eddie’s cabin, the bottle of rum sliding on the table between them with every sip, the first thing Wayne said to him was something Eddie never expected to hear.
“Steve came to visit the day after you left”
Steve Harrington had never been “the prince” in their house, he had never been the “heir to the throne” or “the future king”; he was just Steve.
The rum burned when Eddie let it slide down his throat.
“He did?” He asked, avoiding his uncle’s eyes.
Wayne nodded. “Came knocking at my door at dawn, that fella, demanding where the hell you went. He was so worried, I thought he was going to form a search party just to find you”
Eddie imagined Steve in his former attire, walking alone to the house Eddie and his uncle lived, clean boots clicking against the pebbles, searching for a friend who didn’t even had the courage to say goodbye.
Eddie got up from his seat, turning around to look out of the window, where, distorted from the glass, he could see the castle. Steve was there somewhere.
“What did you tell him?” Eddie murmured, biting the inside of his cheek in the hope it would help him focus, the rum and feelings too fresh to heal clouding his vision.
Wayne squeezed his shoulder, grounding him.
“Nothing, son. I told him nothing” he said, voice reassuring but insistent. “But you should step foot in this forsaken town and go talk to him.”
Eddie laughed, bitter and painful, shaking his bones right through the core.
“I can't,” he said, blinking rapidly to avoid what was the unmistakable sign of tears coming.
Wayne squeezed his shoulder again, hand warm and familiar over his skin.
“Why?”
Eddie looked straight into his uncle’s eyes and that was enough for him to understand.
“Oh, Eddie” Wayne hugged him, engulfing Eddie into his arms and holding him close like he was still a frightened kid whose father had cut all his hair down to the scalp because he was afraid he would catch lices. And Eddie, tired to the bone, finally allowed himself to cry.
It had become sort of a habit, Wayne telling Eddie that Steve came to their house to ask for him until one day, a few years in, his uncle stopped. And Eddie wondered if it was because Wayne knew how much it pained him to hear or simply because Steve stopped asking for Eddie altogether.
Wayne never told him and Eddie never asked.
A voice calls for him, urgent and Eddie blinks a couple of times, memories slipping away like waves on a shore.
“Captain” Robin says and when Eddie’s eyes focus on her, he realizes that it’s probably not the first time she called for him. “Waiting for command.”
Eddie breathes in, body rolling with every movement of the ship, water sloshing against the keel.
Hawkins, with its obnoxious castle that shadows everything with its pearly walls and high towers, is just ahead of them, just a couple of miles away. The sky is red from the dusk and Eddie would rather be anywhere else, any other castle with any other rich kid to steal from. But it isn’t. It's Prince Harrington’s castle and Eddie is about to walk by the front door.
“Lower the black!” he shouts, the brim of his hat covering his eyes, the big feather in it tickling his nose. The crew follow his order and in a few minutes, the black flag with the symbol of the Hellfire is hidden near one of the cannons, ready to be raised again if necessity calls for it.
“Well then,” Eddie smirks as they approach the harbor. “Who wants to go to a party?”
There’s no need to say it twice, as his crew roars with him.
✦
Steve Harrington is, without any shadow of a doubt, late. And not the kind of late that can be covered as fashionable, no. He’s simply late. He fiddles with the collar of his coat, too tight on his neck, cutting the air from his lungs. Steve watches his reflection in the mirror and attempts a smile; it comes out as tired and condescending.
“Shit” he mutters, trying to fix the curl that keeps falling in front of his eyes, ignoring the restriction of the golden headband that sits on his head.
There's a knock on the door and the prince jumps out of his skin, even though he knows that the King and the Queen are not going to attend tonight, far away on some unnamed island to make a political statement, Steven.
“I’m ready.” Steve says but he doesn’t attempt to move, feet stuck on the ground. Everytime he closes his eyes or takes a breath, his mind takes him back to that cabin, to Eddie Munson’s dagger pressing on his neck. Steve’s finger traces the cut the blade left on his skin, just above his Adam’s apple, it stings when Steve brushes over it.
The door opens and, by the corner of his eyes, he sees Nancy approaching him.
Steve smiles. “Worried I was going to escape from the window?”
Nancy shrugs. “I’m perfectly capable of entertaining boring guests all on my own.”
Steve finally moves his eyes away from the mirror to turn around and look at her. Nancy Wheeler is stunning, smiling gently at him, gloved hands clasped together, curly hair tied up, showing her strong jaw and long neck.
“You would have loathed it, though” Steve says.
“Fair enough” Nancy concedes, patting his chest gently, trying to flatten the wrinkles on the tissue. “You know I prefer staying in the armory.”
Steve takes her hand, squeezing it tight. “Thank you.”
Nancy nods. “I mean, we'll have to marry sooner or later, it’s the least I could do.”
Steve chuckles, Nancy following right after and, even though they don’t love each other, not in the way they are supposed to, Steve figures there are worse things than spending the rest of his life with Nancy Wheeler.
The guard tower is standing tall just outside of Steve’s room. On top of it, uncaring of the dark of the night, the grains of the Hourglass of Equilibrium let their luminescence break through the windows, turning the tower into an obscure version of a lighthouse, the red light outshining even the stars.
Steve’s eyes are focusing elsewhere though, on the ocean, perfectly cut in the frame of his window, like an incomplete paint. Steve looks at that deep blue, never the same but always so achingly familiar, and longs for something that has never been his to claim.
Just like he often does, Steve thinks about how different his life would have been if he ignored his father’s orders and instead followed the traitorous beating of his heart. Perhaps it wouldn’t have taken him six years to see Eddie Munson again.
Nancy presses the headband lower on Steve’s forehead, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.
“We better go,” she says.
Steve nods and closes the window, ignoring the pressure of his chest.
When they arrive at the ballroom, a group of three guards is pointing their arms toward someone and, as Steve steps closer, his breath catches in his throat.
“What’s he doing here?” Jim Hopper, the chief of the royal guards, is next to him, voice scruff and cheeks red and Steve has the feeling he already had his few rounds of wine.
Eddie Munson is talking to the guards, dipples showing in the cut of his smile. He’s wearing a formal version of what he had on when they met on the ship, black coat falling on his shoulder and white shirt open nearly to his navel, tucked inside a large band wrapping around his waist like a belt, its loose ends moving against his thigh. On his head he has a hat, big enough to cover part of his face, curls crushed underneath the pressure of a red bandana, the gold of his earrings hypnotizing. Eddie must feel Steve looking at him, because their eyes meet and Steve involuntarily steps closer.
“At least he’s not out robbing someone” he manages to say, eyes never leaving the dark pools that are his former friend's ones, so deep Steve could probably dive in and never find the surface again.
Hopper scoffs. “That’s because everyone worth robbing is here.”
Steve ignores him. “Guards, put away your swords.”
The guards do not follow his order right away, glaring at Eddie like a dog would do to a street cat. Eddie smiles, tilting his hat in fake courtesy and finally, the guards reluctantly do as they were told. They search in their pockets and, to Steve's surprise, let a few coins slip in Eddie’s waiting hand. The pirate carefully considers the weight of the gold on his palm and, apparently satisfied, he let it disappear under his coat with a swift movement of his ringed fingers.
Steve shakes his head, amused. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
Eddie steps closer to him, smirking. “They started it.”
Steve watches as the people Eddie brought with him scatter around, disappearing into the crowd like ghosts.
“I suppose you’re not here for the wine?” Steve asks, trying to maintain as much distance as he can between them, even as skin prickles just to get closer, bathe in the warmth Eddie emanates.
“I knew you’d want to thank me for saving your life,” Eddie says, stepping closer to a table full of pastries and pinching one with his fingers. “But free wine sounds nice.”
Steve can’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his belly, igniting something that has been sleeping there for a very long time, like a dragon in a cave.
As they walk side by side, Steve notices guests eyeing them suspiciously, pointing Eddie with their gloved fingers like he’s some sort of exotic animal, a species never seen before. Eddie seems to notice too.
“Say, am I famous around these parts?” he asks, voice low and lips barely brushing against Steve’s ear. “Maybe a wanted poster or two?”
Eddie The Banished, that’s how town folks call him, that’s how stories around a pint of beer grow, twisting innocent truths into deprecating lies. They say he has killed a thousand men just with a single cannonball, he has stolen jewelers from every King in every realm, he comes at night to kidnap daughters in their sleep, sacrificing them to the devil in exchange for wisdom. These are only a few of the stories Steve has heard about Eddie The Banished and, in all these years, he never once connected them to the man who played the lute for him under the mantle of the stars. He doubts Eddie knows about those stories either and perhaps, it’s better that way.
“Now that you mention it,” Steve nods, trying to smother down the smile that is forming on his lips. “I saw a couple of those posters the other day, when I was visiting your uncle. They don’t do you justice.”
Eddie stops in his tracks, his heart heavy inside his chest.
Steve notices, of course Steve notices. “What?”
Eddie brushes the question away, trying in vain to find his voice, hidden somewhere in the back of his throat, rasping to get out but not finding the courage to.
“Nothing,” he says, voice hoarse.
Steve smiles, not truly believing him. “Come. There's someone I want you to meet.”
They wander around the ballroom, Eddie just a few steps behind Steve, looking around and realizing they could probably steal the Hourglass without much of a fuzz, only a few guards around the room, strategically positioned.
Eddie takes a cup of wine from one of the trays that are moving around the ballroom, sipping the sweet drink, letting it settle in his stomach with purpose.
“Here she is,” Steve says, alting his walk in front of a group of guests. “I’ve told her all about you”
Eddie feels the glass slip from his fingers as they approach the woman. She is nodding politely to a broad man and he’s twice the size of her but Eddie has the feeling she will have the upper hand in this conversation as much as in a fist fight. She looks annoyed, letting her glass roll in her hand, watching the white wine twirl in it, as it’s the best moot of entertainment for her right now.
Eddie doesn't want to stay to learn her name. He doesn't want to see, silent viewer in the comedy that is his life, the woman's smile turning into an authentic one when Steve approaches her. Eddie wants to run. Again.
“Munson,” Steve says, formal as ever. “This is Nancy Wheeler”
Nancy steps closer, offering her hand and Eddie doesn’t know what to do, stuck in place like a statue. Six years. He managed to avoid this moment for six years and now here he was and for what? A stupid Hourglass and the promise of riches beyond his most fervid imagination. Looking at Steve Harrington right now, Eddie doesn't care about being rich anymore.
“So, this is the infamous Eddie.” Nancy says, smiling. There’s something in the flick of her eyes that Eddie can’t quite figure out. “I heard all about today. First you tried to rob Steve and then you saved his life. So, which are you, a thief or a hero?”
Neither. Eddie is a coward. That’s what he is. He takes advantage of the crowd around them and, as soon as Steve’s eyes aren’t on him anymore, he turns around, running once again.
He finds Dustin and Robin eating at a table near the south entrance, mouths full of mashed potatoes.
Robin spots him first and she knows right away that something is off. Eddie tries to gulp down the knot that has formed at the base of his throat like a parasite.
“It’s almost too easy.” Dustin says in between a munch of tender meat, voicing the thought Eddie already had. “There’s only a handful of guards.”
“Forget it.” Eddie shakes his head, voice betraying him and cracking, rasping on his tongue. “Let’s get back to the ship”
Robin squeezes his shoulder but Eddie can’t bring himself to look at her. The air in the ballroom is suffocating and the chattering echoes inside Eddie’s ears, making him perfectly aware that this is a place where he doesn’t belong.
“Just like that?” Robin murmurs. “But the Hourglass is almost ours.”
Eddie ignores her. “You can stay some more if you want. I need to get out of here.”
When Robin’s eyes turn toward the place where Eddie has come from, she sees a man looking around, in search of someone, face morphed in worry.
Oh, Robin thinks, but she let Eddie go anyway.
✦
Robin Buckley hates parties.
Perhaps it has to do with the fact that she hates rich people and the only parties she ever attended has been an elaborate ruse to steal money from said people. Perhaps it has to do with the fact she has zero social skills and all she manages to do is stay in a corner sipping wine so expensive she could have probably bought a ship with the same price. Perhaps she’s simply worried about her captain and watching people dance and talk about frivolous things such as the best type of silk and the most talented tailor in town isn't really doing it for her. Perhaps Robin is simply tired.
She watches as Argyle and Jonathan dance together in the middle of the room, ignoring the indignant eyes of guards and guests alike. Jonathan laughs and Argyle holds him closer, inviting Will and Jane, Jonathan' siblings to dance with them. Gareth and Jeff are outside, searching for Eddie in the big garden that surrounds the castle and Dustin and Max are still at the table eating sweets.
Robin has her back against the cool wall on the far side of the room, a big open window right in front of her, letting the cold air of the night in. She tries to smile politely at every person who gazes at her like a hawk; she knows wearing a loose shirt, tied at her waist with a corset and breeches with dirty boots high to her calves is not much lady-like but she could not give a damn.
“I believe we haven’t been properly introduced.” A voice says, just to her left and Robin let her glass slip from her hand. It shatters to the ground with a deaf sound that makes her shiver.
“Shit.” she mutters, kneeling down to collect the shards, soft hands brush against hers and Robin raises her head to meet the bluest pair of eyes she has ever seen. The girl in front of her smiles and Robin fears she will lose focus and grip on the pieces of glass, cutting her palm in the process.
“I’m Nancy.” The girl says, getting up and offering Robin her hand. She takes it, soft against her skin and Robin is suddenly self conscious of the calluses on her fingers and the scars her hand is covered with. “It’s weird, I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
“Believe me, I would have remembered” Robin smiles and her eyes widen when she realizes what she has just said. “I mean hi! Hello! I’m Robin! I’m with Eddie– I mean I’m not with with Eddie, I just– he’s my Captain? I work for him– I mean I love him like a brother, oh God, what am I even saying?”
Nancy laughs and it’s a real, genuine laugh– not the one people use to be polite, no. Nancy laughs like she finds Robin funny, amusing even.
“Nice to meet you, Robin.” Nancy says, squeezing her hand one time before letting it go. “Trying to escape from the party?”
Robin feels the skin that Nancy touched like she set it on fire. “What?”
Nancy steps closer to her, her nose wrinkled in amusement. “This is my spot.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I–”
Nancy shakes her head, her curly hair falling in front of her eyes.
“Stay.” she whispers and Robin can simply nod, mouth dry. She mourns the loss of her stupid expensive wine, drying on the floor down her feet. “It’s nice to talk to someone for once.”
They breathe in, the faint music of the ballroom feels miles away.
“So what’s it like?” Nancy asks, looking over the open window, where the dark sea meets the horizon. “Being a pirate?”
Robin smiles. That is something she knows how to talk about.
“It’s fun,” she says, “Everyday is different and it can surprise with the simplest of things”
Nancy smiles at her, her cheeks pink and Robin doesn’t know what to do with her hand, sudden desire to trace the roses that blossom on the girl’s skin.
“Sounds nice.” Nancy breathes.
“It is.” Robin confirms. “I–”
The ground shakes under their feet, making Nancy tumble against her. Robin grabs her just in time, keeping them both upsteady and, when she looks up at the guard tower, she sees it grumbling down, the red light on top of it no way to be seen.
“Shit.” Nancy mutters next to her. “The Hourglass.”
Fear growing in her chest, Robin’s eyes turn on the garden. Guards are seizing up Eddie, taking him away under the gaze of the entire room.
✦
Steve nods at the two guards that are on duty in front of the prison cell, trying to find the courage to enter and get it over with.
When the key slips in the lock, creaking as it turns, Steve feels goosebumps raising on his forearms. The door opens and Steve is not entirely sure he can do it. Eddie is looking outside the small window, the only source of light in the cell, giving Steve his back; he’s gripping on the bars like, if he squeezed long enough, the metal would melt under his palm.
Eddie turns around when he hears the cell door close again behind Steve. He looks relieved to see him, curly hair matted from having slept on the floor and cheeks full of dirt.
“It’s about time.” Eddie says, almost annoyed, like this has all been a giant mistake.
Steve takes a determinant step closer. “Do you realize how serious this is, Munson?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, sliding down the wall and sitting on the cold floor. His hands are chained together and Steve can see the red circles around his wrists.
“Do you realize how many times I’ve heard that today?” Eddie asks.
“You’ve betrayed Hawkins!” Steve snaps, anger boiling deep in his belly, ready to explode.
Eddie shakes his head. “Not you, too.”
“Stealing the Hourglass, when you knew how much it meant to us!” Steve continues, marching back and forth on the small cell, hands on his hips. “Eddie, monsters are already starting to crawl outside of the open gates!”
Eddie gets up, chain twisting at his ankle. His lips are pursued together in spite, eyes darker than Steve has ever seen them.
“Harrington, here’s the way this works.” Eddie says and every word is venom. “First, I actually commit a crime, and then you get to blame me for it!”
“How do you explain this, then?”
Eddie’s dagger is in Steve's hand, reflecting the rays of the sun on the dark walls of the cell. Eddie’s eyes widen, his head spinning. He thinks of blonde hair, slim fingers tracing his back, black blood being licked from the blade.
“Vecna.” he says, voice hoarse.
Steve’s brows crease, forming a wrinkle right in the middle and, regardless of the situation, Eddie would like to smooth it with his thumb.
“Vecna,” he says again, “He framed me. The Hourglass is in the Upside Down”
“Eddie” Steve shakes his head, shoulders slumping. “Listen to yourself.”
“Trust me, Steve.” Eddie pleads, his wrists hurting from the pressure of the metal enveloping them. “I left the Hourglass on your ship and that’s the last time I saw it. You were there!”
“I have no power over this.” Steve says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “The council wants to put you on trial," Steve knows it’s just a farce, the town wants someone to blame, just to relieve their conscience and Eddie is the perfect candidate.
“You’re already wanted for piracy and stealing the Hourglass only adds to the list.”
Eddie takes a step back, like he has been slapped across the face. He doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes.
“I didn’t do it.” he says again, like it’s the only thing that keeps him afloat and, for some absurd reason, Steve believes him.