Princess, Knight and Dragon ✔️ Reddie

Walking Disasters

"Tell me, good witch,' hollered Lucky Steven, 'will I still be terribly handsome when I am older?'' Richie read. 'The good witch replied that he would grow into his looks, and the Princess Lily laughed at him. Yet the Prince Sam was not laughing, and he stood amidst the group and said, 'Friends, we m-must make a s-solemn oath. If ever another d-dragon is loose in the k-k-kingdom, we must return here and f-fight it together.''

He paused, looking over at Maggie, whose eyes were closed, chest rising and falling slowly.

Lowering his voice, he read on, 'The good witch cast a sacred spell, and the friends stood in a circle. Lucky Steven reached out and took Princess Lily's hand.' Steady, a single tear cascaded down his cheek. 'And they both made their promise. The end.'

As quietly as he could manage, he closed the book and replaced it in the box on the lowest shelf of the bookcase, then went to the door and turned out the light switch. 'Goodnight, Maggie.'

Drained from reading what could only be described as Eddie's crazed fairytale account of their childhood battle with It, Richie resolved to make himself a hot chocolate before he went to bed himself. He padded down the hallway and noticed a light on in the kitchen.

'Eddie?' Richie said as he wandered into the room.

Eddie didn't turn around. His knuckles gripped tightly at the lip of the sink. 'Hey, Richie,' he said, voice hoarse.

'Maggie's asleep,' Richie informed, going to the fridge and helping himself to milk.

'Thanks,' he said, letting go with one hand and dragging it down his face, smudging the tear tracks which bled there. 'Could you hear anything?'

Richie put two mugs of milk into the microwave. 'Not a word.'

Eddie sniffed, 'Good.'

Desperately, Richie wanted to ask Eddie about his stories, about Lily Fusilli and her many adventures, about how Eddie's subconscious had half-remembered enough of Richie Tozier to immortalise him as the wisecracking Lucky Steven. However, it wasn't the right time.

Eddie was clearly upset, had just told his wife that he wanted a divorce after fifteen years of marriage and was facing the prospect of a brand new life for himself and his daughter. Richie's questions, his inevitable teasing to conceal crippling heartache, would have to wait.

'Eds?' Richie went over to him, offering a mug of cocoa. 'Here.'

Taking the drink, Eddie flicked his reddened eyes briefly to meet Richie's. 'Thanks.'

'Come on. Let's get you to bed.' Richie decided, placing a guiding hand on his shoulder and wheeling him around.

'I'm on the couch,' Eddie corrected.

Richie refuted, 'Fuck that. You deserve a fucking bed and you'll take the spare. And you don't want Mags to wake up in the morning and see you sleeping on the couch, do you?'

Eddie wrinkled his nose. 'Don't call her Mags.'

They went into the spare bedroom. Eddie set his hot chocolate down on the end table and crawled onto the bed, smacking his head against the headboard.

Rubbing his eyes, dry and tired, Eddie admitted, 'I didn't expect to feel so sad.'

Feeling awkward, Richie mooched over to the other side of the bed and sat down, swinging his legs up. 'Sad?'

'Yeah. I mean, I don't only feel sad. I'm relieved. I'm scared. I feel,' he struggled, a rogue few tears dripping from his eyes, 'fucking free. But I expected all that, even if it's overwhelming. I didn't expect sad.'