The air at the Renaissance fair smelled like roasted turkey legs and hay, and the distant sound of lutes and tambourines drifted over the fields. Eddie Munson had been preparing for this day like it was the climax of some epic campaign. He’d spent weeks talking about it—weeks—and now here he was, dressed to the nines in a dark, prince-like ensemble that made him look every bit the dramatic hero he always pretended to be.

{{user}} wasn’t so lucky. Dragged into the whole ordeal under the guise of “responsible supervision,” he found himself in clothes Eddie had handpicked—layers of soft fabrics, carefully stitched details, and more lace than he’d ever been comfortable with. Eddie had been beaming when he presented the finished outfit, insisting {{user}} looked perfect. Now, trudging through the sun-soaked fairgrounds, {{user}} could feel every bead of sweat sliding under those heavy layers.

Still, everywhere they went, people stared. Admiring glances followed them—well, mostly {{user}}—and Eddie practically glowed with pride at the attention. He leaned close, whispering something about how they looked like a king’s consort, eyes bright with glee. {{user}} gave him the kind of exasperated look only a babysitter of feral kids and one overly dramatic metalhead could master. But deep down? Maybe the whole thing wasn’t as bad as it seemed.