aurora

He cursed the moment he chose to travel alongside of Sugimoto, for the moment he did, you were there. Following him around like a daft puppy, making sure he was well fed, making sure he was okay. Why did you care so much? Why was he the one you fooled around with? It wasn't like the others weren't more than receptive to your feelings. Sugimoto hadn't said a word, but it was obvious he loved being doted on. Shiraishi ate it up every single time. Asirpa did the same, though she was much more subdued than her elder counterparts. 

Ogata sat by the fire, eyes glued to the flickering flames. Hand tight on the butt of his rifle, he wondered what would happen if he just... did it. If he aimed the gun at you, if he opted to snuff out the very light of his life. 

Light of his life.

Oh. 

Oh no. No, that was not... 

Ogata sat straight up the moment you sat down beside of him, blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. The others were already asleep. 

"Sorry," you softly said, already apologizing for the intrusion. "I couldn't sleep."

He grunted in response, eyes still glued to the fire but seeing you in his peripheral vision. His jaw clenched, muscle jumping at the effort. 

He listened as you settled down, the snores from Shiraishi carrying through the cool forest. Ogata was going to kill someone, if not for himself then for the sanity of everyone. Someone moved, shuffling in the tent and shaking Shiraishi out of his snores. 

For now, silence. The only sound you could hear was each other's soft breathing and the crackle from the still going fire. 

His hand loosened its grip on his gun. He had no reason to use it. Not now. 

If you were dead, bullet right between the brows, would you haunt him as Yuusaku did?

He did not want to find out. 

Somewhere, deep inside the crevices of his body he once believed dead, a spark stirred within. A warmth, just with your closeness to him. 

Ogata looked up from the fire, dark gaze settling onto yours. 

You sat up a bit straighter, raising a curious brow.

"I want to ask you something," Ogata said, voice quiet and words drawn out to emphasize the gravity of his train of thought. 

At your nod, he continued. 

"You..." he began, narrowing his eyes. He looked away, clearing his throat. He wished someone was pointing a gun at him instead. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

You blinked myopically, the man in front of you the only thing you paid attention to at the moment. You repeated the question back to yourself, a faint smile on your lips. 

"Fallen in love? What, like with someone? Romance-wise?"

Ogata nodded.

"I don't know."

Your answer was so infuriatingly simple. Had you been anyone else, maybe he would have tried to kill you. 

"You don't know?" he repeated.

You hummed softly and looked away from him, holding your blanket tighter. "I love many people. I love Asirpa, and Sugimoto, and Shiraishi. My family. But... to say I've ever truly fallen in love?"

He stared at you. Deep within, he wished you would look at him.

"I think maybe I have," you said. "But I wouldn't say anything to him."

"Him?" he echoed. "So you have fallen in love."

"If you want to think that way, then sure," you said, shrugging. "But... really, Ogata, saying it might change things forever, and I don't know if I'm prepared for that kind of intrusion."

He clenched his jaw again and looked out past the fire. In the same moment, you turned your gaze to him once more. Every time, it seemed you both missed the other. If only you held your gaze long eonugh. 

"Have you ever fallen in love?" you asked him.

He shook his head. "No."

"No?"

He narrowed his eyes but did not turn to look at you. He said nothing more, not realizing that his simple answer meant everything to you in ways he would never even begin to understand. 

The two of you sat there, fire dying in front of you, and Ogata itching to press a trigger somewhere, anywhere. The silence was too loud. You were too close. 

He wouldn't kill you. Not now. One day, maybe—when the moment came down to it, and he had to act on behalf of whoever it was he was working for, he could do it. 

Of course, something like that did very little to ease your anxiety. It was always one more mission, one more task, and you'd be free of this life—free to quit, free to flee. Yet she just kept pulling you back in, sharp claws long since dug into the tender muscle of your heart, holding on for dear life as if you were the deciding factor in a mission's success. Rick had faced the brunt of Waller's diseased outlook of life. He couldn't get away, either. You were both stuck. 

Stuck in this dingy hotel. Stuck in this damned city. 

You wished you had ran last month, when you had told Rick you were fed up with it all again. The man who was your work partner, your true partner in love and friendship, knew not to encourage it. What could he say that would make it all better? He knew why you were here. He knew you were just as stuck as he was, and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

Unless...

"What's up with you?" Rick asks, sitting down beside you on the bed. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "What are you thinkin' this time?"

You grimace, averting your gaze. "Nothing," you mumble.

"Nerves got you goin'?" he asks, trying to get you to talk. If there was one thing he was good at, it was getting you to spill what was on your mind—whether with words or his hands was up to you.

"No," you say, an obvious lie that you do not take back. 

He says your name, so softly, so uncharacteristic to a man of his stature that it genuinely makes you pause, looking him to see what he was doing. His eyes lock with yours, his hand gently taking yours into his own and squeezing—an attempt to ground you. He didn't know if it worked. 

"Come on, baby, talk to me. What's up?"

The two of you were already a liability to Waller, but some of her best "soldiers"—a relationship was an HR nightmare anywhere, but here? Christ almighty, you were a shoo-in for the world's best train wreck award. 

You purse your lips, squeezing his hand back as you release a shaky breath. "Rick, I..."

He blinks slowly. "Yeah?"

"If I don't leave now, I will never get away."

He stares at you. It's not the first time you had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last. He leans forward, pulling you into his side as he rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I know, baby," he says. He's been trying to find a way to flee, to take you and run, but until someone took care of Waller... "Hang in there. It won't last forever."

"What if it does?"

"It won't," he attempts to reason, though you both knew it was futile. 

You were the reason he lived, the reason he breathed when he was not keeping a long-held promise to his nephew. 

Perhaps that's why now, he stood in front of you, eyes locked with yours as they never had. You saw every mark on his face—every wrinkle, every sun-kissed spot, every crease of a man who had lived a life of daring. He saw you just the same, though his recollection of your features had long since burned itself into the back of his mind. 

He had fallen completely and utterly in love with you like an absolute fool, and yet, he did not regret a moment of it. 

His tongue darted out to wet his tongue, words soon flowing in an uncharacteristic way—he really was trying. "I've to confess to ye," he said, hands balled into fists by his side. "It's somethin' I've held on for months now, an' I cannae hold it any longer." 

Your eyes widened at his words, but you made no move to interrupt. You may not have known—the intrigue, however, was enough to keep you enraptured with the rugged man before you. Ultimately, whatever he confessed to you now, you would accept it in stride. You were certain that there were parts of him that were like your own in that you cared for him. Deeply.

"I love ye," he said, voice quiet yet powerful in its own way. "I love ye, and there's no part of me that's ready to live without you." His hands relaxed by his side. For a man who stood proud before so many powerful man, he was a lost cause in front of you. "I cannae go another day without yet knowin', but I understand if there's no way you feel the same."

"What?" you balked, almost immediately speaking as soon as he finished. "What do you mean? Why would I not feel the same?"

"I never seem to catch your eye," he said, eyes twinkling with mirth. He always looked away on purpose, or pretended to be looking at something beyond you. 

"Oh, Christ, Murtagh," you said, frowning deeply. "You never catch my eye because you're a stubborn man who refuses to be caught."

A small smile tugged at his lips. He tilted his head curiously as he watched, unable to stop himself from such a childish, mundane act. "For what it's worth, I cannae say I've ever spent a day without thinkin' of ye." 

That familiar burn of embarrassment—or, well, your nerves—began to bubble in the pit of your chest, a tell-tale sign that he was getting to you with merely his words. You cleared your throat, glancing around. No one was watching, but it would not last that way forever. 

"Should we... should we go some other place?" you asked softly. "You know. Speak of this without any prying ears."

"Pryin' ears? You care so much, hm?"

"No," you quickly said. "No, no, I don't. I just... assumed you would rather talk in private instead of letting everyone know your business."

His smile did not disappear. He continued to look at you, assessing the situation, before he nodded and motioned with a hand for you to lead the way. 

"After ye, then," he said. "Take me where this conversation will best be had."

You hung the stars—that much was true. What you'd soon learn was that Murtagh now knew you to paint the very sky itself, your soul a canvas marked by all you were and all you would ever be—now with the help of the rugged Scotsman, as long as you let him.

You narrowed your eyes as you watched him, shrugging as you looked back down at your phone.

"I dunno," you said. "Depends on if Valentina was being honest or not."

"Oh," he sounded, nodding slightly. "Yeah, okay. That's fair."

You did not look up at him again. Only his next words pulled you out of your reverie. 

"Please don't pull a Dally Winston."

Your thumb paused its scrolling. Head tilting up, you leaned back in your seat. 

"Get fucked, Bob Reynolds."

The grin on his face was unmistakable. He'd got to you. Made you look. Made you actually say something that wasn't related to your videos or your flurried mind. He'd got to you, just as you got to him so many times before. Maybe that's what you needed. Someone to connect to you on a personal level, and not just superficially. 

You'd saved him once. He'd protect you as much as he could.

You weren't scrolling anymore, your phone still in your hand but your lips downturned in a frown.

"Do you think I'd do that?" you asked him, tilting your head curiously.

"I'd like to think not," he said, shrugging. "But thinking and knowing are two different things."

"Jesus Christ, Bob!" Yelena barked from where she sat. 

The fire was warm enough, but it did not reach your insides. The chill had settled deep within your bones, and there was no way to chase it away. How you wished to—warmth would be too good at the moment, spine shivering from the cold. Your coat was a nice touch, but there was only so much that could be staved off with hobbit coats. It wasn't like that of a dwarf or even an elven coat.

It would be nice to be home with your favorite chair... and the hearth you always sat by, the knitted blankets and quilts, the delicious warm drinks to soothe the cold. A hot chocolate sounded divine to a rumbling stomach.

Staring at the fire, you hardly cast a second glance at the blur of blonde hair that sat down beside you. You do, however, angle your body toward his just a bit. Fili’s knee touched yours as he adjusted his stance, elbows digging into the meat of his thighs. Hands clasped together, his eyes stayed on the fire.

An unspoken vow sat between the space between you, etched into the sky, the rivers—anywhere you cared to look. One that you had picked up on rather quickly, though you had yet to make any proper mention of it. There had been no discussion of what it meant for you.

You were his One.

Had his uncle realized it yet? Any of the other dwarves? Your silence was one thing. But had he reached out, asked for advice, done anything under the lingering sun to see if it was right?

Why wouldn't it be?

With little moments here and there, he welcomed you into his circle—accepting each part of you, everything you were willing to give but not quite discuss alongside such company.

Your name left his lips. Eyes flickering to him, you steadied your chilled body as best as you could. The shivering would not leave you—not now.

He did not need to speak—not really. He did not need to delve into all of the remnants of his past. His uncle had granted him full autonomy; one day, he would be King, yes, but if his One happened to be someone who helped take back the Mountain, then so be it.

You were grateful he did, though.

"Why don't you sleep by me tonight?" he asked, voice low amongst the fire to not draw the attention of anyone else. He gave a small smile, though it seemed to grow at the look on your face. "It is cold, and I do not see the wind warming between now and sunrise."

His voice was mesmerizing—or was it the chill that had snuck up your spine, wishing for warmth in every which way that influenced you?

"I would like that," you said.

He grinned, holding out his hand to you. You eyed it for a moment, gripping onto your coat in an attempt to keep the warmth in. Instead of continuing this, you reached out and took his much larger hand in yours. Fili stood and pulled you to your feet, making an effort to keep you closest to the fire as you walked to his bedroll.

Yours was already next to it.

At that, you raised a brow and looked up at him.

"Hopeful much?"

"I would have moved it if you said no."

You snorted softly, the sound mostly from the way your body reacted to the weather. The closer to the Mountain you got, the longer it seemed to worsen.

Fili glanced back at the fire, eyes flashing with mirth at the way his brother was gesturing—a wave, a quick thumbs up, and a slap on the arm from Dwalin, earning a, "What was that for?" from the younger dwarf.

"I'll take first watch," Fili said as he let you get situated. It would make sense—he had positioned the bedrolls in a place that would grant him pretty good sight on everything around.

"Oh?"

"But I'll be beside you the entire time," he said. "I've no plans to leave you."

You hummed in return, not truly trusting your words. You looked him over with a glance not as fleeting as you wanted it to be before deciding to go ahead and settle down, holding your coat close and the blanket closer. Fili sat down beside you, back against a tree as he kept watch over the others. He would watch for the first few hours, and then as agreed, Dwalin would take second watch. 

A chilled sleep found you quickly, though you woke up every now and then shivering yourself awake. A few hours passed of this before you felt Fili settle down in his bedroll beside you, far closer than he should have been. His arms found your body, careful not to let any of the warmth you did have leave you. Your eyes fluttered open, an indignant sound escaping you.

"Hush, little hobbit," he said, pulling you close to his chest. "Sleep. I will do my best to keep you warm."

You wanted to protest, to say it was not necessary, but Fili Durin was so very warm and you were so very tired. Your body practically melted into his embrace, a whisper of your contentment vibrating the furs he wore. 

He fell asleep just like that, knowing by morning, he would have much to say to his uncle. But for now, he could not care—for you were with him, and you made his heart lurch in ways he did not know possible. The hours passed quickly.

Dwalin glanced at the two of you before he passed off watch to another dwarf (Bofur), snorting softly at the sight. 

"Lad won't sleep alone, now," he said, nudging Bofur as he settled down. "Watch. See how long it takes 'fore he's itchin' to be alone w' them."

Bofur rolled his eyes, yawning rather loudly. "Ah, give him a break. It's about time he found his One. Just wonder what Master Baggins will say, now."

"Are you looking at Orion or the constellation beside it?" he asked, pointing in the direction he believed you to be searching. "Fiskikarlar," he said. "Fishermen. Orion's belt. Look up to the right, where the bright star is? That is Ulf's Keptr. Mouth of the Wolf. I do believe your humans call it Hyades. I also hear they refer to it as a... star cluster."

You had expected him to come to you, crude and as aggravating as he had been the past few weeks, but... ah, hell. Your expectations had been thrown to the wind. 

"What makes a star cluster?" he asked, more or less to the wind. He didn't expect an answer. "And then, of course, if you look that way... you have the Ursa Major. The Great Bear."

You tilted your head curiously as it took you a moment to find it. "Huh. It... looks like a bear."

"I do believe that's the point," he snorted softly, looking down at you. "You do not look at the stars often, do you?"

You blinked slowly before shrugging. "I do look at the stars. I just don't know much about them. I wish I knew more."

Loki sat up a bit straighter. He could do that. He knew so much of the stars, and while the rest of the world would never know the secretive love he kept for them, he would tell you in a heartbeat. 

"You know the Big Dipper?"

"Of course I know the Big Dipper."

"Karlvagn. Man's chariot. Also a part of the Ursa Major. Many referred to it as Odin's chariot, but not so much anymore."

You turned to face him, raising a brow. "Is there one for you, then?"

"I have no constellation, no, but the humans once deemed me righteous enough to be the star of Lokabrenna."

"It's not ringing a bell."

"Sirius."

"Seriously?"

Loki rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the stars above. His silence stretched on for a long, tense minute before he relented, allowing your terrible pun to hit home.

"I have a question," he said, voice only loud enough for your ears. 

You frowned. "What?" He'd already annoyed you thus far, an inkling of something you couldn't quite place pitted in the depths of your heart. You'd felt many things recently, but this one was... odd. Like even if you tried to run away from it, it stayed right there, unmoving. Stationary 'till the end of time. 

"Don't think me foolish for this, yeah?" 

Your eyebrow quirked up. "Why would I think you foolish? What are you about to ask me?"

A smile smile quirked on his lips. "A question you may not like," he said, sighing softly. He sat up straight, hands clamping down on the edge of his knees. "Alright, I'll just come out with it. No need in beating around the bush any longer. Have you ever fallen in love?"

The question made his brother sputter from across the camp, Bofur now wearing a spray of stew on his coat. 

He was not as quiet as he wished to be.

The sudden realization that everyone had heard it crawled up your spine. Kíli paid no mind, his attention trained entirely on you. 

"Well?"

"I—" you began, cutting yourself off as you thought of how best to answer. "Well, um, I don't—I don't know."

Kíli's handsome face found a smile soon after. "You don't know?" he softly asked, eyes searching yours. There were only so many implications to be had, and all of his were on the ground before you. 

If the gods could sing your graces, they would have done so ten times over. He would worship the very ground you walked on, and he hardly knew a thing about you save for the fact you're awfully good with your hands and a healer of great renown. 

Balin had whispered a few nights before about a dwarf's mate. Kíli prayed his was you. 

"No," you eventually got out, shaking your head. "No, I don't know."

"How do you not know?" Kíli asked. "You've never felt as if someone has taken the very breath from your lungs? Never felt nervous around another, or as if you were standing before the very sun reincarnated to a being on Earth? Have you ever—"

"—oh, shove off, Kíli! Leave the healer alone!" Fíli called out from across the campsite, earning a glare in return from his brother. 

Kíli huffed softly and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flickering to yours once more. 

"No," you said. "At least... I don't think so. I don't know if I... if I have ever truly paid that much attention, before."

"Oh? Then perhaps you should," a voice from beside of you said. A bowl of stew was held before you, Bofur smiling down at you. "I'd imagine it's a right joy to feel that way, no?" 

You hesitantly took the stew, looking down at it—Bombur had managed to turn a decent meal from the squirrels and root vegetables that had been gathered earlier in the evening. 

"Thank you," you said, clearing your throat.

Bofur nudged you gently. "Seriously, love. Kíli's a daft dwarf, but he wouldn't be asking you for no reason. Maybe he's hiding something."

Kíli's eyes widened. "Hiding something? I'm doing no such thing—"

"—yes you are," Fíli interrupted, plopping down beside of him. He looked over in your direction, raising a brow. "Perhaps this is a conversation you should finish when you're actually alone."

Kíli flushed but shrugged, looking away from you. "Yes. Alright."

You sipped at your stew, eyeing the vegetables only for a moment. You did not look back up, but as Bofur took a seat beside of you, you listened to his words.

"I think the young prince may believe you to be far more important than he's admitted, healer," he said, smiling softly. "Seems like a conversation you most definitely should have when we travel tomorrow. Stay close to the back and let him find you when we walk."

You looked up at Bofur, giving a small and hesitant nod. Kíli caught your eye from across the camp sight, his flush still evident. 

"I can do that," you said, loud enough only for the few around you, but Kíli caught it sure enough.

—

He was a beautiful dwarf—that much you could concede as you walked alongside him, acknowledging the fact that he was also quite tall for someone of his race. Much taller than many of the others. It seemed to be a consistent thing amongst the Durin line. Was it that way for his mother as well? What had he said her name was? Dís?

You had been alone for nearly twenty minutes, walking and looking at each other but not a word truly said. The fear of saying the wrong thing settled between the two of you, and while you knew you should speak, should do something, anything, you refused. 

Kíli refused up until the point the sun started to set in the west, the start of twilight washing over the once beautifully blue sky. And then, as Thorin told the others to find a place that would be good to rest for the night, he stopped in his tracks and grabbed onto your arm, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"I must tell you," he began, clearing his throat. "You deserve to know, lest we find—lest we find ourselves in a not so savory situation."

Your brows furrowed, but you nodded, urging him to continue.

"I only asked you if you had fallen in love before because of one reason, and one reason only."

"What is that reason?"

"I believe you to be my One."

You blinked owlishly.

He smiled, unable to help himself. "My One. The soul created for me. The One I will love until the end of my days and wait in the afterlife for your soul to find mine."

Your eyes widened. "What?" 

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I believe it. I know it."

Your heart pounded in your chest, a rhythm of fear and excitement melting into one consistent beat. His One. If your memory serves you well, then that means you have reason for never falling in love before, for you were meant for something far greater. Dwarves only truly mate once in their long lives, don't they? And here you were, walking alongside the dwarf who was meant for you.

The implication of such a feat wriggled itself into the back of your mind, but you said nothing of it. To hell with it. If you must die in the coming days taking back the Mountain, then you would do so with the notion that your soulmate would die with you.