targaryen apologist

ᝰ Gwayne Hightower

Echoes of a Promise | @novaursa

When Prince Daemon Targaryen challenged Ser Gwayne Hightower during the tourney, that King Viserys I orginazed for birth of his heir, it was not just to humiliate and spite Otto. It was because of you.

Lady Hightower. | @entitled-fangirl

the reader is approached by Criston Cole. Gwayne doesn’t like the look in Cole’s eyes.

me and my husband | @raven-dor

in which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

The Cost of Duty | @nyrasvoid

Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

A Knight’s Prize | @/nyrasvoid

in a tourney to decide her future, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s eldest daughter must choose a husband. Ser Gwayne Hightower, a charming yet unexpected suitor, captures her attention.

ᝰ Benjicot Blackwood

Would you want to marry me Benji? | @the-fiction-witch

Loyalty’s embrace | @leftoverpages

Starlit Sands | @/leftoverpages

Beneath Weirwood’s Shade | @/leftoverpages

The shortest marriage tour  Part 02 | @jacaerysgf

Your mother had decided that you must find a husband and so she set you out on a tour to go to the different regions of the kingdom and seek out a husband. Though nobody will approach you with your father looming not even two steps behind you. You fear there is no hope until you reach house blackwood and meet the only son of samwell blackwood.

Fighting words | @/jacaerysgf

one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.

lies and sneaking | @/jacaerysgf

you are sick of being stuck inside the stone hedge walls and decide to sneak out. You end up running into the worst man you know but it leads to a lot more.

“Subtle” @/jacaerysgf

Dull Blades | @temporarily-your-saint

THE BRIDGE | @spider-stark

Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

SWORN RIVALS | @/spider-stark

Taking up sparring with your sworn rival is likely never a good idea.

LADY STRONG | @/spider-stark

Stuck in the Riverland’s on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn’t recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Velaryon/Strong!Reader

The wolf, the raven and the arrow | @thesongoficeandfir3

𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐆𝐔𝐘 | @urblondiebaby

Ben was known for his brutality, receiving the name Bloody Ben from his opponents, but in your hands, he turns to putty.

You are mine, and I am yours. | @clairifys

Fem!Targ!Reader

Queen’s Envoy | @illyrianbrat

The Princess is sent as an envoy to get more allies. She is tasked with treating lords in the Riverlands. As she finds herself far from home, she discovers a certain Blackwood boy, who isn’t as scary as she thought.

the love of a bracken is meant only for a blackwood | @randomgurl2326

being in love with your house’s enemy dating back centuries is not exactly… ideal. especially with a brother who only cares about you when it involves his (father’s) ideals.

His Bride | @multific

A short piece about obsession, blood and love. What more do you need?

Betrothed Part 02 Part 03 | @yourwonkywriter

Along the way to Harrenhal (½) | @/yourwonkywriter

The ballad of the raven and the dragon | @slaytheusurper

Being the only daughter of queen Rhaenrya and the heir to the throne is not easy, after convincing your mother to let you patrol near the riverlands you come across a battle where you meet the infamous Bloody Ben.

𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 | @hxtd

rhaenyra's daughter unknowingly encounters the infamous man who fought so heedlessly for her mother's crown.

Benjicot Blackwood masterlist | @gay-dorito-dust

benjicot and cannibal with reader | @/gay-dorito-dust

Pregnant wife | @/gay-dorito-dust

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | @witchthewriter

“Sweet nothing” | @skyrigel

Between war, blood and chaos, your husband founds himself running home to your sweet nothing.

“Pretty when you smile” | @/skyrigel

“A settlement was made but they never said anything about the pretty bride and a smitten groom.”

“Come back, be here ...” | @/skyrigel

You and Benji meet when sky goes blaze and sun comes up, by the woods. But this time somthing hits different.

The Blackwood Knight | @thebenjiblackwoodexpress

Benjicot falls for a Bracken lady and volunteers to be her knight.

love mirage | @wntrswolf

Nameday Celebration | @princessbellecerise

Call it recklessness or sheer stupidity, but Benjicot is determined not to miss his lovers nameday…Even if it means sneaking into enemy territory for the night

His Lady’s Love | @moobell55

Fight Like a Girl | @bearwithegg

A Shared Comfort | @hellish-idiot

The feast begins and you share a conversation with young Lord Benjicot. You contemplate feelings of loss at the Raventree Hall's dead weirwood.

Harsh Words, Quick Regrets | @/hellish-idiot

A good morning turns into a distasteful night. In regret you seek Benji out, but the battle has already ended.

A Dragon Flees  | @/hellish-idiot

In the aftermath of losing your little brother you cannot bear living in the same halls he once did. Reluctantly your mother arranges a host to home you in heed of the war to come. One of her strongest Riverland supporters, house Blackwood of Raventree Hall.

A Raven Observes |@/ hellish-idiot

You arrive at Raventree Hall after an exhausting ride. You grapple with the differences between home, and your new surroundings. Finally meeting the kind Lord Blackwood. As well as an awkward, and tense encounter with his son, Benjicot.

His Princess | @aemondapologistfrfr

During Rhaenyras absence Jace and Baela deploy you out to deal with the Blackwoods and the Brackens, atop Silverwing. You treat with Lord Benjicot and prepare for a battle with the Brackens. You both can’t help the feelings that arise from working closely together.

The Labor of Our Fruits | @the20thangel

The Dragon and Raven Masterlist | @/the20thangel

I love you. It’s ruining my life. | @yikes-aemond

You meet Benjicot Blackwood in the woods and continue to pine after him for years.

Blackheart | @aprilcolours

From Eden. | @painted-flag

caught in the brewing of war, Daenys Velaryon must forge alliances for her mother’s claim to the throne. The Riverlands are paramount and she had the inexplicable luck of meeting Benjicot Blackwood.

ᝰ Harwin Strong

The white dragon | @misguidedasgardian

How the existence of Rhaenyra’s younger sister can change the course of history, the youngest daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and the Queen Aemma Arryn.

The lovers  | @heartysworld

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞. | @auroraborealyss

when the fight breaks out, ser harwin strong decides to get the most important lady in the room to safety

Love in the Kingswood  | @lol-im-done

Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, slays a boar to protect her cousin, upon her return to the royal camp she realizes she’s caught the attention of Ser Harwin Strong, and as they go on their own hunt they fall in love.

One day  | @thebigbadbatswife

You and Harwin have only ever seen each other from a distance. Perhaps one day you would finally have the confidence to approach him.

ARGHURYS | @djadins

As the youngest daughter of Aemma and Viserys Targaryen, your duties at court differ from those of your sister. But like your sister, your father is still very protective over you, not letting you participate in the hunt for Aegon’s second name day.

All That Could Have Been  | @thatlittlered

Hands | @/thatlittlered

Kiss Me Whenever You Want | @/thatlittlered

Growing Strong Masterlist | @theforgottenmcrmy

You’ve been brought to King’s Landing by Princess Rhaenyra’s search for her next lady in waiting. While your father, Lord Tyrell, and brother are hopeful for your prospects should you be chosen to serve the Princess, you’re having doubts about leaving the Reach and your family behind in favor of the storied but unfamiliar capital city. Thankfully, and perhaps a little ironically, you may be able to find some refuge in the man that they call Breakbones.

how the tables turn | @blayresmuses

you’ve been trying to catch ser harwins attention for weeks and are on the verge of giving up until he shows up in your quarters unannounced.

Princess | @faith-forgxtten-land

the morning after ser harwin breakbones carries his princess to safety and has his way with her

the third time’s the charm 3/3 | @theship-thewalrus

twice you have tried to confess your love to ser harwin, you could only hope the third time's the charm

Fly with me | @navstuffs

Ser Harwin Strong isn’t afraid of anything. He is just a little suspicious of flying.

Bewitching | @inklore

Quiet Love | @letaliabane

Caged | @/letaliabane

on the night of rhaenyra’s wedding, the tension is high between the broken bond of two former lovers. with jealousy brewing, will they fall back into each others arms?

The wedding  | @maxii031

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | @/witchthewriter

THE ART OF SWORDS | @house-strong

ᝰ Masterlists 

hotd master list  by @fairysluna

Masterlist by @faces-ofvenus

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧  ✶  𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 by @sylasthegrim

House Of The Dragon. Masterlist by @hisfavegirl

House of the Dragon Masterlist by @drakoneve

ASOIAF CHARACTERS MASTERLIST by @frankcastleonlyfans

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON / GAME OF THRONES CHARACTERS MASTERPOST by @sourcherryandsprinkles

The clearing revealed itself at last, bathed in the fading golden light, the sea of colorful, vivid wildflowers swaying gently as if greeting you both. This perfect, hidden world was yours and Fíli’s alone. A secret space where no royal title, no heavy crowns, and no expectations could reach him. The only one who knew of these secret rendezvous was Kíli, and even he had promised never to intrude nor tell their Uncle Thorin where the older Prince had run off to.

Breathless but grinning, Fíli managed to catch up, pulling you into his arms from behind, causing you to squeak, your hands coming up to cover his around your midsection. 

“I win,” He declared triumphantly, spinning you around slightly before setting you down in the soft grass, his bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You cheated,” You accused, turning around in his arms.

“Me? Cheat?” Fíli feigned innocence, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You wound me.”

Rolling your eyes, you slipped out of his grasp, finding your spot against the large, thick base of a tree, staring up at the sky as it deepened into dusky purples and fiery oranges. Fíli sat beside you, head heading landing on your lap, as usual, only to look at you instead of the sky.

“Tomorrow, I have meetings with Uncle and the council,” He murmured, his hand raising, fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. “And after that, I have to oversee the new trade agreements with him as well.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing all too well how his duties often swallowed him whole. That was why this place mattered so much. Why these nights spent among the flowers, under the stars, were so precious. Because here, Fíli was not a Prince. He was simply yours. And you were his.

“We’ll stay here as long as we can, then,” You said softly, your own fingers running through his somewhat unruly golden locks.

A small, grateful smile touched his lips and he sighed. “Aye. As long as we can.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. The only sounds that filled the space were the gentle whisper of the wind rustling through the trees, the rhythmic chirping of crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl hidden somewhere in the canopy. The world felt still, untouched, as if time itself had paused to let you both exist in this perfect moment.

Your fingers continued their slow, soothing path through Fíli’s golden locks, absentmindedly twirling a braid or allowing your nails to gently graze along his scalp as your gaze remained fixed on the vast sky above. Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, distant yet constant, a quiet reminder that some things were eternal. But Fíli wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at you. As he usually caught himself doing.

His hand rested over yours, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. His other hand toyed with the soft blades of grass beneath him. A feeling welled up inside him as he continued to look up at you, something deep and overwhelming, something that warmed him from the inside out. A shaky exhale left his lips.

Slowly, he lifted his hand from the grass, his calloused fingers brushing lightly against the underside of your jaw, a featherlight caress that sent a shiver down your spine. The touch was soft - so unlike the hardened warrior, the noble prince. It was reverent, as though you were something delicate, precious.

Your breath hitched at the contact, your eyes finally breaking away from the stars to meet his. His gaze was steady, unwavering, filled with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore.

“Fíli?” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

His thumb traced along your jawline, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something. But instead, he only smiled, small and full of something tender. “I just… I needed to look at you,” He admitted, voice hushed. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just gazing at you with that same deep, earnest expression. And then, his words came, “You are more wondrous than the most radiant of jewels,” Fíli murmured, “I’ve seen beauty in many places, in mountains and forests, in gold and in stone, but none of it holds a candle to you. The light in your eyes, the way you laugh, how you make the world brighter simply by being in it... I…” He hesitated, his breath catching for just a moment. “I do not deserve you, but I love you. More than I know how to say.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the intensity in his gaze, and the raw honesty in his tone. You bit your bottom lip, looking down at him with a mix of awe and adoration. "Flatterer," You teased lightly, a bit breathless from his confession. “Trying to make me flustered.”

Fíli chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears, his blue eyes sparkling with affection. And then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, you leaned down, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as your lips brushed lightly against his.

“I love you too,” You whispered softly, the words flowing from you as naturally as your heartbeat, your nose brushed against his. “And I am the one who does not deserve you, my Prince.”

And then, without another word, your lips met his in a kiss. At first, it was soft, a gentle meeting of lips that lingered, savoring the closeness. His lips were warm, and tender, and you felt a spark of something deep within you - an electricity that sent a shiver through your spine. Carefully, Fíli sits up, not once breaking the kiss as he cups the back of your neck, deepening it. Your hand dug deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, earning you a groan that rumbled deep in his throat. Slowly, your back met with the soft ground, Fíli hovering above you. The world around you faded, the moonlight casting you both in its silver glow as Fíli’s lips trailed lower, whispering promises against your skin. 

~~~

More than a fortnight had passed since that night. In the time since, you hadn't seen Fíli as often as you wished. His princely duties had kept him occupied, and though you understood, a part of you still longed for the quiet moments you had shared. Instead, you found yourself spending more time with Kíli when you weren’t tending to the wounded or ill in the infirmary. It had been King Thorin himself who had offered Erebor as your home after you aided him and the Company in reclaiming the mountain. You had fought beside them, risked your life alongside theirs, and in return, you had been granted a place within their kingdom. That was how you met Fíli. What began as camaraderie had blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you had expected but couldn’t deny. Now, Kíli's lighthearted nature was a welcome distraction, his jokes and playful antics easing the ache of Fíli’s absence, but it wasn’t the same. Still, you told yourself Fíli would come to you when he could. He always did.

But for the past few days, something had felt... Off.

You had slept in - something you never did. And when you did wake, it was as if your body refused to cooperate, leaving you sluggish and unwilling to leave the warmth of your bed. Weakness clung to your limbs, irritation simmered just beneath your skin, and even the simplest of tasks became difficult to focus on. Were you coming down with something? Falling ill? That was the only explanation, wasn’t it? Maybe you were overworking yourself. There had been many instances where Fíli - and Kíli - would have to pull you away from your work after you revealed that you hadn't had a break, and you hadn’t been sleeping well.

Deep in thought, you paused mid-step as you walked down one of the many halls in Erebor. Your brows furrowed, mind racing as the pieces slowly began to fall into place. And then - your breath caught. Frozen in place, you realized something.

You had missed your week. You didn't think anything of it at first, however... Heart pounding, your gaze dropped, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach. 

A rush of emotions surged through you. Disbelief, uncertainty, and something else, something deeper. Slowly, you took a step back, your back meeting the cool stone wall as you pressed a trembling hand to your warm cheek. A light-headed feeling washed over you as you struggled to process the truth now settling in your chest.

Were you with child?

Your breath hitched as your mind drifted back to that night in the woods with Fíli. The warmth of his touch, the way he held you, the whispered words between kisses beneath the stars. Your cheeks burned at the memory, heat flooding your face. And then, like a whirlwind, a storm of emotions crashed over you - fear, worry… But above all else, happiness. Joy.

A baby.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of the realization settled in. You couldn’t stop them, nor did you want to. They spilled over, trailing down your cheeks as a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.

“Are you alright?”

The familiar voice made you jump slightly, and you turned to see Kíli standing a few feet away, his brows drawn together in concern. His usual playful demeanor had shifted into something softer, worry evident in his gaze as he took a step closer. You quickly wiped at your eyes, nodding as you let out a shaky breath. “I- yes. I’m alright.” You sniffled, another laugh bubbling past your lips as you smiled, eyes still shining with tears. “I’m just… Happy.”

Kíli’s concern didn’t fade entirely, but at your words, his expression softened, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “Well, that is good, then.” He eyed you for a moment before nudging your arm. “Still, I do not think I have ever seen someone cry because they were happy.”

You only laughed again, shaking your head, your heart still racing with the joy of your secret.

Kíli tilted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Does this happiness have anything to do with a certain blonde Prince?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you gasped. Fíli. You had to tell him. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your face, steadying yourself before breaking into a run down the halls, Kíli following close behind. Your feet carried you toward the throne room - the very place you had originally been heading before your realization had struck. Fíli would be there, as he always was at this time. You had to tell him.

But as you reached the massive doors, you froze. Thorin’s deep voice echoed from within. You hesitated, the weight of his tone holding you in place. Kíli came up beside you, confusion flickering across his face as you both instinctively pressed yourselves against the cold stone wall, peeking through the slightly open door.

“I have arranged for you to wed, Fíli,” Thorin’s voice was firm, unwavering. “A high-born dwarven maiden from the Iron Hills. The union will strengthen our alliance and secure Erebor’s future.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. The warmth that had filled you only moments ago was gone, replaced by an icy numbness that spread through your limbs. The world around you blurred, and all you could hear was a ringing in your ears. Kíli turned to you, saying something, but his voice was distant, muffled. Like you were underwater... Drowning.

Fíli was to be married. To someone else.

The thought barely had time to settle before your body reacted on its own. You turned and ran, blinded by the tears welling in your eyes. The halls of Erebor passed in a blur, your heartbeat thundering in your ears, drowning out Kíli’s voice as he called after you. Reaching your room, you threw open the door and stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind you. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto your bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and clutching it to your chest. The soft furs brushed against your skin as you curled in on yourself, but they offered no comfort.

Sobs wracked your body, the pain in your chest tightening like a vice. You had been so happy only moments ago - so ready to share your joy with Fíli. And now… Now, it felt like that happiness had been ripped away before you even had the chance to hold it. You were so lost in your grief that you didn’t hear the knock at your door. Didn’t hear it creak open, nor the soft footsteps approaching. Only when you felt a gentle touch on your arm did you stir.

Kíli sat beside you on the bed, his expression filled with quiet concern as he rubbed slow, soothing circles against your arm. “You know Fíli would never allow this,” He murmured. “He will find a way. He’ll convince Uncle to put an end to this arrangement.”

His voice was steady, filled with certainty. But you could only stare ahead, fresh tears slipping silently down your cheeks. Because, no matter how much you wanted to believe him, a terrible doubt had already crept into your heart.

Slowly, reluctantly, you sat up, tucking your legs against your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Your voice was quiet, strained, as you finally spoke. “I don’t think Thorin will change his mind, Kí… He’s doing what he thinks is best for his kingdom.” You sniffled, brushing the dampness from your cheeks. “He’s a wise king. He knows what is best.”

Kíli stared at you as if you had gone mad. His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Are you mad?” He asked, disbelief coloring his tone. “Are you just going to give up?” You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. But Kíli wasn’t done. “Fíli would not give up on you,” He said firmly. “Not for anything. He will fight. So why are you giving up on him?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes filled with sorrow but also with a quiet resolve. “I’m not giving up on him, Kíli,” You whispered. “But this… This decision will be best for him.”

Kíli’s brows furrowed deeper, frustration flashing in his dark eyes. “Best for Fíli?” He repeated incredulously. “You honestly believe that? That losing you - losing the love of his life - is what’s best for him?”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your arms. “He is the heir to Erebor,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “His duty will always come before his heart.”

Kíli let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "That may be true for Uncle," He said, his voice heavy with the weight of his own thoughts. "But Fíli... Fíli is not Uncle. He would never choose duty over you, not if it means losing what he truly wants." You felt a pang in your chest at his words, and despite the doubt that had clouded your mind, a flicker of hope ignited. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully embrace that hope. Kíli gave you one last, lingering look, his eyes filled with worry but also a sense of determination. "I'll go now," He said quietly, his tone softening as he stood. "You need rest, and I’ll speak to Fíli first thing in the morning."

You nodded absently, still too lost in thought to fully focus on his words. "Thank you, Kí."

With a final glance, Kíli left, closing the door gently behind him. As the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, you sank back into the bed, your eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling above.

But what Kíli didn’t know - what no one knew - was that you had already made your decision. Deep down, you knew that no matter how much you wanted to fight for what you and Fíli shared, the truth was unavoidable. Fíli’s future was not something he could escape. His duty would always be his first priority, and the life he had planned before you entered it would take precedence over the love he had for you. And the addition that you were with child - his child - that would only complicate everything for him.

You wiped away the remaining tears on your cheeks and exhaled, your chest heavy. The heartache was unbearable, but you had no choice. No matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t stand in the way of his destiny. He deserved to be happy.

In your heart, you knew what needed to be done. You only hoped Fíli would forgive you for it.

~~~

As the sun crept up above the treeline, Fíli made his way to your room, fiddling with one of his mustache braids, nervous, anxious, and all in-between. News of his arrangement had shocked him. He was not expecting it. Not so soon, anyway. He thought he had more time to figure out a way to tell his uncle about his and your courtship, but it seemed that he ran out of time.

Fíli’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he walked nervously toward your room, twisting one of the braids in his mustache. He had spent the night tossing and turning, struggling to find the right words to tell you. The news of the arrangement had hit him like a storm - unexpected and all-consuming. He had always known his duty as heir to Erebor would come with sacrifices, but never did he imagine that one of those sacrifices would be you. He had wanted more time. More time to prepare, more time to speak to his Uncle, and more time to tell you everything. The truth of his heart. But it seemed time had already run out.

When he reached your door, he knocked softly, calling your name with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Amrâlimê?" He called again, his voice tight. When no answer came, worry began to curl in his chest, and he hesitantly pushed the door open.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

His eyes scanned the familiar surroundings - everything looked as it should. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, the soft pillows still in place on the bed - but something was missing. Something vital.

Your presence.

He walked in, calling your name one more time, but his heart dropped as he saw that your traveling bag was gone. A chill swept over him, and he quickly scanned the room again, his gaze frantic. Most of your clothes were gone too. Panic surged through his veins, his mind racing with questions.

Where were you?

Why had you left?

Had you overheard the conversation yesterday? Did the news of the arranged marriage drive you away?

He rushed around the room, calling your name in a panic, as though you might suddenly materialize out of thin air. But the room remained still, empty, and cold.

Fíli sank onto the edge of the bed, his breath shaky. He buried his face in his hands, torn between dread and confusion. His heart twisted, wondering if he had already lost you. If you had left because of the arrangement. Because of the future he could not escape. No, he was going to escape this fate. As he sat there, a glimmer of something caught his eye. A small piece of parchment lay on the edge of the bedside table. With trembling hands, Fíli reached for it, his breath catching in his throat as he saw your handwriting scrawled across the page. His heart pounded as he read, the words on the page sinking into his chest like a dagger. You were leaving.

The letter was short, but the message was clear - you believed your presence would only be a hindrance to his happiness, that his new path was the one he had to follow. He couldn’t breathe. Fíli’s gaze swam with disbelief, the words blurring before his eyes. No. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You couldn’t just leave like this. He couldn’t let you go. With the letter still clenched tightly in his hand, he stood, determination lighting his eyes. He wasn’t going to lose you like this - not without a fight. 

~~~

Three months had passed since you left Erebor. The trip to Rivendell had taken much longer than you had originally hoped. Each day seemed to stretch on endlessly, as your fatigue deepened with every mile. At first, you had tried to push through it, thinking that it would pass, that it was simply the result of the emotional toll you’d carried with you when you left Fíli behind. But as the days and weeks stretched into months, it became clear that being with child while traveling long distances was overwhelming. Your body felt weaker, slower. Your energy was spent by midday, and you found it harder and harder to focus on the road ahead. The cold seemed to settle into your bones, and the exhaustion clung to you like a shroud. But, you pushed through. You had done this all before when you traveled with the Company, you could do it again.

There were also some minor setbacks - things you hadn’t accounted for when you’d decided to flee. One of the worst occurred when you found yourself trapped in a cave for three days, the weather worsening outside as relentless rain poured down, turning the paths into streams and making travel impossible. You hadn’t minded, as the cave offered warmth and shelter.

The rain didn’t let up, and you had no choice but to wait it out. Your mare, though brilliant and strong, was becoming restless in the confined space, and you feared continuing the journey in the worsening weather would only lead to more problems. You couldn’t risk getting sick - especially not with how weak you had already felt. You didn't want to possibly endanger your baby. So, you waited. You rested. The storm raged outside while you tried to find comfort in the silence; speaking to your pretty mare for company. She was a great listener. But all you could think about was Fíli. His face, his smile, his touch… All of it haunted you, pulling at your heart with a force you couldn’t ignore. 

Finally, when the rain cleared, you managed to resume your journey, though it felt as though the weight of the world pressed down on your shoulders. You were getting closer to Rivendell, but it didn’t bring you the peace you had hoped for. Instead, a quiet, lingering dread had settled in your chest. Would you ever truly be able to escape your heart's desire? Would you ever be able to stop longing for Fíli’s presence, for the warmth and love you had left behind?

You didn't know.

Rivendell was a breathtaking kingdom. The beauty of it all struck you as soon as you entered its gates - lush greenery, delicate waterfalls, and buildings that seemed to glow softly with an ethereal light. The air felt fresher, and crisper, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, though the ache in your chest remained. As you dismounted your mare, weary from the journey, Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, greeted you. His eyes softened when he saw you, a small, sad, but knowing smile touching his lips. It made something inside you twist. He had always been wise, and there was an understanding in his gaze that seemed to reach beyond words.

"Welcome back," He greeted you, his voice calm and warm. "We have been expecting you."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Expecting me?" You asked, your voice soft with a hint of curiosity. "How did you know I was coming?"

Elrond’s smile grew faint but not unkind. "I had a vision," He replied simply, his tone suggesting that it was not the first time such things had happened to him. His knowing gaze lingered for a moment longer before he gestured for you to follow him. "Come, I have a room prepared for your arrival."

As he led you through the halls of Rivendell, Elrond asked about your life so far to ease the obvious tension that weighed heavily in your chest. You told him about your time since the reclaiming of Erebor - how you had helped the dwarves rebuild, how the land was slowly healing, about Fíli... Elrond listened intently, his quiet presence somehow soothing despite the unease that clung to you. When you arrived at your chambers, the sight of the warm light spilling from the room’s entrance seemed inviting, almost comforting.

He opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, noticing immediately how the room was well-appointed, its beauty matched only by the peace it seemed to offer. The scent of lavender and soft herbs filled the air, and you realized that it was the same room that you stayed in all those many months ago.

"You must be exhausted," Elrond said as he glanced around. "I will have someone help you with your things. A warm bath has already been drawn for you. I imagine it will do wonders after such a long journey." You nodded gratefully, a small, appreciative smile tugging at your lips. You had not realized how much you needed rest until now, the weight of the past months settling in on your shoulders. "If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask," Elrond continued, his voice full of kindness. "Rivendell is very much your home as it is mine."

You turned to him, meeting his eyes with gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Elrond," You whispered, the first words of real relief escaping your lips. As he left the room, you sat down on the bed, letting the reality of being here, in Rivendell, wash over you. 

~~~

As the weeks flew by, you slipped into life in Rivendell surprisingly easily, though it wasn’t without its differences. Rivendell was not like Erebor. It lacked the warmth of the mountain’s hearth, the familiar scent of stone and iron that you had grown so accustomed to. The sound of the wind whistling through the halls of Erebor, the echoing calls of the dwarves working together in their forges, was a rhythm that had been with you for so long. And, despite the serenity of Rivendell, you would always miss that comforting closeness. The hustle and bustle, the sense of purpose that Erebor had given you... Here, it was peaceful, almost too quiet at times.

But, amidst the new routine, life had a way of continuing, whether you were ready for it or not. Slowly, your body began to change. Your stomach began to grow noticeable. It wasn’t drastic, but it was enough that even the maids who had tended to you since your arrival noticed. And you soon realized that Lord Elrond had known about the child, perhaps when you had first arrived.

He had been quietly supportive, and over the weeks, you found yourself with at least two maids - Imra and Anarzee - with you at all times, almost. They helped with dressing, ensuring your comfort, bringing you food when you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed, helping with your morning sickness, helping you with whatever random food craving you had, and bathing you when you felt too exhausted to do it yourself. It was, in a strange way, relaxing. You had been pampered more in the past handful of weeks than you ever had been before, but it was something you never truly allowed yourself to enjoy before.

Yet, in the quiet of the night, the peace that Rivendell offered often became too much for you to bear. You would find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of Fíli, of the life you had left behind. The joy of being with child should have been enough to quiet the storm inside you, but it wasn’t. It only intensified the ache in your chest, the emptiness of missing him, of missing your old life. And on those countless nights, tears would slip from your eyes, soft and silent, as you cried for the future that could never be.

Leaving Fíli had been the hardest thing you had ever done. Every step away from Erebor, every mile that put more distance between you and him, felt like your heart was being left behind. But despite the agony it caused you, you knew deep down that it was for the best - for him. He was going to marry someone else, someone his uncle had arranged for him. He was the heir to Erebor, and his duty had always been greater than anything personal.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of Fíli coming after you. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he would find you - that he would search for you, desperate to bring you back. But reality was cruel. Yes, it had been a stretch to think he might come after you when you hadn’t even told him where you were going. 

You brushed your fingers gently along your bump, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you felt a little kick. You didn’t blame your child. You couldn’t. This little one, growing within you, had already captured your heart in a way nothing else could. The bond you shared with them, the tiny life that would soon be part of you, filled you with love so deep it was almost overwhelming. You promised them that you would love them with everything you had, no matter what.

And soon, the day arrived.

It was a grueling and painful few hours, each contraction feeling like an eternity. You gripped Imra's hand tightly, the pressure in your chest and lower abdomen growing with every wave of pain. Sweat beaded on your brow, trickling down your face as you fought to keep your breathing steady, remembering everything the healers had told you in preparation. The herbs they had given you helped, but no amount of preparation could truly alleviate the sheer intensity of what you were going through.

Anarzee, ever calm and steady, stood at your other side, offering soft words of encouragement. She wiped your forehead with a cool cloth, her voice a quiet anchor in the storm of pain that raged through you. 

Lord Elrond’s healer, Caerthynna, was guiding the process with quiet professionalism, her steady hands assisting in ways that left you thankful for her expertise. Her words were soft, assuring you through every push. "You're doing well," She murmured, her voice like a balm to your nerves. "Two more pushes, just two more, and you’ll have your baby in your arms."

With your next push, the pain surged again, sharper this time. You could feel your body straining, your muscles aching as you did your best to breathe through the agony, your mind focusing solely on the task at hand. "Breathe, slowly, breathe," Imra coaxed, her face etched with both concern and admiration.

Then, with one final, overwhelming push, the pressure eased, and the room fell into a heavy silence. The sound of a baby’s cry pierced the air, a beautiful, life-affirming noise that brought tears to your eyes. Exhausted, drenched in sweat, you collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air as the weight of the moment settled around you.

"A beautiful girl." Imra spoke with a smile as Caerthynna cleaned your newborn in a soft cloth, before placing her gently in your arms as Anarzee grabbed a small blanket to place over your babe, over your arms. The world outside seemed to blur as you gazed down at your little one. Feeling her tiny hands pressed against your chest, and for a brief, precious moment, you forgot all the pain, all the heartache. All that mattered was the life you had brought into the world.

Tears, silent but flowing, gathered in your eyes as you whispered softly, your voice trembling. "You’re here." You brought your hand up to brush the little golden tufts of soft hair on her head, "My little Áine."

~~~

You held your precious Áine in your arms, the soft creak of the rocking chair blending with the gentle rhythm of your humming. The melody was one that had been passed down from your mother, a soothing lullaby that you had always found comfort in as a child. It seemed only right that you would now pass it on to your daughter. As you rocked slowly, you brushed her tiny, golden tufts of hair with your fingers, the softness almost too delicate to believe.

It had been a couple of weeks since Áine's arrival, and each day felt like a gift. Her presence was a quiet, constant joy in your days. Ever since she had come into the world, Lord Elrond had been kind, bringing gifts for her - a beautiful cradle carved with intricate designs, soft blankets that smelled faintly of herbs, vanilla, and lavender, clothing in gentle colors, and toys that would bring her delight as she grew. He had been a gracious host, and his kindness had not gone unnoticed. You didn't know how to repay him.

But as you sat in the quiet of the room, humming to your daughter, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of her resemblance to Fíli. The soft curve of her face, the delicate features, the tiny hands that were so much like his. And those eyes - those bright, sapphire-blue eyes - every time she blinked, you were reminded of him. 

"You're perfect, Áine," You whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath. Her tiny fingers curled around yours as she settled against you, her little body nestled against yours. The peacefulness of the moment filled you with a quiet sense of fulfillment. Your little Áine, whose quiet gurgles would be your new song, the melody that kept you grounded, no matter the storm of emotions that sometimes threatened to overwhelm you. With a soft sigh, you continued to hum, the soothing rhythm of the lullaby settling over both you and Áine as your exhaustion began to take hold. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, her tiny breaths, became your anchor. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered closed, and her little fingers loosened their grip on your hand. The peaceful silence filled the room, and you knew it was time.

Carefully, you shifted her into her cradle, laying her down on the soft blankets. Your heart tightened as you gazed at her, her sweet face peaceful in slumber. It was hard to leave her, but you knew that she was safe. Imra was there, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Imra smiled at you as you turned toward the door, a silent acknowledgment of your departure. “Go, my lady,” She said gently, “I will watch over her.”

You smiled back, a bittersweet expression crossing your face as you gave one last glance at your daughter. Then, with a soft breath, you stepped out of the room. It was hard, the thought of leaving Áine behind, but you needed a moment, just a moment to breathe, to clear your head. 

As you made your way through the halls of Rivendell, your fingers subconsciously pressed against your stomach, the same gesture you’d made countless times before. It was a habit, the comforting gesture that you had grown accustomed to. The fountain was in sight. It was a place you had frequented when you needed solitude. The sound of the water trickling into the basins was soothing. A soft smile crept onto your lips as memories of your time with the Company surfaced. The first time you had visited Rivendell, the dwarves had been so out of place, their grumbles about the food and the constant complaints about eating greens. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself. They had been so serious, so earnest in their disdain for the elven cuisine - and music - and yet there had been a charm in it, a warmth that had made those days unforgettable.

But now, the memories felt distant, almost like another lifetime. Things had changed, and you had changed. And yet, despite it all, the feeling of longing remained. You sighed softly, fiddling with your courtship bead Fíli had gifted to you so long ago. The past would always be a part of you, but the present was something you had to face, with or without Fíli. With or without the life you thought you'd have. And in that fleeting moment, at least, you could allow yourself to smile and remember the laughter, the joy of days gone by. Especially when they decided to swim in Lord Elrond's fountain; that memory always made you chuckle.

As you began to head back, the familiar, comforting space of Rivendell wrapped around you once more. The gentle curve of the hallway walls brushed against your fingertips as your other hand fidgeted with the soft purple silk of your dress, the fabric a soothing texture beneath your fingers. Perhaps, when you returned to your chambers, you would have enough time to have a nap yourself before Áine awoke. 

"Amrâlimê." You froze, hearing Fíli's voice, for a split moment, you thought that you were dreaming, hearing things.  

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering in your chest as you slowly turned around. And there he was.

Fíli stood at the end of the hallway, his golden hair slightly disheveled from travel, his bright blue eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, and exhaustion written in every line of his face, but none of that mattered. Not when his gaze was filled with something you hadn't seen in so long - relief, longing, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

Your lips parted, but no words came. You could only stare, frozen in place as emotions warred within you. 

Fíli took a hesitant step forward, "I have been searching for you."

Your lips trembled as you finally found your voice, barely more than a whisper. "Fíli..?" Your heart clenched, your fingers tightening in the silk of your dress. "What are you doing here?"

Fíli moved closer still, his expression unwavering, full of quiet determination. "I have come for you," He said firmly. "To bring you home." Your breath caught, but he continued before you could respond. "Ever since I found your letter, I have not stopped searching. I wrote to every nearby kingdom, inquiring if you had been seen - King Thranduil in Mirkwood, Bilbo in the Shire, and ever the Iron Hills." You swallowed hard, emotions surging within you as he took another step forward. "Then I sent one to Lord Elrond," Fíli continued, his voice softer now. "Weeks passed before I received a response. And when I did, I left Erebor without hesitation. I had to find you."

Your throat tightened as he drew closer, stopping just a few feet away. His presence was overwhelming, the warmth of him, the reality of him standing right there. You had spent months convincing yourself he would never come. That he had chosen another. And yet - here he was.

Your fingers twitched at your sides where they gripped at your dress, you desperate to reach out, to touch him, to reassure yourself that he was real. Your heart ached with the longing to close the space between you, to feel the warmth of his embrace once more.

"Fíli-"

"Why did you leave?" His voice was strained, a mixture of hurt and frustration woven through his words.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. The weight of your decision, the pain of that night, came rushing back with full force. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, the sorrow in them clear. "The night before I left Erebor," You began, "I overheard you and Thorin speaking. I heard Thorin arranging a marriage for you." You exhaled shakily, blinking against the sting of unshed tears. "I thought… It was best. For you. To leave. To give you a chance to be the heir you were meant to be, without me complicating things."

Fíli’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his features before something like realization settled in. His jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You believed leaving me was best?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the raw emotion in it was unmistakable. Fíli took another step closer, his expression torn between disbelief and heartbreak. "Would you not think that I would know what is best for myself?" His voice was stronger now, edged with frustration, yet still laced with that unmistakable tenderness he had always reserved for you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he didn’t let you. "I was going to handle it," He continued, "I was going to tell Uncle that I was already in courtship with another, that I loved you, and that there was nothing he - or anyone else - could do to change that." 

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. You had left, believing you were sparing him from a burden he hadn’t chosen. But here he was, telling you that you had always been his choice. Why had you been so stubborn? Why had you convinced yourself that leaving was the only option? That he wouldn't fight for you?

Your gaze dropped to the floor, shame creeping in as you muttered, “I… I thought I was doing what was right. I thought-” You swallowed hard, hands trembling at your sides. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the way.”

Fíli let out a sharp breath, his frustration evident, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he reached for you, his fingers brushing over your hand before he caught it completely, holding you firm. “Easier?” He repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Amrâlimê, losing you nearly destroyed me.” His fingers tangled with yours as he looked up at you, so vulnerable, "Come home," He pleaded to you.

You parted your lips to speak, to say something - anything - but before you could, a soft cry pierced the air.

Áine.

Your eyes widened, and you instantly pulled away from Fíli's grasp, moving swiftly toward your chambers. Behind you, Fíli hesitated only a moment before following.

Stepping inside, you found Imra gently bouncing Áine in her arms, her expression apologetic as she looked up at you. “Apologies, my Lady. She has become restless but she does not seem to be hungry.”

Fíli’s breath caught as he took in the scene before him, his brow furrowing in confusion. But you barely noticed as you reached for your daughter, gathering her into your arms with practiced ease. The moment Áine was in your embrace, she quieted, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, her cheek pressed against your chest. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, your heart full. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, you looked up - meeting Fíli’s stunned, wide-eyed gaze.

Imra, ever perceptive, cast you a quick glance before swiftly exiting the room, shutting the doors behind her, leaving you and Fíli alone. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words, with emotions too tangled to unravel in mere moments.

Fíli swallowed hard, wetting his lips as he struggled to find his voice. “You-” He started, then faltered. He exhaled sharply, his voice quieter when he tried again, hesitant, unsure. “You have moved on?”

Your heart clenched at the thought, at the hurt in his voice. You shook your head immediately, frantic to reassure him. “No, Fi. No.” You breathed out, “I have not moved on. I have not loved another.” You hesitated, words catching in your throat as you glanced down at the baby nestled against your chest. “Just-” You paused, sighing softly as Áine’s tiny blue eyes blinked up at you, her lips parting in a small gurgle of contentment. Fíli was silent, unmoving, as if afraid to breathe. You shifted, moving to the rocking chair by the window, settling in carefully with your daughter in your arms. Rocking gently, you finally looked back up at him, your voice softer this time. “Come see her.”

Fíli hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he came to stand beside you, peering down at the tiny bundle cradled in your arms. She was wrapped snugly in fine satin, deep purple and soft blue, fabrics gifted by Lord Elrond himself. But it wasn’t the elegant cloth that caught Fíli’s attention - it was her. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the window, wisps of it glowing like spun gold. And her eyes - bright, strikingly blue - mirrored his own, sparkling with curiosity as she let out another soft gurgle. And then, realization struck him like a hammer to the chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Is she mine?”

You smiled wistfully, your gaze dropping to Áine as you gently stroked her soft cheek. Was it fear that kept you from looking at him? Or was it the overwhelming urge to burst into happy tears now that he was here - that he had found you, that he had found her?

Your throat felt tight as you nodded, doing the best you could to steady your voice. “Her name is Áine.”

Fíli let out a shaky breath, “That night, in the clearing…” He murmured, almost as if he was still trying to grasp the reality before him.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes… That night.” A silence stretched between you before you found the strength to continue. “I found out I was with child the night I overheard Thorin,” You admitted, your fingers absentmindedly running over Áine’s tiny hand. “And I left… Thinking it would be easier for you. I thought if I were gone, you could be the heir without this - without me - being a burden to you.” You swallowed hard, guilt pressing down on you like a weight. “But now I know… Leaving was a mistake.” Your voice cracked as you met his gaze, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “These past months without you have been unbearable. But having her… Having Áine, it felt as if I could breathe again.” Fíli’s expression was unreadable - his blue eyes glistening with emotions too vast to name. A choked sob left you as you shook your head, voice thick with regret. “I am so sorry, Fíli. I did not think my poor decisions would lead us here. I thought I was sparing you, but all I did was hurt us both. I hurt her...”

Fíli gently grasped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “No, amrâlimê,” His knuckles brushed against your cheek, a featherlight touch before he wiped away your tear with a calloused thumb. “I understand,” He said softly. “I do not blame you for leaving out of fear.” He let out a shaky breath, his thumb lingering against your skin as if reassuring himself that you were real. “I only wish you had told me. That you had trusted me enough to face this together.” His voice wavered slightly, but he held steady. “But the past is in the past. We are together again. We should not worry about the past any longer." Fíli exhaled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I will write to Uncle, tell him I have arrived in Rivendell and that you, Áine, and I will return home.” His voice was steady, but there was something unshakably determined in his tone - a promise, a vow.

Your breath hitched, a teary, joyous smile breaking across your lips as you nodded. "Alright." Your voice was but a mutter. 

“I have already spoken to Lord Elrond when I arrived." He continued, "I had been confused as to why he mentioned sending a carriage and a few of his finest warriors for whenever we decided it best to leave, but I understand now.” His eyes dropped to Áine, his expression softening, and slowly, he reached out. The tip of his fingers brushed along her chubby cheek, and Áine responded instantly, letting out a mix of a giggle and a gurgle, as if she knew. Tiny fingers reached out, grasping his much larger one, holding on tight. Fíli sucked in a breath, his lips parting slightly as wonder flickered across his face. “She’s strong,” He whispered, “Just like her mother.” Fíli’s gentle smile shifted into something more playful, mischief dancing in his bright blue eyes. “And clearly, she has my good looks."

A laugh bubbled past your lips, the weight in your chest easing for the first time in months. “Oh, is that so?” You mused, reaching up to tug playfully on one of his mustache braids.

His grin widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you guide him closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Absolutely,” He murmured.

“Come here,” You whispered, and Fíli didn't hesitate.

He leaned in, closing the distance, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss - one that spoke of everything left unspoken. Of love lost and found again. Of home.

~~~

Or: Eleven years after the second Quarter Quell, Haymitch Abernathy’s life takes a sudden turn for the unexpected when your name is drawn in the Reaping. 

After weathering through a less than ideal start, you slowly start to realize that there’s more to Haymitch than just the drunk, cynical recluse you’ve always known him to be. And though he’d never wanted it to happen, Haymitch starts to feel the walls he’d built to keep everyone away crumbling whenever he’s around you as well. 

But the Capitol, and especially President Snow is always watching, and soon enough Haymitch finds himself faced with an impossible choice …

contents & t.w.: mentions of canon-typical violence; angst!!, arranged marriage; slow-burn with a sprinkle of enemies to lovers; age gap! (Haymitch is in his late twenties, Reader is 18 at the start of the story); mentions & discussions of alcoholism; mentions of trauma; eventual smut in later parts; lots and lots of pining and mutual notions of unrequited love; spoilers for SotR (we’ll be encountering many familiar faces throughout the story - also there will be some canon-divergence concerning Haymitch’s arc post-SotR)

AN: After finishing SotR, I just wanted to give Haymitch a big hug. And that’s kind of how this incredibly self-indulgent fic came to be. 

I will try to do my best to honor his love for Lenore Dove in a way that doesn’t disregard his growing feelings for Reader. Yes, she’s is an incredibly important part of him and he’ll always love her, but he also deserves some happiness.

Also James Gaisford will forever be my og young Haymitch, so I used a pic of him for the moodboard, even though the Haymitch we’ll encounter here is over a decade older than QQ Haymitch.

key: 🦋 fluff || 🪷 angst || 💫 smut

Prologue 🪷🪷 || After being reaped for the 61st Hunger Games, you and your mentor Haymitch Abernathy are off to a very rocky start … (coming soon!)

Chapter 1 🪷🦋 || In the aftermath of surviving the 61st Hunger Games you find comfort in the person you’d least expected it from - Haymitch Abernathy. 

But it wasn’t the lack of light or warmth that kept sleep at bay. Nor was it the persisting feeling of danger whenever a wild animal howled or when leaves rustled and took to flight. You had even grown accustomed to wind constantly biting your face or rain peppering down on you and soaking your clothes. None of that bothered you.

It had settled in three nights ago and by the looks of it – it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The realization hadn’t been easy on the company, much less on your king and lover who felt it rested on his shoulders to provide for his loyal followers and kin. Hunger appeared to be just another thing on the long list of troubles that Thorin Oakenshield was meant to bear on his quest to reclaim his home and crown.

“Are you cold, my love?” Thorin’s voice was laden with worry, his arms moving to pull you closer to him. His warmth soon wrapping around you like a delicate shawl.

“I’m alright,” you reassured him and moved to nuzzle his features, his beard tickling your skin.

“I hate myself for subjecting you to this endless misery,” he growled in anger after your stomach had rumbled loud enough for the entire valley to hear.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, my love,” you whispered.

You moved to plant a gentle kiss on his brooding forehead, and another on his always aching temple. A tender kiss on the corner of his mouth that lifted slightly in response to your affection. A shared breath before his lips took yours and held them in his own desperate need for solace.

“If body and soul were enough, neither of us would ever starve,” Thorin murmured against the softness of your lips before reclaiming them in another effort to draw away your growing hunger.

“By my honor, after this is done – you shall want for naught,” he said with uttermost determination after your kiss broke. “Every night, Erebor shall feast, and none will know and suffer the cruelty of hunger and thirst. Fires will roar from dusk till dawn to keep you warm and lighthearted,” Thorin vowed before you and the moon and stars.

His promise – however unnecessary – made your heart swell, the feeling of it warming and nurturing your entire being. His devotion to you was what any maiden could ever dream of. His love and generosity knew no bounds when it came to you, or his people. He would sell the skin off his back if it meant ensuring the safety and wellbeing of those he cared about.

“I don’t need all of that, Thorin. As long as I have you, I’ll have more than I could possibly want,” your voice trembled as tears filled your eyes, your heart barely able to contain the love and admiration that you held for your lover and your King.

“I know that, my love, but you shall have it nonetheless,” Thorin said.

“You’ll spoil me rotten,” you pointed out in a playful manner.

“As is my right,” he reminded you and kissed your forehead.

As Thorin continued to list all the things that he would do for you, the hunger you felt gradually became distant and insignificant in the light of his promises and the future he had planned out for you.

Thorin rose to his feet, slowly, as though a dreadful weight burdened his stooped shoulders. Still, he towered over you, his regal demeanor undeniable despite his obvious attempts to dress in simple garb, with no raiment upon him other than the ancestral crown on his head. 

“A caravan is on its way here,” he said. “Two dozen wagons loaded with enough food and supplies for a year. Enough for this whole village and its neighbors. It should arrive in a few days. The cargoes are heavy and the roads are troublesome. I decided to ride ahead with my guard because…” He faltered, but took a breath and pressed on. “...because I could not wait to see you.”

Oh no. You backed up a step, subconsciously resisting the allure of his presence, the implication of his words. Before you could turn away, he spoke again, “Perhaps we might move this conversation outside. There is still light out; we can take a short walk.”

Perhaps it would be easier to breathe and keep a clear head outdoors with all the fresh air. As you exited the cottage, you felt Thorin’s hand cup lightly around your elbow, in a courteous gesture to help you down the steps. You jerked your arm away, irritated by the silly nicety reserved for soft, high-society ladies who likely kept his company now.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted several armored soldiers by the sheep pen, tending to their ponies. You marched on in the direction of the little brook that bordered your property, determinedly and defiantly, leaving Thorin to hasten his steps to keep up.

“If I may say so, you look well--” 

You stopped and spun around without warning. "Why are you here, Thorin?” You grimaced and corrected yourself. “Pardon me. Why are you here, your Majesty?”

“Thorin,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You need not be so formal with me, not after so many years of friendship between us.”

Friendship. That word could not have burned you worse than a glowing hot iron straight out of the furnace. And suddenly it was thirty-five years ago, when you stood before each other in similar surroundings all the way in the shadows of the Blue Mountains, and Thorin told you with utmost conviction, that he could not accept your marriage proposal. 

And you exploded. All the grief and pain and anger that you had shored up behind a wall inside your heart flowed like fiery lava on the slopes of an awakened volcano. 

“Are you trying to hurt me?!” you cried. “Is that why you have come? Now that you have accomplished your great destiny to regain your throne, you thought it might amuse you to return to your former haunts and toy with the commoners you used to dwell amongst? Are you already so weary and bored of counting all the gold in the great Kingdom Under the Mountain?”

Thorin squared his shoulders and set his jaw against the accusations, incorrigibly stubborn as you had always known him to be. “I came to help. Both you and your kin.” He gestured at the house behind them, and the others beyond. “This land was also my home once.”

“It has not been your home for a very long time, Thorin.” You wrapped your arms across your chest, whether to shield yourself from the winter chill or from the dwarf who had shattered you irreparably, you weren’t certain. “Allow me to refresh the King’s memory since it has been so long: you abandoned it for the Blue Mountains. I was there. I left my own family and moved across Eriador to follow yours. But a humble life at the Lune would not satisfy you either, and you refused to settle and put down roots.”

At least not with me. You swiped at the corners of your eyes, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop their descent. "You should not have come back here. We will manage well enough without Erebor's charity."

The old Thorin might have exchanged your rejection with biting words of his own; such was the pride that ran through the Durins' veins. But the face of the dwarf-lord before you softened as he continued.

"I came for you. To tell you I have not forgotten everything we shared together." The tone of his voice had changed; it cracked with desperation, pleading with you to accept his declarations. And then he uttered your name, and hearing it on his lips roused an ache inside you that was too much to bear. 

You started walking again, stomping over the thick snow, following the line of naked trees along the frozen brook. He kept up with you in determined strides, raising his voice to a near shout as his passion grew.

"I have thought of you every day since we parted. Every memory I had of you, I kept close, even though it burned me as often as it kept me warm, because I refused to surrender hope that this day would come for us."

You shook your head wildly and pressed your hands over your ears, as though these gestures would be enough to make him stop. 

“Amrâlimê, please...”

"Do. NOT. Call me that!"

You whirled around and punched him, slamming your fist into his chest, stopped by a wall of thick leather and muscle. While you considered yourself strong for your race, your strength fell short against a Durin. Thorin did not budge an inch, or even wince. Perhaps your predictable temper was the part of you least easily forgotten. So you hit him again. And again. Until you were pounding both fists repeatedly against his torso, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you thought you could get him to feel just a small fraction of the agony he had put you through for over thirty years. Still Thorin refused to move or throw up any kind of self-defense. 

How dare he! How dare he address you as such, in the tender manner that haunted you for decades even after you left the Blue Mountains to escape the unbearable sight of him. The precious endearment he would whisper into your ear on occasions of stolen intimacy, sigh into your hair in moments of peaceful contentment, moan against your skin whenever he made love to you.

Through your rage, you sensed the guards approaching to rescue their lord, and instinct prepared you to turn around and fight back like a cornered animal. But Thorin raised his hand at them in a signal to halt, and he finally reached out to catch your flailing wrists, easily ending your assault.

"I love you. As Mahal is my witness, my heart has ever belonged to you alone." He encased your hands tightly within his and held them against his chest, tugging you to him. "And you love me still, I can see it, however wretchedly undeserving I am."

You could not even think of struggling. It was too late. He was too close now, close enough for you to feel how real he was--his piercing eyes, his strong, calloused hands, the scent of smoke and steel that clung to the very hairs of his warm skin. These were not just a fantasy conjured by delirious longing, or a dream from the nights you cried in your sleep. Thorin was here. Alive and well, and here. 

“I am truly sorry for all the pain I have caused you. Forgive me, Amrâlimê,” he murmured hoarsely, tracing the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, sweeping down the softness of your jaw. “If I can have nothing else from you, I beg you to grant me that last kindness.”

That single moment of exposed vulnerability, of breathtaking sorrow and regret that radiated from him, reached you more than any of his expressions of passion. How much have the years changed him? The Thorin you knew could never bear to admit he was wrong about anything. Was it possible that rising to his kingship finally taught him humility? 

“You have my forgiveness.” As you spoke this pardon, the remaining flames of your anger blew out to nothingness.

And Thorin smiled, his sweet, gentle smile, rare as the most precious gem but many times as beautiful. Your own smile felt like it would break your cheeks. He pulled you into his embrace and you sobbed into his neck, wondering if it was possible to die of happiness. 

Drawing back, Thorin cradled your face between his hands, smoothing your tear-streaked cheeks, and rested his forehead on yours. “May I…?” Your breaths mingled in the soft whisper, and his eager lips already brushed yours even as he waited for permission.

"I may only ever kiss My One, whom they call Oakenshield," you said softly. "Where can I find him under the fine trappings of this great King?"

In response, Thorin gripped the heavy golden crown on his head and lifted it off. It slipped carelessly from his fingers and fell to the snow-covered ground with a dull thud. 

"Let me show you," he said, and waited no more. He kissed you with the hunger of years of longing, deeply and greedily, pausing only when you whimpered for breath you could not catch. He backed you up underneath a tree, which you leaned against to aid your weakening balance as Thorin pressed on, his mouth leaving your swollen lips only to descend your neck, worshiping every inch of skin he could access.

"Durin help me," he growled into the curve of your shoulder, exposed where he had nearly torn your sleeve off. His chest still heaved from exertion and barely restrained lust. "I must have you again." He raised his eyes to meet yours, and the look in them made you swallow hard, conscious of your own depraved desire for him. "But it should be in the proper way you deserve."

"You are the only one I would ever have," you said, combing your fingers through a section of his thick black hair, now beautifully mixed with silver stands. 

He took your hand to his lips, kissing your palm repeatedly before saying, "So would you return to Erebor with me?"

Your hesitation made him wrap both arms tightly around you, his entire body tense with the lingering fear of being separated from you again.

"You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you."

"Do what?" you asked, caressing his beard to calm the anxiety you regretted causing him. "What task is it that the great hero of Erebor needs a humble peasant's help in accomplishing?"

"The task of living." Thorin cupped his hand underneath your chin and gazed at you with soft, earnest affection. "A life with you was the only treasure I ever desired, but duty forced me to deprive myself of it. But no longer. I have avenged my family and restored our honor and our house. I have led our people back home. The time has come for me to pursue my own joys and pleasures, and those exist only in you."

"But my lord. My love," you whispered, once again moved to tears by the gladness his words roused in you. "Am I still a suitable match for you now that you require a consort to rule a kingdom by your side? I am not fit for the legendary grandeur of Erebor." You gestured at your attire, from your unadorned hair, your plain brown wool dress with a patched up skirt and worn, dirt-caked boots. "Just look at me."

"Indeed. I look at you with great pleasure," Thorin said, with a smirk that immediately made you blush. "When I look at you, I see my dreams fulfilled. I cannot imagine providing Erebor with a braver, kinder, wiser, or more radiant Queen."

"If you would still have me, that is." He held out his open palm to you, revealing an item he produced from the folds of his robe. Fading sunlight bounced off the high polish of the small, silvery-grey stone. You gasped when you recognized the betrothal bead you had offered him so many years ago. He must have rescued it after you had flung it away in your heartbroken grief, and kept it safe with him all this time. 

"I fought through dragonfire and armies of orcs so I may live to see this day, so I may get a second chance to accept and wear this." Hope and fear battled in his intense stare, which bore down on you with heavy anticipation. "But now the course of my fate rests entirely upon you. Will you have me?"

He held his breath in the brief silence before you closed his fist around the bead and smiled. "I will have you for the rest of my life and whatever else lies beyond, Thorin Oakenshield." You placed a tender kiss on his knuckles. "So let us go home and see to this task of living… my King."

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