people make a lot of touch-starved gay jokes about Lush but the truth is it’s not a gay experience, it’s a human experience. no one is safe, no one is immune.
you walk in there for the first time thinkin’ I’m gonna buy some hand soap today and then some dude who smells like something impossible, like he’s being described by a YA author, he smells like lavender, leather, and the steam coming from hot pavement after a short summer rain,
That guy. He comes up to you and he asks if he can help you sample something. He leads you to a small, metal basin of water. It’s so pastoral, it’s so quaint. You can imagine it sitting beside your bed with a porcelain pitcher in your farm cottage for you to use to wash your face in the morning.
He rolls up your sleeve a bit, and you awkwardly apologize for not doing it yourself, and he says it’s fine.
Sir LeatherRain gently rinses your hand in the warm water, and then he dries it off attentively. Then he massages some of the product into your palm. It’s the cinnamon bean massage bar. He says “don’t you love how it feels warm as you rub it in?”
He’s making more direct eye contact with you than you’ve ever made in your entire life.
As he finishes, a woman who smells like coffee beans and pink-skied winter sunrises approaches and says “oh I LOVE that product.”
You know it’s about the sell. It’s transactional, but you’re in love. You can’t help it.
You’re also More uncomfortable than you’ve ever been in your entire life.
As you walk away to the register, you clench your hand and unclench it like Mr. Darcy when he touches Elizabeth Bennet’s hand to help her out of a coach.
Lush has some bizarro magic going on i once wore a hat i’d knitted into a lush shop and one of the staff members casually complimented it and i went home and i got half way through knitting them one to take into the shop as a gift before i realised how fucking whacked out a thing that would be to do like i was ensorcelled there was spell work upon me
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Misadora lay peacefully on a white marble catafalque in the middle of the great hall. She was dressed in a long, white lace dress that draped over her feet and overflowed into the floor. Her pale hands were clasped over her stomach, her fingers adorned with many of her favorite jewels and the sigil of the house of Durin held the lace collar at her neck close, concealing the gash. The morning light that streamed through the large stained glass window above the altar lit up her cascades of golden ringlets that surrounded her in a halo. Her thick, dark lashes rested on her cold cheeks and her full lips, for once, weren’t twisted into a scowl.
You breathed as quietly as you could. The smell of burning incense wafted towards you beckoning your eyes to a couple of priests walking around the room swinging gold censers, purifying the room for prayer and ritual. From across the room you saw Irida and another handmaiden arranging flowers at the altar. You had managed to calm her down and convince her to continue tending to her duties lest she should rouse suspicion. It was evident by her tightly set jaw that it took everything she had to keep her nerve. You had promised to help her but in truth you hadn’t the slightest idea how you could when your own innocence was in question.
Your gaze wandered to Thorin who stood on the other side of the catafalque. He was dressed in black, hands clasped behind him and his expression unreadable. You couldn’t even see a shadow of remorse. None of this was your fault, but you still felt nauseous. You didn’t want to be present for the burial and have the accusing eyes of the people of Erebor on you during the Queen’s funeral. Taking a deep breath you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts but was startled into holding your tongue as the main doors swung open in haste.
Shrill whispers and a struggle was heard before you saw a dwarrowdam in black fight off a stocky dwarf who tried to restrain her. Her teary, harrowed eyes fell on Misadora and a stricken wail echoed against the stone walls of the vast hall. Her knees buckled under her and the dwarf steadied her before she ran across the room to throw herself on Misadora and weep bitterly. Up close you could see they shared the same shade of blonde hair, except the older dwarrowdam had streaks of grey in her’s. You didn’t have a lot of time to get a good look at her face but from this display of affection, you could only guess that this broken dwarrowdam was Misadora’s mother.
The dwarf, who you assumed to be her father walked up behind her slowly. He didn’t acknowledge Thorin. You were surprised to see them here, after their betrayal and their plot to take Moria...after Thorin had slain their son, Dorvari in combat. Thorin must have pardoned them to come here.
The plump dwarrowdam’s body shook under the force of her sobs. Your heart wretched in sympathy for the loss this mother felt for you knew that there was no consolation. The grief of losing your child is unimaginable, so you couldn’t say that you were surprised by what followed next.
“Y-you!”, the dwarrowdam uttered between sobs as she tore herself away from Misadora’s corpse and spun around on her heels and struck Thorin square on the cheek. He didn’t flinch neither did he protest. Her husband moved to put his hands on her shoulders which she shrugged off and continued to stare daggers at Thorin.
“Taking one of my children wasn’t enough for you?!”, she yelled vehemently, “You have taken everything from me!”, she grabbed Thorin’s tunic in her fists as her husband tried his best to yank her off him, “Just take my life too! I have nothing left!”.
“You and your harlot! You will both rot in hell for this!”, she cursed in a frenzy, “Mahal shall show you no mercy! He will spite you and yours!”, she struggles against the restraining hands of her husband as tears spilled from her pained eyes.
You swallowed hard.
Misadora’s father shouted some orders in Khuzdul amidst the chaos and a few handmaidens rushed in to escort her out. Using the last of her strength she lifted her head to look up at Thorin, “You will wish you had killed me when you had the chance”, she looked at you, “As long as I live, I will see to it that you will never know happiness. Just like my daughter”. The guards at the door stood to attention, ready to take the offending party to the dungeons. Thorin raised his hand and ordered them to stand down. A threat to the king is not taken lightly, but Thorin was willing to let this go for his conscience wouldn’t let him do otherwise.
“Look at her!”, she yelled at you, “Look what you’ve done! Are you happy now?!”.
“Take her outside”, her husband ordered before turning to Thorin.
The doors shut behind the handmaidens and silence was once again restored to the hall.
“My King”, he bowed with hesitance, “Forgive my wife. She is distraught”.
“I understand”, came Thorin’s somber reply.
“You couldn’t possibly”, said the dwarf glancing over at his daughter.
Thorin didn’t reply.
“I wish to take her back home”, the dwarf said after a pause, “I wish to bury her with her kin”.
Thorin directed his gaze at the older dwarf and without hesitation he responded, “I cannot allow it. You are aware of our customs”.
“Yes”, he sighed. Following another brief pause, he came to terms with it and spoke, “As His Majesty wishes”. He took his leave and made for the door.
You released your breath as the door closed after him. You felt light headed and sicker than you felt before.
Thorin’s attention shifted to you as if he was expecting you to throw a tantrum at him too.
“I would like to remain in my chambers today”, you said softly.
“You don’t need to hide. If you don’t wish to attend the funeral, you may go wherever you please”.
Except home.
“But it would be in your best interest to make an appearance”, he said gently.
All of a sudden the air felt thin and you needed to get out.
The last push took everything you had causing your body to go limp with exhaustion.
Your body screamed in agony. But you felt numb at the same time; you didn’t feel the blood between your legs or the cold sweat on your brow that drenched your hair and thin shift. Taking deep breaths, you tried to gather enough strength to lift your head off the pillow and make out the figures in the candlelit room. You could barely hear the faint cries of your baby.
“W-where’s my baby?”, you cried out, partly in pain and partly in fear.
“Shh, my love”, you felt the bed dip near your head and a kiss being placed on your forehead while strong hands supported your back, “you need to rest”.
“My congratulations, it’s a girl!”, the midwife grinned as she handed you a tiny wrapped bundle, “A blessing from The Maker”.
Gently, you nestled her into the crook of your arm and gazed at her red face. She was crying in protest, clenching her tiny fists in the air. Soft, fine dark hair stuck out in all directions tempting you to smooth them down.
You were overwhelmed. You felt afraid, happy, sad and excited.
“Hello, darling”, you whispered as she settled down and groggily blinked at you.
Her eyes took your breath away. They were an instant reminder of Thorin’s same sky blue orbs. She innocently blinked at you, completely unaware of the lives that have been turned upside down in order for her to be born. Tears brimmed in your eyes. How you wished for her father to be here.
“She’s perfect”. Another kiss fell on your hair, arms pulled you and your baby in a tighter embrace.
“Yes, she is”, you smiled, “I won’t let anything happen to you, my little one”.
“Neither will I”, said Bo. You glanced up at his shining grey eyes, his soft hopeful smile. He was in love with her already: “you have my word, ‘ibine (my gem)”, he vowed.
“Marcelle!”, you gasped as you saw your daughter tumble head first into the fountain.
You had been talking with Irida and the other handmaidens after the funeral rituals. Surprisingly, you had managed to escape the eye of most people by staying close to the shadows and holding your tongue. Misadora had been buried in the royal crypts in the mountain; a grievous event for her family but managed to only elicit respectful silence from others. It went without saying that the Queen won’t be missed by most in Erebor for she had not touched the hearts of her people.
You had remained with Irida in the hall while the crowd began to dissipate. A few noble men and women stayed to engage in matters of politics which never ceased even at an occasion such as this. You had turned your back on Marcelle for but a second, only because she was in the company of Nain. You had been certain that her curiosity for the marble fountain would pose no threat.
Neither you nor the prince had a chance to react before Thorin scooped her up in one fluid motion. He gently held her in his arms, inspecting her for any visible signs of damage. Water pooled at his feet from her drenched dress and hair, his royal tunic was clearly ruined but all of his attention and care was for Marcelle.
In a flash you were pulling her into your arms.
“I-I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know she would fall”, Nain hurried to his father while fumbling for words.
“It’s not your fault prince Nain”, you said feeling your pulse return to normal, “She’s alright. Just startled me is all”, you said placing Marcelle on her feet. She stood very still, hiding her face behind her sopping wet locks.
“Marcelle”, you began pensively.
“I know”, she said quietly, “I’m sorry”.
You sighed, there was no use trying to reign in her spirit. “Are you hurt, love?”.
“No”, she looked up at you with apologetic eyes.
“You should still take her to the healers’ wing”, Thorin said stepping closer.
“I have to change her out of these clothes”, you said dismissively, you were quite able to tend to your child.
“Come, Marcelle”, you took her hand and bowed your head at Thorin.
“If you’re feeling better later, I would like it if you will bring your mother to dinner”, Thorin smiled at Marcelle.
She flashed him a toothy grin and nodded.
You put down the hair brush and admired your handiwork. Your hair was neatly braided back in tiny fishtails around your temples to join a loosely done braid that reached your thighs. You had managed to find the simplest dress you could in the armoire; a soft cream dress with lace sleeves and gold trimmings. You thought you looked ridiculously overdressed for dinner but everyone in the palace was overdressed for everything.
“Marcy?”, you walked into the bedroom and found her curled up on the duvet, her braids askew, her silk dress all wrinkled and fast asleep. You had given her a warm bath and a tincture to stave off any cold she might get from her dunk in the fountain. The excitement of the day must have finally exhausted her. You quietly changed her clothes again, unbraided her hair and tucked her in snugly.
“Your Majesty’s presence is needed in the dungeons”.
Thorin looked at the guard who had strode into the dining room and interrupted his conversation with Nain.
“Can this wait till later?”, the King asked a little vexed.
“I’m afraid not your Majesty”. He dismissed the guard with a nod and rose to his feet.
“Pass on my apologies to Lady Y/n and Marcelle for my absence”, he told Nain as he made his exit.
Soon he was standing before Ozzul who was furiously flipping through records and scraps of paper. This particular holding block was dimly lit with a few burning sconces on the worn, stone walls, all the cells appeared to be empty except for one. Dwalin stood in front of the cell with this hands folded over his chest, when he saw Thorin he acknowledged his presence with a nod.
“Ozzul”, Thorin called out, bringing the dwarf back down to earth.
He bowed low, “Your Majesty”.
“What is this all about then?”.
“Ah, I do believe you would like to know that we caught a particularly interesting criminal”, he gestured towards the dark cell with its single occupant.
Thorin neared it without much curiosity but found himself with many questions after the first glimpse of this dwarf’s face. He was hunched over on the floor, his blond hair was disheveled and his clothes torn. He tilted his head just enough for some light to hit his angry grey eyes and reveal a bloodied nose.
Thorin seethed in anger.
“What are you doing in Erebor?”, he asked through clenched teeth.
Bo didn’t have time to answer when Ozzul interjected, “The guards picked him up. Found him wandering the markets looking for Lady Y/n”.
A million thoughts flooded Thorin’s mind and all of those thoughts ended with the urge to bash Bo’s skull against the walls.
“Let him go”, Thorin said firmly.
“Thorin, he needs to be punished for disbanding his duties and betraying the crown”, Dwalin countered in disbelief.
“His presence here isn’t a coincidence. Just like Lady Y/n’s isn’t. I need to question him further, I only thought that His Majesty would like to know that his former captain of the guard has been found. I’m sure His Majesty understands how this might shed light on the matter of the Queen’s death”, Ozzul finished.
“If the lad’s story about the inheritance is true”, Dwalin said scratching his beard, “Y/n was not here to kill the Queen”.
“Of course not”, Thorin shot, “I told you that before. Leave her be”.
“Then why keep her?”, Ozzul asked looking up from his papers.
“That is not your concern”, Thorin bit out, eyes still fixed on Bo.
Dwalin gestured Ozzul and Thorin closer and in a lowered voice he stated:
“Thorin, we need to know what happened and these two appearing on the day of Misadora’s assassination stinks to high heaven”, Dwalin held up his hand to stop Thorin from interrupting, “Supposing they had nothing to do with it, you know how this looks. It looks bad for you. The King in the middle of a conspiracy to dethrone the Queen and replace her with his secret lover. You’ll lose the clans for good”.
Ozzul nodded, “My only wish is to preserve your reign. My King. The way I see it, understanding the plot will help us protect your name. Letting Bo out will not do you any favors, especially when people start to realize he has returned”.
“Besides, something must be done about his desertion. It is the way”, Dwalin said gruffly.
“I do not want him here”, Thorin growled.
Ozzul and Dwalin moved to protest but Bo beat them to it, “Does my presence threaten you?”.
“Hold your tongue boy!”, Dwalin banged his fist against the cell.
“You should be”, Bo continued unfazed.
“Leave us”, Thorin commanded. Ozzul hurried out but Dwalin hesitated before complying,
“Why should I be?”
“Because you are a coward. You lock Y/n in a room, keep her here against her will because you’re too scared to face rejection”, Bo said with a slight smirk as he leaned his head against the wall.
“I suppose not all of us can be brave as you; not all of us are treasonous rats”, Thorin sneered, “Is that why you came back? To steal her away from me again? Look where that got you”.
“I would do it again for her”, Bo breathed, wincing in pain from his broken ribs.
Thorin took a few steps closer, “Do you love her?”.
Bo chuckled lightly, “From the second I laid my eyes on her”.
“So have I”, Thorin retorted.
“No”, with much effort, Bo climbed to his feet and grabbed hold of the cell’s bars to support himself, “You used your status to influence her. You were bored. You toyed with her”.
Thorin glared hot daggers at his dwarf who so boldly accused him, “You must think so little of Y/n to assume that she could be so easily manipulated”.
Bo laughed, “You must think so little of her to assume that she would want you after everything you put her through”.
“I had nothing to do with it!”, Thorin yelled grabbing hold of the bars so hard that his knuckles turned white, “YOU took her from me! IT WAS YOU!”.
“She came to me”, Bo said flatly. Thorin fell silent.
“She begged me to take her away from here. She begged me to take her away from you. In this palace, you condemned her to a life of sin. Out there, you condemned her to life of alienation. But we were finally happy. We had our corner in the world..her..our child-”
“Do NOT say that! She is not your child!”, Thorin spat out in unbridled fury.
“I was there when she was born. I was there when she cut her first tooth, it was I who held her in my arms when she cried after a bad dream. It is I who she calls Adad”.
Thorin’s hands were lightning fast as they reached through the bars of the cell and grabbed the collar of Bo’s tunic. With all the strength Thorin could muster, he slammed Bo’s face against the bars, splitting his lip open and causing another stream of blood to pour out his broken nose. “I will have you hanged!”, Thorin bit out through barred teeth.
“Do it”, Bo grunted, “Surly then, Y/n will welcome you into her bed”.
“You took my life from me”, Thorin said, hate dripping in every syllable.
“And you took mine, hers and Marcelle’s”.
Thorin uncurled his fingers from around Bo’s throat and stepped back.
“Let us go”, Bo said staggering on his feet, “She can’t have a life here, neither can Marcelle. Sooner or later the death of the Queen will be pinned on her and the people will call for her head. How will you protect her then without dooming your kingdom?”.
“That is none of your concern, bastard!”, Thorin shot back. He was aware that unrest in his kingdom would question his rule and in turn he would lose allies.
“You are not worthy to walk the same ground as her”, Bo said wrinkling his nose in disgust, “I can smell it on you. Don’t even think about going near my Marcelle when your brain is addled with opium”.
Thorin was shaking, he couldn’t stand to be around him anymore but he was right. If you found out that he had killed Bo, you would never forgive him and the fire that the Queen’s death has started does not need more fuel.
“Guards!”, Thorin roared.
Three guards marched into the room, single file.
“No food for the prisoner. Help Ozzul force any information out of, by any means necessary”. He knew Bo had nothing to do with the murder, but he wanted him to suffer somehow.
Thorin stormed out of the holding block. He needed to do something about his pent up rage but he didn’t know what. He hated that Bo had slipped under his skin and feared that he would lose you again. Whether he was free or in a cell, as long as Bo was here, he was a threat.
He needed some time alone.
You had been thankful for the quiet evening you had spent in your chambers and had been glad when Thorin didn’t send anyone after you when you didn’t show to dinner. You had curled up with a book and a few slices of peach and lost yourself in a thrilling tale of heroes. You had hoped that sitting here, you would somehow miraculously come up with a way to get out of here. Instead you found yourself punishing yourself for wanting to see Thorin again, to feel his touch. You were being selfish; you had other people to think about.
It was nearly midnight and you were about to put your book down and turn in for the night, but a brief knock had you making your way to answer the door.
“M’lady. I beg your forgiveness for rousing you at this hour, but the King demands your presence immediately”, the guard at your door said politely.
Your heart raced at the urgency of the request.
“Of course, I shall leave at once”, you said tying your heavily embroidered robe more securely, “But please, will you make sure my daughter doesn’t wake and miss me?”.
The guard nodded, “He awaits you at the library, M’lady”.
Your eyes wandered the room, looking for the King. The large, familiar room was on complete darkness, save for a single fire that burned in the far corner. Amidst the dancing shadows you could make out his silhouette where he was perched on a luxurious settee with a goblet of wine in hand.
“Thorin?”, you asked confused as you strode over to him, “What’s happened?”.
Thorin lazily threw you a glance before shifting in his seat. He gestured for you take sit next to him and you patiently complied. You watched him take another sip as he stared at the flames engulfing the firewood.
“Thorin?”, you tried again, what on earth was the meaning of this?
“What can I do to make things right?”, he asked quietly.
The question took you by surprise. What were you supposed to say? You couldn’t begin to imagine a way to fix this, “I wish I could tell you”.
He moved his feet from the ottoman to the floor and placed the goblet on the table before him. Turning to you, he placed a warm hand on your knee, “Tell me how I can make you stay”.
Your gaze moved between his hand and his eyes.
“I...I can’t”, you said twisting the edges of your sleeves in frustration. Thorin’s sharp intake of breath broke through your frantic thoughts which made you look over at him. His lips were set in a thin line and his eyes looked pained.
“How did I miss that before?”, he spoke almost inaudibly.
You followed his gaze and quickly covered your hand when you realized that he had spotted Bo’s ring, “Thorin..”.
“What? No bead to match?”, Thorin chuckled darkly. He retrieved his hand and picked up the goblet once more.
“It’s not like that!”, you began.
“I see why you’re in a hurry to leave now. Bo is waiting for you”.
“How did you know it’s Bo?”
“Who else would it be? The two of you stole off into the night like two lovers”.
“What was I supposed to do?! You’re right he was the only one who’d have me..”
“That is not what I mea-”
“No one wanted a pregnant dwarrodam. No one wanted to rent a room to an unwed dwarrowdam with a child...no place safe at least...I had nowhere to go. It was hard but Bo helped me...we made it work”.
You raised your head and looked at him who had been stunned into silence, “I couldn’t carry a torch for you forever, Thorin. I had to live...if not for me, for her..”.
Your words hit him hard and lifted a veil from his eyes. You fell silent once more and resolved to fidgeting with your ring. The warmth from the fire and the soothing crackle relaxed you as the tension between the two of you eased. But it returned with a vengeance.
“Did you sleep with him?”.
“Thorin, that is hardly decent”.
“Answer me”, he snapped in frustration but forced himself to take a gentler tone, “please”.
“A few times”, you admitted quietly.
“Are you married then?”, he asked without meeting your gaze.
“No”.
“Then stay here”. he tried again, “Do you still love me?”.
You took a deep breath, “Don’t do this to me”.
“Do you still love me?”, Thorin pressed harder.
“Mahal damn us all! Yes, Thorin!”, you fell back into the settee, “I haven’t loved anyone else. Are you happy?”.
“I am”, he smirked smugly.
His hand was back on your knee as he gazed at you lovingly.
“No. You have to think about Erebor”.
“Let me think about what I want for once”
“That’s what got us here”, you bit your lip in fear.
“If I thought about what was best for us, you would have been Queen long ago”.
His hand moved to yours and gave you a gentle tug in his direction, “Come to me”.
Your mouth went dry and your body froze, “I-I can’t..I am his”, you stammered.
“You are mine”, he pulled you against his body and you let out a gasp. He waited for you to protest or pull back but you couldn’t. You had to battle years of yearning to resist him now and you just couldn’t find the strength to.
“I’m not losing you again, Y/n”, his breath was warm against your flushed cheek, the tip of his nose gently grazed your skin as he fought the urge to ravish you right there. The scent of your flesh drove him to the brink of madness, he needed you touch every bit of you once again to satiate his hunger.
His hands traversed up yours and gripped your shoulders, pushing you flush against his broad chest. You felt his heart beating in time with yours and you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers curled in his thick head of hair. His lips captured yours in desperation, they were warm and he tasted like wine. How you’ve missed this.
You knelt on the settee and took his face in your hands, your tongue played with his, “Mahal, I’ve missed you”, you mumbled between kisses.
He abruptly broke the kiss and lifted you off him. He raised to his feet and helped you to your. “Come with me”.
He pulled you after him as he hurried down the halls, you did your best to keep up and stay quiet.
You quickly ducked your head when you approached a familiar door with guards on either side. Thorin didn’t seem to care, instead he pushed the doors open and pulled you in with him.
“Thorin”, you gasped when the doors closed, “People mustn’t know”.
“I don’t care”, he grabbed your jaw in his hands and picked up where he left off at the library. You didn’t fight it. You let his hands roam your hips and up your chest to untie your robe which fell around you in a heavy ripple of gold. He stepped back and took in the picture of your body in a thin loose shift. He could make out every curve and dip of your body and the way your breasts pushed up against the material was all too inviting to him. His fingers traced the curve of your hip and rested on your waist where they curled into your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.
He closed the distance between the two of you once more and kissed down your neck, stopping to suckle on the base. You wanted to lose yourself in his embrace but you couldn’t help my feel guilty.
“Thorin”, you mumbled, he didn’t reply as he continued to explore your body.
“Thorin, I can’t do this”, you panted as your shoved against him. He didn’t budge, instead he placed a smattering of kisses on your collar bones, “Tell me you want me to stop”, his hands pulled you closer to him possessively, “Tell me you don’t want this”.
“Oh, Thorin”, your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt his teeth lightly bite your flesh, “I-I made a promise”, you said trying to focus.
One of his hands wandered to your and gently slid the ring off your finger and let it fall to the ground, “You didn’t”.
You felt like a big weight has been lifted off of you and you were almost relieved. “Tell me you don’t want me to make love to you”.
His fingers pulled your loose braid undone, never stopping his affectionate assault on your neck. You wanted this and you couldn’t feel remorse about it.
“My King, I need you to make love to me”, you said raking your fingers through his hair. That was all he needed to hear; he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around him. You couldn’t kiss him enough to make up for all these years. He moved swiftly and soon you were laying on your back watching him pull his tunic off.
“I wish to lay next to you like this forever”, Thorin murmured into your shoulder, “naked, carefree and in bliss”. You giggled as his fingers drew circles on your hips from under the bed covers.
“It seems too good to be true”, you admitted. You could spend the rest of your life curled in his embrace on this bed.
“So, what do you say?”, Thorin asked kissing the shell of your ear.
“To what?”, you asked sleepily gazing into his deep blue eyes.
“Will you be my Queen?”
The air left your lungs and you felt wide awake all of a sudden, “What?”, you whispered.
“Let me give you the life you deserve. You hold my heart, don’t take it away from me again. I couldn’t bear it”.
You squeezed your eyes shut and took deep breaths.
“Thorin, you can’t”, you said opening your eyes, “You can’t take a wife so soon. And I have nothing to offer your kingdom”.
“I don’t need anything. Only you”, he reasoned, “Please, tell me you’ll stay”.
You buried your face in his chest and breathed in his scent, of course to leave would destroy you but the implications and the consequences were not to be taken lightly.
“Do you think we deserve to be happy for once?”, you asked softly.
“You and I”, he began, “have spent our lives making sacrifices for the benefit and happiness of others. Maybe this one time we can allow ourselves to be happy”, he replied, running his fingers through your hair.
You smiled, “Even if our happiness might not be the best for Erebor?”.
“Aye, I won’t let anything happen to you”, he chuckled.
“You were always good with your words”, you half smiled.
He laughed making his crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes crease in the most charming way, “A requisite for politics”.
You hummed in agreement but didn’t reply to his initial question.
“What will it be, my love?”
You bit your lip and thought for a few more seconds, “Give me some time”.
He smiled in relief for you had given him hope, “Alright, take as much time as you need My Lady”. He placed a kiss on your forehead and moved to get up.
“Where are you going?”, you asked confused.
“It’s nearly daybreak”, he smiled.
You gasped, “Is it truly?”, you haven’t slept a wink; why must palace life begin so early?
“Sleep here for a while longer”, he suggested.
You mulled it over for a moment and nodded, “Maybe for a bit”, you said groggily.
You slept well for a few hours and woke at the thought of Marcelle waking up alone and looking for you. Blinking at the golden brocade that hung above you under the canopy, you stretched with a big smile on your face as you recalled the night you spent with your lover. Your hand brushed against something cold under your pillow. Retrieving the object you inspected it closely; a small tusk of an animal with carvings around it and a a wooden stopper sealing the opening.
You sat up in bed and wrestled with the stopper till it popped open and a ghastly scent invaded your senses. Flinching you held it away from you face and peered inside to find a murky yellow powder, coupled with the smell, you recognized it instantly. Throwing the sheets off, you quickly dressed yourself and walked over to the large ornate table that held glass bottles of Thorin’s favorite drinks. You pulled a couple of drawers open and easily found what you expected to find: jars of opium. You sighed in disappointment.
Slipping the tiny container you found under the pillow into your pocket, you quietly walked back to your chambers. As you approached your doors, you found Irida desperately trying to convince the guards to let her in.
“I’ve told you, she ain’t in there”, the guard repeated.
“It’s alright, I’m here”, you said walking up to her.
“Y/n”, she breathed a sigh of relief.
You beckoned her to follow you in.
It was almost eight in the morning and Marcelle should be waking soon, but in the meanwhile, you did your best to talk in hushed voices.
“What is going on? You are drawing too much attention to yourself, Irida”, you berated her.
“I need to leave, Y/n. They’ve questioned the handmaidens for the third time so far. I feel I shall faint the next time I am called on”, she said wrapping a hand around her middle.
“You can’t. You know that will make you the prime suspect instantly and they will hunt you down”, you warned. You didn’t believe that Irida was an evil person who deserved to be hanged. Misadora had been abusing her for years and she had the scars to prove it, and you found yourself sympathizing with her.
You sighed as your attention moved to her many scars on her arms which lead you to recall when you found her in her room. “She locked me in her room without food or water for days at a time”, she had sobbed to you that night in her room. Things had changed dramatically for Misadora since your departure; Thorin had forbade her from sitting in on council meetings and being involved in any of Erebor’s politics. Her visitors were restricted to family; she was in all but name a prisoner. To her, losing her power was like losing her identity and she must have felt like she was in hell. A hell of her own creation. “I asked to be dismissed and I wrote to my family. I didn’t even know they came here for me. Later, I found out that she had told them that I had eloped with a stable boy and that they should forget about me and not come looking for me again”. She wiped her face with her sleeve but the tears kept on coming, “I ran away. She had me brought back, whipped till the skin peeled from my body and I fainted from the loss of blood. Y/n, I couldn’t take it anymore”.
You shook your head.
“Listen to me”, you said grabbing her by her shoulders firmly, “You need to remain calm. You cannot let her win. Just for a few days, you need to keep this up and I promise you that I will get you out of here”.
She looked at you with pained eyes, a flicker of hope passed through them briefly, “How can you be sure?”.
“I have a plan”, you squeezed her shoulders and smiled trying to be reassuring, “You won’t like it. But I give you my word I won’t let anything happen to you”.
You quickly gathered some sheets and handed them to her, “Act like you were cleaning my room. We shouldn’t be seen together so often, take these to the laundresses and keep busy”.
You couldn’t find the time to confront Thorin about any of the things you wanted to. He was always busy with one thing or another and you were getting a little worried about Bo. You had sent him a letter addressed to the house you had agreed that he would wait for you at just outside of Dale. You had not heard back from him...what’s worse was that you found yourself feeling a little relieved that there was no word.
Marcelle seemed to like it here better than she did when she was brought here. She had picked up a routine during the past few days; she would have breakfast with you, Thorin and Nain, follow Nain around for a while before he had to attend to his studies and then she would either play in his play room or wander the enormous halls of Erebor with you trailing behind her. She had plenty of questions and insights to keep you well entertained for hours and you did enjoy teaching her the history of Erebor. She was especially fascinated by Smaug.
“Woah”, exclaimed Marcelle, completely at a loss for words. Her mouth fell agape as she fell back in her chair and stared at Thorin in complete awe.
You stifled a giggle.
Dinner had been had, Nain had turned in for the night but Marcelle had proceeded to attack Thorin with a million questions the second he walked through the doors. Thorin had suggested moving the company to the library to show her books and paintings of legends from the stories. She had enjoyed your stories but now she wanted to hear it from the source. The protagonist of many of the heroic deeds you had recounted to her.
“And Smaug was right here?!”, she asked spreading out her tiny arms, gesturing to the vast library.
“Well, not in this exact room, but yes...”, Thorin said with a twinkle in his eyes. He was loving every moment of this.
“And you fought him”, she gasped in disbelief.
“Well...yes”, he said trying to be modest, “I did have help”.
“That is so amazing!”, she almost yelled sitting up in her chair, “You are so brave! “, she paused for a moment, “More!”, she demanded grinning.
“More?”, Thorin repeated with a small smirk.
“More stories!”.
“Hmm”, Thorin mused, “Well..how about the story of when your Amad punched an Elvish royal guard in the middle of a treaty banquet?”, he smirked deviously at you while you flushed red.
“What?!!”, Marcelle squealed in disbelief.
“I didn’t punch him, it was barely a slap”, you said defensively. You weren’t particularly proud of that moment but he had it coming. The elvish thwat had been rude and intolerant the whole night and his snide remark about you being “fuckable for a dwarf” had sent you over the edge. It had caught the attention of many a noble present that day, even the Elven King.
“He was practically bleeding, Yn.”, he chuckled, “I was quite amused”,
“I’m sure you were”, you said with a light laugh.
“Adad would have found it amusing too”, Marcelle giggled.
Thorin’s mood visibly changed. Your muscles tensed but Marcelle went back to flipping through a huge tome, looking for another picture to question. In the distance you heard the rumble of thunder and the muffled sounds of a storm beating down on the mountain. You tried to smile and diverted your gaze to the warm, crackling fire while attempting to think of what to say next.
“Your..Adad”, Thorin spoke cautiously, “what is he like?”.
Your pulse quickened and you felt your lungs threatening to collapse.
“Well..”, Marcelle thought looking up from the book, “He is kind and smart..and he knows how to catch turtles! One time he caught the biggest turtle I’ve ever seen!”.
Thorin chuckled lightly, “Did he now?”.
“Um..I like how Adad lets me ride on his shoulders when we go to the market and he always remembers to get me sugar apples when he comes home after he goes to work. He reads me the best stories at bedtime”.
He was wounded and you could tell from the look in his eyes. He met your gaze and you his pained blue eyes pleaded with you. You shook your head, pleading with him in return to keep your secret a little longer.
“Thorin, listen to yourself”, Dwalin snapped, “This will raise suspicion”.
“Fine! Then take him down South and leave him to starve”.
“What has gotten in to you?”, Dwalin asked with a frustrated look, “Just leave him be for now. We will carry out a proper execution once this situation is taken care of. Give the people some time to forget this mess. I promise you, I will swing the axe myself, but give it time, I’m begging you”.
“Every breath he draws, I feel my sanity slipping away”, Thorin paced furiously up and down one of the many walkways in the dungeon.
Dwalin sighed, “If we play this right, you can come out of this unscathed and happy. You can have her too”.
“I have done my share of waiting. I just want to to be over with”, Thorin stated firmly.
“Brother, you must trust me”, Dwalin said grasping Thorin’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.
“Nain?”, Marcelle called out as she wandered down a hallway. Pausing at an especially ornate wall with gems and carvings of all sorts, she shook her head and resumed her search. She had so much to see and appreciate but she was on a quest.
“Nain, I’m going to find you!”, she giggled bounding down a set of stairs that led to a big, foreboding door. Ever the curious cat, Marcelle gave the heavy door a firm nudge. To her utter delight, the door begrudgingly creaked open by a fraction. A smile crept to her lips as she whispered “I’m going to get you Nain”. She was certain that she wasn’t supposed to be here but if Nain had gone down there she had no choice. Or so she convinced herself.
The door opened into a stone stairwell that spiraled into the depths of the mountain. It was dimly lit and oozed mystery just like something from a story her Amad would tell her, hence the allure.
She quickly but carefully made her way down the stairs to yet another door. Behind the door, it wasn’t any brighter down there but it surely was colder and damper. She quickly ducked behind a wall as soon as she saw a few guards coming her way. Once she was sure that it was clear, she began exploring again.
She felt a little uneasy as strange sounds grew louder the deeper she went. It sounded like people in pain. She passed many, many cells and she wondered what they were for.
“Miss?”, she jumped, “Can you help me?”, dirty hands reached out to her from behind the bars of one of the dark cells. She jumped back, not knowing what to do or say. “W-who are you?, she asked softly.
“Please?”, the voice rasped.
Marcelle bolted. She ran through the maze of cells, confused and lost. She was trying not to burst into tears at the thought of never being able to get out of this place when she spotted a door. This was her way out.
Imagine her disappointment when she found herself in just another dark room. “No..”, she whimpered, feeling the tears set in.
She took a step back at the sound of rattling chains, her heart was pounding in her ears, as she stared into the barely lit cell in the room.
“H-hello?”, she called out weakly, “c-can you p-please tell me how t-to get out of here?”, she said between sobs.
“Marcelle?”, a hoarse voice from the cell called to her.
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#ITS TRUE AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT #(ALSO THORIN AND KILI BEING ‘UGLY’ BY DWARF STANDARDS IS AMUSING CONTENT)
further take: Kili is straight-up ugly by dwarf standards. Thorin is like, the dwarf equivalent of Benedict Cumberbatch. Some dwarves think he’s an absolutely dreamboat, others think he is super weird looking, there’s very little middle ground.
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I can’t believe it has been five months since the last update! As far as I’m concerned the story ended with the last chapter and the reader never meets Thorin again. Thorin lives the rest of his days reliving the fond memories of the reader, never forgetting her until his last breath. This chapter is for those floofs with big hearts. Call it an alternate unofficial ending.
x
The letter felt heavy in your hands. You’ve read and reread the contents to the point that you could probably recite everything in your sleep. You wish you hadn’t received it because it was the cause of your long, unforeseen journey.
The rain fell in a smattering of fat drops, wetting the stone pavement and making you pull the hood of your cloak down lower over your face. People shuffled past you, making their way home or to the local tavern after a hard day’s work. Even though it was around six in the evening, it was dark and gloomy with large, grey clouds casting an ominous feeling around you. Maybe it was just in your head. After all, you never thought you’d be standing in the streets of Erebor again. Only in your dreams have you walked in these parts, but you had a very different purpose for wandering these streets in those dreams.
Squinting in the dim light, you read the address plate on one of the houses to your right. It was the street mentioned in the letter but it was the wrong house. You continued onward. You hummed in disapproval as the hem of your skirts dredged the dirty puddles and changed color from a lovely peacock blue to a dark, murky brown. This must be the house.
It blended into the row of unimpressive houses and you only hoped that you got it right. Standing on the small porch, you rapt the coarse, wooden door with your knuckles. As you waited, you looked over your shoulders to see if you had drawn any unwanted attention. The rain was thickening but you were satisfied when you saw people going about their own business like you didn’t even exist.
The door swung open and an old dwarf stared at you while puffing on his pipe.
“Can I help you?”, he asked after a moment of silence.
You plastered on a smile and held out the letter in your hands, “You sent this”. Being tired and drenched, you forewent pleasantries and ended up sounding brash. The dwarf took the letter cautiously and read the address.
“You don’t look like Bo. I wrote this to him on the account of his father and all that”, he said blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction.
You wrapped your arms around yourself to protect against the cold rain, “I know. May I come in? I have some explaining to do”.
He beckoned you inside and shut the door behind him. You slipped your drenched cloak off and laid it on a nearby stool after folding it.
“Sit by the fire, it’ll warm ye up”, he offered gesturing to the armchairs by the hearth.
“Thank you”. Immediately you felt better as the warmth of the fire engulfed you.
“Is Bo in some kind of trubble, miss?”, the old dwarf, who you assumed to be Yadrur Stonefoot from the letter, lounged back in the armchair next to you and continued smoking his pipe.
“No. I’m Y/n, by the way”, you added.
“Hmm. And I suppose ye are his wife. The boy never wrote to us since he stole off in the middle of the night, six years ago”, he said adopting a disappointed tone. Your throat became parched at the thought of the mentioned night. It was a memory you seldom visited and one that caused conflicting feelings to bubble up.
“We heard stories of a dam who bewitched him into betraying the crown”, his steely gaze bore daggers into you and it irked you to no extent.
“I am not his wife. I only came on behalf of him because as you well know he isn’t welcome within these city walls. He wishes he could be here to tend to his family business personally but he hopes a proxy would do”.
“A proxy? I don’t see how you would qualify as a legal proxy since you two are not married. Neither are you blood relatives. The nature of this ‘family business’ is strictly legal”, he retorted smugly.
“I am his betrothed. I assume that’s official enough”, you said crossing you legs and leaning in, “Besides, this shouldn’t take long”.
“I reckon yer right”.
“Bo appreciates that his father left all of his property to him in his will”, you began but was quickly interrupted.
“Quite right, two diamond mines and an iron ore quarry in the Iron Hills and two quartz mines in Erebor. The boy has hit the jackpot”.
“Yes. But he refuses to accept”, you said flatly.
“What? Has the boy lost his senses?!”
“He wouldn’t be able to tend to them. He is in exile. He wishes to transfer the deeds to his younger brother”.
“Surely he could find a tenant? An overseer of sorts? Perhaps even his brother?”, he sputtered, “It’s a lot he’s giving up”.
Your tummy churned. You knew that. He has sacrificed so much for you, he had the perfect life, the one he’s always dreamed of but he abandoned it all at your behest and now he cannot even enjoy his due.
“He is aware”, your voice threatened to betray your melancholy feelings, “But he insists. Bo doesn’t want to have any dealings with Erebor. Or even the Iron Hills...it is too risky, I’m afraid”. You dug around in your dress pocket and pulled out another letter, “All of it is here in his writing”. Yadrur took it in his hands and inspected the wax seal which he no doubt recognized as his house’s. With a somber expression he read the contents.
“I see”, Yadrur said quietly. You sat in silence, uncertain of what to follow that with.
“My deepest condolences for your loss”, you said finally, “From what I heard, he was a great father to Bo and no doubt was a great brother to you”.
“Aye”, he nodded, “that he was”. He laid down his pipe on a tray that was resting on a side table next to his armchair and sighed, “Well then, I’ll fetch the deeds and you can sign them over to Azra. The lad is in for a surprise, I’ll tell you that much”.
You waited patiently as he rummaged through a stack of papers in a box to your far right.
“I drew up new deeds for the properties but left the names blank. I was hopin’ Bo would come himself and sign it. I can put in Azra’s name instead and you just sign here on all these”, he handed you a handful of parchments and a quill. You quickly went to work while he sat back and resumed smoking his pipe. The feeling of guilt never left you, it only worsened with every stroke of the quill. You were giving away his birthright, you had brought him to this point. With a shaky hand you handed over the quill to Yadrur to sign as a witness.
“Don’t you worry about it, Y/n”, he has said to you when he saw you deep in thought after he had voiced his decision to you. “I’ve never wanted such things. And I especially don’t need them now”, he had taken your hands in his and gazed lovingly at you. You knew you wouldn’t feel half as guilty now if you cared for Bo as much as he does for you.
“I believe that’s the whole lot of it”, he said balancing the quill atop the mouth of the inkwell.
“You can stay till the rain clears if you like”, he said stiffly.
“I’m afraid I must be leaving. I much to leave Erebor by daybreak”, you said politely as you stood, “It was a pleasure meeting you and thank you for understanding”.
He gave you a curt nod and followed you to the door. You draped your damp cloak around you and pulled the hood over your head.
“I bid you a good night”, you said opening the door and stepping out into the rain.
“Good night, miss Y/n. And my congratulations to you on your betrothal”.
The door shut behind you and you hurried down the steps, eager to get back to your room at the inn in Dale. The rain was not as heavy as it had been when you had started out but it was still chilly and gloomy outside.
You turned a corner and walked into the stables where you had hitched your pony. Untying her, you hopped in the saddle and fixed your cloak around you before kicking her into a canter. Turning into the road, you took care to not hit anyone while making your way to the city gates. Almost there.
Bells tolled in the distance and you turned your head to see what the commotion was. It wasn’t common to hear bells ringing from the palace. People stopped in their tracks and gazed somberly in the direction of the chimes. You didn’t have the time to think about it, so you urged your horse to continue on through the pelting rain.
x
The sheets weren’t particularly comfortable and the pillows are on the brink of being classified as bricks, but you slept soundly through the night. You curled up with an agitated huff when the distinct sound of a fist banging on a door interrupted your dreams. You pulled the blankets around you tightly and refused to open your eyes, let alone get up to answer it. There was absolutely no way that it was even six in the morning and by Mahal, you were going to have your share of sleep before you get back on the road.
By the beard on Mahal’s chin! You cursed the high heavens as the pounding got louder and more persistent. Some drunk fool probably wandered up to the wrong room in the small inn and is now making you pay for his bad choices. Throwing the blankets off aggressively, you padded over to the door in your skimpy shift. Thinking twice, you grabbed a spare blanket off an idle chair and draped it over your shoulders to look more decent. Not that this inconsiderate twat deserved your concern.
“Yes?”, you swung the door open with a scowl on your face.
The blood drained from your face and your fingers grew cold on the door knob.
“Miss Y/n, you are hereby under arrest on suspicion of murder”, two royal guards stood at the threshold of your room, more intimidating than you remembered them to be.
“If you’d step this way, miss”, one said while another grabbed your upper arm rather too roughly. You resisted, trying to shake off his gauntlet clad hand but it was to no avail, “Hold on now, what murder?!”, you cried.
“The murder of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Misadora”, one spoke as your grip on the door frame loosened and you were pulled along. They had to catch you as you almost collapsed on the floor when your legs gave way.
“I did nothing! Please- y-you have to believe me!”, you wailed frantically, “I can’t leave!”, you said looking over your shoulder at your room as you were marched away from it.
“Please, I mus-”
“I would hold my tongue if I were you”, came one of the guards.
x
Indignation and fear consumed you as you sat in the damp, dimly lit room somewhere in the palace. Two torches burned in their ancient sconces on the stone wall, throwing jagged, dancing shadows across the small space. You pulled the blanket around you more securely and stared impatiently at the wooden table you sat before. They hadn’t shackled you, so you were fairly certain that they only wished to talk to you and had no real evidence of your involvement. Which they shouldn’t. Because you had nothing to do with her murder. Or any murder.
Your spine straightened up when you heard a bolt being slid out of its lock and the heavy wooden door open. A stout, white haired dwarf with a full beard walked in with a thick book cradled in his arms. The locked behind him and he flashed you a smile while making his way over to the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back even when you felt relief under his kind gaze.
“Miss Y/n, yes?”, he asked to which you nod.
“I am Ozzul, chief investigator”, he said opening the book in front of him and flipping through some pages, “I understand that you must have some concerns, but rest assured that everything will be fine”. Will it?
“How did she die?”, you asked before he could speak again.
His amber eyes inspected your face with a solemn expression before resorting to answer, “At approximately eight last night, she was found by her handmaiden in her chambers, stabbed through the throat with her own hair pin”. Your eyes widened in surprise. When you had been her handmaiden, there were many times when you had feared for her life; when she spoke viciously to the officials or cause rifts between nobles.You had feared an assassination, though this incident does not sound like one.
“I’m sorry”, you said quietly.
“Yes”, he blinked before looking down at the writing in his book. He pulled our a bottle of ink and a quill and prepared to take notes. “I have a few questions and should you answer them satisfactorily, you can be on your way posthaste”.
“Miss Y/n, my informants tell me that you had been seen in Erebor yesterday at the time of the Queen’s death”, he paused and looked to you for affirmation.
“Yes, I was here yesterday but so were many others”, you said calmly, “Also, I never took one step inside the palace”.
“We have no witnesses to say that you were or were not”, he said not unkindly. “I’m afraid I must ask you some questions that are personal in nature”.
You nodded slowly.
“Why did you leave Erebor? Almost six years ago. You abandoned your position and left in quite a hurry according to what I hear”.
Wetting your lips, you formed an answer, “I wasn’t happy here, I wanted to see the world”, you tried to sound nonchalant, “Besides, I don’t see what my decisions six years ago have anything to do with the Queen’s murder”.
“Bear with me”, he said jotting something down, “Miss Y/n, what was the nature of your relationship with the King?”.
The question knocked the wind out of you, causing your heart to pound uncontrollably and your fingers to dig into your palms.
“He was my King”, you said looking him in the eye, “my employer”.
“I need you to be honest”, he said laying his quill on the table, “What was he to you?”.
It took great self control to still your trembling lips and to stop your eyes from welling with tears. Even after six years, it still hurt. But you couldn’t answer Ozzul.
“My informants say that you were his consort. That you two cared for each other. There are multiple reliable sources who have claimed the same”, his tone was one of accusation.
You couldn’t lie, but neither could you speak so you nodded letting tears spill from your eyes.
“Miss Y/n, I need to hear it in your own words. For the books, you see”, he explained apologetically.
You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to calm down. It was hard and he knew it, you have avoided thinking about it for years and now old wounds were open and there was no stopping the bleeding.
“He was the love of my life”, you said in a rushed whisper.
“I see”.
You wiped your face with the edge of your blanket and attempted to regain your composure. This was probably not helping your case.
“But I left all that behind”, was your explanation, “I had no reason to do this. You must believe me, I-I-I’m engaged”, you hold out your hand to display the simple gold wedding band on your ring finger. “I want to start a family and forget this place”.
“Miss, it is hard to call this all coincidence”, he sighs, “You, the King’s consort returns and on the same day our Queen is killed”.
“Do you have any evidence?”, you challenge, “You cannot detain me without proper evidence”.
“I do not”, he said with a slight smile.
“You can talk to Yadrur Stonefoot, I was with him when this happened. He will tell you”, you said leaning back in your chair.
His quill moved fast against the parchment as he nodded, “Why did you come b-”
He was cut off when the door opened and a soldier walked in. He handed Ozzul a piece of rolled parchment and exited. After reading it, a smile ghosted his lips, “Well, miss Y/n, it appears our business here is done. You are to be escorted back to Dale”.
You feel relieved that it’s all over. Pushing the chair back with a screech, you waste no time heading to the door only pausing to bid Ozzul a good day. The same two guards who brought you here ride back with you to Dale. You jump off the pony before he even had a chance to come to a stop, earning you an irritated “Hey!”, from one of the guards.
Bursting through the entrance of the inn, you searched the nearly empty room. One man sat in a corner hunched over his drink while a blonde barmaid was busy wiping down a table. But as soon as she heard your loud entrance, she looked over her shoulder to see you standing there.
“Well”, she said a little too judgmentally, “I thought you cut and ran at the break of dawn and fully intended to never look back”. Her statement insinuated that she knew who you were looking for.
“Where is she?”, you asked a little winded.
The barmaid jerked her head towards the kitchen and you nearly tripped over your own feet as you hurried in with the her at your heels.
“Amad!”, a raven haired entity hurled itself at you. Your arms wrapped around your daughter protectively. Kneeling down you cup her face in your hands and place kisses on her rosy cheeks. Her full, dark pink lips pulled into a smile, revealing spaces between her teeth where they had come loose.
“My sweet pea”, you said in between kisses, “Are you alright?”.
She nodded her head of ebony curls that reached down to her waist. Her striking cerulean eyes twinkled happily at you from beneath her dark, voluminous lashes.
“What made you change your mind and come back for her?”, the nosy barmaid asked.
“I didn’t leave her!”, you snapped in agitation.
“Alright”, she said defensively, “A lot of women leave their children behind here and never return for them”.
“I would never do that”, you said kissing her plump cheek again, “Come on, love. We must hurry”.
You picked her up and made your way to your room. Quickly, you strip out of your slip and wash yourself. You put on a periwinkle gingham dress and shove what little belongings you brought with you into a bag.
“Amad, where did you go?”, came your daughter’s sweet voice from where she sat playing with her doll.
“Honey, I’m sorry. That must have given you quite a fright, I promise it won’t happen again”, you said walking over to her and booping her little button nose, “We had some unexpected visitors who insisted that I come with them”.
“Will they come back?”, she asked tilting her head and watching you brush your hair and pull it into a simple braided updo.
“No. I don’t think so. But it doesn’t matter, we’re leaving right now”, you efficiently ran a brush through her curls and tied a red ribbon around her head to keep her hair off her face.
You slung the bag on one shoulder and held your daughter’s hand in one hand as you lead her to the door. Before you could open it there was a sharp knock on it from the other side. Not again.
“Stay there and don’t come out till I say so”, you said in a hushed voice. You opened the door and almost fainted.
“Y/n”.
One hand flew to the door frame to support your weight, “Thorin”.
“Y/n”, before you knew it his fingers were caressing your cheeks. All you could see were his pained sky blue irises with silver streaks like lightning. You barely heard what he was saying through the rushing sound in your ears. When you realized that you were gawking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, you stepped back, pushing his hands away from you.
“What are you doing here?”, you asked firmly.
“I came to see you”, he relied flatly. Gods, he didn’t look a day older. He looked as handsome as he did the day you left, save for a few extra strands of silver hair near his beautiful, raven mane.
“Thorin”, you exclaimed, “Your wife is dead”.
“I am aware”, he said without a trace of remorse reflecting in his strong features.
“If someone sees you here, they will have a good reason to drag me back to the cells”, you hissed.
“You were in no real danger”, he said coolly.
“I beg to differ!”, you bit out.
“Maybe if you’re so worried, we should talk inside”, he offered.
“Absolutely not”, you deflected, “I must be on my way now. And so should you”.
“And what? Pretend like this never happened?”.
“Yes”.
He narrowed his thick brows at you, “You cannot mean that”.
“I do, Thorin”, you said seriously, “I have a life. A life I want to return to”.
He chuckled bitterly, “I wish I could say the same”. He took a step towards you, “But you took that life with you when you left”.
You fumbled for words as blood rushed to your face. He opened his mouth to say something, glaring at you with ferocity of a hundred wolves, but he stopped. What was he looking at? You looked behind you and saw a pair of blue eyes peering at him from behind the door. Thorin seemed intensely captivated by her gaze, he appeared to have forgotten everything.
“Amad”, she spoke softly as she ran over to you and hid behind your skirts. You sighed internally while placing a hand on her head and smoothing her hair, “I told you to stay hidden”. Her shyness didn’t stop her from peeping at Thorin with growing curiosity.
Thorin had managed to tear his eyes away from your daughter and look at you with a million questions written across his face.
“Thorin”, you began hesitantly, “This is Marcelle”.
A sound like a surprised gasp left his lips as he turned his eyes to her again, “I-Is she..”.
“Yes”, you said abruptly.
Thorin ran a hand over his face and shifted on his feet. Slowly he knelt down on one knee and looked at his daughter, eyes sparkling with affection and something else..guilt? Sadness? Both?
“Marcelle, what a beautiful name”, he said in his deep, silky voice.
Marcelle smiled instinctively at him and responded cheerily, “I’m five!”.
Thorin chuckled lightly, “Are you, indeed?”.
She nodded shyly. Guilt was clawing at you from the inside as you watched this unfold before you, it was unbearable.
“We must go now”, you said for the umpteenth time that day while you picked up the bag that you had let slip to the floor.
Something ugly and vicious took hold of Thorin as he rose to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back, “No you can’t”.
“What do you mean?”, you asked lifting Marcelle in your arms.
“I can’t let you go till we find the murderer”.
You gaped at him, “I didn’t do it! Thorin you know I didn’t!”.
He did know, but that didn’t matter to him. He refused to lose you again, he wouldn’t survive it the second time.
“I will have the guards escort you back to Erebor”, he said turning to leave.
“They let me go”, you cried after him, “Ozzul said I could leave”.
“And who do you think told him to let you go?”, he called over his shoulder.
“How could you?!”, you yelled at him, angry tears stinging your eyes.
x
“Amad?”, a small voice called out in the darkness. You weren’t asleep, you couldn’t even close your eyes.
“Yes, baby? What is it?”, you reached out and stroked Marcelle’s messy head of ringlets as she shifted under the blankets next to you.
“I can’t sleep”.
“Would you like me to sing to you?”, you asked making out her tiny face in the dark.
“No”, she signed.
“How about a story then?”.
She thought for a minute and replied, “No”.
“What would you like, sweet pea?”.
“I want to go home”, she said softly, “I don’t like it here”.
“I know”, you wrapped your arm around her and pulled her closer, “It will be alright. It’s only going to be for a few days and we can go home”.
“What about Bo? He’ll miss us”, she asked groggily.
“I’ll write to him and tell him you thought of him”, you smiled.
A brief silence ensued allowing you to think about your predicament for the millionth time that night. You didn’t even see Thorin when you got back, the guards walked you and Marcelle to this room and are standing guard at the thick, ornate doors right now. Dinner had been brought to you and Marcelle had delighted in the sweets and tarts that were in excess on the trays. You couldn’t eat a bite as you had sat in this extravagantly furnished chambers feeling nauseatingly nostalgic.
“Who was that dwarf, Amad?”, she piped up again, shattering the silence.
“He..”, your tongue felt heavy in your dry mouth as you scoured your brains for an explanation. You had never thought you’d be in the situation, you had always hoped that when she was old enough you’d know what to tell her about her father. You didn’t know what to say, lying was not an option but you definitely didn’t want to tell her the truth at this very moment. It wasn’t the right time. But when was the right time? Could you possible put it off and avoid it altogether till you make it home?
“Marcelle”, you thought hard as you kissed her head, “He-”, you stop when there is no acknowledgement. You hear her steady breath as she lays still in your embrace having drifted off into sleep. A light sigh of relief leaves you as you rubbed your left temple with your free hand. You could only hope that she would forget her question till you had an appropriate answer for her.
x
Three short knocks fell on your door.
Opening it, you weren’t surprised to see a guard standing before you, “His majesty wishes to see you, my lady”.
“Good. I was was about to head over there myself”, you said coldly.
Changing your tone completely, you looked over your shoulder, “Come, Marcelle”. She carefully placed her doll on the bed and pulled the covers over her and skipped over to you.
It was almost worth all this trouble to see Marcelle’s face light up in wonder as you strolled down the great halls of Erebor. The jewels embedded in the sky high stone walls reflected their sparkling facets in her wide eyes. You had to hide a slight smile as she twirled, taking in the splendor of the arching ceiling, encrusted with stones in the shape of dwarves from stories of the Mountain. Your hand steadied her as she tripped over her own feet, lost in thought.
Heavy, double doors opened as you entered a grand dining hall. You’ve been here before and everything was just as shiny and golden as you remembered; the tapestries were just as colorful and the dark marble floors just as polished. You’ve always thought that the wenge wood table was unnecessarily long and unreasonably decked with gold etchings. Your eyes focused on the head of the table when you heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, simultaneously you felt Marcelle scurry behind you to clutch fistfuls of your skirts.
You probably looked stiff as a board as you swept across the room towards him, your hands folded primly before you and your face expressionless. Your daughter followed behind.
Thorin dipped his head in greeting. Two footmen pulled back the two chairs that were on either side of Thorin’s seat. You picked up Marcelle and placed her on the chair on his right and the footman pushed her closer to the table.
You took your seat on the opposite side before noting, “A little too much for breakfast, isn’t it?”. Your gaze swept over the gold utensils and fine china plates surrounded by exquisite dishes that smelled amazing.
“It’s a special occasion”, he said with a twitch of his lips.
“Your wife’s funeral?”, you asked looking down at the painted rose buds on the rim of the porcelain plate.
“No”, was all he said. No one spoke while the footmen walked around you, placing generous helpings of various food on the plates and filling glasses with water and wine.
Thorin commanded his staff to leave the room soon after.
You raised an eyebrow at Marcelle as she stuffed her mouth with a raspberry tart, smearing purple filling all over her cheeks. She grinned at you, clearly proud of herself.
“Use a napkin, darling”, you said trying not to giggle.
All of you looked up from your plates when the main doors swung open and a young boy walked in. He walked with such confidence, with such familiar control that commanded the room. He came to a halt next to Marcelle and bowed before you, “My Lady”.
You smiled as you recognized the dark haired lad, “Prince Nain?”.
“At your service”, he grinned as he cut into a mince pie.
Oh, how he’s grown. Next to Marcelle they looked like twins, except she had tighter curls and his soft waves were pushed back, away from his face. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to guess who sired them.
“I-I’m so sorry about your mother passing”, you said solemnly.
“Thank you, My Lady”, he sounded so proper. A proper heir.
“What happened to your Amad?”, Marcelle asked taking a break from her tarts.
“She died”, Nain replied turning to see her staring at him with wide, regretful eyes.
“Oh”, she paused, “That must make you sad. If my Amad died, I would be very sad”. You felt a tug on your heartstrings as you watched her face become overshadowed by sorrow.
“I..”, he looked at his father who offered him a slight smile, “I didn’t know her very well”.
“But-”, Marcelle began but you cut her off, “Marcelle, that’s quite enough. Finish your breakfast, love”.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself”, Nain said looking at Marcelle’s flushed face, “I’m Nain”.
“I’m Marcelle”, she beamed, completely forgetting her worries in a heartbeat, “And you’re a prince?”.
“You don’t have to call me that”, he said modestly.
“And you’re the King?”, she asked Thorin with raised eyebrows.
Oh, Marcelle. Always full of questions.
“Yes”, Thorin leaned forward and you watched him crack a devilish smile, “And you are th-”.
You dropped your fork with a loud clatter making him look at your irritated, red face.
“No”, you said quietly, “Not now”.
He let out a sigh and settled back in his chair, “Thorin. You can call me Thorin”.
“Well, okay”, she said turning her attention back to her food.
All of you ate in silence after that. But oddly enough, it wasn’t an awkward silence where nobody knew what to say, everyone was deep in thought.
“Nain, would you like to show Marcelle around? She has never been here. Neither has she been to Erebor before”, Thorin suggested without so much as looking your way. You wanted to object, you didn’t want your daughter to get dragged into all this. But you held your tongue, it was already done the second she was born.
“Of course”, Nain responded, “Would you like to go now?”.
She looked at you with pleading eyes, “Amad, can I please go?”.
You nodded.
Marcelle slid off the chair, taking care not to fall over. You watched them hurry out the door, the last think you heard Nain ask her was, “Have you really never been here before? Do you live in the Iron Hills?”.
The sound of the door closing echoed in your ears, leaving you with the realization that you were alone with Thorin. It was definitely very tense between the two of you. He avoided looking at you but you had questions you needed answered.
“Why are we here, Thorin?”, you asked calmly but with a bit of sharpness to your tone.
“You are my guest”, he said flatly.
“It doesn’t feel like it”, you countered, “I can’t even leave my room”.
Thorin’s gaze snapped towards you, his dark brows lowered defensively, “What would you have me do? Left to your own devices, you would disappear again”.
Taking a deep breath to steady your voice you stated, “This is not fair”.
Thorin’s jewel covered fingers curled around a golden goblet to bring it to his lips. You looked away as you tried to remain calm.
“It was never my intention to hurt you”, your words were barely audible.
Thorin didn’t appear be touched by them either. He was the fierce, stoic ruler he presented to the world and he wasn’t the Thorin you knew back then.
“I don’t care to hear of your intentions just now”, he paused and lounged back in his chair, “I don’t aim to let my daughter leave without knowing who she really is”.
“And who is she exactly?”, you asked indignantly, “The product of a misbegotten relationship between the King and his servant?”.
“Is that what she is to you?”, he asked raising his voice.
“No!”, the chair screeched against the marble floor as you shot up to your feet, fiery rage blazing in your eyes, “I have done everything to protect her! I love her with every fiber of my being and I will not have her tangled in my mess! I don’t want this life for her because she is better off without knowing the truth”. Picking up your skirts, you moved to storm off.
“Sit. Down.”, came Thorin’s commanding voice sending a chill down your spine and effectively making you halt in your tracks.
“Lady Y/n”, he lowered his voice once more, “ please sit”.
You didn’t move a muscle, neither did you look at him, “I don’t want to”.
“Stubborn as always”. Any trace of anger there might have been before was gone now, leaving behind a smugness that echoed in his words.
“Please. Do not patronize me”, you said wearily.
“Walk with me then”, he said rising to his feet. He headed towards the door only looking over his shoulder for a second to beckon you. You sighed and hesitated before complying. You couldn’t force your way out of here, so that left only one option: reasoning with him.
You couldn’t believe how little the palace had changed during your time away. Everything remained pristine and grand just like you remembered, which made things all the more surreal to you. Memories came rushing at you as you walked down the winding hallways, it made you feel happy, sad and guilty all at once. From the corner of your eye you couldn't make out what he was feeling, his face was void of expression but his whole form exuded confidence and sheer masculinity. You cursed yourself silently for still feeling butterflies in your tummy when you’re next to him.
“Where are we going?”, you asked after a while.
“Somewhere we can talk".
You noticed that you were passing a familiar set of archways that lead into individual terraces which opened into sky around the Mountain. He turned down one of them and beckoned you to follow.
It was a beautiful morning. The wind was gentle atop the mountain and the skies clear and a brilliant blue. The lush emerald green trees looked magnificent from where you stood as they swayed together in unison. The thrushes that resided in Erebor twitted overhead completing the picturesque spring morning.
“This is not fair”, you stated bluntly turning to face him who stood with his hands clasped behind him.
When he didn’t reply you continued, “What do you hope to gain by making me feel guilty? I am already drowning in it”.
“So you remember?”, he spoke. Of course you did. This is where you had spoken to him for the first time. That night when the wind had knocked your headdress over the parapet.
“Yes”, you said, your voice threatening to crack.
“Please Thorin. Just let us go. This is too painful”, you plead.
He was eerily calm before and now you saw a spark behind those cloudy eyes, “Painful?”, he raised his eyebrows a fraction, “You don’t know what pain is”.
You sighed, “I know you’re angry with me but you have to understand. I can’t let her find out about all this. About us..about you”.
“You’re right. I am angry. I am furious”, his voice dipped a few octaves, “You left me”.
“I know”, you said dropping your gaze to your feet, “I’m sorry. I had no choice”.
“You did have a choice”, he said letting his anger seep into his tone, “You could have stayed. Like you said you would when you told me that you loved me. Instead you abandoned me and condemned me to a life of absolute sorrow!”.
“I’ve always wondered, Y/n...did you pretend to care for me? Did you lie to me?”, he asked quietening down.
“Thorin I-”
“You lied to me about my child. You kept her. Away from me. You took five years of her life from me!”
Tears spilled from your eyes as you fought for the courage to speak out.
“You say you were in pain? I had to endure the thought of losing my child and the only person I cared for in this whole bloody world. You destroyed me, Y/n”.
“I’m sorry!”. Uncontrollable sobbing followed soon after, “I know what I did to you”. Your face dropped to your hands as you tried to muffle your sobs. Old wounds reopened and you wanted nothing but to shut yourself in a room and cry yourself numb because you had no idea how you were going to explain yourself to Thorin.
From the look of things Thorin didn’t know what to do next either. A few moments passed by slowly, the only sounds filling the space between the two of you were your weeping and the twittering of the birds against the wind.
You flinched then shuddered when you felt his coarse fingers circle around your upper arms to pull you into his embrace. You didn’t move to hug him back, instead continued to cry harder into your hands. He didn’t say a word, he only held you quietly. You didn’t know that he understood why you did what you did. You only did what you could to save your life and as long as you stayed in the palace, the fate of your child would have been uncertain. He was angry because he lost you. He was letting out his frustrations he had lived with for years.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry”, he said gently. His beard was rough against the side of your temple which was oddly comforting in a nostalgic way. Oh, and how good he smelled. Just like you remembered, how you’ve craved it all these years.
“It is hard for me to accept that you would just want to walk away right now like you didn’t even know me”, he said putting his fears on the table. “Have you not missed me like I have missed you?”, his breath tickled your ear and sent shivers up your body.
Wiping your eyes, you replied, “Of course I have”. Sniffling, you took a step back, “Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you”.
He rested his forehead against yours, “I looked everywhere for you”.
Touching as the thought of him scouring Middle Earth for you was, you were glad that he didn’t find you. There were a lot of things you had to sort out and you had to do it alone.
“And...I thought you said you wouldn't keep the child”.
“I was scared”, you said shaking your head, “But I couldn’t snuff out an innocent life because of our foolishness”.
Heavy footsteps were approaching the two of you and you quickly pulled back from his arms and composed yourself.
“My King, you are needed in the dungeons”, a guard stated once he had bowed.
“Can’t this wait?”, Thorin asked a little irritated.
“I’m afraid not, My King”.
“Fine”, he replied curtly.
Once the guard took his leave, Thorin gave you an apologetic look, “We will talk later”.
“Of course”, you said looking down at your clasped hands.
“I trust that you can find your way back to your room”, you felt his warning gaze on your form.
You didn’t want to make any promises because you still believed that leaving this place behind was the right thing to do.
“Y/n. You owe me this much”.
But it also wouldn’t be right to leave him without giving him some closure, “Alright”.
“Thank you”.
x
A smile crept to your lips as you watched Marcelle skipping in front of you with Nain by her side. Both lost in conversation as they wandered the courtyard. They seem to like each other quite a bit.
“Amad!”, she squealed when she caught sight of you watching them. She bounded up to you and hugged you, “This place is so big Amad! It is impossible to see everything in one day”, she commented.
“Indeed it is”, you smiled.
“I think I changed my mind about not liking it here”, she said just as Nain walked up behind her.
“Prince Nain, thank you for keeping Marcelle company”, you couldn’t believe how he’s grown, yet you still saw in him the small dwarfling you’ve cuddled so many times.
“It was my pleasure. Quite honestly, I don’t have many friends here, so this was very pleasant”.
“I’m sure you have many responsibilities to tend to and I wouldn’t dream of keeping you any longer”, you spoke with a nod.
“I was actually hoping to show Marcelle my old play room. She might enjoy it”, he smiled at Marcelle who was begging you quietly with eager eyes.
“If you wish, Prince Nain”, you replied.
“Right this way then”, he beamed leading you both out of the courtyard and down a hallway. Marcelle hummed a tune and continued skipping along but after a while you had to voice a thought that was bothering you.
“Prince Nain, may I ask why you called it your “old” playroom? Do you not play anymore?”, he was only nine after all.
“Sometimes. Father would encourage it when he could. Mother used to seldom care about any of it but when I became old enough, she made sure I had no time for playing. She would say that I had to become the King and that takes work and dedication”.
“Oh”, you reflected. You wondered what it had been like for him these past few years.
“And please call me Nain”, he smiled.
Soon, he was leading Marcelle up to lavishly carved double doors, “Is this it?”, she asked with a grin.
“Go on in”, Nain responded opening the door. Marcelle needed no further coaxing, she was already gone.
“If you don’t object, Pr-..uh..Nain, I would like to visit an old friend, see if she’s still around. I won’t be but a minute”, you figured it would be nice to see Irida again.
“Of course not. Marcelle is in good hands”.
You bowed your head and turned to retreat down the hallway when Nain called out to you again.
“Lady..Y/n”.
You turned around.
“I..think I remember you”.
A knot formed in your throat, “What?”, you asked quietly.
“I don’t remember much. I believe it was a very long time ago, but I remember you”, he said with a soft smile.
You fumbled for words, “I-I was your nanny for a while”.
“I’m sorry you left. I don’t have a lot of warm memories from my childhood. But you and I were close, at least..I think we were”.
You smiled, “You were a good boy. I can see you have grown into a fine young gentleman. I’m sure your mother was very proud. I know I am”.
“Thank you, My Lady”, he said with a grin and a bow.
x
You stood in front of the door to your old room and knocked. A few moments passed and you wondered if Irida was even in Erebor anymore. She could have left or have been fired by Misadora. Expecting the door to be locked, you turned the doorknob to find that it opened with ease.
The room was dark and cold with no sign of anyone. The fire was out and one of the beds were a mess. In the dim light that the open door let in, you made out a handmaiden’s uniform that laid abandoned on the floor. How you loathed the sight of it.
You were about to leave when you heard a rustling at the foot of the bed that was unmade. Cracking the door open a fraction more, you gasped when the light illuminated Irida’s teary eyed face. You shut the door behind you and hurried over to her, “What are you doing? Are you alright?”.
She didn’t move as you tried to pull her off the floor, instead she resorted to crying. You couldn’t see anything and it was freezing in the room, so you fumbled for some flint near the fireplace and soon you had a fire going.
“Come sit by the fire”, you urged her but to no avail. By the light of the fire you made out a red hand print on her cheek that had begun to turn blue in some places. Her fine brown hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders and her eyes conveyed so much pain.
“Irida, who did this to you?”, you asked brushing her hair away from her face. You grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped her in it.
“They’re going to hang me!”, she sobbed heavily.
“Who is?”, you demanded trying to make sense of any of this.
“I did it”, she cried.
“Irida, what did you do?”.
She wailed in distress, “I killed her”.
You didn’t need any more clarification. You knew exactly who she was talking about. You felt sick but you had to maintain yourself if you were going to help her.
“Hush now”, you tried to sound soothing, “Stay quiet”.
You hurried to the door and bolted it just in case.
“Now”, you said taking a deep breath, “Tell me what happened”.
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