hollyleafheart

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[hollyleafheart]

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[chrys-lism2]

Cuffs 𓆪 Kíli Durin

f! human! reader

ao3 link

wc: 4,700+

summary: kíli's one and only love is cursed beneath the mountain by smaug.

tags: reader is cursed to be a dragon skin changer!, fluff, angst, fluff, happy ending, bathing together, engagement, weddings, dragons, no i have not read the books and barely know the lore, leave a girl alone <3

a/n: love you all!!!!

divider cred: me!

Humans had always been off limits. Kíli had been convinced he’d end up with another royal dwarf, a marriage without love to continue the line. You were nothing more than a human girl from Laketown, an advanced weaver known for the intricate designs in your blankets. 

He’d seen you for the first time on a journey to Laketown, an expedition to let the young princes meet their trade partners. He’d stepped into the small store, looking for a blanket to hold him over for the next few nights, and found you, sitting behind the counter, working on a small baby blanket, covered in an intricate flower pattern. He was enamored.

“My prince.” You smile, standing and giving him a soft bow.

“No need for such formalities… You flatter me.” He’d smiled, red coating his cheeks.

“Can I help you find anything?”

“The warmest blanket you’ve got.” You nod, coming around the counter and walking him over to an area with various blankets.

“The ones with the fur layer will be the warmest… those are the cheapest–” You point to a few solid color blankets. He skims through them gently. 

“Which is the most expensive?” Your head tilts for a moment before gently pulling out a blanket with a beautiful design of the gate of Erebor.

“Took me thirty moons.” You smile shyly, watching as he takes it from your hands.

“This… is beautiful…” He whispers, glancing up at you, making you grin bashfully,

“Thank you…”

“I’ll take it.” Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure? It’s almost–”

“I couldn't care less about cost. I’ll give you double.”

“My prince–”

“Kíli.” You blink and nod.

“Kíli, it’s thirty–”

“Then I’ll give you ninty.” Your jaw drops, completely lost for words as he gives you a charming grin and drops a small bag of coins on the counter. “But, only if you’ll accompany me to a royal feast in three weeks.”

“What?” He steps forward, taking your hands in his, looking up at you.

“Accompany me to the royal feast.”

“Kíli– I’m just a weaver–” You sputter out.

“I don’t care– Don’t make me make it a royal order– because I will.” You let out a soft huff, contemplating for a long moment before nodding.

“If you so insist…” His grin broadens, squeezing your hands.

“I do. Do you ever decorate your clothing with your skills?” You nod. “Will you wear a dress with something you’ve designed?”

“Why? I can find a nice dress–”

“I want you to show off your skills.”

𓆰𓆪

The walk from the edge of the lake to the gate of Erebor felt like the longest journey you’d ever taken. The official invitation sat heavily in your hands, even as just a nimble piece of paper. You’d spent the three weeks intricately weaving designs into the light brown bodice of your dress, the bottom a flowy brown stain with a detailed trim at the bottom that matched the bodice. 

You stepped up to the door, finding a guard and gently offering your invitation. He grunted softly, letting you through. You staggered slowly with the large groups of dwarves wandering the mines, decorated for the feast. Various looks were tossed your way, making you shrink in on yourself and find a corner to tuck yourself in and catch your breath. “I was worried you weren’t coming.”

Your nerves dispersed immediately as you looked to your left, finding Kíli in traditional royal garments, his hair delicately braided. “I was worried you’d send the royal guard to arrest me if I didn’t.” You joke lightly, letting him hear the nervousness in your tone and offering you a sympathetic smile.

“Do not worry about the looks the dwarves give you; they’re quick to judge.” His eyes drop, tracing the details of your bodice (definitely taking the opportunity to scan the neckline that allured to the soft flesh beneath the dress) and tracing the pattern you’d created. “The dress… It’s beautiful.” He whispers, stepping forward to take a piece of the skirt within his fingers.

“I… worked really hard on it.” You admit gently, making him smile again.

“I’m even prouder to show you off now.”

You gently take his arm as he offers it, stepping back into the large corridors and desperately trying to ignore the gasps and wide eyes that face you. Kíli softly squeezes your hand, sending you a reassuring glance. “They don’t seem too fond of me.” You whisper gently.

“Well, then, thank the gods my opinion of you is the only one that matters, yes?” You smile lightly. “But, you do have to meet my uncle.”

“King Thorin.” You say gently, making him nod.

“He does not have a kind reputation.” You nod.

“Will he take kindly to a non-royal?” Kíli thinks for a long moment before gently shaking his head.

“But please believe me when I say that I’ll defend you and don’t let his words get to you, alright?”

𓆰𓆪

The dining hall was so large that you felt as if your eyes were playing tricks on you. “It’s beautiful…” You whisper, making Kíli’s shoulders set back in pride.

“Isn’t it?”

“How many of us will eat in here?” 

“You, me, Filí, and Thorin.” You stop, turning to him.

“That’s it?”

“This is the royal table, and only royals eat here. Filí, at least, is eager to meet you.” 

“This… is terrifying.” You say softly, thanking him gently as he pulls your chair out for you to sit. Kíli gently leans to kiss your temple and squeeze your hand reassuringly. 

“It’s going to be fine… please just don’t let anything get to you.” You nod slowly, preening as he kisses your forehead. The doors open, and you jolt up, facing the two dwarves and bowing politely. 

“And who might this fine lass be, brother?” Fíli grins happily, clapping a hand on Kíli’s shoulder, making the younger grin. He introduces you, and you let out a soft noise of surprise as he pulls you into a tight hug. “Kíli’s been showing off that blanket he got from you for days now.” Heat creeps across your cheeks.

“Really?” They both nod.

“It truly is a beautiful work.” Fíli compliments.

“You brought a human.” Thorin’s voice rings out, sending a cool chill down your spine.

“Indeed,” Kíli confirms, standing just in front of you. You lift your eyes to the king’s for a moment.

“Do you have any royal blood? Any standing power in your title?” You shoot a glance at Kíli, clearing your throat and shifting your weight between your feet.

“No, my lord. Just a weaver from Laketown.” His frown deepens, a soft huff leaving his nose as he moves his glance to Kíli. 

“We may sit.” He instructs, making the three of you nod and follow suit. Kíli gently holds your hand beneath the table, and Fíli gently serves the food among the three plates. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And you’re aware Kíli is forty-three, yes?” You shake your head softly.

“But our kinds age differently.”

“Precisely the reason this relationship could never possibly–”

“Thorin.” Kíli firmly interjects, sending a glare to the older dwarf.

“At least try to get to know her first, Thorin,” Fíli says gently, taking his seat as you slowly begin to eat. “How long have you been a weaver?”

“My mother taught me when I turned ten. We’ve been weavers for many generations.”

“Did you do the designs on your dress?” The blonde dwarf asks softly, making you nod with a prideful smile. Kíli glances over it with an affectionate glance, admiring the talent your fingers held.

“The blanket Kíli got, you made it, yes?” Thorin asks, making you nod. His eyes sharpen for a moment, but he continues eating without a word.

𓆰𓆪

“Did I do well?” You ask gently, swinging your hand with Kíli as he gently leads you back through the hall of the mountain.

“Indeed.” He brings your knuckles to his lips. “Don’t take Throin’s…”

“Affections?” You mutter sarcastically, making the dwarf laugh loudly.

“Don’t take them personally.”

“Where are we going now?”

“My quarters.”

“That’s a bit forward.”

“Did you expect nothing less?” You roll your eyes with a giggle. He pushes through a large door, leading into a warmly lit room. A bed sits snug in the corner, littered with pillows and blankets (yours proudly laid on top of it all), and a bookshelf is set heavily against the opposite wall, filled with various stories and tales, clearly loved. A fireplace burns, illuminating the space, a rug set onto the top of the floor, a loved sofa facing the warmth. 

“You love the color blue.” You mutter, making him laugh.

𓆰𓆪

“Kíli!” You call out, months later, stepping into his space with a soft knock. A small box sat in the pocket of your dress, his cuddled form on the bed making you smile. His eyes flutter open when you sit beside his form, making the bed dip. “You’re here.” Your fingers drift through his hair with a light smile, a loud giggle leaving your lips as he tugs you to lie on top of him.

“I’m here.” He leans up to kiss you deeply, humming happily at your presence.

“What do I owe the pleasure?” Your breath catches gently as you sit back up, grabbing the small box from your pocket. His brow raises, watching you closely.

“I… have something for you.” He nods, taking the box gently from your hands and opening it. He freezes, seeing the small cuff. A sapphire was set firmly in the middle, both of your initials carved into the metal. You watch him for a long moment, feeling the panic rise.

“Do you understand what you’re offering?” He whispers, making you meet his eyes and slowly nod.

“I talked to Fíli about dwarven engagements.” Your words make a large grin spread across his face, closing the box and diving forward to hug you and firmly plant a kiss against your lips.

“Did he teach you how to do the specific braid?” You nod softly, pushing the shorter hairs from his eyes. “You’re perfect.” He kisses you deeper. 

He sits on the floor as you braid his hair back, taking the time to intricately separate and twist the strand into the engagement braid before tucking the cuff around the bottom of the braid. You kiss the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

𓆰𓆪

“She what?” Thorin’s head shoots up at Kíli’s words as he enters the room, brows pinched in frustration. Kíli gently touches the engagement braid set just beside his ear with a light smile.

“She proposed.”

“And you said yes?” Kíli’s brows furrow, snapped from his haze.

“Of course, I said yes, what are you talking about?”

“It’s only been a few months! Not to mention she asked first!”

“Don’t be so old-fashioned, Thorin–” Fíli butts in, making Thorin raise a hand.

“She didn’t even ask for a blessing.”

“She didn’t ask you, no.” Fíli smiles, making Thorin’s eyes widen. “I gave her the blessing.”

“You don’t have the authority–”

“Why do you care so much?” Kíli blurts, making the king turn his way.

“Because it’s my bloodline and I intend to keep it clean!”

“Don’t talk about her like that!”

“Take the engagement back!” Kíli’s brows furrow in deep offense, rolling his shoulders back and standing his ground.

“No. In fact, I visited the jewelers just before coming to you to start making hers.” Throin’s nostrils flare with frustration.

“You cannot do this.”

“Then let Fíli take the throne.”

“You’d throw away your title for a woman?” Kíli nods.

𓆰𓆪

The bell above the door to your shop dinged gently, making you look up, meeting Kíli’s eyes with a bright smile. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a gift for you!” He grins, moving forward to lean across the counter and kiss you gently. The braid in his hair was frayed but not undone, the small cuff sitting proudly.

“You do?” You ask gently, voice quiet with anticipation. He placed a box in your hands, looking up at you with a bashful grin. You glance between him and the intricately carved wood before gently opening the box, gasping at the contents.

The silver matched the cuff you’d given him, but an opal sat in the center. Designs of flowers curled around the gem, your initials hidden on the inner part. A gasp of excitement leaves your lips, through your arms around his shoulders, shrieking a soft yes! He laughs happily, pulling you in closer and kissing your temple.

𓆰𓆪

Your ideas of your wedding were swiftly interrupted by fire. Blazing hot, bright orange infront of your eyes. There was no time to find Kíli, no time to try and keep yourself alive.

You watched helplessly as Smaug destroyed your home. Fire burned around you, screams and cries of despair filling your ears. Kíli’s name was etched between your ribs, your hand shakily drifting up to the cuff in your hair before it all goes black.

𓆰𓆪

Kíli looked back at the kingdom in defeat. Smaug had taken Erebor. “Thorin! Please tell me you’ve found her!” He shouts to his uncle, making the taller dwarf shake his head with a sympathetic glance.

“No one’s seen her.” He says softly, making Kíli throw down his sword with a frustrated shout. Fíli stands beside you, Thorin, watching with dismay.

“He loved her.” He mutters gently, watching his brother begin to sob, hitting the dirt beneath his hands.

“Do you think he will heal?” Thorin asks Fíli softly.

“I don’t know.”

𓆰𓆪

The years passed slowly, and Kíli fell further into his dismay. The engagement cuff you’d given him stayed in his braids always, cleaned each night with his weapons. Fíli and Thorin helplessly watched from afar, knowing none of their words could soothe the prince. Thorin had consistently felt the punch of regret at the way he’d treated you and the engagement, but knew an apology was the last thing that could help the dwarf.

The journey back to Erebor felt like Kíli’s last hope to find you or at least some part of you. Thorin and Fíli watched from afar as he threw himself more recklessly into the battles along the way. Tauriel jumped back from the bars as he swiped at her in the elven prisons, offended that anyone would even try to take his heart again. The journey continued slowly after his injury, the poison taking the little hope he had left.

The dreams he had of you were torturous. Vast fields of flowers or the large depths of the mine with you at the center, happy. Sometimes, children ran around the two of you, or his brother and Thorin, welcoming you with open arms. The worst were the dreams of the wedding day and night that never came.

𓆰𓆪

What he didn’t know was that you were among the gold of Erebor, cursed by Smaug himself. A skinchanger now, a blue-scaled dragon trapped among the vast piles of treasure. The warmth it provided was different from what Kíli had ever felt, and no amount of treasure could make you forget your bethrothed. His claws had found you, huddled in a blanket, taken for nothing but the mere fun of the dragon’s evil.

You’d often watch the way your claws would drift through the piles of treasure, but one was never lost. The small hair cuff was always in your space, the only piece of treasure you’d ever breathe fire for. Smaug never questioned it, and the conversations you two shared were long. You never revealed your lost love, and he’d never cared to ask about the small cuff with an opal laid in the center.

𓆰𓆪

Waking up from the dreams of you after the poison had been cleared from his veins was almost his undoing; the journey to the mountain was worse. Stepping back into his home, he faced the memories of you as he walked through the hallways and admired them.

He took a moment to sneak back into his old quarters, and the blanket he’d bought still sat among the pillows. He’d grabbed it softly, bringing it to his nose and letting out a gentle sob of despair at your smell. His eyes drift to the clothes both of you had left behind, the empty fireplace mocking him.

𓆰𓆪

His smell was the first thing you noticed, sharp and as clean as you had remembered it. Hiding beneath the gold as Smaug left the mountain and headed for Laketown, creeping towards the dwarves. Your head lifted at the whispers of the great dragon being dead, made you crawl from your haven, the cuff wrapped around one of your shaper canines, held with the same amount of care Kíli would hold you with. You gracefully flew up, watching the way their weapons trained on your form, scanning them for Kíli’s eyes. “Put your weapons down!” He yells, rushing to the ledge they were on. You fly closer, finding a place to perch and leaning your snout close to him. You gently drop the small engagement cuff at his feet, making him gasp.

“Kíli, what is going on?” Thorin calls out. Your eyes meet Kíli’s, and he lets out a soft sob.

“It’s her!” He sobs out, making the others' brows furrow, and the other dwarves glance at each other.

“What are you talking about? She’s dead!” Fíli calls out, making you snarl, the word punching Kíli uncomfortably in the gut. 

“Look at her eyes!” He cries, smile etched with loving relief. Your eyes widen, pupils dilating at his realization. “She has the engagement cuff!” 

“Kíli! That is a dragon! How do we know she’s not like Smaug!” You snarl again, making Kíli wipe a tear with a wide smile. 

“Go on without me! I’ll figure this out!” The dwarves look to Thorin, who rubs his eyes with a sigh and slowly nods.

“We cannot leave you with a monster!”

“She’s not a monster! Please just trust me! Just go!” A few grumbles are released from the company, but Thorin waves them on, leaving the two of you behind.

You move to lie on the platform Kíli stood on, head against the cool stone beneath your chin. “You’re a dragon.” He says softly, reaching out to touch your snout and feel the scales. You left out a loud breath through your nose, large eyes filling with tears at the touch. “You’re alive…” He whispers.

You let out a soft noise, making him smile. You watch as he takes his braid down, sitting to the side of your snout and holding out the cuff you’d given him. He laughs at the happy spark of flames that leaves your throat. “Can you turn back?” You glance at him, tousling your wings softly, your tail swaying. “Do you know how?” He smiles weakly as you shake your large head. “We’ll find a way… I promise you that.” You press the side of your snout against his side. He kisses the scales, making you let out a purr-like noise. “I’ll have Fíli braid both cuffs into my hair until we get you back, ok?” He whispers, making you nuzzle further against him.

You press as close as you can to his side, letting out the equivalent of a purr. His sobs echo through the space, and he traces the scales on your face. You let out a soft noise, an offer of something Kíli couldn’t understand. “What is it?” You stretch your wings softly, trying to communicate. “Hey– I trust you.” He watches your eyes perk up as you stand, gently wrapping your talons around him. He lets out a shout of surprise followed by a laugh as you set him down among the piles of gold, curling up with him, settled in the middle of your warmth. “Are you asking… for dragon cuddles?” You let out another happy nose, curling further around him. “Who am I to deny you?” He whispers tearfully. He grabs the two cuffs, holding them tightly in his palm.

He gently sits among the gold, your large form curled around him as he gently traces the scales that line the ridge of your wing. Commotion swirls somewhere above them, but he pays no mind, his tears growing heavier. “Am I still dreaming?” He whispers.

𓆰𓆪

“Kíli!” Filí’s voice rings out beside him, making his eyes snap open.

“What– what?” 

“Thorin’s about to start a war.”

“What?”

“Thorin’s gone mad with dragon sickness… Thranduil and Bard are outside the gate–” Kíli stands, searching for his sword and looking over your form as you continue to sleep. “She’ll come back to you,” Fíli whispers gently. “We’ve found her, and now it’s just a matter of helping her get back. But we cannot help her if Thorin gets us all killed.”

𓆰𓆪

When you eventually wake, the war outside echoes through the vast corridors. You scramble for a moment, panic flaring through you as you notice that Kíli is gone from your hold. The engagement cuffs glitter, and you glance at them before flying up and out of the mountain. You scan and scan, finding Ravenhill, seeing the three goats rushing towards the top. You quickly fly over, perching on a large walk and looking around you. Thorin, Filí, and Kíli meet you there, watching closely. 

You spot the orcs first, letting out a loud snarl of warning and flying up to breathe fire at the growing threat. The three dwarves take shelter behind you, watching in awe and readying themselves for the battle that was sure to ensue. As the first wave breaks past your fire, you do what you can, catching eyes on the hobbit that had joined the battle.

You fly down again, grabbing orcs with your talons and throwing them into the other brutes, trying desperately to slow the wave down. Kíli lets out a shout of distress, and you turn, diving to grab the orc off of him, tossing it off the cliff. You land in the snow, protectively placing yourself in front of him and continuing to fight off the orcs.

𓆰𓆪

As the battle settles around you, orc corpses are riddled around you, the snow stained with their blood. Fíli had found protection, climbing on your back, Kíli moving to join him, shooting down the orcs. Bilbo had managed to save Thorin, sitting beside the king’s tired body, wounded from battle. You watch slowly as Kíli and Fíli rush to his side, victorious. 

Your scaled body sways as you try to stand, a pained whimper leaving your limbs, smoke from your flaring nostrils, before collapsing in the snow. Kíli watches in fascinated horror as your wings begin to twitch and your body contorts, pained sounds slipping between your teeth. The snow swells around your form before settling, a body lying in the center. His body freezes, his feet moving before his mind could register, his sword dropping with a clatter against the ice. You blink slowly, blinded by the sunlight behind the clouds as you look up before Kíli’s face moves to block the sun. “Kíli?” You whisper, making his eyes fill with tears.

“Hi, my love…” He chokes out, cupping your cheeks.

“I’m not a dragon.” You sniffle, making him nod.

“You’re alive… and here… and alive.” The words are repeated in a way that makes it sound like he was convincing himself. Your hand drifts up to the braid in his hair, done swiftly by Fíli before leaving the safety of the mines, both cuffs nestled behind his ear.

“We get to have a wedding…” You smile wistfully, his hand clasping yours as he plants a kiss against your wrist.

“We get to have a wedding.” He repeats, making your tears start to fall as he leans down to meet your lips.

𓆰𓆪

You sat behind Kíli, the water warm, sitting just beneath your breasts. Your fingers massaged his scalp with the shampoo, the dirt and grime slowly leaving his body. A soft sigh left his lips, the noise shaky as he lifted a hand to wipe his tears. “You haven’t stopped crying,” You whisper.

“How can I? I thought you were… dead. For years… It’s the greatest relief I’ve ever felt.” You kiss his shoulder before rinsing his hair. 

“I knew you survived… You wouldn’t leave me like that.” He squeezes your calf beneath the water, making you giggle in surprise, massaging the conditioner into his hair. “We get to do engagement braids again.”

“And I finally get to do a wedding braid.” He looks over his bare shoulder, kissing you softly. “I practiced like mad. Fíli was about ready to rip his hair out.” You giggle again, making him smile. “Do I get to wash your hair now?” You nod, and the two of you slowly shift positions so you can lie against his chest. He slowly washes your hair, savoring the moment he was so convinced was lost forever.

“Thorin has no excuse but to like me now.” Kíli lets out a loud laugh.

“It would be pretty mean to hate someone we were convinced was dead for so long.”

“I have not waited this long and as a dragon to not get my wedding day and my wedding night.”

“You are going to get the most luxurious wedding night anyone’s ever seen. There’s a lot of… pent-up love to show.” You snicker, letting him rinse your hair. 

“I don’t ever want to leave your arms.” You whisper.

“I don’t think I have it in me to ever let you go.” He hums against your temple. 

𓆰𓆪

The fire was warm against your skin as Kíli pulled your nightgown down just enough to kiss along your shoulder and nip gently at your neck. You let your head roll back with a soft breath, humming contentedly at the feeling. “You’re supposed to be braiding…”

“Let me savour you…” He hums against your skin, squeezing your sides.

“We’re not married yet…” 

“Must I wait?”

“I want my braid.” You whine gently, making him pull back with a laugh.

“Alright, alright…” He sections off a small strand of hair just behind your ear, feeling his eyes swell with emotion. Your hand reaches out to gently rest on his knee.

“You’re crying again.”

“I cannot help it.” He smiled through the tears, making you give him a loving glance. He gently places the cuff around the end of your braid, marveling at the sight. “You’re going to be my wife.” You grin, surging forward to kiss him happily.

“My turn?” You ask as you pull away, making him smile again. You shift your position to gather the hair beneath his left ear, weaving it together gently and placing the sapphire-encrusted cuff around the bottom. “You’re going to be my husband.”

“Gladly.” He smiles, pressing you down against the rug and moving over top of you to kiss you deeply. You make a soft sound against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “I love you… I love… I love you.” He whispers with a bright grin, making you throw your head back in happy laughter.

“I love you more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

𓆰𓆪

The wedding came swiftly, Thorin enthusiastically approving the plans and making arrangements for the kingdom. You’d worked tirelessly on your dress, and Kíli had asked you to do the trim of his royal garments. You sit against his chest, snuggled in bed, sewing the fabrics with great, delicate care. He would watch, absolutely enamored with your craft, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

Fíli helped do your hair the morning of, leaving a strand separated for the marriage braid. Thorin helped Kíli get ready on the other side of the castle, the halls flooded with your people and the dwarves. Gandalf had offered to officiate with Thorin by his side, the ceremony moving smoothly.

Everyone watched in awe as you braided the marriage bands into each other’s hair, shouts of excitement erupting through the palace halls as Kíli pulled you in for a fierce kiss, making you laugh. The celebrations ensued throughout the day, feasts and parties surrounding the two of you, but as the sun began to set, he grabbed your hands, pulling you through the corridors and into his quarters with a grin. “I have been waiting years for you.” He whispers, pulling into a deep kiss.

“You have to untie my dress. I’ll kill you if you rip this and ruin my work.” He groans dramatically, making you giggle, and gently unties his dressings.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He mumbles.

“That I am.” You hum, kissing him again.

[mountkennedie]

Straggler

Kili Durin x human!reader

Summary: An au where everyone lives happily in erebor and kili is in love with you (lucky)

Warnings: ONLY TWO uses of y/n, and fluff ofc

A.N. i love kili and he loves me tbh.

Bagginshield mention lol.

Also: -ê khi love: my one love and Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures

Kili is 4'8, Reader is around 5'4

"You look beautiful in the sunlight," the dwarf beside you said. You jumped, you swore when you left this morning, and you didn't have any stragglers. However, here you are, with Kili Durin on your tracks. You weren't going to lie, you enjoyed the princes company, if only he gave you a warning beforehand.

You all had been thriving in Erebor upon a year now. Now that things had settled and riches distributed, everyone was able to return to a simpler life. Ori began exploring crochet after mastering knit. You enjoyed going on walks around the mountain, and Kili enjoyed you.

You looked down to him and furrowed your eyebrows, unsure if you heard what you thought you did. "I said um," he began to look sheepish, "you look beautiful in the sunlight, Y/n."

"Thank you," you bowed your head in appreciation, then began to continue your stroll when he said, "Wait!" He grasped your forearm, "may I join you this morning?" He gave you a warm smile in addition to the sweet eyes you could hardly resist.

"You already are KIli," I told him, returning the smile. "But sure, why not." He wasted no time in meeting you at your side. "I really love the view," your gaze followed over the trees and valleys and into the overwhelming beauty of Middle Earth. After being on the year-long quest and exhausting final battle, you can finally appreciate the scenery you're surrounded with. It sends waves of peace over you that you only wish to bask in until the end of time.

"So do I," he whispered. But instead of looking at the young rising sun over the horizon, his gaze on you didn't falter. To an onlooker, it would look as if his sight upon you had grown more intense.

You, of course, noticed this. "Kili, I'm serious!" You playfully shoved him to the side. You let laughter spill from your lips, and he joined you. You paced forward slowly, "you know... would you ever like to see it all?" Your voice matched your vision, very distant.

"All..?" He asked you whilst meeting your speed.

"Of middle earth. Would you ever want to see the entirety of our world?" You spoke quietly, thinking of how you would answer that question. In all honesty, you would. But not for a long time. You needed a couple of years before venturing on your next quest, and with the knowledge you now know, you would not want to go alone.

"I see the entirety of my world every day," he spoke softly. He stopped walking and looked at you. You halted and looked at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Crossing the short distance, you stood before him.

"Must you always be a flirt?"

Looking up into your eyes, "I must," he mused.

"And why is that, Kili?"

"Y/n, -ê khi love, I think you know," he took your hand in his. He held you like you were the rarest treasure, and for how he was looking in your eyes, to him you were.

"Kili..." You were speechless. His eyes were studying every movement your face made, trying to learn as much as possible about what you were thinking. But you saved him the trouble, "amrâlimê." You had so desperately wanted to give that name to him. You smiled so brightly, and he returned it. It was debatable who out shined the other.

"Really?" He couldn't contain the excitement he felt inside. All the talks with his uncles about how properly court had finally paid off. He knew he needed to meet with Thorin and Bilbo as soon as possible, but it could still wait until he completed the courting tradition.

"So does that mean we'd give each other the braids?" You felt like a child for asking that question, but being human, this was new to you. Thorin had conveniently told about the practice yesterday.

"It does! It does, indeed." He reached back and released his shiny brunette hair for the silver clip he had installed and turned his back to you. You don't think you've ever seen him so eager. Upon picking up some strands, you heard your lover sigh deeply. If only you were a dwarf, to fully understand this significance. You've noticed Fili's braids. Maybe he's waiting on his turn since.

When you finish the braid, you let your fingers run through the rest of his locs, as if hypnotized. He turned to look at you, tears in his eyes. His hand took yours and placed a lingering kiss on the back of it. He did not break eye contact during the small gesture, and it sent waves of emotion through you. "Your turn, ghivashel."

His gentle tone woke you from your thoughts. You gasped a little and smiled. You turned your back to him and sucked in a breath, beyond excited to receive a braid of your own.

After finishing his portion, you hear Kili release an uneven breath. You turn around to see him with tears in his eyes. You don't ever think you have been gazed upon in such a way as he is gazing now. Eyes wet with tears, but full of passion and love that could never be shown to anyone other than his One.

You held his face in your hands and looked deep into those eyes. He leaned his forehead up to rest against yours, and you closed the gap. The feeling surging between the two of you could never be measured. Without a word, you both aimed for each others lips, a final collision to seal tradition.

It was languid and slow but full of life. Pulling away, you both looked each other in the eyes. "If only I could tell you how many nights I've laid awake... waiting for this moment, -ê khi love." His eyes looked over your face as if taking it all in for the first time. Not getting enough of every inch it crossed over.

"You will never have to wait again."

[kalmnaeturue]

[justsomerandomfanfic]

A Question Of Courtship - Kili Durin X Female (Human) Reader

Title: A Question Of Courtship

Kili Durin X Female (Human) Reader

Additional Characters: Bilbo, Lobelia (Mentioned), Gandalf (Mentioned), Thorin, Dwalin (Mentioned), Balin (Mentioned), Fili, and the rest of the Company (Mentioned)

Requested By: @kpopgirlbtssvt

WC: 3,695

Warnings: Mentions of adoption, Reader is adopted by Bilbo, very brief and slight prejudice, brief mentions of injuries and wounds, italics, nightmares, confession, teasing, banter, counting, Ones, mini angst, and fluff

Twenty-two years ago, on a beautiful sunny morning, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, had found you on his doorstep. That morning was like any other morning for the Hobbit. He would wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and then smoke his pipe out in his little garden as the sun rose before readying second breakfast.

But, on one fateful day, Bilbo had finished his breakfast - a smile on his face and his stomach full - as he made his way to the round front door. Upon opening the door, his pleasant grin faded into one of confusion. Right on his little bench, where he always sat at the beginning of the day to watch the sunrise, now held a basket.

A gift perhaps?

Walking over, he stashed his pipe back within his cotton vest, staring down at the brown woven basket, a light blue blanket covering the top; hiding what was underneath. Bilbo was a bit apprehensive, not fully knowing what was inside the basket, but with the thought that it was perhaps food or any baked goods, he reached over to take the blanket off the top.

Instead of any food, he found you. A wee little baby, wrapped in a second blanket - a small seemingly-homemade quilt. You were sleeping, peacefully, and only after tearing his bewildered gaze from you, did he see the note on the top of your quilt. Taking the note, he opened it, and read it;

'Please, whoever reads this, take care of my baby.'

That was it. And as Bilbo looked up from the short letter, he wondered what he was going to do with you. There wasn't even a name of your mother, nor one for you... Bilbo wasn't prepared to take care of a child - a baby - something that needed a lot of attention, food, and love. He was not ready to take care of a child. His mind quickly filled with late nights and ear-piercing crying... His beloved routine would be in shambles. But, when your eyes opened, peering up at him, a little smile appeared on your face... All the thoughts of finding someone more fit to raise you left his mind completely. 

Before Bilbo knew it, he decided to name you 'Y/N.' He was now a father.

A father to a Human. 

Bilbo found out that you were a Human when you grew and surpassed him in height. This was difficult, yes, his home was small, compared to you, but thankfully the ceilings were high enough that if you ducked slightly, you'd be fine. Though, because of your height, you needed specific things for your life to be more comfortable. Such as a bigger bed, which was handmade by one of Bilbo's lovely neighbors, as well as chairs and whatnot. And clothes. Do not get him started on the clothes. Bilbo even expanded his garden, enough to now fully feed both him and you.

And in the beginning, when you were still such a small, little thing, Bilbo was worried about the possible prejudice that would arise. He was worried that some of those in Hobbiton would find you odd. A Human in Hobbiton... But, news of Bilbo's Human daughter was quickly spread, and as quickly as it was spread, it became accepted. People began to forget that you weren't exactly like them - and, in many ways, you weren't. You were kind and gentle, and oh-so very loving; that made everyone around you want to be just as kind and gentle too. 

This brought happiness to Bilbo. You seemed happy. He was happy too. And life was calm and peaceful in the Shire once more.

But, skipping to the present day, that all seemed to change. 

A gentle breeze swept past you as you sat on the edge of the riverbed. You sat upon a large stone, dipping your bare feet into the water. It was warm and soothing and you smiled as you watched fish swim past, occasionally coming up for a moment and nipping lightly at your toes. Your hair was tied back, but little strays were persistent and broke free; framing your face nicely. The setting sun shone brightly on your head but didn’t bother you much. You had grown used to the sunlight and weather and took no offense to it at all. It was warm enough today - despite the breeze - that you wore a thin jacket; which you loved immensely, along with a simple dress, and some leather boots. Being a Human, unlike Hobbits, you were unable to walk around on your bare feet for more than an hour or two at a time without growing uncomfortable; you couldn't count how many times you came home with little sores on the bottoms of your feet.

Your afternoons usually persisted in reading in the small forest near the entrance path to Hobbiton before you traveled around the town, greeting your friends and neighbors before finding yourself sitting down by the river. Hobbiton, though being the only place you've ever been, was a beautiful and peaceful place. You loved it, but you longed for adventure. You often imagined going on adventures to far-off places, seeing large castles, and riding horses. Like the storybooks had told you, but, though you were old enough, Bilbo would always become so uneasy at the mere mention of you leaving Hobbiton. You knew that you could leave if you so wished, but you hated the thought of him being alone. Alone to face the wrath of Lobelia. 

You knew that you were different. And no, not in the way that you were a Human and your friends and family - and father - were not. You were different. Special. When you were twelve, you had been running around with some of the other children, and in the cloud of fun, you had tripped and fallen. Finding your knee all scraped up, you felt tears sting the backs of your eyes. You had carefully brushed the dirt and whatever else away from the somewhat bloody scrap; a tear leaving your eye. It fell, landing on your knee, and within mere seconds, your cut had healed itself. You remembered the feeling of awe and confusion as you stared down at your now perfectly healed knee. You told your father - Bilbo - and with a bit of research, you had learned that your tears could heal injuries. 

Well, when you got older, this fascination with your powers and healing in general, you trained to become a healer. You learned all that you needed to know; certain tonics, plants to use, and ones to stay away from. It was helpful, very helpful in fact, that you became one of the best healers of Hobbiton. Though, there wasn't a lot of healing you had to do. Hobbiton was - as said before - calm and peaceful. There were no wars, no battles, no fights that caused any wounds or anything that needed healing. At most, you had a papercut or a gardening scratch that needed tending to. So, you were free to do anything you pleased, most of the time, most of the day.

But, as the sun began to fall past the horizon, you quickly got up from the stone. Walking home, the grass gradually dried your feet as you made your way home; continuing to hum a song as you got closer and closer. Entering the home, you could smell supper cooking, and you smiled. After a long day, you were excited to eat. Stashing your shoes away, you found your father plating supper, and you joined him, helping him. 

The supper looked delicious, but before either you or your father could even begin to eat or take your first bites, there was a knock on the door. You both looked up at each other, confused. Who would be visiting this late into the night?

"Did you invite someone?" You asked your father, who shook his head.

"No," He looked towards where the door was located, "Did you, my child?"

You shook your own head, "No."

You both then stood, and Bilbo opened the door. There stood a Dwarf. He stared at the both of you - possibly somewhat surprised by you - then the intimidating Dwarf gave your father his heavy furs and weapons. Before you knew it, there were a handful of Dwarves in the Hobbit hole, along with Gandalf. You stood beside your father, hearing the story of Erebor, the dragon, and the Dwarves wanting to reclaim it. It was a thrilling story, and you found yourself wishing and longing that you could come along and help. 

Well, your wish would soon be fulfilled. 

~~~

You had been walking, you didn't know how long, but you didn't care. You were happy, a bright smile on your face as you looked at all the tall trees, and colorful plants; just admiring the world around you. You followed after some of the other Dwarves, your father beside you. It had been a good couple of days since the beginning of the journey to Erebor. Gandalf had convinced the Dwarves - mostly Thorin - that they would need a burglar. A burglar and a healer. 

Your father did not want you to go. He was insistent that you stay home, and watch over the Shire, and his garden, but Gandalf said that you would be a key member of the Company if you came along. You remembered looking up at Gandalf, and with that knowing look in his eyes, you knew that he knew about your powers. You had then spoken, telling him, and Thorin, that you would be honored to come along. Bilbo grumbled and protested against you signing the contract but with a smidge of convincing by you that next morning, both you and your father were running through Hobbiton to catch up with the Company.

You had been collecting flowers, some white ones, pink ones, and even some yellow ones. It had been a good couple of months since the beginning of the journey. Throughout the journey, aside from running away from goblins and trolls, you and the Company had gotten closer. All of the Dwarves, even Thorin, and Dwalin - though they never said anything to you, being so broody and stoic - all the Dwarves had grown to love you. Your kindness and spirit were contagious. They'd all come out of their shells a little - especially Balin, who had taken quite an interest in you and had even begun to teach you Dwarvish.

And Kili... Well, you had unintentionally caught the young Prince's attention since the very beginning. 

Kili watched as you picked flower after flower, taking in everything; your energy, your joy. Everything that made you, you. He found your voice breathtaking, and your words always filled him with such warmth and comfort. He enjoyed the moments he did have with you. The conversations you both shared. The more the journey went on, the more both you and Kili grew closer. You talked about your interests and the things you liked doing. He loved watching you laugh and smile, and hearing the stories that you told. He could listen to your sweet voice for hours on end. Seeing the sun reflect off your hair, the light dusting of freckles across your nose and cheeks, your smile... His heart pounded faster than usual and he felt himself blush. You had no idea what he saw. No clue. No clue as to what you had done to him. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, and Fili noticed this. 

"You should speak to her," Fili spoke, slightly startling Kili out of his thoughts. 

He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, before he turned to Fili with a questioning glance, "What?"

Fili sighed quietly, glancing from you to his brother once more. "You should tell her how you feel," He explained gently, watching the way Kili looked at you. "Tell her how you feel about her."

Becoming somewhat started, Kili nudged Fili's side, "Must you be so loud?" He whispered, glaring at his older brother who pursed his lips.

"Yes, I must," He whispered back, looking back at you briefly, "Because you are oblivious."

"I'm not oblivious," Kili defended, "Just... Cautious," He admitted, fiddling with a leather strap on his shoulder. "I believe that she is my One, Fee." He spoke softly, his voice nearly drowned in the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees.

Fili's frown turned around at his words, "Then you must speak to her. You know how important Ones are, Kee."

"I do," He replied calmly, "But..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly. "I don't think I can. Not yet," He mumbled quietly, almost inaudible, but still audible to Fili. Looking back over at you, Kili sighed... 'Soon,' he thought. Soon, he'd tell you. He just didn't know when. It was hard to have any privacy - or alone time for that matter - when the rest of the Company was present.

~~~

That night, you shot up from your bedroll. Your breathing was uneven and frantic, and you were covered in cold sweat. Glancing around you, seeing that everything was alright, you shook your head. You rubbed your cheeks, hoping that you didn't wake anyone. The nightmare was dark, and gorey. You weren't scared of the goblins or trolls when you had first encountered them, no, but the nightmare changed something inside of you. It frightened you, to the point that you couldn't breathe properly, let alone sleep. You didn't understand why such a thing happened to you, or why such things would plague your dreams. 

"Are you alright?" A voice asked, and it slightly startled you, making you turn your head to see Kili. He sat at the base of a tree; it must have been his night for night watch. 

"Oh, um-" You paused, trying to collect your thoughts and emotions. "My apologies, I am fine." You murmured softly, smiling reassuringly at him. "Just a dream."

Kili merely nodded. After a few moments of silence, Kili finally spoke up. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You pursed your lips, turning your gaze to look at the fire; contemplating before standing. Kili watched as you grabbed your fur blanket, walked over to him, and sat down beside him. "It's nothing to worry about, really," You insisted, "Just about the trolls."

Kili hummed before nodding, "I would understand having such dreams. Trolls are incredibly ugly creatures."

His words made you laugh, and you quickly covered your mouth with a hand to quiet yourself. Thankfully, none of the Dwarves, nor your father, had awoken. His words helped you, making you smile, and a small feeling of happiness spread through you. "Thank you, Kili," You said, leaning towards him slightly. "Your words have indeed helped me. As always."

"Always," He repeated quietly, his smile only growing as you reached out to place your hand on top of his.

~~~

The next morning, Kili awoke first. He was just peeking out from above the horizon, and with a small groan, he tried to stretch; but with the weight that was pressed against his shoulder and side, he stopped. Looking beside him, he found you, fast asleep, your head on his shoulder; blanket covering you, the sunlight shining right onto your face, making you appear like an ethereal being. He felt himself freeze, the warmth radiating off your body and into his. He stared at you for a moment, before glancing down, your hand still covered his. He smiled sadly as his thumb brushed lightly against your skin. 

At your soft sigh, he paused, his chest tightening as you slowly woke,  blinking at the sunlight. "Good morning," Your voice was barely a whisper, and Kili chuckled slightly.

"Good morning." He returned quietly, shifting slightly, careful not to disturb you. "Sleep well? No nightmares?"

"Mhm," You hummed, "No nightmares about ugly trolls." You laughed lightly, causing Kili to smile.

There was another pause between the two of you, neither daring to say anything as the minutes ticked on. Kili watched you as you gazed upon the sunrise, the rays catching every detail of your features, until his mind wandered away. What would you say? What would you say about the fact that his heart raced whenever he gazed upon you, whenever you spoke? Every word that left your lips, it seemed, touched a part of him, deep within the depths of his soul. If he listened, he could hear the echo of your sweet voice, your laughter... If he closed his eyes, he could envision your smile, the light dancing in your eyes. But what if... what if he told you? Would you feel the same? You were his One... He must tell you.

But as the day went on - breakfast being served, traveling closer and closer to the mountain - Kili began to doubt himself. Perhaps, perhaps he wouldn't be able to bring himself to. Would he dare to say it out loud? He wasn't sure. And the longer it lasted, the less confident he became. Finally, after everyone had eaten their fill, the group came to a stop.

"This will be our camp for the night," Thorin announced. "We shall take turns staying up with the watch. Fili and Kili, you can grab sticks for the fire."

Fili quickly spoke, "I can go find food, Kili and Y/N can find wood for the fire."

With that, Thorin raised an eyebrow but allowed it. 

Fili gave Kili an encouraging grin, and Kili let out a deep sigh. Doubt tickled the edges of his mind, but once his eyes met yours - seeing your smile - that doubt fluttered away.

Side by side, you and Kili walked around the woods. The evening sun was slowly falling below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and yellow, creating a beautiful sight. Finally, since the nightmare, you and Kili were together alone. Without the other company or the Company, it was easier for you two to talk without interruption. But now, surrounded by the sounds of crickets chirping, of leaves rustling - all alone - Kili felt nervous again.

"Y/N," His voice brought you attention away from the wildflowers and towards him, a smile on your face, "Can I ask something?"

You frowned slightly, tilting your head to the side, "Of course." And Kili felt a lump swell up in his throat. 

You looked ethereal. The setting sun cast a golden halo around your hair, causing the strands to sparkle in a way that almost blinded him. Your eyes were bright, shimmering, and filled with curiosity. He swallowed hard. He wanted to ask you the question - but he hesitated. How would you respond? Would you even answer? But, he couldn't speak, he was just so mesmerized by you. So lost in your beauty. Lost in your eyes. Lost in your smile. He didn't want to lose you.

"You are so beautiful..." He muttered out, still so lost in the depths of your stare.

A flush painted your cheeks, and you glanced away shyly. "Oh… Th-Thank you, Kili."

His eyes widened as he snapped out of his head, "I- I did not mean to say that out loud." He spoke alarmed,  his expression one of horror as he realized what he had said. He bit his lip. 

You blinked owlishly before letting out a short chuckle. "It is alright," You murmured softly, staring at him with a warm, gentle expression. "Nevertheless, I thank you for the compliment."

He breathed out heavily, unable to stop a smile - albeit a nervous one - from appearing on his face. "I did not mess this up, did I?"

You let out another little laugh, shaking your head, "No, I don't think so."

A sweet, silent understanding swept over the both of you, and as his hands brushed against yours during your little walk through the woods, you both completely forgot to grab any kindle for the fire.

~~~

The next morning - walking towards Erebor - with an encouraging smile from you, Kili jogged up towards your father. Again, the nerves were immense, but he steeled himself, clearing his throat to gain your father's attention. Bilbo looked over at the young Prince, an eyebrow raising.

Around them, it felt like the world had gone silent. Like all attention was on him. Kili let out one more sigh, before speaking, "I would like to ask for your permission to braid Y/N’s hair." Now, everyone's eyes were on him, but Kili stood his ground, looking directly at your father. There was no backing down. He wanted to prove himself.

"Braid?" Bilbo muttered, clearly this was the first he was hearing this, "You want to braid my daughter’s hair?"

Kili nodded, glancing at Thorin, he merely grumbled and continued walking, before Kili realized by Bilbo’s expression that he was confused. “Oh, uh, I mean courting. I would like to court your daughter. She- She is the light of my life. She is my One. I know I do not deserve her, but-" Kili let out a sigh, running a hand through his curls. "Will you allow me to court her?"

Bilbo stared at him with wide eyes, clearly shocked and speechless. His gaze darted back towards you, who stood a couple of meters behind, watching intently, but at the sight of your smile, Bilbo quickly composed himself and let out a deep sigh, nodding. "Alright," Bilbo stated. It was obvious how much both you and Kili smiled at each other, and just from the looks in your eyes. "You may court my daughter." He added, giving him a stern look, "But, if you do anything, I will have my cousin's throw potatoes at you."

Kili's smile grew as he nodded, and he could hear some of the other Dwarves cheering for him. "Thank you, Mister Boggins."

Bilbo let out a deep, dramatic sigh as Kili ran back towards you, taking your awaiting hand. Running a hand down his face, he turned around to see both you and Kili smiling, and he knew then - seeing you both interact with each other - he knew. You were happy together. And he could never be angry. If you were happy, then he was happy too.

~~~

Main Masterlist - The Hobbit/Lord Of The Rings Masterlist

[wordbunch]

no admittance except on wedding business ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

[The Hobbit characters + your wedding celebration]

a/n: shoutout to a big brained anon for requesting this - i had fun with it, as i haven't written these characters in a while! hope you have fun reading it and remember: reblogs+comments+nice asks feed & motivate the author 💕

summary: gn!reader, no [y/n], mentions of drinking, just silly fluff! i did the characters that inspire me so sorry if your fav's not here.

disclaimer!! no use of AI in my writing, ever.

༊ THRANDUIL 

big royal wedding, a larger than life event which happens somewhere outdoors amongst the trees, beautiful and light

firstly, it is incredibly aesthetically elaborate and decorated; as well as quite ceremonial and lengthy, fitting for a very important royal couple

but most of all it is incredibly romantic, all things considered

the way he looks at you is just beyond. so much love. 

his vows are very long and detailed and flowery, making you tear up, you swear you almost see a tear in his eyes too. 

to say that you had the best of the best would be an understatement. 

elves and highly esteemed guests come from all over. 

it lasts long, both the ceremony and the party. 

let me just say the drinks are STRONG AND GOOD. high chance of things getting out of hand eventually. 

maybe it’s a custom or something, but you got lavished in gifts prior to the wedding. 

it’s the stuff of legend all around elven kingdoms because it was such a momentous, perfect day. 

he definitely toasts to you, waxing poetic, and everyone must be subjected to listening bc they don’t really have a choice mwahahah

؛༊ THORIN 

dwarves take their big life events seriously. 

it’s elaborate and ceremonious, quite serious during the formal portion of the event, but the party afterwards is an absolute blast. 

it’s also a royal wedding which means it lasts longer than the usual ones and everything is so rich and elaborate

your ring is astonishing, as well as the finest jewelry handmade just for you and Thorin for this particular occasion. 

he’s taking it so seriously and he was also very involved with the planning and fine-tuning. 

the food is AWESOME and the drinks are abundant. 

does he get slightly tipsy and carried away afterwards, when the most important parts are done and he can relax and enjoy the fact that you are together forever <3 maybe. 

definitely holds a speech in your honor, making your face heat up profusely. 

and a toast also. or multiple. 

he will kiss you deeply multiple times throughout the night even though he usually keeps the PDA lowkey and is respectful but ITS HIS WEDDING HE MAKES THE RULES!

؛༊ BILBO 

you know his birthday party, that iconic one? before that, there was this very special party! 

the whole Hobbiton is buzzing and so many people are borderline meddlesome, and so curious about the fact that their strangest of neighbors is getting locked down 👀

Gandalf is obviously a special guest too, but alas, news of a good party travels far and wide so there’s a high chance of some dwarf friends showing up bearing finest gifts for the happy couple (and the gifts are very fine indeed, intricately crafted jewelry worth a small fortune, inspiring even more curious whispers all around) 

Bilbo is STRESSING sooo much about everything, it would be endearing if he wasn’t stressing you out by proxy – he just wants you to have the most pleasant day! every now and then you need to calm him down as you get further into planning, but alas, he survives

there’s fireworks! in all your favorite colors

he stumbles over his words slightly during the ceremony but he can’t help it, he is just overcome by how much he loves you and that you’re actually getting married! 

the party lasts until dawn basically; whoever survives, survives.

he’s not one for much dancing in front of hundreds of guests, but he’s obliged to take you for a spin at least a couple times (and show you off a bit, he’s allowed to be sweetly possesive). 

not removing his hands off of you for a single second – you’re his now, and also stunning, and why should he not be all over you, especially on this day? 

a billion kisses and maybe even a small makeout session or two when he thinks nobody’s watching (except the nosy relatives who gasp, but they won’t remember much in the morning anyway…)

؛༊ FÍLI 

the most romantic little affair ever. 

as much as he was pushed to make it a big royal thing, he managed, with his charming stubbornness, to talk his uncle and brother into making it at least a medium-sized event, as per your wishes and comfort. 

as much as he is involved with planning the whole thing by your side, his main priority is that you get everything you want, whether it’s a flower that is completely out of season, or a cake flavoring that can be found only three kingdoms away, he will pull out all the stops to make you feel like absolute royalty. to him, it’s in a way also proving that he will be an amazing, dependable husband

before the chaos of the day, you two ditch the traditions and actually get ready for it together, and of course, wedding braids are a must. 

it’s very intimate and sweet, calming both of your nerves prior to the grand event. 

the only downside is that now you have to wait to extend those sweet moments into something more, but you will definitely be sneaking off here and there to indulge in each other just a bit before the end of the party. 

he will not leave your side for a single second all throughout the day, he is all but glowing with pride and joy with having found his one person for life, and making it official in front of those who matter to the two of you

one of the sweetest parts of the day was when the two of you shared the first dance as a married couple – he held you as close as possible and you will never forget the shimmering look in his blue eyes 

؛༊ KÍLI 

well the two of you crazy kids were feeling particularly adventurous and enamored that you straight up ended up eloping – when he was in love, that was it, and waiting and organizing something for months in advance wasn’t really up his alley; as long as you wouldn’t feel like you’re missing out on something. 

he writes his vows in the form of a letter to you, as do you to him, and you read them out to each other somewhere beautiful, preferably during sunset or some romantic time like that. 

there are definitely some wholesome and happy tears involved, but it’s certainly the perfect occasion for those!

naturally, you put each other’s hair into intricate braids, with the utmost love and care 

you know what’s amazing?? there is nobody else around which means you can kiss each other to your hearts’ content! 

when you return home as a very MARRIED couple, there is definitely a bit of commotion and surprise, but also… he’s a mischievous romantic, so at least his brother wouldn’t have been all too shocked

maybe you get talked into at least hosting a big dinner for the closest family and friends

he can only avoid his uncle’s insistence so much…

but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things – you had gotten what you’d originally wanted anyway, so you might indulge those closest to you and let them partake in celebrating your love story

this dwarf is absolutely smitten with you and it’s evident on his face 24/7, he is just so elated at the thought of spending the rest of your lives together!!

my most beloved taglist @emmathefanficgal @sweetheartrosesz @bakingintheshire @stars-n-spirals

[anaszpan]

Imagine: Imagine you're working in the kitchens of Erebor Castle. One of the princes falls in love with you.

[A/N] : Don't hesitate to use this idea in your story. The photos / gifs do not belong to me. I do not claim any copyright to them and do not own any. 📷 [ GIF: GONCA / PRINCES UNK ]

[ ( ´ ꒳ ` ) ♡ ] After the restoration of Erebor, the mountain breathed again with firelight, hammer-song, and the glow of molten gold beneath its endless stone halls. The great kitchens of the kingdom never truly slept. Before dawn, ovens already roared with heat, copper pots simmered over open flames, and the scent of fresh bread drifted through the corridors like a promise of warmth against the cold mountain winter. You were only one servant among many — flour dust forever clinging to your sleeves, hands rough from kneading dough and hauling heavy cauldrons across the endless kitchens carved deep into the rock. Your days began in darkness, long before the court awoke, preparing meals for miners, guards, smiths, and nobles alike. Few in Erebor noticed the kitchen staff. Fewer still remembered their names.

But the mountain remembered lonely hearts.

One winter evening, while carrying a basket of still-warm loaves to the upper halls, you crossed paths with a prince of Erebor — either Fili, golden-haired and proud as the sun on polished armor, or Kili, sharp-eyed and reckless, with laughter that echoed warmly through cold stone corridors.

At first, it was nothing more than passing glances. A teasing remark about burnt crusts. A prince lingering too long beside the kitchens under the excuse of stealing fresh bread. A servant pretending not to notice. Yet he returned again and again.

Soon, the kitchens became your hidden sanctuary. Long after midnight, when the court slept and only the low crackle of the ovens remained, he would slip through the heavy doors smelling of leather, smoke, iron, and winter air from the training grounds. Sitting together beside the great stone hearths, you shared stolen cups of mulled wine while dough rose quietly nearby and embers painted the walls gold. You told him stories no noble would ever hear — gossip from the servants’ halls, old recipes passed down through generations, the exhaustion of feeding an entire mountain kingdom. In return, he spoke of royal burdens, of expectations carved heavier than stone, of fears hidden beneath princely smiles and polished armor.

And somewhere between warm bread, flour-covered hands, and whispered conversations beneath the glow of the ovens, something dangerous began to grow. Because a prince of Erebor should never fall in love with a kitchen servant.

And inside a royal mountain built on tradition, gold, and pride — love could become as perilous as dragon fire.

[carolina-thiell]

Caught in the rain · Kili x reader.

Fandom: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

Format: One-shot / Reader Insert Fic

Word Count: ~1,050 words

Genre: Fantasy Romance, Post-Battle Angst, Fluff

Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Five Armies, you linger too close to the dwarven encampment despite every reason to leave. Beneath relentless rain and the weight of survival, Kíli finds you among the ruins. What begins as sharp banter turns into a long-awaited confession neither of you can avoid any longer until a few very nosy dwarves interrupt at exactly the wrong moment.

Rain came down in silver sheets, turning the battlefield’s aftermath into something almost unreal: mud slick and shining, broken weapons half-buried, banners clinging to the earth like they’d decided not to rise again.

You shouldn’t have been there, not really. Humans weren’t meant to linger this close to dwarven encampments, not after everything that had happened. Not after the Battle of Five Armies had carved its memory into the land. But you stayed anyway. And somehow, so did Kili.

He found you first. Or maybe you found each other drawn by something neither of you had the patience to name.

“You’ve got a talent,” he said, stepping out from behind a shattered cart, rain dripping from his dark hair, “for standing in the worst possible places.”

You folded your arms, though the gesture lost some authority when you were already soaked through. “And you’ve got a talent for appearing uninvited.”

“That’s because I am invited,” he shot back lightly, closing the distance. “You just don’t say it out loud.”

There was a beat; one of those strange, suspended moments where the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Then you laughed, soft and disbelieving. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, tilting his head, eyes sharper now, “you didn’t walk away.”

The rain intensified, drumming against metal, leather and skin. It soaked into everything: flattening your hair, clinging your clothes to your frame, turning the space between you into something charged and immediate.

“You almost died,” you said suddenly. It slipped out, heavier than you intended.

Kili’s expression shifted; there was a flicker and a crack in the easy confidence.

“So did you,” he replied.

“I wasn’t the one charging into a war.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, voice quieter now, “you were the one who stayed anyway.”

The distance between you narrowed to nothing. You could feel the warmth of him despite the cold rain, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before snapping back up like he’d caught himself doing something reckless.

“Dangerous habit,” he murmured.

“Which part?”

“This,” he said. And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful or slow. It was the kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting, building, pressing, refusing to stay contained. His hand found your jaw, firm but not forceful, thumb brushing rainwater from your skin.

For a second, you froze. Then you kissed him back. Rain blurred everything: the edges of the world, the noise and the memory of what had come before. There was only the immediacy of it: the heat, the closeness, the sharp, grounding reality of him.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you in like he was afraid the world might take you back if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

“You’re impossible,” you breathed against his mouth.

“I’ve been told,” he replied, not pulling away.

Another kiss, deeper this time and less hesitant. The kind that didn’t ask permission so much as assume it had already been given.

A shout cut through the rain.

“Oi!”

You both broke apart, turning at the same time. One of the other dwarves stood a short distance away, arms crossed, expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Behind him, another figure leaned against a spear, clearly having witnessed more than enough.

“Well,” the first one said, dragging the word out, “this is new.”

Kili groaned under his breath, dropping his forehead briefly against yours. “Of course.”

You laughed despite everything, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Your timing is impeccable,” you called out.

“Always is,” the dwarf replied, completely unbothered. “Should we come back later, or...?”

“Go away,” Kili snapped, not even turning.

There was a pause.

Then, smugly: “Right. We’ll give you a moment.”

Footsteps retreated, though not quietly enough to suggest any real attempt at discretion. Silence returned; well, as much silence as the rain would allow. Kili looked at you again, something softer now behind the mischief, behind the defiance.

“Where were we?”

You didn’t answer. You just pulled him back in.

[lovelornparagraphs]

mighty warriors, pathetic boyfriends ♡

includes: bard, thradiul, throin, fìli, and kìli

warnings: lovestruck idiots, teasing, cuddling, forehead kisses, marriage-coded devotion, canon-typical protectiveness, domestic intimacy, no smut.

wc: 737

the hobbit x fem!reader

✧ Bard

Bard is not overly affectionate in public, but he's always touching you somehow.

Maybe a hand on your back.

Or his arm brushing yours.

Possibly standing close enough that you never have to wonder where he is.

He worries about you constantly and tries very hard not to show it. Every "be careful" is really an "i love you."

His children adore you.

You catch him smiling at you when he thinks you're not looking.

The kind of man who brings you an extra blanket without saying a word.

...kisses your forehead when he's tired, acts annoyed when you fuss over him, secretly loves every second of it.

"I can take care of myself, bard."

"Never said you couldn't."

"...then why are you staring at me?"

"Can never get enough of your beauty, darlin."

✧ Thranduil

Acts as though he is above romance.

Absolutely is not.

He remembers everything about you.

Your favorite flowers mysteriously appear in your chambers, notices when you're cold before you do, loves having you beside him during feasts and meetings.

His affection is quiet and elegant...

Brushing a strand of hair from your face, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, giving you jewelry because it reminded him of you.

Everyone in the woodland realm knows he adores you. He believes they are being subtle.

Nope.

He gets the softest look in his eyes whenever you laugh.

"Your majesty."

"Hmm?"

"You've been staring at me."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you should stop being so alluring."

✧ Thorin

The definition of "acts annoyed because he's in love."

He grumbles every time you worry about him.

Immediately does whatever you asked him to do (that's sooo not him, you've literally made him evolve)

He's icredibly protective...duh??

Stubborn beyond reason.

Loyal beyond reason.

And once he loves you, that's it. There's no changing his mind.

He secretly loves when you sit beside him while he works.

He loves hearing your voice even if neither of you are talking about anything important.

His rare smiles are reserved mostly for you.

Ohh he absolutely melts when you play with his hair.

...but don't tell anyone.

"You're staring again."

"Am not."

"Thorin."

"..."

"Thorin."

"...continue talking."

✧ Fíli

Golden retriever prince 100%

Absolutely shameless about loving you.

He compliments you every chance he gets.

Loves holding your hand, loves wrapping an arm around your shoulders, loves having you close.

Loves giving you kisses on your nose >-<

He's constantly trying to make you laugh.

The type to dramatically throw himself across your lap after a long day.

And tells everyone how wonderful you are.

Everyone.

Would fight a dragon for you, like the sweetheart he is.

And then brag about how impressed you looked afterward.

"Fíli."

"Yes?"

"You're smiling...still"

"Because you're you."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know."

✧ Kíli

Somehow even worse than Fíli.

He flirts with you constantly...never misses an opportunity to tease you.

He follows you around whenever possible and thinks your reactions are adorable.

He lovesss making you blush.

Surprisingly so so sweet when you're upset. The first to notice when something is wrong. The first to make you laugh again.

He's addicted to cuddling, no doubt in my mind.

If he could spend all day with his head in your lap, he would.

"You missed me."

"You were gone for five minutes."

"Exactly."

"Kíli."

"...so you did miss me."

✧ Fíli & Kíli (bonus)

You don't get a moment of peace.

Not one...

They just adore you.

Together...

*Slowly dislocating*

Loudly...

Constantly.

If one of them is teasing you, the other is helping. And if one of them is cuddling you, the other appears five seconds later.

They compete for your attention.

They both lose...poorly.

Because eventually they're both laying on top of you.

Fíli calls you beautiful.

Kíli calls you gorgeous.

Neither ever stops (but who's complaining?)

They're sooo protective, affectionate, and completely devoted.

Everyone in erebor knows exactly how much they love you.

"Move over."

"I was here first."

"That's not fair."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Boys."

"Yes?"

They both say in sync.

"Both of you behave."

MY WORK IS MY OWN AND I HAVE OWNERSHIP OF MY CREATIONS. DO NOT STEAL, COPY OR REPOST!

[creaturesmechture]

Reaction to a Insecure Reader

Requested-yes/no

characters included- Aragorn, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Boromir, Faramir, and Legolas

y'all, I went overboard, I had wayyy to much time on my hands after work so here's 7 characters (my fingers are cramped now, worth it though :) )

Aragorn-

Aragorn is deeply perceptive — quiet, but emotionally intelligent. He notices things long before you voice them.

One evening, you’re sitting together by the fire in the quiet of Rivendell, and your silence stretches just a little too long. Your gaze flicks to his tall frame, the way he moves with natural grace, even with the weight of destiny on his shoulders and then to your own hands, small and fidgeting. You feel it surge: the ache that you're not enough, not fitting, not worthy.

He shifts closer.

“You think I do not see you,” he says gently, dragging out his next words. “But I do. More than you know.”

You try to brush it off with a laugh, but he takes your hand and presses it to his heart.

“There is strength in you that no sword could match. If you have learned to believe you are lesser because the world has not learned to see you clearly, then let my eyes be enough - for now.”

He doesn’t offer empty reassurance. Aragorn offers loyalty, steadiness. He loves you for the depth of your mind, your differences, the resilience in your smallest gestures. And he reminds you with his actions, again and again.

Kili-

Kíli notices something’s off when you flinch away from his teasing.

He’s sprawled on the ground after a sparring match, laughing, trying to tug you down beside him yet you hesitate. He sees your eyes dart to your body with a scrutinizing glare, hears the sharp edge to your voice when you mutter, “Maybe you’d be better off with someone more like you.”

Silence.

Kíli's expression drops. He gets up, brushes off his knees, and stands very, very still.

“Is that what you think?” he asks softly.

When you nod, he wraps his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the ground until you can’t ignore the closeness, the affection.

“I don’t want someone like me,” he murmurs into your hair. “I want you. I love how your mind works, even if it runs a thousand miles a minute. I love how you stand beside me even when you’re scared. And I love this”—he touches your nose to his— “shortness. It means I can protect you and kiss the top of your head.”

He makes you laugh even when you’re crying. That’s Kíli’s magic. He loves deeply, earnestly, and without a single condition.

Fili-

Fíli is more reserved than Kili. Thoughtful, a bit more poised, but when you start withdrawing, he notices.

You’re quieter lately, dodging his compliments, brushing off his touch. One evening the tension draws to an edge and he corners you, gently-firmly, when you're both tending your weapons.

“You think you’re not good enough for me,” he says bluntly. “Why?”

You shrug, eyes lowered. “I just… I don’t always understand people right. I forget things. I talk too much, or not enough. I’m not a warrior, or royal—”

Fíli crouches before you, his golden braids brushing your knees. He takes your hands in his calloused ones.

“Royalty doesn’t make someone worthy of love,” he says. “Kindness does. Courage does. Being honest, even when it’s hard - that is what I admire.”

He places your hand over his chest. “You are exactly who I want beside me. Never let old titles or foolish voices tell you otherwise.”

Thorin-

Thorin’s love is fierce, protective — and hard-won.

So when you flinch at a council meeting, too aware of your place beside him, too small, too unsure, too unlike the rest of the proud, battle-scarred dwarves yet Thorin sees it.

Later, in the quiet of your chambers, he places his crown aside and sits next to you.

“I do not want a queen carved in stone,” he starts. “I do not need perfection.”

You try to explain the ways your mind doesn’t always process things easily, the moments when you shut down, the way his legacy feels like a mountain beside your self-doubt.

Thorin doesn’t interrupt.

And then, he says softly, “I know what it is to feel unworthy. I have stood in the halls of my ancestors and doubted my right to even breathe.”

He cups your face with rough hands. “But you give me peace. When the world is too loud, you are the quiet I reach for. When I forget myself, it is your voice I remember.”

He kisses your forehead with reverence. “You are not lesser. You are my balance. My heart. And you deserve love not in spite of who you are, but because of it.”

Boromir-

 He doesn’t take it well. Not because he’s angry at you, but because it hurts him to see you carrying that weight.

The moment the words come out “I’m not what people expect when they see you. You could do so much better than someone like me”-Boromir turns with a look like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He sits beside you without a word, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you firmly against him.

“Do you think I care what people expect?” he says eventually, voice rough. “My whole life, I’ve tried to live up to what others thought I should be. And none of that brought me peace. But you? You bring me peace.” He gently taps your temple with two fingers. “Whatever storms you carry in here, you don’t face them alone. Not anymore.”

He kisses your temple and holds you like he’s shielding you from the world.

Faramir-

 He notices before you say a word. The way your shoulders curl in slightly around others. How you hesitate to speak in front of the council. How you apologize for being “too much” and “not enough” in the same breath.

When you finally break and whisper, “I don’t know how someone like you could love someone like me,” Faramir doesn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he cups your face with both hands and leans in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Do you know,” he whispers, “I used to believe I was unworthy of love too?” You blink, surprised, but he continues softly. “I grew up in the shadow of others- measured and doubted, Then I met you. And you never asked me to be anything but myself.” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, voice barely above a breath. “You see the world in your own way. And it's why I love you. Not in spite of who you are, but because of it.” he continues to hold you with a weeping gentleness as you work through this now, together.

Legolas-

 When you tell him- eyes cast downward and voice cracking, that you feel out of place beside him, he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t offer surface-level reassurances. He simply kneels in front of you, lowering himself until he has to look up at you.

“You speak as if love is earned through perfection,” he says quietly. “But I am not flawless. I have doubts. I have fears. And I am not untouched by time, though mime nostale seem so.” He reaches up, brushing your cheek with a feather-light touch. “I chose you not for how the world sees you, but for how you see the world. You remind me that there is softness even in pain. Beauty in difference.” He offers a rare, gentle smile. “And I quite enjoy looking down only because it means I can look at you.”

Then, leaning forward, he whispers, “You do not need to reach my height. You already reach my heart.”

Translations- mime nostale- my kind

[triple-asstro-deactivated202409]

That Heartbreak Prince, Kíli

summary: kili and his lover bicker over who should stay warm with the help of kili's jacket.

word count: 1.5k

saw @mikathemonster's post about there not being enough kili fics and i agree, so i wrote this! hope you all like it <3

(yes that was a taylor swift reference, love her and her music <3)

Curse Mirkwood, and curse those elves. 

Traversing through the Mirkwood forest wasn’t going to be a difficult task, and you weren’t expecting anything more. It still bitterly stung when they ordered you to drop your weapons and pulled both you (and the future Queen of Erebor, but that’s a tale for another day) from your hiding spot, riddled with cobwebs. Not even the heart-eyed expression on Kíli could sweeten your sour mood, no matter how adorable it was. 

Those cobwebs still rested on your head, being swiftly removed by Kíli and tossed into the right corner. The stone walls of the prison stinged your eyes, spotting multiple dried bloodstains scattered on the floor; potentially years old based on the maroon colouring. 

“Even with these cobwebs, they never seem to hinder your charm amrâlimê,” Kíli remarked, a cheeky smile appeared on his face. A grin plastered on your face, eyes forgetting from the stain. It seemed Kíli spotted your observation, as if your minds were linked into one. “Hm, already observing our prison?” 

“Of course. Sadly, there’s not much to observe,” you wistfully stated. 

Kíli’s eyes squinted, deep in thought. His eyes crinkled around the corners, and his eyebrows did the most unique thing when he’s in this state of mind. They would furrow together, one slightly higher than the other, creating a brief unibrow, which was always an amusing sight to witness. He viewed the landscape you were analysing before, spotting the dried blood. 

“What about that? Quite the decoration, isn’t it?” 

“Not particularly,” you began, Kíli’s eyes softening at what was coming next. “That kind of bloodstain because of its dark maroon colouring means that it’s been a while since anyone inhabited this place. Blood has a more vibrant colouring if it’s only been a few weeks or less, darkening over time. I could potentially see how the Elvenking would have that stain appear since it’s been quite some time since there haven’t been travellers in Mirkwood for capturing, or any that didn’t escape.” 

Kíli widely grinned, his puppy eyes more enchanting than ever. 

“I’m rambling again, I assume?”

“No, just talking. Talking in that alluring voice I love dearly.” he responded, inching closer on the stone chair, grabbing your hand. Your heart ignited, as if a string was interlinked between us, only conjoining once you and Kíli’s hands were reunited. An odd phenomenon, but one you weren’t complaining about. 

A giggle echoed from outside, one that called both you and Kíli to peer from the emerald-green bars. Just down one level from you, was that future Queen of Erebor, draping Thorin’s fur coat over his sleeping figure. The coat flew through the air, waving almost majestically before slowly faltering down. Even his coat had a regality added to it. 

You could feel Kíli’s giggles graze your cheek, his head lazed on your shoulder. “Cannot believe this is happening to my mother’s brother. He’s probably going to grumble like usual.” 

“Probably. It’ll be worth every second, however.” you mentioned, jolting back like children once you saw her wide-eyed gaze dart towards you both. The laughs shared between you both were the only laughs shared that night, the rest of the Company were too busy grumbling and attempting to escape. Granted, you were trying that too but it was more whittling away the gates with spare rock and rubble. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, as it did with everyone, some more slowly than others. It was hardest with Kíli, his mind refused him any rest, much to your displeasure. The journey had proven its toll on you and you wished to find any solace that sleep could offer you. It proved to be difficult with this repetitive ticking sound. It was an itching sound that burrowed deep and refused to budge, like glass clinking on stone. With one more tick, you jostled up, darting your head right. 

You saw Kíli, his bored downturned eyes following a round object he had in his palm. He tossed in the air, the object floating before missing his hand and clattering to the ground, being caught by your outreached hand. You also took a slight note at his sudden lack of his jacket, which you quickly found draped around your body. His jacket, your body, interlinked as one. 

You examined the stone he’d dropped, the object shining a blue iridescence with intricate runes etched onto the surface. It had to be a labradorite mineral from the looks of it. “What is this?”

“It is a token,” he stated, picking it up from your hand, fingers tracing over the engraved runes. 

“If any but a dwarf reads the runes, they will be forever cursed.” 

He swiftly showed you the stone, as if it was to unleash a horrible curse on you, causing you to jerk back. He paused, tucking the stone away behind his back, causing you to rest back into your previous position. You’d had enough foolishness for one night. 

“Or not.” 

You rose back up, now in a mix of confusion and intrigue. But you weren’t going to admit that, for if you did, you’d just be playing into his game and you didn’t want to enlarge his ego anymore than it already had. 

“Is it a token, then?” 

“Hm? Oh, yes,” he said, sitting down next to you. “It was a token gifted to me by my mother. I remember her shoving it in my hand before me and Fí set off. ‘Promise me, Kíli. You better come back in one piece, with your brother if you can.’  She practically made me memorise it.” 

“I can help with that,” you said. “Getting back home in one piece, I mean. I’ll protect you.” 

“Nonsense, who will protect you then? You could get hurt.” 

“You could too, you dolt.” you reminded, watching in slight hilarity as his expression blinked, as if his mind was completely empty. You shoved his shoulder, sending him stumbling back to his seat opposite of the room. “Now, get rest.” 

With a pout, Kíli obliged, curling up into a ball. Sounds echoed from above, sounds of cheering and music. Guards occasionally passed by, even one with auburn hair watching your cage with close precision. You’d never heard of an auburn haired elf, but she quickly left before you could speak. 

Kíli’s small shivers drew your attention away, however. The way his face contorted in unease and frigidity made guilt tug at the jacket wrapped around you. Eventually, it was strong enough for you to take off the jacket and drape it over him, the coat flying in a similar way to Thorin’s. When it fully rested over his body, you returned to your bed, resting with ease.

Unfortunately, when you acted in your decision, you unknowingly started a little game. A few minutes passed as you felt a familiar texture cover you. As you slightly cracked your eyes open, you saw him return to his bed as well, a content smile stuck on his face. When you awoke, you found his jacket back on your body, along with the stone he had mentioned earlier, tucked into your palm. 

This ‘game’ had continued for quite a while, with you whispering for him to ‘stay still’, but of course Kíli being Kíli, he defied. Finally, you decided to go through with the usual routine, except wait for him to awake, catching him in his act. ‘An excellent plan,’ you thought. You got up, resorting to shoving the jacket onto him and placing the stone in his hand. Instead of turning around, you simply took a few steps back, gaze completely fixated on him. 

As predicated, his eyes flung open, clutching the jacket and ready to dash to you before being pinned back by your arm. Eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly agape, he could only stammer at your words. 

“Keep it, son of Durin. You need it more than I do.” 

His mouth clamped shut, solemnly nodding as you walked back to your place, eager to get some true rest. The game was fun, not to be mistaken otherwise, but rest was a rarity and you weren’t missing it. 

When you awoke, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. Whether it’d been minutes or days, your mind was groggy and scrambled. It took a considerable amount of time to process what Kíli was saying, or more excitedly rambling to you. The sight of Bilbo unlocking the lower cage doors, keys jingling filled in all the gaps you needed. You pressed your head through the bars, spotting Bilbo working faster than ever. You clutched your shoulder, feeling a soft leather wrap around you. 

A soft leather. 

A jacket.

Kíli’s jacket.

“Kíli…”

“You were shivering!” he sheepishly answered. His earnest expression made it hard to stay mad at him for long. You sighed, mumbling something about giving his jacket back as soon as you both got out of Mirkwood and to safety. 

That didn’t stop Kíli from having a smug expression until then.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

So, so beautiful. Cheeky Dwarf Princeling 🤣❤ Brilliantly written!! ❤❤

[deadlymistletoe]

Should've Kissed You Anyway

Pairing: Kili x reader

Genre: Romance, tragedy

Description: You didn't want to ruin the friendship. You should have kissed him anyway.

Warnings: Major character death, no happy ending, spoilers for BOTFA.

A/N: This is my first completed fic in over a year; in all honestly I banged it out in a couple of hours and it isn't edited, so don't expect it to be the best, but hopefully you can enjoy it and I can get back into the groove. Idk, I might re-write the end one day to add more detail but I wanted to get something out.

Word count: 1,111

There had been lots of moments over the course of the last year when you could’ve pressed your lips to Kili’s. It would have been so easy; after all he had very little thought for personal space when he was around you, a consequence of practically growing up with the Durin boys.

At the very least you could have said something. When you were on watch together and talked your hearts out. When the moon kissed his face just so as you spoke of your hopes and dreams for the end of the quest.

After all, wasn’t he perhaps the biggest part of yours?

But something held you back. The part of you that worried he didn’t feel the same, that things would be awkward after. And you just weren’t ready to give up the easy friendship you had with him.

Mahal forbid you ruined the friendship.

You should’ve kissed him anyway.

Sometimes you thought he did feel the same. When he’d lean in a touch too close, when his hand would drift the slightest bit toward indecent, when he gazed intently at you while you spoke. When that gaze dropped to your lips before snapping back up.

But that was not an invitation. 

And it was not the time. With days of endless walking, endless exhaustion, endless danger as you all hopped from one eventful scenario to another it just wasn’t convenient to worry about romance.

Not when you were stuck together for the foreseeable future and the entire company would notice if your relationship with the youngest prince turned awkward. And there would be no privacy if it didn’t.

You should’ve kissed him anyway.

You’d almost told him, after the weeks of separation in Mirkwood. Almost kissed him when he’d clutched you to him after. But then Fili reached the two of you for his own hugs and Bilbo had rushed you all downstairs.

Your heart had pounded, fear making your blood run cold when the arrow struck his leg. After that there had been no thoughts of romance, not when your biggest concern was making sure he was okay.

In laketown though, you’d had a chance. The two of you had snuck outside, leaning on a wooden barricade as you looked toward the mountain. His cheeks had been rosy as he laughed, and he almost seemed fine, as if the arrow hadn’t touched him at all.

His breath had touched your face, lips inches from yours as he pushed your hair back when the wind blew it in your face. 

But then he winced as the wood platform you were on swayed slightly with the water and the moment was over despite his insistence that nothing was wrong.

Should’ve kissed him anyway.

You followed Fili’s lead when Thorin ordered Kili to stay behind. It had always been that way since you were mere children. You and the brothers would not be separated; if one stayed behind, so did the other two.

You would never forget the hours that followed. The waiting, the hoping, the agony of trying to help Kili as fever set upon him and his wound grew worse. All you could do was hold his hand, Fili looking a mess himself as he stroked his brother’s hair.

When the red-headed elf arrived, relief coursed through you even though you loathed to move aside while she worked.

You were wetting a face cloth in the sink when you paused, hearing Kili’s weak voice as he spoke to her. You turned, but froze on the spot as you heard your name.

“D’you think she could love me?”

The red-heads' eyes met yours over the prone dwarf on the table between you.

“Yes,” she told him gently. “I think she could.”

“Good.” Kili mumbled. “I hope so…” His eyes drooped shut as Fili took the cloth from your frozen hand, gently tending to his brother’s sweaty face.

Fili’s calculated eyes glanced between the two of you. “He’s not just saying it because of the fever.” He commented lightly.

You opened your mouth to reply when Sigrid screamed and Orcs crashed through the roof. Not that you knew what you were going to say, anyway.

Relief crashed over you when Kili came to his senses during the fight, but there was no time to talk as you helped guide the children to the boat, fire burning bright across the lake.

When you reached the shore the next morning, all miraculously alive, and Kili took your hand as you walked toward the boat the others were pushing out, you almost stopped him. Almost told him of the words he seemed to have forgotten saying. Almost kissed him.

But then he let go of your hand, helping to push the boat and the moment was gone, the others too present.

Should’ve kissed him anyway.

In Erebor, tension grew as Thorin’s madness did. You found yourselves searching fruitlessly through piles of gold for hours on end as the king watched.

Days passed, exhaustion growing before you managed to pull Kili aside before you all collapsed onto your bedrolls.

You could see that despite being healed, his recent injury and sickness still took a toll on him. 

You listened as he whispered his growing fears about Thorin, and despite your closeness, it wasn’t the time to bring up his confession.

Not when Thorin could come looking for you any minute. Not when the mood was so heavy.

And not when you were getting ready for battle despite the mad voice in your head that urged you to kiss him.

After. You told yourself, despite the feeling of overwhelming dread that grew every time you looked at him.

You should’ve kissed him anyway.

It was a trap.

Fili fell.

Kili ran into the fray.

You ran after him.

Bolg stepped into your path. Kili stepped into his.

It was over before it began. Your scream echoed over the cliffside as a tear slid from Kili’s eye, body falling limply to the ground.

You vaguely registered the red-headed elf tackling Bolg off the cliff as you crawled over to the now still brunette.

Your body shuddered with sobs, your own tears joining the single one of his on his face as you cradled his cheeks.

You didn’t notice the eagles. You didn’t notice the retreating orcs.

You only stirred when you heard the distant calls of your names as you sat in the snow beside him, feeling the stiffness in your limbs.

“I should have kissed you anyway.” You whispered, using a trembling finger to brush a tear from his now cold lips.

The calls of your names grew closer.

It would’ve been the best mistake.

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[bookworm-with-coffee]

I CRAWLED FROM MY DESOLATE CAVE AS SOON AS I HEARD THE CALL OF MY PEOPLE 🤣

MAH HEART. MAH SOLE 🥺🥺💕

Those almost kisses have me smacking the table 😭😭 Very well written, babes!! A pure delight to read in my hiatus and now I'll need my tissues and to do a rewatch (I don't think it'll help with my feels, but a gal can dream, right? 🤣💕). Thank you so much for tagging me in another one of your Kili masterpieces— PLEASE KEEP GOING!!! 😍💕

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Softly. . .

(Kili x Reader)

(A/N); Hillooo!! Let's switch up the angst today, lovelies with more Kili love!! As always, enjoy!!

Plot; When Kili is dying and can't rely on Tauriel, who then can he count on?

Pairings; Kili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; long fic, blood/injury, mature themes, coarse language, violence, unrequited love, angst, eventual fluff

________________________________________

Exhaustion burned like a sting through the muscles in your legs. Having travelled so far in the span of a day, the Company had made it from the stability provided by Beorn's home now to the depths of Mirkwood where the days seemed timeless and dark. Your own footsteps rang like a drum in your ears, the grip that an Elven soldier had on you was unyeilding.

Completely stripped of your outer layers and weaponry, you felt unbelievably helpless as you were marched along the winding bridges to perhaps a worser fate than death. You all didn't know.

"Tolo hí", a cocky Elf unwisely shoved Thorin towards a staircase, the King matching the taller male's glare. You angrily tried to shrug yourself from the grip of the soldier holding you, attempting to stick up for your Company's leader. The Dwarves shared your sentiment, Thorin waving all of you down before the fights could begin. You all weren't exactly in a position to stir trouble, after all. Things had to remain peaceful for good negotiations.

"Don't struggle. I will be back", he assured you all, his ocean gaze burning with surity before he ascended the steps to the throne room. The Elves forced you all onwards, your path leading you further down into the bowels of the city; the dungeons. The leader Legolas, he'd been named; scrutinized you with his harsh gaze, undoubtedly noting how you stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others of this Company. One human female and thirteen male Dwarves certainly made for an interesting travelling circus, in his eyes. Yet, you knew you were missing one more member of your group.

Bofur noticed Bilbo's disappearance first, always seeming to keep track of your whereabouts as much as the missing Hobbit's. You all declined to mention your lost fifteenth member of the Company, trying to avoid making it known that you were seeking him out hopefully. Some part of your heart screamed to you that he was already here, that he hadn't abandoned you all. He would rescue you all soon, you were sure of it.

The Elves finally made their stop, the soldier that held you releasing the hard hold he had on your arm. You were sure you would have bruising later. Your captors began to lead your group in pairs or singles up and down stairs, completely separating you all. Balin turned to you, attempting to offer you assurance with a steady smile and a glance that told you, everything will be fine. You hoped so as you were finally lead away from the older Dwarf with Bofur. Worry flashed in Fili and Kili's eyes as you ascended stairs to your right with your cellmate, the brothers both having some level of protectiveness over you.

The cells were small with no chairs or any form of comfort, only the cold floor to sit on. While trudging forwards, you were suddenly shoved into the small room behind Bofur, crashing into him and hitting the floor. "Oh, shit!", you hissed, rubbing at your head and helping him to his feet.

"Are ye alright, Love?", he asked, wholeheartedly unconcerned with himself. His hand moved your own to check for any blood or wounds that the fall may have given you, finally sighing in relief. "You'll be fine". Patting your shoulder, he moved past you to look through the bars of the now locked door. He gripped the bars, much like the others had started doing. All of the Dwarves, save for Balin, kicked and threw themselves desperately at the bars in their attempt to dent or break them. The metal was completely reinforced, the Dwarves risking harm to themselves more than their cell bars.

"It's no use!", Balin shouted. "This is no Orc prison. These are the dungeons of the Woodland Realm!". Dejected, everyone dropped to the floor, inclusive of yourself. Balin was right. There was no escaping unless Thorin could strike a deal with the Elven King, Thranduil. An agitated roar left Dwalin's throat, punching the bars before throwing himself down as well. You would all have to sit this out and wait.

Turning your head to your right, you gazed down at the other cells. Kili's cell with Fili's above his, Ori and Dori together to his left, Balin to his right. Nori was probably further up from Kili. Dwalin's cell was behind yours, meaning Gloin and Oin were probably in the cell beneath your own. Bifur had been locked with Bombur in the cell by the staircase you'd climbed. They were the first to be locked up.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you found your gaze landing on Kili. He was your closest friend and the one you worried for the most. This quest had been costing on you both, mentally and physically so. But, you'd found comfort in each other.

On the days when it rained, the young Prince was always there to tell a joke that reminded you of sunshine. When you were cold, he would offer you his strong and heated arms. Kili had already saved your life numerous times, always throwing himself in harm's way just to protect you.

In the late hours of the night, you'd offer solace to the homesick Prince who often dreamed of his mother and home in the Blue Mountains. It was in these quiet hours when he was unafraid to open himself to you. Sometimes you'd spar and train with him to give him relief from his restlessness, participate in pranks or tell him stories of your homeland if he was down. Your bedroll was always beside his leaving the Company to speculate on your relationship with Kili.

There was nothing to tell, to your disappointment. Kili had admitted no feelings for you and vice versa. Some part of you feared losing the fierce friendship and bond with him, should he know the truth and not feel the same. Your feelings for the Dwarf were obvious to everyone, even to Fili, who had become like a protective older brother to you. Yet, they were not obvious to the one who held your affections.

Your head turned to find Bofur's gaze already on you, an amused grin splayed on his expression. He sat with his back against the opposite wall, his brows risen suggestively. "What?", you sputtered, feigning innocence.

"Am I supposed t' act like I don't know who yer' starin' at or what?". He laughed softly, folding his arms with a shake of his head. A flush of heat hit your cheeks in embarrassment. "You've got it bad, Love".

"Got what?".

"The love bug", he shrugged. "You're in love–".

"Don't say it any louder!", you hissed, a few giggles escaping the Dwarf.

"I don't know how long it's been since I first noticed it, but I've known for a long time now", he confessed, your head dipping in further abashment. "And there's no shame in it". Bofur nudged your leg with his foot, offering you a kind smile when your eyes lifted again to meet his own.

"Does Thorin know?".

"He'd have t' be deaf, blind and stupid not t', Love", Bofur guffawed.

"Oh dear", you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

"Fili knows". Your eyes widened in shock, peeking through the splits in your fingers at the dark haired Dwarf. Thinking it best to be honest, he continued, "In fact, I don't think there's a soul amongst us, save for Kili himself, that doesn't know about this. Sorry, Lass".

"And you thought of telling me when??", you gaped.

"When Dwalin would finally be at snapping point at yer lovesick bantering", he laughed. "Which surprisingly, he hasn't reached yet". You groaned again in your shame, too embarrassed to show your face. " 'Ey". He nudged your leg again. "Don't be ashamed. Dwalin is a patient Dwarf, as are we all. We understand". Your calf being the only thing he could grip from where he sat, Bofur began to caress it to try and soothe you. "Jus' be thankful yer' not sharing yer cell with Dwalin right now".

Your hands fell from your face whilst you giggled, the both of you finding humour in his additional statement. "I'm in the next cell, not deaf, Bofur", a grumble followed quietly.

"Aye. Noted. Sorry!", he called back softly, the both of you lapsing again into a short fit of shared laughter. You realized it was his aim all along. With gratitude shining in your gaze, you inclined your head to your cellmate.

"Thanks, Bofur". Tipping his hat, he grinned with immeasurable mirth,

"Yer' always much welcome, Lass".

The wait for Thorin's return began. Or to be rescued by Bilbo, whichever first. Hours, perhaps even days were passing. You didn't know. The dungeons of the Woodland Realm fell silent for some time, your eyes coming to close. Cheerful music and voices softly began to pour down from the upper levels, almost lulling you asleep with its beauty. Your stomach growled painfully, reminding you that you hadn't eaten since Beorn's. Footsteps descending from the throne room caught your immediate attention, however. Your brows rose, peering from the bars of your prison cell as the familiar figure of the redheaded Captain of the Guard, Tauriel made her way past your cell before travelling downward. Patrolling. Kili had occupied himself with something and it was clear that the pointy-eared bitch couldn't keep her nose out of his business.

"The stone in your hand", she whispered sternly. "What is it?". Was nothing sacred?? Could he not have something in his possession??

Your chest puffed out, ready to tell her to leave and mind her business when Kili finally replied, "It is a talisman". This caught your curiosity as well as Tauriel's. "A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a Dwarf read the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed! ", he spat, forcing her to gaze at the dark object. Good job, Kili. You relished in her shock, relaxing as she finally seemed to be leaving. "Or not". Your mouth fell open. What was he doing?? She was your enemy! Tauriel backtracked her steps, returning to Kili's cell. "Depending on whether or not you believe in that kind of thing, it's just a token", he shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. It seemed as if Tauriel was smiling as well. "A rune stone. My mother gave it to me so that I'd remember my promise".

"What promise?".

"That I will come back to her", Kili smiled, your heart burning with envy at the kindness he shared with her. Never in all the nights you'd spent in his company, had the Princeling shared this special rune stone with you, nor its backstory. Not that it was anyone's business, of course. But, you now found yourself wishing that he had shared something this intimate and unique with you. "She worries. She thinks I'm wreckless", he continued with a sigh.

"And are you?", Tauriel failed to fight her smile, clearly enjoying her time with the Prince.

"Nah". When throwing the stone again, however, it slipped from his grip. It skidded out of his cell and under her boot. You'd tensed, worried that it would've fallen into the nearby chasm. Now it was in her possession and she'd confiscate it for sure. Her nimble fingers held it into the dim light, looking over the intricate runes that covered the small stone. Kili had stood, worrying over the stone the way you had. "It's quite the party you're having up there", he mused, trying to draw her attention from the stone.

"It is Mereth en-Gilith", she replied. "The Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars".

"I always thought it is a cold light, so remote and far away", he confessed. Incredulously, she whispered,

"It is memory! Precious and pure!". Her turquoise eyes fell to the dark stone occupying her palm. "Like that promise". Reaching it forwards, she allowed Kili to take it back. "I have walked there sometimes", she added, gathering his undivided attention. "Above the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of forever fill the air".

Looking down at the Prince, he seemed effortlessly taken by her. His hazel orbs were glittering in awe, his lips parted in a state of wonder. And could he be blamed?? Tauriel had pure, creamy skin, unblemished and ageless with the beauty of the Elves. Long, thick tresses and a graceful air about her. She's a far more skilled warrior than yourself, which Kili also seemed to admire.

"I saw a Fire Moon once". Another story he'd failed to share with you, intriguing the Elf in his presence further. His smile grew as he leant against the bars. "It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge! Red and gold it was as it filled the sky". Tauriel sat by the stairs of Kili's cell, intently listening to his story the way you would have. "We were an escort for some merchants of Ered Luin. They were trading in silverware for furs. We took the green way south, keeping the mountains to our left. And there up ahead, this huge Fire Moon lighting our path. I wish I could show you".

Some part of you knew and berated you for not seeing this coming. Perhaps it was blissful ignorance? Or misplaced complacency in your heart?? Kili always had a predisposition of curiosity towards the Elves, having shamelessly flirted with one of them in Rivendell and admitting, accidentally to his humiliation, that he found one of their males attractive. So, what chance did you stand against them?? None.

Dejectedly, your head hit the rough wall behind you, their shared laughter and conversations bitterly reminding you that you never did stand a chance to begin with. It was clear that your feelings for the Prince weren't returned. Only now was it plain for you to see. Hating the way jealousy's unkind flames wreaked havoc within your mind, tears began to burn in your eyes without forgiveness. With a sigh, your face suddenly crumpled and your shoulders shook, sobs wracking your body. Bofur heard your silent sniffles, being the light sleeper that he was. "Hey!", his voice cooed to you softly, instantly waking from his daze. "What's goin' on??". Your throat felt tight, your heart aching painfully within your chest. Desperately, you wiped at your eyes, the kind Dwarf moving to sit on your left. He needed only to look through the cage bars to realise what ailed you. His gaze softened, surprised at this revelation. However, it didn't stop his warm arms from circling you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, safe from the negativities of the world. Bofur's large hands worked comforting caresses on your back and shoulders. "There, there now", he hushed you. "There, there. I've got ye".

"It hurts, Bofur", you wept. Part of his heart broke hearing those words, knowing that no joke he could offer you now would make it better. He felt useless.

"I know", he whispered. "I know it hurts". Bofur's heated arms tightened their embrace, some part of him hoping that they would help remove the pain. "He didn't know how ye felt for him. And as far as I'm concerned,—", he wiped at your face. "— he's an idiot for not bein' in love with ye instead of that daft Elf maid". You chuckled bitterly,

"She's hardly daft. She's beautiful".

"Perhaps on the outside", he conceded. "But, if Kili can't see the beauty that's both outside and within yerself, don't waste time pursuing the heart that clearly isn't yours". You knew what he was implying and the thought of disregarding your feelings for the Prince horrified you.

"It's not some simple fixation, Bofur! I love him!", you sighed hopelessly. "It's not easy to let go of someone you–". He nodded in understanding. You felt connected so deeply with Kili, you were sure that the concept of soulmates existed. You'd never felt anything like this before. And now, every part of you felt like that connection was being torn away. It was agony.

"Whatever ye decide, I only hope as yer friend that ye choose your happiness above all else. Even if it's hard". You nodded. "I'm here for ye, Lass. We all are, remember that".

Sleep eventually took you within Bofur's embrace, the kind Dwarf refusing to let you go. Despite no romantic attraction to you, he still valued your happiness and everyone else's. You were exhausted, in desperate need of food and sleep. Even if it was a tad of rest, he'd still help you get it with a bit of comfort.

The wait to be rescued continued for some hours thereafter, Tauriel finally leaving to join the festivities above. Marching footsteps thundered through the halls, startling you awake. Thorin was back, at last. Alive and unscathed to your relief.

"Did he offer you a deal?", Balin's voice called out, all of you eager to listen.

"He did", Thorin replied, his voice growing to a yell that echoed through the very heart of the Woodland Realm. "I told him he can go ishkh khakfe andu null!! Him and all his kin!!". The white haired Dwarf sighed through his nostrils in exasperation, shaking his head.

"Well, that's that, then", he huffed. "That deal was our only hope".

"Not our only hope", the King shot back, his eyes glimmering with the same hopes in all your hearts. He too had faith Bilbo would return.

The Hobbit wasn't too far away, having already infiltrated the kingdom using the Ring that not one of you knew about. It had saved him from the Goblins and he'd use it to save you all too. Bilbo's steps were invisible and silent when he descended into the bowels of Mirkwood. He'd cautiously followed the Elf that bore the prison keys, marking his patrols. The wine cellar was where most of the guards seemed to be. They spoke of the festivities above, the keeper of the keys not willing to forsake his duties. "They're locked up!", the others insisted, snatching the keys to hang them on a hook. "Where can they go?". Bilbo smiled. If only they knew..

"I'll wager the sun is on the rise", Bofur ground out beside you. "Must be nearly dawn".

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?", Ori's faint sigh echoed. Your heart sank for the Company. You'd been enlisted to help them, but there was naught left that even you could do for them now. Fili stomped in frustration, throwing himself on the floor.

"Not locked in here, you're not", the familiar voice of Bilbo rang out. You felt as if you'd waited forever to hear those words, relieved to see your friend alive.

"Bilbo!", you gasped, clawing at the bars with a grin.

"Bilbo!!", the others began to shout happily, collectively overjoyed to see the Hobbit as well.

"Shh!! There are guards nearby!!", he hissed, starting with Thorin and Balin's cells, working his way upwards. He worked his way along with Fili, Ori and Dori, Oin and Gloin, Kili, followed by Bifur and Bombur.

Finally, he reached your cage. Once the door swung open, the Hobbit was in your arms, happily embracing you back. "I'm so glad you're alright!", you laughed ecstatically.

"Same with you!", he assured, breaking from you with a grin to continue on his way to let out Dwalin and Nori. Bofur lead you down the steps, Kili seemingly waiting for you by the bottom, relieved to see you again. The sentiment wasn't shared. A flush of resentment had filled your heart, your brows creasing at the Prince.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?". His question fell on deaf ears. Noting your short-sleeved tunic, he continued, "You're looking cold. Here, I'll–".

"Just leave me alone", your words were a sharp grumble, your eyes unusually apathetic. You moved past the Prince as if he were nothing. Hurt and confusion flashed through Kili's eyes whilst he watched your retreating figure, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Various members of the Company, noteably Thorin, Balin and Fili; onlooked in shared confusion at your uncharacteristic behaviour. Had something happened??

Dwalin clapped Kili's shoulder in passing, drawing the Princeling back to focus. He quickly followed his gathering kin at the top of a stairwell with varying routes. "Not that way!", Bilbo's call was still a whisper, leading you all onto one of the others that lead downwards instead. "Down here! Follow me!!".

Freedom, you thought. You all followed close behind the Hobbit, confident in his plan of escape. Strangely, he seemed to know where he was going. Or so you thought until you reached what looked to be a wine cellar. The sounds of snores reached your ears as you descended the last steps to your destination. A group of intoxicated Elves were resting their heads on a table, completely ignoring their guard duties. Having followed Bilbo down first, Kili growled, "I don't believe this– we're in the cellars!!". Bofur followed after,

"Yer' supposed t' be leadin' us out, not further in!!".

"I know what I'm doing—", Bilbo tried to respond, Bofur cutting in,

"Shh!!", holding a finger over his mouth. The Dwarves all filed in ahead of you, Dori and Dwalin flanking you protectively out of instinct. From where he stood with his brother, Kili eyed you with a pensive gaze, his strong brows knitted together in concern.

"Everyone! Quickly! Climb into the barrels now!", Bilbo's orders were hushed, his eyes desperate. He had a plan. That much you could tell.

"Are you mad?!", Dwalin hissed. "They'll find us!!".

"No, they won't! They won't! Please, please, you must trust me!". Following his words, you watched then as Bilbo turned to Thorin with a pleading gaze.

"Do as he says", the King whispered. Instantly, everyone began to climb into the barrels, even Thorin himself. Only, there were two problems. One, there weren't enough barrels for you to join the Dwarves. Two, you would surely be too big for a barrel. Thirteen concerned sets of eyes caught onto that situation rather quickly, various whispers of,

"What about (Y/n)?", "She needs somewhere to hide too!!", "Where can she go??", filling the room.

"Calm down!", the burglar begged quietly. "Let me think!!".

"No time!", you insisted. "I'll have to go without". Whispers of protest rang out from the Dwarves, not satisfied with your situation.

"For the love of Mahal, (Y/n)! Don't be a fool!", Fili chided.

"Climb in my barrel?", Kili offered hesitantly, your brief harshness towards him being forgotten in his concern for your safety. Bofur's head snapped towards him with an expression that read, 'Really?? After the damage you've done?'.

"I will not risk your safety", Thorin interluded, your gaze falling to the leader you respected so much. "There's no time. Climb in with Kili". Your previous resentment towards the younger Prince was already gone. And despite your hurting heart, all you truly wanted for Kili now was for him to be happy, even if it was without you.

Climbing up, you slipped quickly into the warm alcove of the Princeling's barrel. It was a tight squeeze, but you managed to fit everything under your shoulders into it. "Are you comfortable?", Kili's voice was a gentle calm, his hot breaths fanning over your face.

"I'm fine", you matched his hushed tone, your body slowly warming in the close proximity you shared. Little did you know, you'd be needing it..

Now satisfied with your situation, the Dwarves all stuck their heads out. "What do we do now?", Bofur asked.

"Hold your breath", was the only response you received from the Hobbit before he pulled a wooden lever.

"Hold our breath??", Bofur sputtered. You all then realised what was coming. The ground tilted up, gravity seeming to change for you and the Dwarves. A set of strong arms held you in the form of a brace as the barrel you were in spindled and became weightless. Everyone cried out, falling for what felt like an eternity.

Water suddenly submerged you all, cold and biting against your skin. Once hitting the surface, you gasped for air as every limb fell into a state of shock. "Breathe", Kili's instructions barely registered, your nose burning and head buzzing. He gazed up at you, attempting to warm your face and arms with his heated hands.

"Where's Bilbo?", Bofur's head bounced from the water. Despite the chattering of your teeth, you smiled amusedly,

"He forgot himself". Thorin followed in your amusement with a smile of his own,

"Give him a moment". A moment was all the Hobbit needed, falling stiffly with a scream into the waters by Nori's barrel. The tri-haired Dwarf hauled Bilbo against his barrel, getting him to hold on for the journey ahead. "Well done, Master Baggins", the King commended proudly. It was much deserved. Still being the humble burglar he was, Bilbo waved the act off as if it was nothing. Thorin began to motion everyone along. "Come on! Let's go!".

The barrel you shared with Kili had become uncomfortable as it tipped forwards, your bodies squishing together. In any other instance, you'd crave this contact. Yet now, it was painful for more than one reason. Both of you used an arm each, dipping them into the numbingly cold water to row your barrels along. Sunlight poured in from the end of the cave's tunnel, the water seeming to give you speed in its new flow. You soon realised why. "Hold on!", you shrieked, the barrel cascading forwards into ferocious rapids. The current carried you all forwards and down the river effortlessly, the coldness having been briefly forgotten in your adrenaline. The Company's escape was brilliantly carried out. All you needed to do was leave Mirkwood to the lands beyond. It seemed so simple until a horn's cry pierced the air. You'd all been caught!

Fear leapt into your throat whilst you all rounded a corner, thrown forwards again to see Elven soldiers closing the gates of the river. "NO!!", Thorin exclaimed, his barrel being the first to reach the now closed door before you all followed after. Freedom seemed more further away now than it had ever been. And it was only going to get worse. Orcs had now made their appearance, slaughtering the Elves that were preventing your escape.

"Watch out!!", Bofur shouted. "There's Orcs!!". Corpses of both Elvenkind and Orc fell into the waters, all of them battling furiously amongst themselves. Kili had forced you to crouch uncomfortably, your legs burning at the tightness of the squeeze. He was aiming to protect you from the flying arrows and falling bodies, bracing you. His hazel eyes travelled to your own, clouded with fear. You'd never seen him so afraid, your hand subconsciously reaching for his.

"Slay them all!!", a foul voice ordered in the words of Black Speech. This was not Azog's voice, but one just as hideous. You decided to release yourself from the brace, standing straight with Kili to fight the Orcs that leapt into the water. Your heart raced, pounding within the confines of your chest. You all needed to get out of here. There had to be a way out. And that's when it came to you. The lever! You climbed out of the barrel, Kili shouting your name in protest whilst you waded in the freezing waters to the stairs of the wall. The sunkissed concrete instantly warmed your numb limbs whilst you clambered up the steps. It was so relieving to feel the warmth beneath your palms, that you dreaded eventually having to go back into the freezing waters below.

You dodged a blade slicing down towards you, rolling to the side and onto your back. Darting your foot upwards at the Orc who had tried to end you, it fell from the wall and to the forests below. Scrambling to your feet, you raced forwards across the wall. "Kili!!", Dwalin shouted, your head snapping in the direction of the call. The Prince had followed you onto the wall, catching the blade that Dwalin had tossed him. He used it to slay the Orc that had tried to pursue you to the lever. You hadn't realised either the creature or Kili's presence, grateful that he'd flanked your back. Fili always kept one eye on his brother, even when they weren't side by side. He threw blades into the Orcs that tried to overpower Kili in his attempts to protect you. Bolg had seen your motives of escape, noting that you had no weapons or the like. He had to stop you now if he ever wished to end Thorin and his kin here. Kili saw the hideous Orc arming his bow, his eyes blowing wide in horror as you fought your way through the carnage, unaware of the threat. His feet hit the ground in a dead sprint, slicing through the Orcs in his path like butter.

"(Y/n)!!", his throat burned with his scream. His heartbeat thundered in his ears deafeningly, finally catching your steps. The arrow flew, hitting flesh. You'd fallen to the floor with a yell, Kili crashing on top of you with a shout of his own. Your back ached from the impact, Kili's palms stinging from grazing the concrete.

"Kili??", you breathed, your brows furrowing in concern and confusion at his actions. Why had he stopped you?? The Prince's expression of shock fell suddenly into a pained grimace, your eyes drifting downwards to see the obscenely large arrow that had impaled his knee. "Kili!", your panicked cry left your throat raw. Bolg grinned in a sense of victory, having hit at least one target. Fili's head snapped upwards at your scream, spotting his brother's ailments with terror,

"Kili!!". The young Prince ground out a yell between his teeth, feeling the stinging sensation of blood dripping from the malicious wound. The sensation was unlike any pain he'd felt before, burning within his blood like a disease. What had he been pierced with?? He suddenly fell back with a scream, your figure quickly entering his vision. Kili's brows creased, his eyes fixed on you whilst he panted erratic breaths. His hand grasped the one you'd offered him with an almost painful grip, his eyes suddenly darting to his right. Tauriel broke through the woods, slashing and firing arrows with a graceful precision. "Kill her!!", Bolg shrieked. "Kill the She-Elf!!".

Kili's lips had parted, entirely enamoured by her presence. Not allowing your resentment to cloud your judgement, your hand broke from the Princeling's grip, hurrying to instead pull the lever down for the Company to escape. "We need to get out of here!", you yelled, Kili nodding in agreement. Without thinking, he slid forwards, his legs dangling above the barrel you'd shared. Both you and Fili saw this as a bad idea.

"Kili!!", Fili exclaimed.

"Wait!! I'll remove it!!—", Kili's cry of agony cut you off as he slid into the barrel, the arrow snapping painfully from his leg.

"Shit!", you cursed, leaping into the freezing waters without a thought, clinging to the barrel that Kili was in. Alike to Bilbo, you'd have to hold on externally. And it would be no easy feat. The rapids bashed at your face constantly, submerging you in its chaotic stream as it went. You were gasping for air whenever you could manage it, the water painfully blurring your vision and disorienting you. The grip you had on Kili's barrel was starting to wane, his hands gripping onto your arms. The water settled eventually from rapids to a speedy and winding current, no longer depriving you of sight and air.

From your view in the river, you'd spied Fili, Dwalin and Thorin using the Orcs' weapons against them, lopping down the branches they stood on and bashing the ones that tried to attack them from the banks of the river's flow. Legolas had joined the fight, using every resource in his surroundings, inclusive of the Dwarves' heads as he leapt from one side of the water to the other. In any other situation, you would've laughed at the expressions of Dwalin and Dori as they both were stepped on first, followed by the others who didn't seem to enjoy it either. The blonde Elf used the sword that had belonged to Thorin. Orcrist. It seemed wrong in the hands of Legolas, but he used it to a valuable advantage against your shared enemies. Thorin had even graciously covered for the Elf whilst he fought, ensuring no untimely demise met him. It was more than he deserved for the way he treated you all, yet you couldn't help that Thranduil would see it as a token of friendship at some eventuality. For now, you all had gotten away. The Elves had given up their pursuit of you to instead drive out the Orcs, a bigger threat. The Orcs still were on the hunt for you all, but it would take some time for them to catch up.

The river slowed, all of you able to clamber from the barrels and onto the rocky shores of the land once more. Your legs shook when you finally stood on them again after your large dose of adrenaline and cold. Stumbling forwards, you couldn't feel your hands, now so cold that they were stinging in the fingertips. The cool air blowing from the mountains nearby had goosebumps rising in every pore of your skin, your teeth chattering with the damp cold that enveloped you. However, your gaze focused on only one person, a trail of red water following behind him as he limped onto dry land to sit on a boulder for support. Concern, fear and anger rippled through every ounce of your blood like a wildfire, helping you forget the cold. You marched towards Kili, his face screwed in pain as he tried to wipe his wound clean. Bofur had stood near him, his eyes lit with the same concern as yours. Kili had spied his gaze first. "I'm fine", he snapped. "It's nothing". You wordlessly knelt by him, attempting to inspect the wound when he noticed you and swatted you away. "Don't". His harsh tone caught you offguard, your brows raising in challenge. "I'll be fine". Despite his confidence in saying it, not even he had full belief that his words were the truth.

"Let me see it", your voice was a terrifying calm, your gaze showing the emotions simmering beneath the surface. Your eyes met the Prince's in a silent battle of wits, his brows creased in an anger to combat your own.

"I said it was nothing—". Your hand pried his away from the wound, feeling the nausea beginning to creep up. The wound was deep, perhaps to the bone, and was bleeding openly. Bruising had already strangely appeared around the cut and it seemed horribly inflamed for a simple arrow wound. Kili spied your eyes brimming with tears, his blood running cold with remorse.

"Kili", you sighed beneath your breath.

"I've had worse. Really—", he tried gently, your head shaking.

"You need a healer. You need proper medical help".

"(Y/n), it's just a little cut!", he downplayed it with a frustrated edge to his voice. "Stop being so overdramatic!".

"You want me to stop being concerned for you?? Then maybe stop endangering yourself for once!!", your words shattered the air, shocking everyone in the Company. Kili's eyes flickered sadly from your own. "Better that the arrow really had hit me instead of you!". Anger flashed in the Princeling's gaze.

"Oh really? And why is that??".

"It would've been better than listening to your bullshit", you huffed, storming away from the stubborn Prince. Kili's head slumped, his face screwed up in a glower. Dismissing the tone you'd taken with his nephew, Thorin had established that you were all to leave promptly after Kili's wound was to be bound, Fili taking it upon himself to tend to his brother's leg.

"She's angry with me", Kili mumbled beneath his breath, his hazel eyes lingering where you sat with Ori. Fili almost laughed, his amusement twitching his smile.

"She is", he agreed, squeezing out the blooded cloth he was using for the wound. Ocean orbs flickered up to his brother's melancholy expression. "It's what caring for a person entails, Kee".

"She's been different to me. Distanced", the younger Prince continued with a sigh. "She does not look at me the same. Mirkwood has changed her".

"Maybe", Dwalin mused, catching onto the conversation. "Or perhaps she saw y' gettin' friendly with that Elf maid?". Kili's brows furrowed in confusion, turning his gaze to the older Dwarf.

"Why would that bother her??". Shrugging, Dwalin responded,

"If y' don't know by now, ye never will, Laddie". Know what? , Kili's mind echoed, his eyes closing from exasperation. He had not the energy to ask. The Prince only hoped that you'd be willing to talk to him again as you once did. Whenever that may be.

"I'm absolutely drenched", Ori groaned in irritation, pouring the water from his boot.

"Think about me. I'm human. Not a short, walking furnace like yourself". The younger Dwarf spared a laugh despite his misery. Sensing a pair of eyes on your back, you turned to find a man standing on the hill above. His bow was drawn, aimed for you and Ori. Instantly, you covered the smaller Dwarf with yourself, Dwalin leaping down from where he stood to protect you. The older Dwarf held a large branch for a makeshift weapon and shield, baring his teeth like an animal defending its young. The Company became highly strung, Kili standing to his feet without a care. The stranger fired an arrow at Dwalin's branch, already anticipating the Princeling's next move and firing an arrow at him as well. The second arrow bounced from the stone Kili had attempted to throw, the Prince's eyes wide in surprise.

"Do it again and you're dead", the man spat, his resolve showing in the threatening tone of his voice. He had armed his bow with a third arrow, everyone's hands raising in a form of surrender. Balin stepped forth.

"You're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?". The bow was instantly aimed for the cheerful Dwarf, his feet coming to a halt out of caution. "That barge over there. It wouldn't be for hire by any chance?". The stranger's brows creased, his weapon slowly being withdrawn.

"And what makes you think that I would help you?". The stranger gladly took the barrels you all had used, loading them into the boat with the others he had. Balin was the negotiator, offering every reason for this stranger to give refuge to and accept payment from you all. The man's coat, his three children and wife. To your surprise, the man was a widower. Alike to Balin, you felt the same remorse and shame creeping into your heart at these findings. A single father trying to raise his three children alone in a barren town of ice, water and poverty. You could see why he was cautious of you all.

"Oh, come on. Come on, enough of the niceties", Dwalin finally grunted.

"What's your hurry?", the bargeman shot back.

"What's it to you?".

"I would like to know who you are". His brown hues crossed over you all, lingering on you for a brief moment. "And what you are doing in these lands".

"We are just simple merchants from the Blue Mountains, journeying to see our kin in the Iron Hills". A lie from Balin, but a well told lie. The bargeman had no reason to believe him and he most likely didn't, his eyes crossing over you again.

"And what about you?", he asked, directing his attention to the one who stood out the most. Female and human in a troupe of male Dwarves. It was a very uncommon sight indeed. "What's your story?".

"It's none of your business", Kili snapped.

"I don't believe I was asking you".

"This is my family", you replied, gathering the archer's attention wholeheartedly. The Dwarves felt some part of their hearts warming at the thought of you considering them family. You'd spent many months with them, lived through many hardships and they knew that you'd meant your words. It showed in your eyes. The stranger's brows rose, an amused smile playing on his lips,

"Thirteen Dwarves is quite an unusual family for a human, wouldn't you think?".

"Hardly", you replied, continuing Balin's lie with more truths of your own. "We've been through the worst together. I love them. And I would be prepared to give my all to see our kin again". The bargeman saw the truth of your words in your keen gaze, but his instincts were calling to him.

"Are you certain that you not a Ranger of the wilds, baring the gifts of your true kin??". Your expression remained neutral. How had he known??

"My true kin??".

"Your sharp senses. You heard my coming before that of your family. And you bare the mark of Ithilien on your leather boots. A tree crowned with six stars and a crescent moon". Your silence was answer enough for the bowman, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. He was a harder man to fool than you'd first presumed. His eyes flickered to Balin with a knowing smile. " 'Simple merchants', you say??".

"We need food, supplies, weapons. Can you help us?", Thorin chimed in. With reluctance still prominent in his demeanour, the stranger marked the barrels he'd pulled from the water,

"I know where these barrels came from".

"What of it?".

"I don't know what business you had with the Elves, but I don't think it ended well". The bargeman turned back to you all, readying his ship to depart. "No one enters Laketown, but by leave of the Master. All of his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of King Thranduil", he huffed, throwing rope at Balin. The Dwarf turned his attention to Thorin who mouthed something in Khuzdul, encouraging him to continue pushing the debate with the stranger. And push he did.

"I'll wager that there are ways to enter that town unseen!".

"Aye", he agreed. "But, for that, you would need a smuggler".

"For which we would pay double", Balin insisted almost pleadingly.

Something suddenly snapped in this stranger, causing him to relent and follow your cause. It wasn't the money he was promised, but the desperation he'd seen all too many times before in those he loved. After accepting thanks from both yourself and Bilbo for his help, the man introduced himself as Bard. He set off with you all post-haste, setting his course for Laketown. The misty haze covering the water was thick, the waters almost black and dead, save for the movement of the vessel you stood in. Bard used a large oar for a rudder placed at the back of the boat, steering the ship through the dark. "Look out!!", Bofur had shouted, spotting jagged cliffs ahead, spotting randomly and towering by many feet in the waters. Bard steered by them with an expert precision.

"What are you trying to do?", Thorin piped up. "Drown us??".

"I was born and bred on these waters, master Dwarf. If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here".

"Oh, I've had enough of this lippy lakeman", Dwalin grumbled beneath his breath. "Let's say we throw him over the side and be done with it". Bilbo huffed in frustration,

"Bard. His name's Bard".

"How do ye know?", Bofur asked.

"Uh, I asked him??", the Hobbit answered as if it were obvious.

"I don't care what he calls himself, I don't like him", Dwalin shot back.

"We do not have to like him", Balin shrugged. "We simply have to pay him. Turn out your pockets, lads". You'd already given Balin your coin purse, taking to leaning stiffly leaning against the right side of the boat. The conversations faded from your ears, the cold air still nipping at your skin. Your eyes came to a soft close, riddled with exhaustion. A burning warmth enveloped your numb hands, two larger ones coming to rest upon them. You knew those callouses, your gaze falling to your right. Kili's hazel hues were set upon the waters, as your own had been.

"I never got to thank you for saving my hide", you mumbled, offering his larger hands a caress. "Again". Guilt played within your gaze, his eyes meeting yours with a slightly amused smile. "I'm sorry, Kee".

"I am too. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way that I did either. You were just worried. I would have been".

"I'm still worried", you confessed, brushing his fringe from his face, noting his skin with concern. "You're so pale, Kee". The back of your hand pressed to his forehead. "You're burning up". He removed your hand with a great amount of gentleness, rejection needling your heart. You'd spied his leg, dark blood weeping through the fabrics wrapped around it. The Prince drew your gaze with his breathtaking smile,

"I'll be fine, (Y/n). You'll see".

Those same words echoed in your head with Kili splayed across Bard's bed only a day later. You'd seen his eyes become red with inflammation and exhaustion, seen his skin turn a shade of pale white. You'd seen him become weaker with every passing hour, now unable to stand properly. All you had seen, despite his assurances, was his slow suffering. And it was killing you from the inside out.

Every part of him was rippling in agony, his body trying to burn off the poison raging in his blood to no avail. Sweat was trailing down the Princeling's skin, matting his hair. His breaths were erratic in his struggle to breathe. "(Y/n)", his voice cracked, his hazel eyes almost terrifyingly dull, yet clouded with fear. He felt a fool now, having ignored your words of warning on his injury. Because some part of him understood now, alike to yourself, that he was dying. He had been all along. Hot tears stung his eyes, his fingers barely able to reach for your hand. Taking your lower lip into your teeth, you tried to keep from breaking down. You had to remain strong for Kili, but hope was disappearing with every passing second. He squeezed the fingers you'd offered him with what little strength he could muster. "I'm— I'm so sorry". A pained groan left him, trying to restrain the urge he had to move.

"Don't start that", you told him, returning the grip on your hand. "No goodbyes yet, Kili. We can still save you". Bard brought out a box of various herbs on a separate table. All were useless to Oin.

"None of these are any good to me. Do y' have any kingsfoil??".

"Kingsfoil? It's a weed?", Bard replied, brows creasing in confusion. "We feed it to the pigs". Kili's grip suddenly became painful on your hand, feeling as if a hot knife had been plunged through him. A wail escaped his throat that had you wincing, Fili rushing to your side again to offer not only his brother comfort, but you as well. The eldest Princeling had tried to convince you to leave with Thorin, promising you that this was only benign. Now, Fili was grateful that you'd stayed, not allowing your friends to go this alone. He was facing the possibility of losing his younger brother this very evening and here you were, holding the blonde's hand with your spare one to alleviate the stress. Amidst Kili's groans of pain, Bofur rushed to the table, exclaiming something about Kingsfoil.

"Don't move!", he'd told the younger Prince, recieving a pointed glare from him in return. Bard had left the house with his son Bain and a black arrow in tow. It was very possible, given the tremors you'd felt this evening, that Smaug had awakened. However, Bain had returned sooner than expected, claiming that his father had been pursued by guards and the black arrow hidden safely. Hope was fading faster by the second as the tense waiting began. The air was eerily quiet in Laketown, save for the odd cries from the Dwarf in your care. You all waited on Bofur, praying that the intuitive Dwarf would return with the herbs. Sigrid stepped outside, praying for her father's return as well as Bofur's.

"Da?", she called out, hearing movement along the wooden boardwalks of the town. When turning to retreat inside, her blood-curdling scream caught your attention. Sigrid tried to close the door, the Orc that had tried to strike her jamming his sword between it.

"Get away from the door!!", you yelled, Sigrid leaping back only to get thrown on one of the chairs, moving to hide under the table with her younger sister. Fili had charged from your side and into the Orc, battling by hand. More came crashing in through the roof, both Bain and yourself using the furniture at your disposal to fight them off. It became a struggle to fight their growing numbers in your attempt to protect Bard's children as well as Kili.

On any other occasion, you would've despised her presence, yet now you couldn't be more grateful for the extra set of hands Tauriel offered as she stepped into the room with her blades drawn. Her keen emerald eyes scanned the room, immediately beginning her onslaught against the growing number of Orcs in Bard's living room. Legolas leapt in not too soon after, joining your fight against the hellish creatures. You spoke not a word to either of them, taking their help as an advantage. Another wail from Kili broke the room, seeing that an Orc had gripped his injured leg, pulling him along the bed. Tauriel threw a knife into the skull of the Orc, the Princeling falling to the floor with a cry. You'd rushed to his side, Legolas flanking your defence. His skills with Elven daggers surpassed even the skill of Tauriel, weaving through the room like a graceful, yet sharp wind. "Get down!", Fili had yelled, pulling Bard's children behind the fallen table to hide. Kili had grabbed Tauriel's dagger from the dead Orc who had attacked him, using it to try flanking your defence and Tauriel's. Instantaneously, he'd collapsed with a scream, one of the Orcs vaulting from the room in its escape. The battle was forgotten, your makeshift weapons clattering to the floor. You heaved Kili's heavy body into your arms, the Prince now writhing in excruciating pain.

"Kili", you tried to calm him, your voice tremoring with the chilling anxiety rushing through you. Oin and Fili sprinted to your side with urgency, Tauriel's mouth falling open at the wound on Kili's leg. Black blood dripped onto the floor, the Morgul poisons all too familiar to the Elf.

"You killed them all", Bain gasped, almost feeling sick at the sight of his home.

"There are others", Legolas stated, readying his weapons to face of with your shared foes once more. "Tauriel, come". He beckoned his counterpart, hesitation showing in her features.

"We're losing him!", Oin begged, looking to Tauriel for help. She was capable, her people far more skilled than your own in the arts of medicine. Her eyes were wide, darting between you all and the retreating form of the Elven Prince. Her duty to the world, to her Prince Legolas surpassed the needs of your Prince, your best friend. Despite her curiosity of Kili, Tauriel didn't share the feelings for Kili that he had for her. For the Dwarven Prince, it was almost like love at first sight, continuing to be enamoured by her, her graceful and kind spirit, her smile. For Tauriel, it was a silly dream to pursue love with a Dwarf. He was handsome for one of his kind, but her heart lied with her duties, her people and with the man she'd slowly come to love. Legolas. Despite his father's wishes, she was not one to easily give up in the pursuit of love and it was clearly requited by the Prince. You envied her for that reason. Tauriel moved past your group without anymore hesitation.

Every part of you stung with hurt for Kili, knowing that he would feel that same agony you had alongside his current ailments. Unbridled rage filled your heart, watching as she left him helpless, screaming. "So that's it??", you called to Tauriel, allowing Fili to take his brother whilst you stood to confront her. "You'll just let him die??". The redhead turned, confusion etched into her expression.

"And what would you have me do? Orcs are running rampant, more innocents will die if I do not help them". Tears fell freely from your eyes.

"He's dying!!", you roared, gesturing to Kili. "He hasn't time! Save him!! Please!".

"I cannot linger—".

"Bullshit!! He opened his heart to you, Tauriel!! You can't leave him like this!!", you bellowed. You saw in her gaze that perhaps she knew of Kili's attraction to her. Yet, you'd come to understand why she'd taken to ignoring it.

"I can't—", she whispered with a shake of her head, turning again to leave.

"Please, Tauriel", your voice broke, lowering to a whisper only she could hear, "I love him". And that's when Tauriel understood. Guilt swam in her gaze when she looked upon you again. The stabbing pain of unrequited love sat heavy in your eyes.

"I'm sorry", she murmured, the entire apology heartfelt and genuine. You watched, helplessly as the Elf darted from the balcony and to the rooftops beyond, falling to your knees. A frustrated cry left your lips, Sigrid covering her mouth from seeing you this distraught. Bofur stumbled through the door, baring the Kingsfoil weed. He'd spied your tear stricken face with terror, seeing the desperate situation he'd returned to.

"There's no time!!", you shouted, staggering to your feet.

"(Y/n)? What will ye do??", he asked, all the eyes in the room falling to you.

With surity, you replied, "I have to save him".

You ordered Tilda and Sigrid to ready you some cloths and warm to hot water to best extract the essences from the herbs. Oin, Fili, Bofur and Bain took to lifting the now thrashing Prince onto the kitchen table. Being a Ranger from the South, kingsfoil was commonly used for healing practices by your kin, but you were not schooled in medicine. Your skills were honed on navigating the lands, tracking, stealth and basic combat. You felt useless, only faintly remembering hearing a few healing chants. Most were in Elvish, some in the common tongue of men. The words were lost on you, save for one or two chants. You would have to try.

"Are y' sure y' know what yer doin', Lass?", Oin piped up, watching as you peeled the leaves and flowers into the water.

"No", you huffed a bitter chuckle, your eyes falling down to his own. "But what choice do I have?". Fili eyed you from where he held down his brother, his ocean gaze glistening with hope.

"I have faith in you", he murmured.

"As do I", Bofur added, smiling to lessen the pressure. Oin nodded, giving you his seal of approval. He admired your gaul to act swiftly and take initiative. You would make an excellent healer in his opinion.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped Kili's leg, a pained scream leaving his lips. He writhed, kicking away your touch. His eyes had darkened, having no perception but the agony he felt. "Hold him down!! Please!", you begged the lads, all of them contributing. You tore the fabric away from Kili's wound, nausea creeping into your throat as it had the first time. The wound was still bruised and open, weeping black blood as a large swollen mound with dark veins. No time, you reminded yourself, reaching into the water. Scrunching all the leaves you could find into your palms, you silently prayed that the blood of Numenór flowed true within you as you began the healing chants you could remember. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you commanded, pushing the kingsfoil into the wound. His back arched, a piercing cry leaving his lips. Your eyes closed applying pressure. "May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death".

"Tilda!", Sigrid shouted, the two joining in holding down Kili's limbs as he continued to struggle from your touch. Oin and Fili watched in awe as you repeated your words over and over. Your chant was in common tongue, yet it seemed to breathe life into the room itself. You had begun to think and worry that nothing would work, that Kili was too far gone. Tears slipped again from your eyes, your voice remaining sterdy despite the tightness wanting to creep through your throat. Your mind was wholly set on saving him, imagining him as spriteful as the day you'd met him. Love and care poured through every fibre of your being and perhaps the Divines felt it?? You prayed that they'd help encompass all that energy for him if they did. Feeling the tension slipping from Kili's limbs slowly, you heard his cries dying into calmer, but ragged breaths. It was working..

"May the blessing that was given to me, be sent from me to him. May he be released from death", you repeated with more fervour, finally having the courage to open your eyes to meet his own. His hazel hues were no longer pale and dull. They were now full of life. His lips were parted, eyelashes fluttering in some semblance of shock, as if you'd pulled him from water to save him from drowning. And you had saved him. The darkness that clouded his vision, blinding him to all else was broken. It was as if he was watching the sun rising for the first time, seeing that divine light cracking the dark horizons open to see you. There was only you in his line of sight, pulling him like a lifeline. Kili found himself wondering how you'd ever come to be so beautiful. The infatuation he'd held for Tauriel paled in comparison to the affection for you that wormed its way past his broken heart and into his soul. And perhaps it had always been there?? The Prince felt a sense of relief fill him, coming to understand why he'd always felt differently for you. It had been you all along, he was only blinded to it.

Kili's pain faded from him, his body no longer fighting the poison. It had been neutralised, expelled from him. Death couldn't touch him any longer, or so he felt. His body instead burned with a warm, pure light. Every part of him relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving the Prince as his breathing turned to some form of normality. His blood ran red through your fingers, cleansed now. The swelling would slowly decrease over time, as would the inflammation and bruising. You smiled, crying from your relief. The stiffness in your limbs created by the tense situation had dissipated. A breathy laugh, wet from your tears left your throat. You'd done it, you'd saved him. Bofur happily placed a hand on your own, both Tilda and Sigrid alight with joy over this victory. The girls circled the table, taking you into their shared embrace, giving you words of assurance, congratulations and gratitude for helping protect them. Fili grinned, sharing in some semblance of relieved laughter, resting his forehead on his brother's in a familial embrace.

Everyone had relaxed, leaving the room to allow you to continue in your endeavours to finish your work on Kili's wound. You pulled the kingsfoil from the scar, rinsing a cloth with the water the herbs had soaked in. The water was still warm and clean, fragrant with the essences of the weeds. You wiped the fabric over the wound, brushing away dirt, dead flesh and irritants. Once it was clean and dry, you started to bind his leg with cleaner fabrics that Bain had sought for you.

"I have never seen the healing practices of the Dunédain until this evening. That there was a privilege to witness", Oin marveled, turning to the blonde Prince who had also been in some state of awe at what he'd seen.

Softly, your hands worked at the bindings on Kili's leg, placing the material thickly over his wound to ensure it was well protected from weeping blood. "(Y/n)", The Princeling beneath you croaked, his voice hoarse and raw from his screaming. You smiled with a wistfulness, relieved to see him so at peace.

"It's okay, Kee", you breathed. "I'm here. Lie still for me, alright?". His hazel hues held an emotion you couldn't read, fluttering in their attempt to stay awake. A tired smile slowly etched onto his face, twinkling weakly with his usual cheekiness.

"You're so,—", his voice cracked. "—so beautiful".

Your brows knitted together in confusion when you glanced at him from his leg. He was clearly delusional. He had to have been.

"You're a bit dazed, Kee", you smiled, politely dismissing his words. "You need to rest".

"You are", he insisted beneath his breath. "You're so, so beautiful". You felt his warming fingertips brushing over the hand that rested on his thigh, the goosebumps from his touch spindling across your skin. "You were crafted by the sunglow of another world. Your light saved me. It wasn't a dream". Your lips parted, unsure of his kind words and the clarity behind them.

Kili breathed as if it were difficult to talk, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion. His smile still remained, eyeing your hands when you brushed your thumb over the fingers that rested upon your own.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, a light sleep taking the Prince as you continued to work. Once securing his bandages with a light knot, you leant down, brushing your lips over his forehead with a silent prayer that the Company was alive in Erebor. That the ruin that Bard had predicted wouldn't come to pass. Fili shared your sentiment, his eyes worriedly meeting your own before he embraced you in gratitude, thanking you once more for saving his brother. But, your complacency was only temporary.

When you stumbled onto the rocky shores in the cold light of the dawn, you beheld desperation, sadness, loss and terror amidst the ruin that had come to pass. Smaug's onslaught was without mercy or conscience. Bard had been right all along. Now, you were praying that he was alive with his son. You'd grown worried for the bargeman and his son after seeing Smaug plummet from the skies.

Frantically, you searched the shores for the two males. Tilda was in your arms, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. Sigrid clung to your free hand, shouting for her father. The Dwarves were readying the cannoe you'd all travelled in for the trip to Erebor. It felt wrong to leave everyone behind. You wouldn't leave yet, not until the girls had their father back.

Kili was hardly focusing on helping his kin with the small boat, his hazel eyes admiring you from afar. "Kee?", Fili called to him, beckoning him to help.

"Eyeing the lass?", Bofur asked with some suspicion and confusion, a smile twitching on his lips.

"What if I was?", the younger Prince shrugged, missing the hopeful glint in the older Dwarf's eye. "I have to make sure she's alright". Fili turned to Bofur, his brows raised. Both said no more in watching Kili ascend the shores. You had begun to make your return, Bard and Bain now reunited with the girls in the small encampment.

With exhaustion heavy in your steps, you smiled at the brunette Princeling on his unexpected approach. Your mind flashed back to those warm callouses brushing against your skin, goosebumps flushing across your arms at the thought. He'd hardly spoken a word to you since the previous night, making you question if he'd even been coherent when he mumbled those sweet words to you. Perhaps it was your wishful thinking in the end?

"Ready to go?", you'd asked him, beginning to stray past him whilst he'd stopped.

"(Y/n)", he called to you, the softness in his voice halting your steps. Your brows furrowed,

"Kili, we need to go".

"I need to talk to you". His hand reached for your own before you could turn away, gently tugging at your smaller fingers. Even after all this time, you found yourself unable to ignore the intensity of his hazel hues, something unreadable sitting hard within his gaze. "Please", he spoke, barely above a breath.

Instinctively, you turned fully to face him, your thumb brushing over his larger hand. "Of course", you replied, almost unsteady with nervousness. Some part of you felt that he may assure you that he had no feelings for you, that his words to you had been hollow. And you prayed that if he were to reject you, that he'd do so softly.

"I just want to say thank you", he confessed. "For saving my life".

"Kili, you needn't thank me", you insisted, his other hand pressing something smooth and cold into your palm. "What are you—".

"The days are growing darker, (Y/n)", he cut in, clasping your fingers around the object. His second hand warmed your cold, stinging skin. "Last night, I realised how little time we may have left and I have grown so afraid that I won't have the time to say what I must to those who matter". Your brows creased in concern, always content to allow him to express his innermost thoughts. "I'm giving you this token. As a promise".

"Kili—", you tried to desist him to no avail.

"Amrâlimê", he hushed you with a silken voice. It was like the word had caressed your very soul. A smile splayed slowly onto his features whilst his eyes seemed to read yours. "You felt it too, didn't you?".

"Felt what, Kili? I don't know what that word means", you replied with a quiver to your whisper, his grin growing.

"I think you do", he bounced back, a featherlight playfulness present in his glimmering gaze. "It's my promise to you. That I'll always come back to you". You saw the glassing of tears within his gaze. "Even at death's door, I will come back to you".

"Why would you promise such a thing to me, Kili?", you asked, confusion clouding over your expression. "When your heart clearly belongs to another??". To Tauriel...

A soft laugh slipped from the Princeling's lips, an affectionate glow radiating from his tender gaze. "It was infatuation, an idea that I'd tried to pursue with Tauriel", he murmured with a soft shake to his head. "It was foolish to pursue that which was but a shadow to how I feel for you, (Y/n). I know now how I feel— how I've felt all along for you and I'm not afraid. I was just too blind to see our connection for what it was". You felt his fingers squeeze yours, his eyes playing across your more delicate features. "For that, I hope you can forgive me and realise that my words to you last night were not of a daze, but from my heart. You make me feel alive".

Ignoring the tears that stung in your eyes, you finally felt as if your own heart had been freed, your smile like a pure light shining on the Prince. The warmth of Kili's spare hand reached to cradle your face, swiping his thumb over your glistening eyes.

The short gap between you was no more when your head had dipped, the softness of his lips engulfing your own in a deep caress. Kili's hand twined into your curls, pulling you flush into him whilst his other hand remained with your own, as if to solidify his promise to you. Your thumb worked soothing caresses over his rough skin, getting lost in his kiss before you heard whistles from the shore nearby.

Your lips parted from the Prince's, quickly missing the sensation of his hot touch in the biting cold of the morning breeze. Whistling and clapping, Bofur stood upon the cannoe, overjoyed at the scene playing before him. "If you both are done, we do plan on travelling today! ", Fili shouted, a playful grin on his expression.

Both yourself and Kili lapsed into a soft bout of laughter, sharing an affectionate glance before you allowed the Princeling to finally lead you to the boat to travel home.

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hey readers!!

I hope you all enjoyed this fic!! I have a LOTR fic in the works as we speak, so keep your eyes peeled, folks! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! If you wish to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in! ❤❤

As always, thank you all for your support in my works!! ❤❤

* * *

Translations;

Tolo hí = "come on" (Elvish/Sindarin)

Ishkh khakfe andu null = "go pour excrement on your head" (Khuzdul)

__________________________________________

TAGLIST; @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @emrfangirl @deadlymistletoe

[hollyleafheart]

no questions

I just wanted to say that I love how well you write Ridoc. His comebacks are so hilarious in your fics ! 🩷

Thanks <3

[hollyleafheart]

Fire and Ice

Chapter 22

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @riotbound

The days passed quickly since the War Games. Liam recovered well and after four days he was back in action. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and when it seemed that things might get a little calmer, news arrived that King Tauri would be holding the Unification Day celebration party here in Basgiath. Just the name is enough to send a chill down my spine.

My squad was excited. Those who aren't marked, at least. I know it's for the opportunity to be at a real party after so long in the brutality of Basgiath and not for the date itself, but it's still hard to see that there are happy people on the day that commemorates my father's execution.

The hustle and bustle of the organization made my stomach churn every time we passed through the main hall, where Devera received her gala clothes, or when we were in the canteen and saw several boxes of drinks being transported to the kitchen.

Now, sitting in the center of my bed, with my legs crossed and my back against the stone wall, I sharpen my scythes with a stone. But my mind is far away. The first golden light bursts through the window, indicating that fireworks are beginning to fly across the sky. The celebration has just begun.

My fingers distractedly trace the black spirals marked on my forearm. The relic seems darker under the weak, magical light I lit at the head of the bed, the curved lines snaking across my skin like smoke. Today marks six years since I watched my father be burned alive. Six years since 107 young people were orphaned at the same time while the kingdom calls it justice.

I would like to know how my brother is now, where he has gone to grieve. In Aretia, he always used to sit on the roof to think, so I can imagine some places where he might be. But I don't want to leave my room to look for him.

I stare at the dress hanging next to the wardrobe. It's black, sleeveless and strapless, ankle-length, and with a slit up to my left thigh. It's pretty, but I've never liked dresses, especially after years of only wearing pants. And to think that, if things had been different, I'd probably be engaged by now.

There's a soft knock on the door. Through the crack below it, I can see a single shadow outside. For a moment, I hope it's Liam. But it can't be, he went to the party to take care of Violet. The knock repeats.

"Lyra?" the male voice calls from the other side. "If you're naked, I'd prefer a heads-up."

My chest instantly loosens. With a laugh, I open the door, revealing Ridoc leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his usual smile. I assess him from head to toe.

Incredibly, his black formal dress is impeccable, without a single wrinkle. His hair has clearly been styled for the first time in a long time, although a rebellious strand falls over his forehead. His collar is crooked, and his boots shine so brightly they look like they were stolen from another cadet.

I pull him inside. His brown eyes scan the room until they meet mine, closing the door behind him.

“Okay. Before anything else, I need you to know that Sawyer tried to help me get ready and almost strangled me with that damn tie.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Honestly? It’s obvious.”

He puts his hand to his chest, offended. “Cruel. I come here worried about your emotional state and I get attacked in less than ten seconds.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to have affected you that much.” I sit on the bed, picking up one of the scythes.

“I’ll be fine once I have questionable alcohol in my hand.”

Despite how I’m really feeling, a small smile appears at the corner of my mouth.

“So…” He begins, quieter now. “How are you?”

It’s a simple question. But the answer seems impossible.

I shrug.

“Alive.”

“Hm.” Ridoc tilts his head. "Considering this place, this already counts as a victory."

A short laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Ridoc smiles as if he's just won a battle and throws himself down beside me on the bed unceremoniously, his shoulder brushing lightly against mine.

"Did I already say this is fucking awesome?" He asks, gesturing to the scythe in my hand.

"Yes. At least twenty times." I sharpen the blade again.

"Good, because it really is." Ridoc nudges my shoulder lightly. "You know" He leans closer. "I still think you should go."

I let out a tired sigh.

"Ridoc–"

"Not for the party." He raises his hands quickly. "The fireworks are over the top, the music will probably be awful, and I'm almost certain someone will throw up in a corner before midnight.

"What an incredible recommendation."

"I know how to sell experiences." He jokes, tossing his imaginary hair over his shoulder.

I shake my head with a wry smile. By a rare miracle, Ridoc falls silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice loses some of its usual lightness.

"You just... shouldn't spend this night alone."

My gaze slowly rises to meet his. Warm brown, gentle, caring without seeming like I'm walking on glass around me. It's always been different with Ridoc. My first friend in Basgiath. Because, unlike the others in our squad, he never gave my relic a dirty look. Never measured my words. Never acted like I was about to break or explode.

He simply… treats me like a normal person.

My chest tightens dangerously for a second.

“He looks at you in a way that you humans call ‘idiotic.’” Ithearrach speaks up.

“Leave him alone.” I try not to roll my eyes.

“No.”

Ridoc notices the change in my expression and narrows his eyes.

“Your dragon is talking about me?”

“He is.” I snort.

“Tell him I taste awful.”

Snorting a laugh, I run a hand over my face. “I'll consider it.”

Ridoc watches me for another second before sighing dramatically and falling back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Well, I tried my inspirational speech. I guess all that's left for me now is to accept my failure and go drink some suspicious punch."

"Brave."

"I'm a man of sacrifices."

A new knock interrupts the conversation.

"Lyra."

It's Liam's voice.

"Ah." Ridoc sits up again. "Your boyfriend's here."

I stand up before I can even answer. When I open the door, Liam is there. Tall, broad-shouldered, his blond hair combed back in a way that's too sloppy for someone wearing a dress uniform. The relic marked on his arm partially disappears under the tight black fabric.

His blue eyes meet mine instantly, softening.

"Hi," he says softly.

Something in my chest relaxes immediately. Behind me, Ridoc makes an exaggeratedly emotional sound and comes over to us.

"Ah, traumatized and lovestruck young people. My favorite genre."

Liam chuckled through his nose.

"You're still here?"

"Unlike you two, I was invited to a party by a hot guy."

"Impressive. Who lost the bet?" Liam teases.

Ridoc puts his hand on his chest, offended once again.

"That's just envy because I look great."

Liam looks at him for a second.

"Your collar is crooked."

"It's part of my charm, okay?" Ridoc pretends to adjust his collar, walking through the door. "I'm leaving now. And you two" He gestures between us, flashing a mischievous grin. "wear protection."

Ridoc walks away quickly and excitedly. When he's halfway down the hall, I pull Liam inside.

"You arrived early." I walk to the bed. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Violet is with Xaden. She's safe." Liam closes the door behind him and turns to me slowly, his clear eyes observing me for a second that's far too long.

"What?" I raise an eyebrow.

A corner of his mouth lifts and, from inside his jacket, he pulls out a dark glass bottle.

"Liam Mairi." I take two quick steps toward him and practically snatch it from his hand.

"I know." He seems absurdly pleased with himself. "I'm amazing."

Without wasting any time, I twist the cap and the strong smell of whiskey rises instantly. I missed this.

"Oh, gods." I take a generous gulp. The liquid burns as it goes down my throat and warms my chest almost immediately. "I think I love you even more now."

Liam laughs softly.

"Even more?"

"Don't get carried away."

He takes the bottle when I extend it back and takes a swig before approaching the bed. We settled side by side against the stone wall, shoulders brushing slightly as the distant noise of the party echoed through the windows.

“I want to ask you something.” Liam spun the bottle distractedly. “Has anything ever happened between you and Ridoc?”

The question caught me off guard enough that I blinked. But there was no tension or jealousy in his voice, not that I could detect. Just genuine curiosity.

“Seriously?” I let out a nasal laugh.

Liam shrugged.

“I’ve noticed that every time you two are together, there’s… something.” I pulled one leg up on the bed, resting my arm on my knee.

“We hooked up once, at the beginning of the school year.” Liam continued looking at me intently, waiting for me to continue. “We needed a distraction. Ridoc was being Ridoc. Funny. Cute. Anyway, it happened.”

A corner of Liam’s mouth curved.

“'Cute', huh?"

“Don’t start.”

“I literally didn’t say anything.” His small smile widens.

“Your face said it.”

He chuckles softly as he hands me the bottle again. I take another sip before continuing.

“But it was never serious. Not even close. We never felt anything for each other.”

Liam’s clear eyes study my face for another second before he nods slowly, then focuses on my desk and widens slightly before he stands up.

Next to my notebook are the letter and the little dragon necklace Liam made for me but never had the chance to give me. He picks up the small sculpture.

“How did you get this? I thought you’d lost it.” His fingers slowly fumble with it. “I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but…”

“I know. It’s okay.” I lean forward, smiling. “You can give it to me now.”

Liam blinks a few times.

Before smiling and sitting down beside me, I turn my back and he puts the necklace around my neck, tying it behind my head.

"Thank you," I say when he finishes, giving him a quick kiss.

We lean against the cold wall. I can already feel the alcohol starting to warm my cheeks. Outside, another explosion illuminates the sky.

A few sips later, the room is warm. The empty bottle rests forgotten on the floor beside the bed while we remain leaning against each other, watching the golden flashes pierce through the narrow window.

When I look to the side, Liam is already staring at me. His gaze is so intense that it makes my heart race annoyingly fast.

"What?" My voice comes out low.

Liam doesn't answer immediately. His thumb slides slowly across my hand, almost distracted.

"Nothing."

He flashes that smile that always gets to me, and the tension of the entire night seems to suddenly loosen, dissolving along with the alcohol burning in my blood. Without thinking much, I lean towards him. Liam finds the movement halfway through.

The kiss starts slow. His fingers gently hold my jaw as my hand moves up to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The taste of whiskey is still on his lips, and I feel his breath falter as I deepen the kiss.

Liam gently pushes me back against the stone wall, pulling me onto his lap, his hands firm on my waist, and heat instantly rises through my skin.

Then he pulls away suddenly. Just a few inches, but enough for me to notice the immediate change in his expression. The tension in his jaw. The slight wrinkle between his eyebrows.

My chest tightens.

“Am I burning you again?” I ask immediately, pulling my hands away from him. “Shit, Liam-”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what was it?” I frown.

Liam looks away for a moment, and that’s answer enough to make me nervous. He rarely avoids my eyes.

"I just…" His jaw clenches. "I was thinking."

"This never ends well."

A short laugh escapes him, but there's no real humor there. Just exhaustion.

"About what?" The encouragement to continue.

"About how I still don't understand…" His clear eyes slowly return to me. "You wanting me."

Something uncomfortable stirs in my chest. Not this argument again.

"Liam–"

"No, listen." He runs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself even before continuing. "Before we got together, do you remember our fights?"

Of course I remember.

"You were always trying to push me away, insisting on that fear of losing me thing." I murmur.

"Sometimes I look at you and still think that at some point you'll realize you chose wrong."

That hits harder than it should, because hearing Liam doubt himself isn't just irritating. It's painful.

"I chose you because I love you." I slide my hand across his face, forcing him to look at me.

"I know. I just don't understand why." His voice falters slightly.

My chest tightens.

"You're fucking smart. Stronger and more powerful than you think, even if you don't believe it." He continues, laughing humorlessly. "And I keep feeling like I'm waiting for the moment when you'll realize I'm not who you want."

My body stiffens immediately.

"Don't do that." I shake my head. "Don't try to decide for me what I feel." He looks away again, and that instantly irritates me. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Reluctantly, his eyes return to mine. "I'm trying to be honest."

"And I'm tired of you acting like loving me is some kind of misjudgment."

His expression hardens slightly.

"That's not what I said."

"But that’s what you imply every time you start with that 'I don’t deserve you' bullshit."

The silence stretches, and the room suddenly seems smaller. A small flame dances involuntarily between my fingers before disappearing, and I get off his lap before it ends up setting him on fire.

"Don’t twist what I’m saying, Lyra." His gaze follows my movements. "Please."

"Then speak clearly, Liam."

He gets up abruptly from the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"Gods, Lyra, you turn everything into a battle!"

That hits me hard. I get up behind him, that same anger from months ago returning.

"And you’ve turned everything into guilt! Before it was fear, and now this? How do you think we’re going to work if you keep going like this?"

The silence weighs heavily again, broken only by the fireworks and lightning. Our breaths are ragged. The heat from my signet ring threatens to literally escape between my fingers, and I clench my hands into fists to hold back the sparks.

The golden light of the fireworks streams through the window and cuts his face into jagged shadows. I hate that he's still handsome even like this, and I hate even more the tightness in my chest.

"Do you think I like this?" he finally asks, his voice low and rough. "Think I'm going to ruin everything?"

I cross my arms, trying to ignore the irritating heat rising by my skin.

"No. I think you're using that as an excuse."

"An excuse for what?" His eyes narrow.

"To don't accept what we have."

That makes him recoil like a physical blow. For a full second, I almost take back the words. Almost.

"That's unfair." His jaw clenches.

"Seriously?" I raise my eyebrows, feigning surprise.

"Yes, Lyra, it is." His voice rises for the first time. "Because I'm here, aren't I? I'm trying!"

My fire responds immediately to his rising tone, raising my body temperature and half a step away from escaping uncontrollably.

"Then stop acting like you're waiting for me to give up on you!"

"But maybe you should!"

The room plunges into brutal silence. Again. Ithearrach growls at the connection, and for the first time his irritation doesn't even come close to mine.

Liam seems to realize what he just said the instant the words leave his face. The anger on his face immediately vanishes, replaced by regret.

"Lyra–"

"No." I take a step back before he can get closer. My chest is burning now, and it's not because of my signet. The magic light flickers a few times before going out, leaving us only with the lights of the fireworks.

"I didn't mean–"

"But you did." I cut him off, stepping back further.

The words come out low, weak. Liam runs his hands over his face, frustrated.

"Gods, I'm messing everything up again."

"Yes, you are."

He closes his eyes for a moment. Several consecutive lightning bolts cut across the sky again, and I almost laugh. Because while I'm here struggling with my love life, Xaden seems to be doing very well with his.

Liam reopens his eyes and I can see the exact moment his gaze hardens.

“Oh, no.” I laugh incredulously. “Don’t make that tortured martyr face like I’m to blame for this argument!”

The fire escapes in the last words, consuming my hands and blinding me for a brief moment before disappearing.

“Don’t reduce this to-”

“To what, Liam?” I cut him off immediately. “To your guilt? Because you drown in it all the time and expect me to just watch without doing anything.”

He takes a step toward me.

“You think I want to feel like this?”

“Then stop.”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

His voice echoes through the room. For the fourth time in this argument, the silence weighs heavily. And I… I can’t take it anymore.

“Okay.” My voice comes out dangerously calm. “Get out.”

Liam blinks.

“What?”

“Get out of my room.”

“Lyra, I didn’t mean to-”

“I don’t care.” I point to the door. “Get out.”

He stands still for a second, torn between insisting or obeying.

"Okay." His voice falters slightly. "I'll go."

My chest tightens so much it hurts, but I don't back down.

His movements seem too careful now, as if any abrupt gesture could break something between us definitively. Maybe it already has. When he reaches the door, he hesitates before speaking.

"I never meant to make you feel alone in this."

My throat closes up, because the worst part is that I know this argument only started because he feels guilty about the past and can't forgive himself. I know that every horrible word came from fear, not cruelty. But it still hurts.

Gods, how it hurts.

"Goodnight, Liam."

He sighs and leaves. The room is quiet again. Just me, the smell of smoke, the distant fireworks… and the devastating feeling that we've just opened a crack that maybe neither of us knows how to fix.

I slowly feel the little dragon hanging around my neck, thinking about the weight of what just happened. But I won't cry. I won't be sad. I'll be pissed, because it's anger that will make me act and propel me to find a solution.

However, I have only a few minutes of peace. There's a heavy knock on the door, as if it were made in a hurry, urgently. Even though all I want now is to be alone, I hurry to open the door, revealing Garrick, who looks like he just saw a ghost. I raise an eyebrow.

"What–"

"We're being attacked."

[lucyrose191]

NOBODY ELSE | A Z R I E L

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand!sister!reader

Summary: It would only ever be you, no matter how much time had passed.

Warnings: fluff, angst, reader described to have the same eyes as Rhys.

A C O T A R M A S T E R L I S T

There had been many times over the course of being chained within the depths of this cave in which you had thought yourself to have officially gone insane but the moment you felt as though the shadows in the corners of this prison began moving was when you had accepted that insanity had taken over you but the moment you began hearing them whispering to you was truly the loss of all hope.

You had long since lost count of time, with nothing but darkness surrounding you and no hope for any light to work its way into this godforsaken pit, days were passing by without your knowledge. It had been years at this point, how many, you didn’t know but long enough for the world outside to be a distant echo and for your presence to have faded into a pitiful whisper.

Years passed by with only the reminders of your old life to keep you company; you often dreamed of those times your brother carved out time in his day to braid your hair or when you would both jump out of the windows late at night to fly over Velaris together. You’d dream of your mother, how she’d let you sit and ‘help’ her make dresses or that time you were so outraged when you were learning how to fly and she pushed you straight from the balcony of the House of Wind so that you had no choice but to fly.

Your days were filled with flashes of them all; your mother, Rhysand, Mor and Cassian.

You wondered how much of life had moved on without you.

Was Rhysand High Lord yet?

If he was, how had your father died?

Had Rhysand found his mate?

Had he made her High Lady like you both always spoke about?

In those extra difficult times that your control slipped even further, those memories of the Shadowsinger would linger the harshest.

You did not like thinking of how much his life had moved on without you.

Rhysand and Feyre stood together in the kitchen of the townhouse, looking through the window into the garden where Elain was tending to the flower garden and Azriel was sprawled out nearby, sunning his wings.

“Do you think the Cauldron can make mistakes with mates?” Feyre asked him, a look of confused anguish on her face.

Rhysand looked towards his mate, surprise dancing in his eyes at her question. “Nobody truly knows what makes the cauldron put two people together. They’re not always perfectly compatible, my own parents were examples of that, they never truly loved each other. Others, like us, are lucky to find love with their mate.”

Feyre continued looking out into the garden. “Why couldn’t the cauldron have made Azriel, Elain’s mate, instead of Lucien. Lucien is good but they look good together,” Feyre pointed out to where the Shadowsinger was still sprawled on the grass.

A pulse of pain pulled through their bond causing Feyre to snap her eyes back to Rhys. She was surprised to see the pain in his eyes, it wasn’t just any pain. It was the sort of pain that lingered and dwelled, a grief that would forever remain no matter how much time passed but there was also a subtle protectiveness in his eyes that could almost be missed.

Feyre was confused.

Rhysand swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “Do not mistake Azriel’s kindness towards your sister as affection. He is spending time with her because I ordered him too, to try and understand her powers. You’re reading into something that isn’t there.” His voice was stern but not unkind.

Feyre’s brows furrowed at his words. “It would be an honour for Azriel to find his mate, with anyone.”

“Azriel does not want a mate, Feyre.” The sheer confidence in Rhysand’s words only confused her even more.

“But why would he not want a mate? I thought everyone dreams of having one.” She questioned, looking out at Azriel’s figure in the garden.

She thought Azriel of all people would want a mate.

“Azriel has already had his great love,” Rhysand said. “No mating bond could ever live up to that for him. There are loves that even the cauldron cannot compete with.”

“What?” Feyre asked, shock taking over her face. “Who?”

That pain appeared in Rhys’ eyes again, a quick flash but it was there. “I meant it when I said I have no secrets to keep from you but not all stories are solely mine to tell. I am not going to tell you Azriel’s secrets.”

Feyre nodded silently. She understood, it didn’t diminish her curiosity but she would not pry for answers that weren’t hers to have.

Azriel’s footsteps were silent as always, shadows licking at his heals and fingertips as he walked towards Rhys’ office.

Not bothering to knock, his gloved hand unlatched the handle as he stepped inside. “You called, brother?”

Rhys was sat back in his chair, unsurprisingly dressed in his formals but the conflicted look on his face ruffled his demeanour. “I’d like to preface by saying you haven’t done anything wrong, my mate simply is too nosey for her own good and sees things she hopes are there rather than reality at times.”

Azriel’s face remained at an impasse other than the slight narrowing of his golden, hazel eyes.

Rhysand sighed. “Feyre is under the impression that you and Elain may make for a better match than her and Lucien.”

The control Azriel had on himself immediately slipped as he stepped back, eyes widening in shock, fists clenching by his sides as his shadows fluttered around him. “No. Rhys, I would never-”

“I know” Rhys interrupted. “I am not accusing you of doing anything, Az. I just thought it best to let you know.”

Azriel shifted uncomfortably at his words. “You know there is no one else, there never has been and there will never be anyone else.” He insisted, wanting his brother to believe him.

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “I know. I have never doubted that even though it would be okay if eventually-”

“No!” Azriel’s cut him off, “There will never be another.”

“Okay,” Rhys conceded. “I just wanted to let you know, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded his head, not hesitating in taking his exit, leaving Rhys there in a suffocating silence of loss.

“You’re distracted,” Cassian dropped his stance, looking towards Feyre intently.

His High Lady sighed in frustration, leaning back against the ropes of the sparring ring.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

Feyre pursed her lips in contemplation before relenting. “Did you three actually used do things in the same room as each other?”

Cassian barked out a deep laugh at her question. “That’s what’s on your mind?”

Feyre shrugged sheepishly.

Cassian shook his head, a large smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, Rhys and I did. It would be a bit weird and incredibly uncomfortable for us all if Azriel did.”

Feyre tilted her head curiously, “Why?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be very nice for Rhys to see his best friend having his way with the girl he loves more than anything, would it?” He said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, Azriel has way too much respect for him to do that anyways.”

Feyre’s eyes widened in shock but there was also a sickening feeling of jealously bubbling in her stomach. “So, Azriel and Rhys loved the same girl?”

Cassian, way too focused now on stretching to acknowledge how his words had been interpreted. “We all love her but those two always have and always will love her most. She’s their number one girl.”

Number one girl.

Feyre did not like the sound of that at all. She hated it and she hated herself even more because of the jealously that gnawed at her. “They didn’t hate each other for that?” She questioned.

Cassian shook his head, mid lunge. “Azriel had no reason to hate Rhys. It was difficult for Rhys to accept in the beginning and Azriel understood that but Rhys saw how much love was there, it was impossible to miss so who was he to stand in the way of that?”

Feyre stood in thought for a moment. “So, Rhys loved her first?”

Cassian laughed. “Of course he did. It’s not really a competition though, is it?”

She didn’t answer him, she simply stood there, thoughts swirling.

Feyre hated herself, she hated that she could not stop thinking about this girl who must have been something really special for both Rhys and Azriel to both love.

She’s their number one girl.

No matter how hard she had tried to not think about it, she couldn’t help it.

“What’s on your mind, Feyre darling?” Rhys’ smooth voice slipped through the silence of their bedroom.

She looked up at him from her place at the edge of their bed. “It’s nothing,” she stated simply.

Rhys frowned at her dismissal, placing his watch on his bedside table before walking to stand in front of her. He pressed a palm to the side of her face. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

She sighed, mostly in frustration at herself, partially in his insistence to talk about it. “Where you in love with Azriel’s mate?”

The utter bewilderment that appeared on Rhys’ face made her immediately regret her words and watch to shrink back in on herself. “What!?”

Feyre shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she tried to pull away but Rhys kept his hand on the side of her face, steadying her.

“Azriel doesn’t have a mate,” he told her, utter confusion lacing his words.

Feyre shrugged, “Were you in love with the same girl then?”

“I’m so confused, no?” Rhys said, having absolutely no idea where she could’ve gotten this from. “Where have you gotten this from?”

Feyre looked at him, frustration beginning to build within her. “I asked Cassian about how you used to do things in the same room, he said you and him did but not Azriel because it wouldn’t be nice for him to be pleasuring a girl that you loved! He said she was yours and Azriel’s number one girl.”

Rhys pulled his hand from her face and placed it over his mouth. The confusion in his eyes had faded into a an amusing sparkle as his shoulders began shaking with suppressed laughter.

“What!?” Feyre huffed. “What are you laughing at!?”

Rhysand released a full deep chuckle at her frustrations. “Cassian is an idiot and you are utterly beautiful when you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous!” She argued.

Rhys simply raised an eyebrow at her, completely unconvinced. “You’ve completely misinterpreted Cassian’s words, Feyre darling. It is still not my story to tell but I can promise you that Azriel and I have never been in love with the same girl.”

It had been five centuries since the disappearance of you and your mother and Azriel had never been the same.

Long before he met you, Azriel had learned what it meant to live in loneliness with nothing but his shadows for company but loneliness in response to your absence was never quite something anyone could become familiar with.

It was an endless void of nothing. Normally the thread of silence would at least end somewhere; a place where you simply got used to the feeling of someone not being there; but not with you.

It had been five centuries since your last laugh and that entire time Azriel has spent sleeping in your room. The room that sat right next to his own where your beds were pushed against the shared wall so even in your own beds you would be sleeping as close as you could get to each other.

It remained exactly how you left it, the same books sat on the nightstands, the same jewellery littered across a dressing table and a beautiful dress of deep blue with glittering silver stars on the bodice hung from the door of the closet, preparing to be worn for a day that never came.

Each morning that Azriel woke and got ready for the day, his last words to the House of Wind always remained the same. Leave it exactly how she left it, please.

The House always listened.

Whilst Azriel no longer slept in his own room, it had changed. The walls that were once a basic white had been transformed into a purple so unique it could only reflect the colour of your eyes.

In those rare moments that Azriel was able to relax away from the world, he would lay in his bed and stare at the walls of his room and whilst they could never reflect the light in a sparkle the way your own eyes could, the paint would simply have to do.

The winter chill of the Illyrian Steppes bit harshly into your cheeks as you ran through the thick snow into the forests surrounding the Windhaven camp.

The males were awful here, brutal even but even they knew to leave the daughter of the High Lord alone and so you were free to wander without the risk of your wings being torn from your back.

The trees created sanctuary for you here, as you weaved in between them you thought of your brother, Rhys and how quickly he would lose his mind once he found you gone.

A deep rooted feeling of being watched suddenly stirred in your stomach causing you to pause. It was the most subtle weight you had ever felt and yet you could not help but feel it as it settled into your bones.

You cast a quick glance up into the branches of the trees above you, where their leaves and twigs clashed and combined with one another, it took a moment for you to spot them but eventually you did.

Within a particular tall tree that was shaped in all groves and turns towards the top, deep within the shadows is where you saw him.

A male.

Sitting, observing.

“Hello,” you greeted softly.

No answer.

“What are you doing up there?” You asked.

The shadows fluttered and twitched at first before melting away into a black mist behind the males shoulders, revealing his face.

“Oh,” you whispered, taking in the hard expression of his face. He had hair of a dark midnight sky, eyebrows just a shade lighter that were furrowed deeply, shadowing his eyes that, against his dark features, seemed to glow golden when they narrowed towards you. He was all sharp lines and tensed muscles.

He shifted slightly in his place against the branches of the tree before stepping forward and allowing himself to gracefully drop down in front of you, merely inches away as he stared down into your eyes.

“How did you see me?” He asked, his voice was rough and deep for his age, possibly a couple years older than you, but his tone was steady.

“I didn’t,” you admitted. “I felt your eyes on me.”

It was then that you took notice of just how tightly his wings were pulled in at his back, a complete contrast to yours that were much more relaxed; pulled in just enough to protect them but let out enough that you didn’t have to consciously hold them in all the time, “you’ll get back pain holding them in like that,” you told him, pointing briefly at his wings.

They twitched in response, shadows fluttering wildly around the tips of his wings. It wasn’t a purposeful movement, that you could tell.

“I can’t control them,” He admitted to you.

Your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“I cannot fly,” he said. “I never learned how to control them.”

You stepped back at his words. “You can’t fly!?” You spluttered in outrage. “Why can’t you fly? Are you injured?”

He shrugged in a way that showed this wasn’t a big deal to him, as though it was normal. “I wasn’t allowed outside,” he stated simply.

You frowned, the idea of not being allowed outside was unfathomable to you. “You weren’t allowed?”

“My father didn’t let me,” his words remained even, unaware of the turmoil that was stirring in your gut the more he spoke, a turmoil that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I am a bastard,” he said, his tone empty and detached, as though he had long since accepted that was all he was reduced to.

You did not like how he seemed to convinced that that’s all he was worth.

“You’re a Shadowsinger,” you pointed out, remembering old tales of myths and legends you had read before. “Those are very rare.”

The shadows clinging to him fluttered and preened at the tips of his wings and over his shoulders as though they understood your words.

Azriel nodded in response, feet scuffing into the dirt often forest uncomfortably at your words.

“That’s so cool!” You whispered in awe, the admiration you felt was completely authentic but you were also hoping it comforted him a bit.

He looked at you, the only hint of confusion on his face was the soft crease between his browns and the subtlest tilt of his head. “You’re not scared?” He asked.

“Of what?” You laughed, as though the idea was absurd.

“Of me,” he raised one of his gloved hands, tapping his index finger into his chest.

“Have you given me a reason to be scared?”

He paused at your question, internally baffled at this entire interaction. “I suppose not,” he muttered to himself, the idea of you not being scared simply just from his presence was beyond him.

“What’s your name?” You abruptly changed the subject.

He was silent for a moment, contemplating whether he should tell you or not. “Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated softly, testing how it sounded. “That’s a beautiful name,” you told him.

His shadows twitched, his wings almost flinched at your complement, Azriel shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you want to be my friend, Azriel?”

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be good at it.”

You pursed your lips in response, looking around the forest floor before speaking. “I’ve never really had a friend either, there’s my brother, Rhys, but he doesn’t count. Do you have any siblings?”

Azriel tensed at your question, his entire body stiffening, hands clenching in his gloves. “No, it’s just me.”

“Well,” you began, “I’d be honoured to be your first friend, if you’ll be mine?”

You were beyond confusing to Azriel, the first person besides his mother to not look at him with fear or disgust, to look at him and just see a person.

Azriel did not reply verbally but he didn’t need to, you didn’t mind and so he simply nodded in response earning a beaming smile from you.

“Spread your wings out wide,” you instructed softly.

“They’re heavy,” Azriel muttered, wings spreading in stuttering movements, face twisting slightly as he concentrated on holding them.

Your eyes ran along his wings now that they weren’t tucked in painfully right, taking in the large span of them, they fluttered under your gaze, completely against Azriel’s control.

“That’s because your back muscles aren’t used to holding their weight, we’ll need to strengthen them,” you explained, eyes snapping away from his wings, towards his own hazel eyes instead.

“How do we strengthen them?” He asked.

“Exercises, most are trained from babies to use their wings so it comes a lot more naturally but we can do it together.” You smiled at him encouragingly.

You knew this was hard for him, you knew he thought he wasn’t worth your help and you knew that this entire situation was uncomfortable for him but you wanted to help him and you liked spending time with him.

“I struggled with flying at first,” you admitted, hoping it would comfort him in some way.

His eyes stopped glancing to the trees around you, now focused. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah, Rhys was flying before he could walk but I was too scared to do it. I didn’t trust myself. I kept imagining my wings just not working one day and falling to my death.”

Azriel shifted subtly, shadows restless. “How did you do it?”

“I had no choice,” you said. “One day my mother and I were looking at the stars from the balcony of our home and she just pushed me off, I had no choice but to trust my wings or fall and I flew for the first time that day.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “She pushed you off the balcony!?”

You smiled widely. “Yeah, I was so angry, I didn’t speak to her for a week but it worked. I won’t be pushing you off ledges until you can hold your wings properly though.”

You could detect the subtle relief that reflected in the golden hazel hue of Azriel’s eyes, as though he expected you to be able to push him off of any ledge and force him to command his wings that didn’t seem willing to answer him yet.

At some point, you will take great joy in pushing him off a cliff.

Not yet though.

Only when he was ready.

“Where does my starlight keep running off to?” Your mother’s gentle voice filtered through your ears as she brushed through your hair carefully.

You were silent for a moment, contemplating whether to reveal your secret. “I made a friend.”

You felt the comb pause briefly against your head before it continued. Your mother hummed absentmindedly. “Did you? Do I get to meet this friend?”

You pursed your lips in contemplation, an unexplainable feeling of protectiveness surging through your body. “He’s shy, he doesn’t like being around people,” you told her.

You missed the amused smile that appeared on your mother’s face, no doubt intrigued at the strange protectiveness that you had for your age. “He?” She asked, almost teasingly.

You huffed in response but a smile grew on your face that you couldn’t stop. “Yes,” you said strongly before your tone shifted to pride. “He’s my friend, I’m teaching him to fly.”

Your mother paused entirely, turning your body to face her own causing your eyes to meet her own that held the same violet hue she passed down to you and your brother. “Teaching him to fly? How old is this friend?”

Your shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Rhys’ age. His father never let him outside so he can’t fly.”

Worry clouded your mother’s face at your words. “Is he a good boy?”

A bright smile overtook your face at her question. “He’s the best! He’s very quiet but he still speaks to me and he listens to all of my complaining and his shadows play with my hair!”

“Shadows?” Your mother’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“He’s a Shadowsinger,” you whispered. “Those are very rare.”

“They are,” she repeated. “Don’t tell your father about him, starlight.”

“I would never,” you swore, your voice demonstrating the dramatic outrage of a child who couldn’t fathom sharing information like that to your father. “Mama?”

“Yes, starlight?” She asked, turning you back around so she could start braiding your hair.

“Don’t tell Rhys, okay?” You told her, your brother could get way too protective, it was embarrassing.

“I would never tell Rhys, starlight. Or Cassian.” She promised.

“Definitely not Cassian.” You agreed.

“I’m not ready!” Azriel protested, warily looking over the edge of the cliff you had pretty much dragged him too.

“You are ready!” You argued. “You’ve got great control of your wings and your muscles are as strong as can be!”

Azriel shook his head, shadows darting around him, showing his nerves. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you!” You replied simply.

“I’m too heavy for you to catch me!” He protested.

“You are not, I’m strong!” You argued, outraged at his accusation. “I’ll hold your hands?” You proposed, already reaching out towards his own gloved hands.

Azriel looked down at your outstretched hands, hesitation clear on his face, he really wasn’t sure about this but he did really want to be able to fly.

He relented, placing his hands in yours, earning himself one of your bright smiles, stars twinkling happily in your eyes.

Your wings fluttered slowly, not enough to lift you off the ground, just enough to encourage Azriel to copy your actions.

You slowly increased the force at which your wings beat, air building with the crevice of each controlled flap of the membrane.

Azriel copied your movements, his own wings much larger in comparison to any you’ve seen on other children your age, your own were quite big for a female Illyrian so young.

Azriel felt the change in gravity, the way his feet were itching to leave the ground on their own accord, as though his body was fully attuned and aware to what was currently happening even if it was unfamiliar.

“You’re doing it,” you whispered proudly, your own feet lifting off the ground before Azriel’s but your hands stayed in his as you remained stationary in the air, feet just slightly off the ground as you waited patiently for his own body to rise into the wind.

“You’re so close, just a bit more.” You encouraged him.

The second the air swept beneath Azriel’s feet for the first time, it felt as though his entire body was about to fall backwards as he had nothing to stand on but your hands tightened on his own, keeping him straight as he unsteadily rose with you, trying to focus on keeping his wings moving.

“It’ll come naturally the more you do it,” you told him. “You won’t even have to think about it.”

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that but as he felt the wind beneath his wings as he became airborne for the first time, with your hands holding his, he chose to believe you anyway.

“You’re flying Azriel!” Sheer joy and pride filled your face as you looked at him, he thought you looked beautiful like this.

The wind causing your hair to flutter around your face, eyes sparkling at the freedom that flying gave you and your smile took up your whole face as it always did.

Distracted by the sight of you in your element, Azriel lost focus of his wings causing him to quickly drop a few feet but your hands tightened on his just as his heart dropped in his chest out of panic.

He concentrated on beating his wings again, fluttering slightly higher than previously.

But even as he concentrated on flying, his mind was also on something else.

You had caught him, just like you said you would.

Wake. Wake. Wake.

Their hissing little whispers nudged you from unconsciousness. The cold concrete of the cave dug uncomfortably into your back. You groaned, shifting as your eyes opened, adjusting to the thick, clouded darkness you had been forced to endure for five centuries.

Another day it remained the same.

A sharp, slithering coldness nudged against your cheek, and again against your fingertips. You looked down in confusion, taking in the grey-black strands of darkness fluttering around your hands.

You raised your hands slightly, it was hard to see clearly but they resembled beings you had not seen in a very long time. The dark strands fluttered around your fingertips as you stared intently at them and in a movement so sharp, one lone sentient being jumped to your shoulder.

Your head snapped to the side as you looked at it, moving around, nestling into your clothes that had long since been reduced to scraps of fabric.

The beating beneath your chest stuttered as you stared at them.

Shadows.

They were shadows.

Master. Master. Master.

She hears us. She hears us.

They fluttered around you in a way that seemed to portray excitement.

Was that them talking?

“Azriel?” You whispered, broken yet that sick part of you still held a bit of hope.

Many years you had locked out memories of the Shadowsinger yet it never worked too well, you could never forget him and you would never forget the sentient beings that obeyed him either.

No.

They almost sounded like hisses.

“Not Azriel then.” You muttered. It did not surprise you, not really.

You didn’t understand.

“Another Shadowsinger?” You asked, it earned that same excited fluttering dance as before. Yes.

But who? You wondered.

It seemed they knew your thoughts too.

You. You.

Your face contorted into confusion. You weren’t a Shadowsinger.

You allowed yourself to think of Azriel again. Not of him exactly or the feeling of his love that had faded long ago but of his story.

Azriel had not been born a Shadowsinger.

How had Azriel become a Shadowsinger?

He had been locked in a dark cell for eleven years and had no choice but to find companionship within the darkness itself.

Oh.

“You’re my shadows.” You did not question this time.

Yes. They hissed again.

“But the faebane chains?” You wondered aloud.

“Shadows are not magic, they’re simply part of me.” Azriel had told you that before.

You studied them again, more intently this time and whilst they resembled the shadows of Azriel’s so very much there was the slightest hint of a difference; they weren’t just a grey-black, they had the slightest underlying tint of purple.

They truly were yours.

Release chains. They muttered, not to you, to themselves, fluttering around frantically.

“I can’t,” you whispered in long accepted defeat. “They won’t come off, someone else needs to do it.”

Your newly acquired shadows ignored you, muttering to themselves.

Shadowsinger will do it. Spymaster will do it.

But your energy was draining again, conscious slipping into darkness, your shadows slipping through the cracks of the cave without you knowing.

Azriel had been born alone and he would die alone.

He had accepted that was all life was made for him, there were those years he had you, moments were he thought he’d have you forever but you were taken, brutally slaughtered along with your mother in the spring court.

He had never and will never forgive himself for not being there to protect you. Truthfully he did not know how Rhysand could go on with life after that, not that his High Lord and brother didn’t deserve to live, he did, but how had grief not taken his sanity Azriel would never know.

He would never know how Rhys could look in the mirror and not see the shadows of his mother and sister, not when some days Azriel could not look into his eyes and see the very reflection of the young woman he lost, his woman.

It would forever just be Azriel and his shadows.

Another night that Azriel slept in your room alone, beneath your sheets, on the pillows you always hid that ridiculous stuffed bat beneath.

When he awoke this time though, it was different.

His shadows, usually fluttering lazily were muttering and batting around recklessly, their unease settling in Azriel’s chest, having the spymaster looking around the room carefully.

The only thing that seemed wrong were his shadows themselves, it was as though they were fighting each other?

Intruder. Intruder. They hissed, flying into each other as though they were in a sort of disorientated state. Azriel had never seen anything like it before.

Deep down, Azriel understood that there was no intruder in the House of Wind but he did not understand what they could be referring to.

The bond between himself and his shadows was strange. They told him things yes, but a lot of their communication came down to feelings, he felt their unease, their frustration, as though they were participating in an internal battle.

But why?

He sat up in your bed and observed them closely. He too, could see that there was something off but couldn’t quite put his mind to it.

Intruder. But where?

The shadows hissed at each other, floating around the room in distress, it was when the golden rays of the morning sunrise shone through the balcony window that he saw it.

His eyes, always so sharp, caught that difference in his shadows. Not his shadows, he concluded. Eyes widening, he reached out to that invisible thread and called his shadows back to him with a snap.

There it was.

A small cluster that did not return to him, a cluster of shadows that looked just the slightest different to his own. That underlying purple tint was not his.

He tried to reach out, tried to find that tether to them.

Nothing.

They did not seem threatening though.

They fluttered and danced around before him, as though they were trying to communicate with him but could not.

Help. His own shadows muttered.

“Help?” He questioned.

They plead help. They hissed into his ears. Another Shadowmaster. Trapped.

Azriel shook his head, he was the only shadowmaster.

No. They hissed, more stern this time, as though telling him he was wrong.

Azriel removed himself from your bed, pulling on his Illyrian leathers as quickly as possible, not even strapping his weapons to himself. Instead he simply grabbed Truthteller alone into its sheath.

He approached the bedroom door, turning to see if those other shadows would follow, they were.

He let himself out of the room, shadows, his and not his following behind closely, he barged into Rhys’ study causing the High Lord to jump, not that he would ever admit.

“Azriel?” Rhys greeted, looking up from his papers in barely concealed surprise. “A knock would be nice.”

“We have a problem.” Azriel simply responded earning Rhys’ full attention.

“What is it?”

Azriel held out a gloved hand and while Azriel had no means to communicate with these shadows, they understood him and gathered into his palm, fluttering into a rounded shape.

Rhys simply looked at them in confusion. “What am I looking at? New party trick?”

Azriel shook his head, face contorting as he studied them. “They’re not mine, I can’t communicate with them.”

“What?” Rhys uttered to himself.

“There’s another Shadowsinger out there,” Azriel responded, mostly to himself. “They communicate with my shadows but I can’t understand them myself.”

“Another Shadowsinger?” His High Lord mumbled, shaking his head. “No, you’re the only Shadowsinger alive.”

“Not anymore,” Azriel argued, his and the guest shadows beginning to flutter wildly in their own disagreement. “Apparently they’re trapped.”

Chained. His shadows corrected. Caved.

“Chained,” he spoke aloud.

“Perhaps for good reason,” Rhys argued, whilst Azriel was his brother and he trusted him beyond measures, he was well aware just how powerful Shadowsingers were, if this other Shadowsinger was locked away then perhaps it was because it was deserved.

Azriel shook his head, a sort of confused anguish taking over his features as he observed the shadows sitting in his palm. “They don’t feel threatening, or evil. They’re scared, pleading for help, for freedom.”

“How do you know they’re not pretending? That this other Shadowsinger hasn’t sent these here to play a ruse just to get their freedom?” Rhys asked.

The guest shadows in his palm shrunk down in defeat whilst his own fluttered in agitation around his shoulders and the tips of his wings.

She doesn’t know they’re here. She can’t control it yet.

Azriel listened to their whispers with widened eyes before looking at Rhys. “She cannot control them, this ability must be newly manifested, they came here on their own. Besides, shadows don’t work like that, they can’t fake feelings or emotions.”

“She?” Rhys sat up straighter in his chair at the newfound information.

“I can’t explain it, Rhys,” Azriel muttered, deep in thought. “I have this feeling that I need to free her, I don’t know why, it just feels right to.”

Those lone little shadows of yours clung to Azriel in the following days, against your knowledge. Azriel spent that time preparing himself for rescuing you, not that he knew it would be you he was rescuing, trying to gain as much information as he could through his own shadows translating messages back and forth with yours.

It was strange for Azriel, not only that there were sentient echoes of darkness that for some reason he could not communicate with but also knowing that somewhere out there, trapped and alone, there was another like him, another who could communicate with the darkness and melt into the shadows, even if it was a new manifestation.

The cave you were imprisoned in, he learned, was located somewhere in The Middle, because of course it was.

What other place would be sick enough to have trapped a person so long that the shadows had sought them out?

Trapped for centuries. The shadows had told him.

Bound by faebane chains, tormented by memories of a time that had long since faded.

Azriel, in all he had been through and in all his grief and terror over the years, could not imagine being trapped within the same four walls for hundreds of years.

He had barely lasted eleven, Rhys had hardly lasted fifty and yet out there, a poor woman had lasted hundreds of years, alone.

A woman of his kind.

The cave, as Azriel stood before it, was hardly a cave. It was more a carved hole in the ground, hidden by overgrown moss and shrubbery that even he, a spymaster, would have overlooked had he passed by without your shadows leading him to it.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to squeeze his overgrown body into it.

Your shadows shot forward like whips, diving into the underground cave, no doubt snapping back to you, even though your lack of control, they were drawn to you, desired to be close to your being.

Azriel crouched down, inspecting the gap in the ground, his own shadows fluttering around in agitation, some even darting ahead into the cave. He peeled off his outer layers that he strapped his weapons to, sending them down into the cave before him.

Risky, no doubt, but he felt no threat towards whatever presence was inside this cave, only an innocently, trapped Shadowsinger.

One that meant no harm, only desiring freedom.

He heaved himself through the gap, the concrete lining the underground cave scratching against his arms and shoulders as he dragged himself through, gravity doing most of the work, allowing him to drop down onto solid stone and rock.

It smelled awful; blood, dirt, faebane and a hell of a lot like someone had long since lost the will to live.

He saw the chains, loads of them, hanging from the ceiling, from the walls, even some bound to the ground with bolts.

Even as someone bound by shadows and member of the Night Court, Azriel could not see clearly in the darkness of this pit but his shadows led the way, they led him to your shadows.

Your shadows that covered just about every part of you, hiding you as though attempting to protect your presence from anyone who could possibly mean harm, leaving you just the image of a darkened, fuzzy blur.

“I will not harm her,” Azriel promised. “I only want to free her, take her back to the Night Court, help her heal and gain control.”

He saw the way they hesitated, how they debated whether they had made the right decision in finding him or not.

She trusted you. They whispered, confessed. His own shadows translating. Long time ago.

Azriel did not know what they meant by that. Had he known her once upon a time?

It was when they finally relented and made the decision to fade away from covering your body that Azriel, despite all the gore and torment he had witnessed in his life, felt like he was going to be sick as his eyes fell upon the battered figure of a young, fae woman.

His fae woman.

No. He shook his head, as though it would shake the sick illusion from his mind.

Yet you remained in his sight.

He knew that figure, that hair, those lashes. It has all haunted his every sleep and movement for the last five hundred years. The colour beneath your eyelids that he had drenched his walls in, that he would look upon every morning and every night.

Even unhealthily slimmer than you had been five hundred years ago, there would not be a single moment or a single version of you in which Azriel would not recognise.

The first person who had shown him grace, who had shown him that kindness and love does in fact exist, the person who had given him the family that he still clings to today in hopes of grasping at every last remainder of you that he had believed was long lost.

Your name was a ghost on his lips as he surged forward, shadows following, your own fluttering at his shoulders now as he unsheathed truth-teller and sliced through the chains binding you to this sick prison.

The dagger you had given him.

The first gift he had ever received.

He collapsed to his knees beside your battered, unconscious body.

Your breaths shallow, wrists and ankles raw from centuries of imprisonment, body all but skin and bones.

He smoothed a marred thumb over your cheekbone, hands shaking as he took you in, your body surrendered to his touch as though finally, it had found something safe it could relax itself in.

And though you were unaware, still in the depths of your mind, your eyes had fluttered open, a deep purple hue that he had missed for hundreds of years.

Azriel choked on a sob as he gazed upon you again, his soul shattering open at the sight of the only person he had ever loved in his five hundred years walking the lands of Prythian.

He felt the moment part of his soul tore from his chest and landed straight into yours, a golden thread deep within him keeping it tethered to himself even though it now sat with you.

Because even though Azriel had never needed the confirmation of the Cauldron to know what you were to him, why had it taken him finding you after so long to finally snap into place?

[hollyleafheart]

Fire and Ice

Chapter 21

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @riotbound

Hot water falls on my aching muscles and my body protests, as if expecting the next attack. Dried blood clings to the skin of my arms and face, in my hair, and under my fingernails.

I start scrubbing the dirt harder than I need to, as if I could rip it all off at once. I grimace, feeling my head throb, and suddenly everything goes blurry. I feel dizzy and lean against the wall, closing my eyes tightly.

I'm watching Liam's body plummet through the air again. Ithearrach's blood gushing from under the jaws of the orange dragon. I still have the sensation of being in freefall, of the air being pulled from my lungs, and that this time there's no way to cheat death.

But I'm still here. Breathing. Alive.

I slowly reopen my eyes and stare at the dirt running down the drain, red and brown, and take a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of the hot water hitting my back.

I stay like that for a while, just staring at the floor and going over the only thing that can still calm me down. Liam's look when he woke up this morning and the immediate smile on his lips when he saw me.

It was only then that I felt safe enough to go back to my room and take a shower. I'm exhausted. But there's no time to sleep, breakfast will be soon and I can't miss it or I'll faint from hunger.

I turn off the shower and take a look in the mirror to make sure all the blood is gone, but what really catches my attention is my hair. Now that it's wet, it's clear that it's longer than I'd like. I've been too busy to notice.

With a towel wrapped around my body, I take a dagger and cut the strands until they are at jaw level, keeping the bangs over my forehead. It's not the prettiest haircut I've ever had, but it's better than dying because of long hair.

I look at my clothes from yesterday, freshly washed and hanging on hooks, lingering on their burn marks, and examine my own body. I don't have a single burn, even though I've been attacked with flames several times.

It doesn't make sense. I should have turned to ashes in the first flame, but for some reason I'm still whole. And I can't think of a plausible explanation for it.

I try to connect with Ithearrach and am greeted with the painful sensation of barbed wire around my neck. I rub my throat just to make sure this pain isn't real.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask, my eyes still fixed on my neck through the mirror.

"My injuries are the least of my problems right now," he grumbles, annoyed, and I feel that his side of the connection isn't focused solely on me. I frown.

"Did you get in trouble for what you did to the orange dragon yesterday?"

"Worse," he sounds increasingly irritated. "Stop trying to lick me."

It takes me almost a full minute to process what he said, and in the meantime Ithearrach doesn't try to explain himself. The connection falls into complete silence and my mind wanders to the darkest possibilities.

"What?" I slowly grip the edges of the sink for support and lean forward.

"It wasn't to you." He finally replies, sounding much more irritated now.

"Are you with someone?" I widen my eyes. "If you get a mate, it's rider better not be someone I would kill."

"That's not the case, human." He cuts me off. "Aotrom is insisting on cleaning my wounds. And despite me making it perfectly clear that I won't allow it, he won't give up."

I almost sigh in relief.

"You could have said so sooner." I start to get dressed. "And you should allow it. He just wants to help."

"There's no need. A little blood won't kill me."

"No" I put on my boots. "But it would help you heal faster."

"I highly doubt it." His tone is now less irritated, but still too proud.

"There's no shame in letting them take care of you, you know?"

"I can say the same for you."

Ithearrach raises shields too powerful for me to pass. I decide to ignore his words and leave the bathroom.

Before leaving the room, I stare at Liam's gift, carefully placed on top of the letter and next to the sculpture he gave me months ago.

I really want to hang that little dragon around my neck and show it to my squad, and proudly display it for all to see, but it's not safe. Any sign of joy is destroyed faster than I can prevent it, and I'm not going to take that risk.

I leave the room before I can change my mind, and what I find in the hallway freezes my brain for a moment. Garrick and Bodhi are carrying a wardrobe. Violet opens the door for them, and behind her I can see her entire room completely destroyed. My eyes widen as my jaw drops.

When they come in, Violet notices me and gives an awkward smile followed by a small nod, and I can see her face turning red. I give a sideways smile.

"Good morning," I say, approaching her. "Your night was very good, it seems."

"Yeah, it was," she says awkwardly.

"Which one was it with?" I nod towards the boys, watching them take out the broken wardrobe, or rather, what's left of it, to put in the new one.

"None of them." I turn to Violet, confused, who is still blushing.

"But then who…"

She takes a step closer and says a name so softly I almost don't hear it, but the way her lips curve as she pronounces it is unmistakable.

"No." I shake my head slowly. Violet nods in the same way. "Dude…" I look back into the room, noticing the mess is everywhere. "with my big bro?"

Violet nods. The boys come out and greet me, and just by looking at my face they know I've already figured out what happened here. They both leave laughing.

"That's what I get for being curious." I roll my eyes and turn to Violet again. "Do you like him?"

She seems uncertain of what to answer.

"It's complicated."

"Is that 'it’s complicated' more of a yes or a no?"

I notice her shifting her weight from one leg to the other and crossing her arms, a habit she probably picked up from Xaden, and looking into the room. Even without an answer, I can tell what she’s thinking.

I smile. This is perfect. I was afraid of the kind of sister-in-law Xaden would get me after Catriona, but now I can relax.

Behind us, I hear doors opening.

"Promise you won’t tell anyone." She whispers.

"You can count on it. Nothing will come out of my mouth." I give her a thumbs up, already turning to leave. I’m starving.

"And happy birthday."

I freeze halfway there and slowly turn around, confused.

"How do you know?"

"Xaden told me." She shrugs.

"Is it your birthday?" Rhiannon and Sawyer suddenly appear, asking the same thing at the same time, and hug me before I can answer. Violet soon joins in. "Happy birthday!"

"Thanks, guys." I return the hug as best I can. "But my birthday was yesterday."

"And why didn't you tell us?" Rhiannon steps back to face me. The other two do the same.

"We had more important things to do."

"Even so." She insists. "Don't hide things from us."

I don't know what to answer to that. Again, that pang of guilt tightens my chest for not being able to tell my friends anything. Luckily, I don't need to say anything. Ridoc appears right then.

"Look at that." He smiles sideways. "You're alright… and clean. Our noses thank you."

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.

"You're not as funny as you think."

His smile falters a little. The squad's eyes widen. Rhiannon looks from me to him, then to Sawyer and Violet, then back to us again.

"What happened?" she asks, surprised.

"Nothing."

Ridoc and I answer at the same time without breaking eye contact.

"Okay…" Rhi clears her throat. "We were going down for coffee, right?"

"Yeah." Sawyer agrees too quickly. "Before it's all over."

"We'll save a spot." Violet adds, already starting to walk.

In a few seconds, the hallway empties and only Ridoc and I remain, and last time things didn't go well.

He puts his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor for a second before speaking.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I am." I cross my arms.

He lets out a weak laugh.

"Of course you are."

I look up at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you always say you're okay, even when you clearly aren't."

“And you always think you know more about me than you actually do.” I regret it as soon as I say it. Ridoc takes a step back, the last vestige of amusement in his features disappears, and his shoulders slump.

“Sorry,” I blurt out without thinking, taking a step forward. Hurting his feelings was never my intention.

My first instinct is to hug him and look for a way to bring back his playful nature, to make his smile return. But I hold back. I want to resolve what we started before it ends up creating an even harder situation to undo.

“I’m sorry, Rid. For yelling yesterday and exploding on you… literally. I overreacted.”

“It’s okay.” He gives a little laugh that warms me inside. “But I’m the one who should apologize.” He holds my hands and raises them to chest height, stroking the frostbite marks around my wrist with his thumb. “I hurt you.”

“It was nothing. Actually, I didn’t even feel it.”

"Even so, I hurt you." Ridoc stares at the mark with furrowed brows. "I'm sorry. For that and for everything I said yesterday. I was just worried and" He hesitates. "afraid you would suffer again." His gaze meets mine and he pulls me into a hug. Without hesitation, I hug him back. "But if you're really happy, then it's okay. I support you."

"So, I got your permission?" I joke.

"Yes. I'll let you date Liam." I can tell from his tone that he's smiling again.

"How generous."

"I know. I'm amazing." Ridoc steps back. "I liked the haircut." He ruffles my hair with his hand. "By the way, happy birthday."

"Thanks." I push his hand away.

"Next year we should have a party. Or just celebrate it somehow. We can't let this go unnoticed again." He puts an arm around me and we walk down the hallway.

"Actually, it's been a few years since I celebrated my birthday. Without my dad..." I swallow hard. "It's lost its meaning."

"Really? Not even a cake?" I shake my head. "Okay. If you prefer it that way, fine. But I'm still not going to let you rot in your room on weekends. Did you hear that they might let us go to Chantara next year?"

"I heard about it, but I don't think it's going to happen. That fire was no joke, a lot of people got hurt."

"Come on, that was ten years ago. Let's be optimistic." He shakes my shoulders. "It would be great to get out of these four walls and see new people."

"You mean new people for you to flirt with and sleep with."

"That's right." Ridoc admits without any shame. "Now let's go before breakfast is over."

He pulls me along to quicken our pace. When we're near the cafeteria door, I stop, remembering something important.

"Ridoc," I call. He turns around, still smiling. "Yesterday, what did you mean when you said that maybe Liam isn't the right guy?"

Ridoc's eyes widen, and his smile turns into an expression of shock.

"Oh, did I say that? I don't remember." He looks away and quickly runs a hand behind his neck before smiling again and starting to walk backward. "It must have been your imagination. Now let's go."

Before I can call him again or catch up with him, Ridoc walks away faster than I can keep up. He's running away from me. This isn't my imagination.

Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ

During lunch break, Violet and I are the first to finish eating and decide to pay Liam a quick visit before class.

The infirmary is still as crowded as I remember, with several doctors transitioning between patients and being closely followed by their students. Violet walks closer to me as we enter the narrow corridor of stretchers, heading straight for the Surgery Wing.

“I’ve never been down this corridor before,” she remarks. “I didn’t know it was open for visits.”

“It usually isn’t, but since the ward is full of wounded riders from yesterday’s War Games, they needed to use these rooms to accommodate everyone,” I explain, knocking on the glass door with my knuckles.

“I see,” Violet says, leaning her shoulder against the wall and crossing her arms. “And you waited all afternoon to see him yesterday, sitting on the floor covered in blood.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. I nod, and she ponders for a moment, glancing at the stone floor. "You love him very much, don't you?"

"Of course." I furrow my brow. "I just don't understand why this still seems to be a question for you all." Violet raises her head, her eyes widening like a child caught red-handed. "Ridoc told me you were all worried."

"I can imagine how he must have told you." She gives a humorless laugh, shifting her position to lean back. "But our concern is for both of you, not just you."

I frown, about to ask what she means when a doctor opens the glass door. The same one who was with Hannah yesterday.

"Cadet Riorson? How can I help you?"

"We came to visit Liam Mairi." I say, already taking a step forward. Violet stands beside me, and the man glances quickly at her hair before answering.

"Of course." He makes room for us to pass. "Come with me."

The doctor guides us to the same room at the end of the hall where Liam is hospitalized and opens the door, revealing Liam lying with his eyes closed and Hannah preparing something on the small table next to the bed.

"Make yourselves at home. I'll be in the hallway if you need anything," the doctor says before leaving.

I go to the bed, leaning over the edge and placing a little kiss on Liam's forehead. He stirs slightly and slowly opens his eyes, and smiles when he sees me.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I stroke his hair. He makes an adorable face. "Did you sleep well?"

"As well as I could with a hole in my stomach," he grumbles, his voice slurred from just waking up, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"He's sleeping a lot because of the painkillers," Hannah explains without looking at me, placing some purple leaves in a cup. "He'll be sleeping again soon."

"Your friend is too serious." Liam grumbles again, without opening his eyes, clearly altered by whatever medication is in his system, gesturing towards where Hannah is working. Violet approaches, looking between me and her.

"Vi, this is Hannah." I introduce her. The redhead turns around, keeping her gaze only on Violet. "This is Violet."

"Hello." Hannah greets with a short smile and moves away from the small table to go to the glass-doored cabinet in the corner of the room.

She takes a key from her pocket and unlocks a small wooden door. When she opens it, I notice that each little jar contains leaves and herbs I've never seen before, all closed with wooden stoppers. Hannah moves some containers away to reach one that is way back there, practically hidden, and carefully pulls it out.

When she returns, she carefully places just two leaves in the cup. I notice that they are tiny, dark green with vibrant red dots.

Hannah examines the leaves and puts the cork back in the jar, immediately taking it back to the cupboard, locking the door and putting the key away. I think that compartment contains medications that are too strong to be left easily accessible on the shelves like the others.

"Excuse me," Violet calls. "What are you doing?"

"An analgesic tea," Hannah shrugs. Then she looks around for something and clicks her tongue. "I'll be right back."

I feel Liam's hand hold mine, I look down and he has a slight smile, even though he can't even stay conscious for very long. When I hear the sound of the door closing, Violet walks around Liam's bed and picks up the cup from the small table, examining the leaves and smelling them, and her eyes widen slightly.

"What is it?" I furrow my brow. Violet doesn't answer. She removes the two leaves with red dots and puts the cup back in its place, in the same position. My eyes widen. "What are you doing?"

Violet quickly returns to her place beside me, putting the leaves in her pocket. Before I can question her again, Hannah opens the door with a pitcher of boiling water and carefully fills the cup. The leaves practically melt under the heat. Looking at us, she raises an eyebrow.

"Did something happen?" she asks, putting the pitcher down.

"Nothing," Violet replies.

I respond. I stay quiet, pretending to be focused on Liam. Hannah shrugs and stirs the tea with a small spoon, careful not to spill. When the water is no longer evaporating, she looks at us again. "We need to sit him up." She puts the spoon down. Shaking her shoulder slightly, I wake Liam. He makes that same face, complaining about the light, and sits up with difficulty. Hannah hands him the cup and he drinks the entire contents in just three gulps. "This is awful." He complains and lies back down. I can't help but chuckle.

"Don't worry. In just four days you won't need this anymore." The redhead puts the cup on the small table and goes to attend to the other patients on the other side of the room.

"We're leaving now." Violet announces.

"Already?" I frown.

"Yes. Already." She grabs my hand. "Get well soon, Liam."

Liam waves his hand, his eyes closed again, and Violet practically pulls me outside. When we're two rooms away, she stops and holds my shoulders, looking around before speaking.

"Lyra, listen to me." She takes the leaves from her pocket. "This plant is called canenula, it has a potent analgesic effect."

"I figured, since it was being put in a tea for pain." I raise an eyebrow.

"No, listen. The effects are very potent, there was no need to put in two leaves." She puts the leaves back in her pocket. "I don't think it was just a tea for pain."

"What are you insinuating, Vi?" I cross my arms. "Hannah was just doing her job, and now Liam might be in pain because you took an ingredient out of the cup."

"He'll be fine." Violet shakes her head.

"How do you know? Are you a doctor by any chance?"

"No, but I understand plants and their effects." She swallows hard and lowers her voice. "That's how I won the challenges."

My jaw drops. Of course. That's why everyone she fought was feeling sick.

"Does anyone else know?"

"That doesn't matter now." She releases my shoulders. "What matters is that Hannah was trying to do something other than make a pain-relieving tea."

"Violet." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "From what I understand, this canenula stuff is commonly used as a pain reliever, and that's exactly what Hannah was doing." I sigh, tired. "If she was really working something bad, she wouldn't do it right in front of us."

"She was putting in more than necessary. Just half a leaf would be enough." The urgency in her voice is more evident now. "How long have you known her? Do you know anything useful about her?"

I open my mouth to answer, but close it with a sigh, shaking my head. Because I really don't know anything about Hannah.

"What happens if someone takes more than indicated?"

“I’m not sure.” She shakes her head.

“Then maybe nothing bad will happen,” I suggest.

“Or maybe something terrible will happen.”

We stare at each other for a moment, unsure what to think. As much as I trust Violet’s instincts, what she said isn’t enough to make me think Hannah really wanted to hurt Liam.

“Let’s go back to the Quadrant.” I walk past her, leaving the Surgery Wing.

“Lyra,” she calls, walking quickly behind me. I stop walking.

“I believe you, Violet. I know you would never say something like that if you didn’t suspect something. But…” I turn to her. "it’s not enough to prove you’re right. And Hannah’s been in the infirmary for two years, she certainly knows more about medicinal plants than the two of us combined.”

Violet bites the inside of her mouth, unsure what to say, and takes the small leaves from her pocket, placing them in my hands.

“Keep them.” She says in a low voice, avoiding drawing the attention of a group of students passing by us, and closes my fingers around the sheets. "They might be useful."

She walks around me and continues down the corridor of stretchers. Since I don't have pockets, I keep the sheets hidden in a closed fist and follow Violet, swallowing hard at the possibility that what she just said is true.

Ƹ̵̡⁠Ӝ̵̨̄⁠Ʒ

The rest of the day passes slowly. In class, I can only think about what Violet said about Hannah, and unconsciously I search for the sheets in my flight jacket pocket more times than I can count.

Now, after dinner and heading towards the academy, I try to put this subject aside. Not paying attention in class won't kill me, but being distracted during combat training will.

As I enter, a tall cadet bumps into me as she leaves. When I go to apologize, I immediately recognize the scar above her pierced left eye. She was one of the cadets who tried to kill me the day after the Scythe in order to join Ithearrach, and I defeated her by plunging a dagger into her eye.

I thought that had killed her, but she proved to be a great actress, remaining motionless on the ground even when my brother pulled the dagger from her eye. She surprised everyone when she showed up at the flightfield two days later, with her eye stitched shut and a red scorpiontail.

She stares at me with a deadly look for long seconds and leaves without saying anything, tossing a strand of her light brown hair over her shoulder.

I continue on my way, not paying much attention to the implicit threat. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before, since I'm threatened every day just for still breathing. At this point, it's part of the routine.

The gym isn't crowded, but there are enough cadets to occupy most of the mats at the back of the room and some exercise machines. Bodhi is already next to the mat we usually use, talking to Xaden, who has a backpack shrouded in shadows next to his right leg. I can't help but notice that we're the only ones marked here.

I approach, unable to suppress a smirk.

"Did you sleep well last night?" I tease. Bodhi disguises his laughter with a cough, and Xaden rolls his eyes.

"Very funny." He steps onto the mat. I raise an eyebrow, looking at Bodhi.

"He's going to train you today. I just came to watch." He shrugs.

I widen my eyes, turning to Xaden, who is already in the center of the mat.

"I won't use weapons, but you can use the daggers if you want." He smiles playfully, positioning himself. "Let's see if you've learned anything."

I take a deep breath and step onto the mat, restraining myself from drawing my daggers. If Xaden isn't going to fight with weapons, neither am I.

I advance quickly, aiming for a low punch, but he dodges with irritating ease, twisting his body just enough to get out of the way and, in the same movement, grabs my wrist. I twist my arm before he can completely trap me, trying to use the momentum against him. For a second, it almost works.

Almost.

He lets out a low laugh and pulls me forward, using my own strength to unbalance me. My foot slips and I'm forced to take two quick steps to avoid falling face-first to the ground.

"You need to be faster," he comments, as if he were evaluating any training session, not taking me apart in seconds.

I growl softly and advance again.

This time, I vary the pace. I grab a dagger to feign a high attack and change at the last second, turning my body to hit his side. Xaden raises his arm to block, and when I swing the second dagger, he grabs my forearm.

"Too predictable, don't you think?" he murmurs.

I try a knee to his stomach, which he blocks with his leg and uses to trip me, and in the blink of an eye I'm on my back against the ground.

The impact takes the air out of my lungs.

"Get up," he doesn't even sound breathless.

Of course not.

I get up before the anger turns to shame. This time we walk in circles, waiting for the other to attack first. Xaden tilts his head slightly, as if he's curious.

Then I attack with a sequence of blows that Bodhi made me repeat until I hated his existence. Xaden takes a step back, then two, and finally hits him, the blade reaching his throat.

He's surprised for a second before taking advantage of my moment of victory. My hand is deflected and my balance goes away, and the next moment I'm pinned to the ground again, face down with my arm twisted behind my back.

"You hesitated," he says too close to my ear.

I take a deep breath, annoyed.

"I caught you."

"And you died right after."

I exhale through my nose, defeated, and slam my free hand twice on the ground. Xaden releases me and steps back, giving me space. I get up again, my body starting to really complain now. Heavy shoulders, shorter breath.

But I don't stop and attack again, several times. I get a little slower each time, and he gets a little more efficient each time. Until my legs give out mid-movement and I just… can’t continue.

I rest my hands on my knees, breathing heavily. Exhausted. I look up, forcing myself to straighten up again, but my whole body is limp. Xaden watches me for a moment, assessing. Then he lowers his guard.

"That’s enough for today."

I frown.

"I can still–"

"No." He cuts me off. "You’re past the point where you learn anything. Now it’s only going to get worse."

I put away the daggers with an irritated sigh, running a hand through my sweat-stuck hair. Bodhi, from the corner, seems to be having too much fun with this.

"You’re faster, Lyra" Xaden comments. Bodhi agrees with a nod. "But you can’t stop training, or you’ll go back to being slow."

I huff. I hate when he’s right.

Xaden walks to the shadowed backpack and picks it up, dissipating the dark veil as if it were nothing. He turns around and stops in front of me.

"Happy birthday." He lifts his backpack and places it in my hands. "If anyone asks, you say I had it made."

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious, but I open it. The air catches in my lungs. Fitted in opposite directions are a pair of scythes. Carefully, I pull them from their sheaths.

The handle is short like a dagger's, but the blades are curved, elegant, and lethal, with a cold gleam that betrays the care in the forging. The weight… it's perfect. Made for me.

"You…" I begin, but I stop.

I don't know what to say.

Xaden crosses his arms, watching my reaction with that irritating half-smile.

"Consider this an incentive for you to stop being defeated so easily."

"Generous of you." I let out a short laugh, still staring at the blades.

"I know."

I test the movement in the air, slowly. The curve responds with precision, almost intuitively. And for the first time since I entered here, I truly smile.

"Promise me one thing." Xaden says, taking a step closer. "Never stop training. Even if you're tired or in pain, train hard every day, Lyra."

I stare at him for a moment, absorbing his words. I nod and, slowly, the understanding dawns on me that in just a few weeks he won't be here anymore.