headcanon, where tilda gets lost in the commotion and bard is panicking, trying to find her after the battle of the five armies ends. and all the while not letting go of sigrid and bain, their cold hands in the firm hold of his dirty ones, because he just can't lose them too. he's asking around, searches all the building that can be possible places for a hideout but she's nowhere to be found. his heart is like a lump in his throat, blocks the air from getting into his heaving lungs before dropping in terrifying defeat. he can't find her.
bard?
familiar voice comes from behind him and he spins around, pulling sigrid and bain behind him on reflex before realizing — here stood the elvenking, his figure tall and mighty even without his armor, and tilda, his youngest daughter, rested in his arms.
i think you've lost a princess, thranduil says and tilda follows it with da! exclaimed excitedly. bard feels tears prickling in his eyes the moment her voice reaches his ears.
he runs to them forgetting all the formalities that come with interacting with the elvenking, and grabs tilda off his arms.
thank you, whispers bard, crying into his daughter's hair. thank you, he repeats to thranduil as he looks up.
he imagined himself being a mess, beaten up and tired and emotionally shaken, but. the humane pain that pierced those ice blue eyes the moment bard caught the look of them, struck him. it felt familiar. no king would allow himself to break down like this, not when he has the remnants of his people to gather and care for and heal.
but a father would.
thranduil nods and steps away to leave.
take care, bard the dragonslayer. don't lose 'em again.