Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Part one of the 'Beneath Our Feet' verse. All my thanks and love to quantumdoll for reading and checking my character work, facts, and world building. I literally couldn't have done it without you. Also warning, this fic contains incest - between brothers, and between an aunt and nephew. Enjoy :)

When his brother was among the thieves brought before Queen Daenerys, Kili felt as though a sword had been thrust through him. For a moment, he was sure he was dreaming once more. But Fili was still there after he blinked hard. Heart in his mouth, Kili very nearly cried out and leapt from his position at the Queen's side. Every part of him screamed to be wrapped around Fili who'd been so long thought dead. But the courtly training Tyrion had drilled into him restrained him in time, as did his uncle's lessons. Court was no place for such displays; it would feed too many fires.

Instead, despite the enormous shock, Kili barely shifted his feet, his fingers twitching slightly at his side, his eyes staying locked on the hunched filthy figure of his brother. No layer of mud could completely hide the golden shade of Fili's hair; and no amount of years could veil the body that Kili knew so well. His gaze was hungry, he knew that, and Tyrion would have words with him later about being so obvious in front of those who would use his interest against him and the Queen.

But in public Tyrion merely raised his voice almost idly. "I doubt these are all who wish to break past the castle walls. Questions must be asked."

Daenerys naturally gleaned what was not being said because she permitted Tyrion to detain several of the thieves, including Fili, and ordered them taken to the dungeons. Kili's eyes stayed fixed on Fili as his brother was led away. Had Fili recognised him? Kili's heart beat so loudly he was sure that others in the room must hear it.

Tyrion cleared his throat pointedly and Kili jerked his thoughts back to his Queensguard duties as the Lady Sansa began talking of the latest threat she'd received word of. Kili kept his back straight and his eyes sharp, even as his thoughts churned with shock and possibilities and hope. One hand stayed firmly on his belt, on the smooth handle of the dagger that his brother had forged for him. Did Fili still own its twin?

Once the counsel was dismissed, Kili fell into step behind Daenerys as she retired to the private room where lunch was always served for her and for whoever she asked to join her, on this day Tyrion, and Sansa. Often Kili joined them, a privilege and an honour granted him thanks to his unique and intimate friendship with the Queen. His own chamber was even placed next to the Queen's so that he could guard her at all hours. He was Captain of the Queensguard and therefore guarded the Queen's life when even his fellow Queensguard did not. He was always glad to – he'd see no harm come to her and no other on the Iron Throne. He'd fought some of those who also desired it.

But Kili swallowed as he walked beyond the threshold this time; was he to be punished for his behaviour? He smoothed a hand through his hair and checked that two of the Queensguard took their posts outside the door as he closed it. Daenerys stayed standing, flexing her legs with a sigh. She ached after hours sat on the seat of power; Kili had heard her complain many times about it. Tyrion poured sweet wine and inspected the food while Sansa pinned the young Queensguard Captain with an eerily-perceptive stare. Sansa always saw too much. Kili lowered his eyes.

His heart still raced, like horses free in the night. It beat out Fili, Fili, Fili, Fili. Gods, he could scarcely believe it was true, and likely wouldn't until he set eyes on his brother again. His previously dead brother.

"The next time you recognise a thief who tried to break into the castle with the sole goal of locating the Queen, don't make it quite so obvious," Tyrion told him, mostly command, all droll.

Kili nodded, that much he knew. "Yes, my lord."

Too many courtiers, leaders of the faith, representatives of the great families filled the castle because it was their right to be there and because they also wanted leverage for their own causes. Far too few put Westeros or the Queen at the forefront of their goals. To them, she was an obstacle to surpass, a young inexperienced girl to manipulate. Thank the Gods that Daenerys was sharper than most fathomed; her bones lean and her eyes clear thanks to what she'd lived through to gain her family's throne. It had been education enough – Kili had been present for a great swathe of it – and Daenerys had triumphed. And she now surrounded herself with enough loyal and wise friends to keep her informed of all possible plots and to advise her thoroughly without agenda.

Kili's stalled display that morning could give some enterprising soul a morsel to use – against him perhaps, many didn't like that a lowly Northerner from the House of Durin held such an exalted position, or against Daenerys somehow. Kili would rather be exiled to the Iron Islands than be the cause of her downfall.

The Queen looked at him curiously, despite her beautiful clothing she was still every inch the wild yet regal woman he'd saved the life of in Mereen. "Who did you recognise, Kili?"

Kili swallowed and met the Queen's gaze. "My brother, Your Highness."

Daenerys' eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed, and both her and Sansa's gazes went to the single braid he wore amongst his otherwise loose hair. The braid was interwoven with a black raw-silk ribbon – a sign that he grieved for somebody. He'd expected to wear it forever.

"Your dead brother," surmised Tyrion. "A happy accident, that he resurrects himself now, while you are installed here with power and the ear of the Queen?"

Kili bit back several curse-filled retorts to Tyrion's words, his Durin temper flaring at such an insults being cast on his brother. Tyrion didn't know Fili; he didn't know everything about that part of the North, not even Sansa did. If anybody else in court suddenly produced a brother from the dead, Tyrion would be asking the same question. It made political sense, but Kili had always hated politics and preferred a battle with his bow in his hand. Fili would say that the Old Gods were laughing at him, as Kili was now in such a political position.

"An accident of many kinds," he managed to croak out. "He's been dead for years."

His mouth closed and his mind whirled with all that he'd believed was true for years – no body was ever recovered but their uncle Thorin had proclaimed Fili dead, the reports being damning enough. It had been too long for hope to still survive. It was another reason why Kili was glad to be Daenerys' Queensguard Captain; living in the Lonely Mountain again would have only crowded him with agonising memories of Fili. He wouldn't have survived that.

Daenerys continued to look at him, waiting for his story to continue. He'd told her only a little before when they'd first begun to know each other in Mereen. Now she was his Queen, somebody he loved and respected, and had every right to know why her Captain kept silent on such a matter. She didn't know Fili, why would she trust him, when he'd been

absent from his family for so long? Fresh aches bloomed in Kili.

"The Greyjoys took our land," he spoke at last. "Our uncle fought in vain and sent Fili and I to gain favours and re-enforcements."

"And to keep his heirs safe," Sansa pointedly added, this part of the story being well-known.

Kili nodded. Uncle Thorin had more direct heirs, but if anything happened to him or to them, then the line of Durin would continue through his nephews, so Kili and Fili were smuggled out, to safety and to further the chances of their land returning to Durin hands. It had been a fine plan.

"The Greyjoys saw to it we were followed and ensured we were torn from each other, and dropped into the path of slavers eager to leave these shores." Kili pressed his lips together; Daenerys knew what Mereen was like, what he had endured alone there. "I survived. It was believed that Fili had not, the ship he was on was wrecked and all its survivors worked to their deaths."

"And now he seeks out the Queen," Tyrion mused. "Or yourself perhaps, knowing your place at her side."

Kili flinched; too many people believed he'd fucked Daenerys and that that was why he'd been garlanded with honour. Did Fili believe that? Didn't he know that to Kili, as striking as Daenerys' silvery beauty was, that as he much as he loved her, it was all so much shadow compared to Fili's golden countenance?

In his uncle's stretch of land, known as the Lonely Mountain, such love between brothers was almost commonplace. So tight were the bloodlines that most were related anyway. But here, incest had condemned Cersei Lannister. It had condemned her brother Jamie too, only there were stories that he'd escaped his so-called execution and had been spirited away by the Maid of Tarth to where sapphires were still plentiful. Kili doubted that; Jamie Lannister had killed Daenerys' father, the monarch mad or not, and the head on a spear outside looked a lot like Jamie Lannister to him.

Kili was known amongst the people now and the Queen might not allow any relationship between the brothers to flourish once more. Such a relationship without reprisals would bring whispers of corrupt favouritism, despite the fact that Daenerys was obvious in her affections for her nephew Jon Snow, who was currently at the Wall, overseeing its rebuilding despite no longer being part of the Night's Watch. But Daenerys was both Targaryen and the Queen; Kili was merely a lucky archer and a minor heir from the North.

He did not want to ask, to force the Queen's hand by reminding her of the favour she'd pledged to him in Mereen. But the urge to do so was strong. The love he held for his brother overwhelmed even the strength of loyalty and love he felt for Daenerys. He felt as though he was at the edge of a precipice; for he would leave Daenerys' court, deeply paining himself and the Queen, and likely damaging the strong alliance between the Houses of Targaryen and Durin. If it meant he could be with Fili again, he would do it.

Sansa picked at a plate of meats and bread, accepting the cup her husband passed her. She appeared remarkably calm as always; Tyrion claimed it would take more than court accusations about her maidenhead to rile his wife. She had faced down much worse, and survived, thrived even. No wonder she and the Queen had become close.

"You would not stay if he could not," Sansa spoke up suddenly, her Tully blue eyes piercing.

Kili could only nod; denying such a truth before these three would be a great foolishness. He dared not look at Tyrion though; for Tyrion never spoke of his brother and sister or their relationship, unless directly challenged to do so.

Daenerys murmured something in the language of her long-dead husband. It always sounded like scraping knives to Kili and reminded him of when he'd first met Daenerys, how she'd commanded her husband's people so strongly, how she'd kept her word that he would be rewarded for saving her life when her guards did not. She was composed now, wearing the crown, possessing the Iron Throne, but the wildness of dragon fire still burned in her. The day it died would be the day that Kili left this place, or so he'd thought.

"You would leave for him?" Daenerys questioned at last, her own clear eyes bright and inquisitive and more than a little wounded.

Kili swallowed and licked his dry lips, forcing himself to voice what broke his heart to even think of. "I would, Your Highness. But only ever for him."

He would not be more explicit unless ordered. Tyrion's expression was surprisingly blank, for one who was usually so twisted with expression. He looked as though he was borrowing the mask that Sansa wore in court. Daenerys drank deeply from her cup of sweet wine and hummed lightly, a sign that she was thinking carefully and was comfortable enough to let them know this. In court, before most others in fact, she was always so still and composed.

"When I spoke to your uncle about you becoming my Queensguard Captain, he said firmly that you would cause no trouble in such a position as you wouldn't strain at its martial restrictions," she said into the sharp silence.

Kili nodded. He could recognise that he was not being asked to speak; Daenerys was building to some precipice of her own.

"When I pressed to know the reason, he said that not entering into marriage would be a blessing for you, because no one would ever lessen the grief you hold for who you'd lost. You would marry if he or I asked it of you and you would give him heirs, but there would be no warmth. You would be as cold and unyielding as the Wall."

Uncle Thorin had always been perceptive, it was one of many reasons why he was still head of the House of Durin, it was how he had held onto their spit of land for so long, until the sheer numbers and slyness of the Greyjoys had ousted him. He was proud, but he'd bent enough to ally with Daenerys, knowing he would gain his home again and that Kili's bond with the Queen would allow his House needed privileges. Uncle Thorin knew all about the importance of strong practical alliances.

He had been married to Shala since Kili's eighth winter. Shala was one of Thorin's childhood friends and ran their vast household excellently. It had been a political match that suited both Northern families – it didn't allow any outsider power into the House of Durin. Thorin had hated the thought of marrying someone from outside the Mountain, until he had visited The Reach and encountered talented gardener and peripheral Tyrell court member Bilbo Baggins. As part of the trade agreement made with the Tyrells, Thorin requested that Bilbo Baggins become part of the House of Durin; they needed all the help they could get with their gardens and crops. The Tyrells naturally raised their own requests in response and once the Houses were agreed, Bilbo was sent to the Mountain, to transform the strange Northern gardens and to continue intriguing Thorin Oakenshield.

Thorin and Bilbo had been lovers since the sixth month of Bilbo's arrival in the North. Bilbo had made Thorin work for it, much to everybody's amusement, including his wife's. Shala and Bilbo were friends, often spending time together in gardens that Bilbo continued to work hard on. Shala had no quarrel with her husband's love; she had provided the House of Durin with heirs – a set of twins who were already learning how to wield swords - and she had no lust in her heart for her husband. Her lover, Mariya, was always beside her, guarding her with a proud fierceness. Mariya had been the one to teach Fili how to hold a dagger correctly.

Some who visited found it odd that Shala was guarded by a woman who Thorin treated like a knight. But all who lived on the Mountain vehemently protected their leader and his family. Thorin and Shala's marriage was strong and their secret partners made them stronger. So only once had Thorin asked Kili and Fili if they were sure it was not a mere young fancy between them that would fade. When they had both replied strong in their convictions, he had smiled and said that Durins always found a way to hold tight to their happiness, that the Old Gods would provide. The House of Durin always survived, in some form or another.

So then why did Kili feel as though he was now dealing it a hammer blow it would not recover from?

His face must have expressed his agony, because Sansa spoke again consideringly. "At the Lonely Mountain, it is so common that it is merely something else that the rest of the North hems them in with – those that live under the rule of Thorin are bred for discontent and battle, and they love without law or etiquette."

At that point Sansa's face twisted in something like apology, it was startlingly genuine, unlike the soothing words she used to calm angry visitors in court. Kili had the sudden thought that he was seeing a true part of Sansa from before everything. The Gods knew, he'd heard the stories.

He was honoured but there was no need for apologies, Sansa was entirely correct. Thorin's people were best suited for battle and were still seen as the most formidable of foot soldiers, despite their comparatively small numbers now. And love between those who shared blood was much more usual than bedding somebody you were no relation of. The other Northerners often spat insults at the Mountain folk, sneering at their small numbers and the way they chose to wed. There was less sneering now, but still the same insults. Nothing would change that, just as nothing would change the bond between Kili and his brother. At least he hoped that remained true.

"We still don't know if your brother is mad or turned against the Targaryen rule," Tyrion pointed out.

"Would you know?" added Sansa, skilfully picking up the thread her husband had begun unwinding. "If your brother lied, or tried to turn you from your path here, would you know? And would you tell us?"

Kili's expression puckered painfully; he wanted to say that Fili would not be against the Queen, that he would not form some plot to oust her or attempt to turn Kili. But he had not known Fili for many years, his mind bitterly reminded him, and Fili did not know the Queen. Perhaps he had found another House he believed should have the throne. Perhaps his mind was not his own anymore.

"I would know," Kili replied. "It's been years, but some things cannot be changed. And I would not see you harmed, Your Highness."

"Even by your brother?" Tyrion pushed.

Kili clenched his teeth, flooded by images of his brother dying by execution for all to see. Traitors usually died in such a way, unless true repentance was shown and other uses were found for them. Kili had always advocated for all who threatened the Queen to be put to death, he had not been quiet about it. Would he force that punishment on his own beloved brother? The thought sickened him.

"I would hope never to," he admitted, because the answer was clear in his face and body anyway. "I would hope to call on our uncle first and try to grasp Fili back. But if he tried to kill the Queen, I...I would not let him."

It was all he could promise and Daenerys did not seem offended, only sad behind her eyes. She had had a brother too, Kili remembered, one she never spoke of, one who would have been king and who, it was whispered, had been as mad as their father. In fact, Sansa and Tyrion too had siblings lost to them, perhaps that was where all thoughts in the room now lay. Kili's thoughts were certainly with his brother, locked in the dungeon. What was Fili thinking about?

"We must know their plans before the last dies," Tyrion said at last. "As his brother, you are likely to draw the most from him, by design or otherwise."

"We will let it be known that a relative of Durin's line has been brought here," offered Sansa. "And that you are questioning him, seeking any information he has grasped of rebellion."

It was a neat set-up and would account for Kili's behaviour in court that day. When Daenerys inclined her head in agreement, Kili nodded his in thanks. The Queen was wearing a familiar look though, one that said he would be telling her much more soon. The Queen could demand, and be given, all that she wished for, and Kili had not refused her yet. He had punished and killed in her name, and would do so again many times.

"Speak with your love, Kili," she said, quiet but strong. "He will be brought to your quarters this night. Tomorrow, you will tell me of his heart and mind. If both are strong, I will see him."

Tyrion and Sansa remained silent; they would likely be nearby anyway, to cast their own opinions on Fili.

"We won't send a raven to the Mountain yet," Tyrion spoke.

Kili nodded gratefully; his mother and Thorin would likely rush here to see Fili, regardless of what his fate was. Not even Bilbo would be able to prevent them from saying what should never be said to a Queen. Until the news was solid, the Durins were better off knowing nothing.

"Keep guards at your door," the Queen commanded.

There was a shade of worry carefully hidden in her eyes, even now. Because Kili had seen her greatly undone upon their first meeting and as close as they now were, she could not allow too many to see that side of her. He understood, though it pained him to see her cage herself, and he was warmed by her concern. The Queen could not be seen to favour or care too much for individuals or certain Houses; her first love should always be her kingdom.

Kili ate quickly after that and Tyrion escorted him to the nearby door to his quarters, the Queen and Sansa remaining behind for a private talk together.

"You will be greatly discussed this night," Tyrion told him.

"Don't worry; I'm not honoured by such attention."

Tyrion's mouth laughed and he looked at Kili with clever eyes in a ravaged face. "If your brother has eyes and tongue as sharp as yours, it will be a boon of some form or another. Does he have your talent with the bow?"

Kili laughed quietly, remembering well how much Fili had cursed during archery lessons. He had never been natural with arrows. "Alas, no. But he's swifter with a pair of knives than most on the Mountain."

"I should imagine he's swifter at your side," replied Tyrion, a knowing gleam to his eyes.

Kili didn't give voice to memories of standing back-to-back with Fili, their knives moving in flashing circles of light, his arrows flying true as they responded to each other's movement and voice. Even now, commanding the skilled ranks of the Queensguard, Kili had found none who matched him in combat as well as Fili. Together, they could strike well for the Queen.

"I imagine so," was all Kili offered.

"A miracle, he can be taught," Tyrion turned to leave. "Watch your back, young Durin. I'm told winter is coming."

A chill worked down Kili's spine; he knew Sansa well enough to know the warning her family's motto could be. He knew not to linger either, there were too many eyes about. He signalled to his fellow Queensguards to watch his door and taking a deep breath, entered his quarters.

A large wooden tub was carried in shortly after Kili entered. Several serving girls filled it with warm water as trays of food were laid out on the table, simple fare that wouldn't sicken somebody who hadn't eaten well lately. Kili's chest felt hollow, his heart had been ripped from him years ago, when he had seen Fili being dragged away from him. Now, he wasn't sure whether to let it grow back again, for Fili might tear it out himself this time. Kili closed his eyes and dragged in a breath; his brother might be returned to him in body only.

Before such thoughts could consume him, there was a hearty knock at the door. At Kili's word, two Queensguards dragged a half-unconscious Fili in and dropped him uncaringly onto the floor. Fili didn't make a sound, Kili's stomach clenched. He nodded at his friends.

"You'll know if I need assistance."

Dismissal was clear in his voice and the Queensguard left without a word. Kili's delight in dealing with traitors was well-known so it was almost expected for him to request a prisoner to interrogate. As much as he hated to, Kili kept his dagger on his belt. Whatever thumped in his chest now was heavy. For several silent minutes, Kili drank in the sight of his brother sprawled on his chamber floor – dirty and weak, but definitely his brother.

Kili took a step forward, Fili didn't move. Another step, still no movement. When he came within touching distance, Kili crouched down on one knee and his hand hovered over his brother's shoulder. His brother.

Kili swallowed past whatever was clogging his throat and rasped. "Fili?"

There was a twitch, Fili's head moved, as though shaking away a sleeping thought. Kili's voice was stronger when he spoke again. "Fili."

Fili jerked again and raised his head. Kili's breath caught at being face to face with his brother. His hand drifted to Fili's cheek, but didn't touch. Fili looked at him dully.

"Why do you torture me, brother?" he asked quiet and plaintive. "Why can't you give me a night alone?"

Kili's breath shuddered and he felt as though he would soon join his brother on the floor, crumpled by a weight of grief and pain. Was his brother mad? What was he seeing? Was he really so upset at seeing Kili again?

"I'm here, Fili," he said, hoarsely. "I can't leave you again."

"You never leave me," spat his brother. "Every night, you visit, and every morning, you leave. The pain is too much, Kili. Leave me and do not return!"

Kili's mouth fell open, some relief coursing through him. His brother thought he was dreaming, and it seemed he had been dreaming of Kili for many nights. Kili felt heady with the knowledge; his brother still ached for him and like Kili, felt the pain of their parting still.

Kili inched closer, desperate to touch now, to shake his brother free of waking dreams and to hold him tight. "You do not dream, brother. I am here, truly."

Fili snorted. "So you say. Yet when I wake, nothing of you remains but the pain in my heart."

Without any more hesitation, Kili dropped his hand to his brother's shoulder, hoping to prove the truth of his own words. He revelled in the feel of his brother, the heat of his skin through the thin shirt. He stroked a shaking hand down Fili's arm and leaned in, gladdened to feel his brother's breath once more and to smell the faint salty odour that all who lived for years on the Lonely Mountain carried with them. Beneath the dirt and despair, Fili was present. A spark lit in Kili's chest; his brother only had to realise that Kili was present too.

"Have you bathed? When we have met before?" he tried.

Fili's mouth twitched in something that could have been a smile. "There never seems to be time, brother."

Kili tried to sound cheerful. "Well, I proclaim there is time now. The tub is already full."

Perhaps a dunking would awaken Fili. Fili looked interested in a bath; it had clearly been a long time since he had soaked, his skin was so encrusted. Kili's limbs felt clumsy as he held his brother up and aided him in stripping free of his filthy clothing. Kili's pulse quickened at finding the dagger his brother had always carried still hidden in his boot, as well as several other blades, but Fili did not insist on keeping his weapons close as he should. He seemed too quiet, too sad, and it broke Kili a little more to see such a hopeless look on his brother's face. Fili didn't reach for him; his experience of dreams of Kili melting away in the light of morning pained him too much for that. A similar ache filled Kili, because his brother was with him, but not.

Fili climbed into the tub and listlessly scrubbed at his body with hard soap. Kili watched the familiar colour of his brother's pale skin begin to show through, and the gold of his hair begin to become brighter as Fili ducked under the water and worked through the knots. Kili could only watch, breathlessly. He thrummed with opposing thoughts – was this a trick to beguile him before Fili went in for the kill? Would Fili suddenly light up and explain what plans he had, why he had sought out the Queen? Or would he continue to look through Kili instead?

Fili didn't say a word; clearly still convinced he was asleep. With a heaviness inside, Kili helped him out of the tub and into what dry clothes of his own would fit his brother's slightly thicker form. He ached to card his fingers through Fili's hair, to rebraid what had become knotted. His fingers brushed the black bead that still adorned part of Fili's plaited beard, causing Fili to suddenly lurch away from the touch, a welcome fire in his eyes.

"You've taken too much already, brother, you cannot have this!" he hissed.

Kili forced the rolling tide of despair inside of him to stay silent and coaxed his brother into eating hard bread and salted meat. The kitchen had provided a little of what Kili enjoyed eating, food that faintly reminded him of what was consumed on the Mountain. Fili ate, because he was not a fool. When you were provided with food on the Mountain, you ate it because you could never be sure if trade agreements would be honoured and the land would be supplied with what it desperately needed. Thorin had always been paranoid and that furtive way of living had been bred into his subjects, especially his kin.

All too soon, Fili stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes, refusing to look at Kili, clearly believing he'd wake up again soon and that he'd do so alone. Kili couldn't take his eyes off his brother. Fili was actually there, with flashes of his old self showing through like gold in dirt. Perhaps sleeping and then waking up again would convince him of Kili's presence. A ghost of a smile floated across Kili's face; it was the sort of abstract musing that Gandalf would have offered. An old friend of Thorin's, Gandalf was a traveller without roots who had somehow survived the war without injury or imprisonment, despite quietly siding with the House of Durin. He claimed to be from a Northern island nobody had heard of, a fact that few believed, though Kili was unnerved by the look in Gandalf's eyes sometimes.

Fili was behaving as though, like Kili, he too had had his heart removed.

What would Kili do if Fili awoke in the morning with the same dull look in his eyes? If he continued to labour under the same despairing grief that Kili was a ghost haunting him? Kili would talk to the maesters, to the healers and the priests. He would do all he could before he told Daenerys that his brother was hollow and needed to go to the Mountain, where perhaps he might eventually be coaxed back to himself. Kili's heart broke anew at such a thought.

He hid Fili's weaponry, in case his brother woke confused and bloodthirsty, before stripping down to his smallclothes and hunching down to sleep at Fili's side. They had shared a bed for so many years; it had taken several difficult months for Kili to begin to learn how to sleep alone without his brother's touch. He couldn't touch Fili now, his touch caused Fili to flinch. Such a thought made Kili breathless with grieving pain.

"Sleep, brother," was all he could whisper helplessly. "And awaken soon."

Then he watched his brother's back and counted his brother's shallow breaths until he broke his self-imposed vow to stay awake all night as a fitful sort of sleep took him prisoner instead.

tbc...