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I was asleep in my daydreams and the was enough for me.

Hattie and I were having a tea party in the midst of a winter obscurity. I was not dressed for the occasion in my nightgown with the cuff collar and rosy red robe. Hattie didn't seem to mind save her dress was violet with black lace. She never cared. She was excellent company, my only company. It made me laugh to now her mouth was just a pattern of stitches.

She didn't mind me leaving without a pardon either. I abandoned her as I sprint down the halls, careless to know I was passing the servant's hall and Sigrid's chamber. I was soon to the door and frustrated to find the guards blocking my view.

I pushed them away while growling, "Move."

To defend my behavior I was eight and weary. Despite my nursemaid assigning me to bed hours ago I couldn't. The reason that kept me up, though had just arrived and right in front of me.

I did not give him time to brush the snowflakes out of his hair, avoiding the gold crown shining on his head.

"Da!" I squealed, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I missed you!"

Even with sodden fur from his coat rubbing against my face I feel a pit of warmth awake in me. But it doesn't last.

"What are you doing up?" Father's heads snaps up, his eyes seeking a reason for it. He practically shoved me from his arms as he looked to his guards."Where is the nursemaid?"

"Asleep, your majesty," one replied and my father's expression dimmed.

"Bring her to me," he orders.

Til she they returned my father stared daggers at me as I sank with embarrassment and guilt. I approached after a mental prolong debate with myself. "Da, can I tell you something?" I whispered.

He. looked tempted to nod and had he this situation's conclusion would have been much more brighter.

But the nursemaid's arrival was swift, she was already resting her eyes on me as she stepped in. Her soft expression twisted into an evil glare.

I scorched hot, not just for myself, but for her as well. .No one should have to stand in front of their king in their frayed pajamas with their hair pulled back in a braid, exposing more gray streaks than usual. And their skin bare and dry and dark. There was no dignity for her that night or any night since.

"Your majesty, you summoned me," she said with a low bow, not addressing me.

"Why is she still awake?" His tone was more cooler than usual. There use to be a peace within it, but it was slowly dying.

"I….I don't know, my lord," the nursemaid uttered. Her hands clasped and unclasped and her foot pattered against the stone. I watch with my young eyes as her stability begins to drain. "I assigned her to bed three hours ago, I swear."

Father approached with only a step and the nursemaid cringed and rebounded. His face was a stone and yet I saw a glint of amusement. "You are released of your duties. Go."

I thought she was going to drop to her knees and beg. She pleaded and she wept but nothing more. "Pray….my lord, my king, do not send me away. I will try harder! Pray, there no other job an elderly grammer like myself could have! Oh pray, do not usher me out! I will do anything! I cannot lose this job!"

Being young I thought her words came from loyalty and commitment. I thought she enjoyed her job in the palace. It wasn't though, she hated me and she hated me father, and with his firing her she would lose her reputation and she bring a great deal of shame to her name.

A part of me was glad to be oblivious to that fact that night.

The guards escorted her off as she continued to sob, screeching out absurdities, even insulting my father's name, along with my own.

"You little viper! You little mutant! Curse you! You spoiled wretch!" She is gone within seconds, but words stung for eternity.

It was then Father looked back to me, showing little regard and therefore little sympathy for her words. I didn't deserve sympathy, it was my fault, but he seemed so careless. So cold. I needed any emotion from him to ease me. But he showed nothing. He only said, "Go to bed, Tilda." And I obeyed, shuffling off into the shadow, distressed my everything that had occurred.

I collected Hattie and two other dolls and snuck into my bed, nestling beneath wool sheets.

That night I can recall so easily. Whenever I doubt what I did next, I look back at that night and I feel no more reason to wonder. It was a night of revelation and it was eight more years before the reckoning.

I was sixteen now and distant from Father as much as I was distant from that young girl of innocence. I was entitled and drunk on the assurance I would be given anything if asked for it. And I was still jeopardizing the faith of our servants.

She was the new, fresh - face servant tending to Sigrid who had been bed ridden after falling ill. I had been forbidden to see her by
Father's instructions. It didn't settle well with me. Sigrid may have been corrupted by greed, but she was my sister and my only source of social relief. I would have turned stir crazy with Father always away and Bain always in the library or in solitude had she not been here.

So as that new maid headway to my sister's chamber, a tray secure against her chest, I stepped in front of her aim.

"Oh, Lady Tilda, how are you today?" she asks with a force politeness and struggles to bow and hold up the tray's balance.

"Fine," I murmured. "I'm just coming from the throne room. My father has allowed to me take the stew my sister….." My arm's reach out for the tray, set to receive it.

She isn't convinced. "Oh? Why, your majesty, your father, said you were forbidden from seeing your sister. Pray, I must follow my orders."

"My father said I could!" I press. My tone is escalating and in fear of drawing attention, I use a quick threat to avoid it. "Do you want me to interrupt his schedule and get us both in trouble?"

She practically throws the tray in my hand, almost staining my dress with the soup. She ran too fast and too far for me to scold her. There was no benefit in it, though, so I go on the track to my sister's room and I burst in to find her still resting in her bed.

Her complexion is pallid and her face is more dead than it ever had been. She was bronzed by sweat. Her skin had sank and her bones were peering out. And her eyes were slits, attempting to open, only to fall.

"Tilda," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

I set the tray down upon the dresser then sink onto the side of the mattress, my weight releasing a cry from the frame.

"I wanted to see you," I say, wiping away a frizzy brown tressel away from her face.

"You shouldn't be here," she says. "If Father catches you…."

"Father has a full day in the throne room. He won't know."

"It is nice to see you…."

"It's nice to see you too. Da's afraid I'll attract the illness." And yet I risked it without fear just to see her. It was a moment I cherished, one of the few that came from this castle. Our conversation was terse and yet beautiful. WE saved ourselves on the topic of our defiance father and the world crumbling outside the walls that barricade us. We shared memories that lifted our spirits and laughs that were quick to rob Sigrid of her breath. Her coughs were hard and husky and through them she uttered out, "It feels like my insides are shaking."

"Do you need some water?" I ask but she denies the request.

"Do you remember that blonde dwarf, the king under the mountain, little sister?" she inquired while clearing her throat.

It was an odd question. Of course I did, he had taken the throne after his uncle's passing three years ago and whenever he visited he always had an eye on Sigrid. Fili, that was his name. And since Thorin's late years of serving, a strain was put on the alliance between Dale and Erebor that continued today.

"Yes," I reply.

"I use to sneak out when Father was asleep or away and meet him at the mountain's entrance. We would spend nights under the stairs until morning came." She smiled as the memories flood back. "Tilda, I must ask you something. Pray, little sister. In the middle drawer of my dresser there is sealed note. I ask you take it to Erebor and deliver it personally to Fili. Do not let Father or anyone else see it. Do it in a weeks time and no sooner. Do you think you could do that, sister?"

My reply does not change despite being confused. "Yes…..Won't you want to take it to him when you get better?"

"I don't have time. Pray, take it to him….and make sure no one find it."

I had yet found out how conniving her words were.

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