She walked on broken glass with seemingly no care for her bare feet wearing the marks of rough handling on easily bruised skin while leaving a trail of blood instead of following one of rose petals. Her dress matched the gleaming splendor of the jaded corridor with a smile as fake as the love of the man who no longer seemed to see her. He looked at her and saw golden hair and emerald eyes and pearly teeth. He looked at her and saw a treasure to hoarded away instead of his once greatest friend and dearest love. He no longer saw the woman who had saved his life countless times as the sickness had come back and this time it couldn't be shaken.
He and his nephews had lived, to her greatest joy. They had lived and he had come back to rescue her from her lonely, silent house to take her back to the home she had thought lost to her.
Then she saw it. She saw the cause of all her pain and suffering sitting in her home like it had any reason to be there and he had smiled. He smiled and she saw that the man she loved had truly died and the man who stood before her wearing his skin was but a cruel imitation, forever under the thrall of his family's curse.
He had asked for her hand with that same smile as her chosen family watched on with similar, sickly grins. They were all lost to her, but she accepted as there was truly nothing else she could say. So she stayed and kept quiet as she was roughly hugged before she was taken from his arms into another hug and another hug and another hug until all these lifeless statues had had their turn before she was taken to what would be her new rooms.
The place she was taken to was little more than a treasury with a bed and she was to be his greatest treasure. She slept like the dead because inside, her heart had already died.
The next day she was wed in jade gown and cut feet in the halls of the once beautiful mountain with a fake smile and real tears. Her husband waited until after the feast to take her away and yet she couldn't bring herself to be grateful; she couldn't have eaten anything anyway. He lead her to her rooms full of gold and took her on sheets of silk where more blood was spilt and she hated herself for being too cowardly to run away.
From then on, every night was the same as she laid on her bed and allowed herself to be taken the same way. She never cried or screamed. She was silent until the day she died in the same silk sheets and her husband woke up as himself for the first time and found her and cried.
Forevermore the mountain stayed lonely as the heart of its king died and every night he entered the golden chambers and cried. Her body had been taken away, but every time he saw her and he cried for his wife, his friend, and his queen who he loved more than any trinket or ring of gold. Even many centuries later, all who entered at night claimed to have heard to heartbroken cries of the last king of Erebor.