A/N: Hi everyone!

As promised, this is a sequel to King of Erebor - A New Home. But don't worry, if you haven't read it: this one has its own plot and I'll cover the most important points here too.

I hope you'll like it - feel free to leave a review in the end!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit.

King of Erebor – Justice

Broken Hearts

Kíli, Prince of Erebor woke groggily under a tree, where he spent the night. He got soft in the last year: his back ached from the hardness of the ground, and the soft reddish rays of the sun forced him to squint. He yawned and stretched slowly, instead of jumping to his feet, immediately alert.

His pony was snacking nearby. He patted around for his pack: he remembered using it as a pillow last night, but it must have been uncomfortable. He probably pushed it away in his sleep: he found it nearby.

He looked around and took in the green of the field. No sign of anybody coming here apart from him and Bonnie. He could see the Mountain looming in the background, over the sapling forest he'd just crossed, the sun just rising over the horizon behind them.

He hadn't traveled far – he made less than an average day's journey. He was surprised to wake up alone: he counted on being hunted down by his brother's troops. Not that he wanted anyone to come, but still, it was strange they didn't try to stop him.

"Hey, Bonnie," he sighed, talking to his pony. "Now what are we to do?"

It was a half-cooked plan at best. Kíli knew he tended to act rashly, but this little excursion seemed perfectly sensible in the middle of the night. During the day, he started to doubt himself. He had a good life in Erebor: he was comfortable, they had enough money for the first time in his life, he had his family around, there was a dwarrowdam interested in him – what if Tauriel wouldn't even remember him? What if her feelings were indifferent or worse? What if Thranduil really throws him in the dungeons?

He sat up, rummaging around for food in his pack. He hadn't even packed much of it. He saddled his pony, and continued his slow journey, munching on his breakfast.

He traveled slowly, with a heavy heart, half wishing for his brother's troops to catch up already and drag him back. Perhaps Fíli woke up late and had a hangover yesterday. Perhaps he got his letter too late in the afternoon, and he couldn't send out scouts yet. Perhaps they would come today.

He was very angry at Fíli when he left him with Bard the day before yesterday. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Why did he have to be Mum's little lapdog? Why couldn't he just come along, have some fun and visit Bard later?

Eventually, his anger disappeared. Spending the day at Dale's Flower Festival wasn't so bad: he met up with Kasia – a pretty and funny dwarrowdam, who came to Erebor recently –, showed her the city, they completed Mum's exercise without a hitch (unlike others…khm…Fíli), and later, he had a few drinks with Thorin and half the Company. In the evening, he went to retrieve his pony and found that Fíli hadn't left the city yet. It was strange: he was led to believe it to be a short business meeting, perhaps a meal afterwards. He decided to check in on his brother – he hated long, pointless discussions, surely he would appreciate a rescue mission!

To his surprise, Fíli's guard was sitting on the front terrace, engaged in a card game with Bard's men. Fíli wasn't supposed to be left without a guard, and Ronen had already left for Erebor. He approached the door with confidence: the guards nodded to him in greeting, and let him through. He heard strange noises from upstairs. The house seemed empty otherwise, so he took the stairs and drew a knife, just in case.

If he had to guess what he would find in the room, he wouldn't have guessed right in a million years.

Two kings – Fíli and Bard – were sitting in those very comfortable leather armchairs Kíli would die for. Bard was making animated, but ridiculously uncoordinated gestures with a half-empty glass in his hand. He was going on about something concerning women, but Kíli couldn't make out his incoherent ramblings. It seemed to make perfect sense to Fíli, because he let out an annoyed growl.

"Damn right!" He slammed down his fist on the table forcefully, and the movement directed Kíli's gaze to the contents of the table between them: among two empty and a broken glass, he noticed two empty bottles of Fíli's favorite liquor, called The Best Friend.

They were drinking and traded stories. He smiled: perhaps he can join them.

Bard raised his glass to his lips to drink, but he miscalculated, and drops of the precious liquid were running down his chin.

"Careful!" Fíli cried out in panic. "That's the end of it!"

Bard managed to put down his glass before leaning forward, shaking. Kíli was worried for a moment, especially when he heard a strange whimpering sound from the man. Fíli, on the other hand, started snickering, and kicked his leg.

"Sit up," he ordered. "It comes back, you get no more!"

Bard sat up with great difficulty.

"No more – I can't stand up!"

"I can!" stated Fíli. He tried to prove it, but only his uncoordinated flailing saved him from falling face first into the glasses on the table. They found it funny: they started laughing until they couldn't breathe anymore.

Kíli had never seen his big brother so drunk. He always managed to sense the thin barrier between much and too much and stayed on the right side of it.

"Gina hate me for it," Bard explained. "She hate drink, Siggy's her."

Fíli nodded.

"Siggy's knew her. Tilda…" Bard struggled to find the right words, so he raised a finger and slowly signaled 'no' with it. Fíli nodded, curiously waiting for him to get to the point. "Siggy's… want like her to me."

Fíli nodded seriously. "There's no her."

"Siggy's like her. That's enough," Bard said with surprising clarity.

"Yeah, she's like her," Fíli agreed wearing a faraway look.

Bard nodded slowly, and Kíli furrowed his brows, trying to figure out how Fíli knew Bard's long dead wife. The same doubt occurred to Bard a little later.

"Gina?" he asked, unable to form a more articulate question. Fortunately, Fíli was in the same state of mind, and understood his meaning.

"No," he turned back to Bard. He snatched Bard's glass from the table. He raised it to his lips with a surprisingly steady hand, and tossed back the last drops of Bard's Best Friend. "Flor."

Kíli knew this name, but he was surprised that Bard seemed familiar with it too. Flor was the dwarrowdam who broke Fíli's heart a good fifteen years ago, in Ered Luin.

"Drink!" Bard hollered. He pouted when Fíli shook the empty glass, indicating they were out of alcohol.

"I drank!" he smiled. Bard started laughing, and Fíli joined.

Kíli felt his confused emotions tangle up even more. Seeing his brother laugh moments after saying his ex-lover's name was scary. Fíli hadn't called her by her name since she left him without a word, and came back to town with a husband. He usually spoke of her as 'Her', even when they were still living in Ered Luin and Fíli had to address her face to face. His laughing made even less sense – Fíli's feelings about her were way too complicated for Kíli to understand, but Fíli usually looked simply angry at her.

It seemed his brother had no problem talking about her with Bard. Kíli felt jealousy surging up in him. He suddenly remembered all the 'secret kingly business' meetings, and he dropped the knife from his hand.

This… this friendship wasn't new, and this drinking wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Their attention snapped to him after hearing the clatter of the knife on the floor. Fíli drew a dagger from his sleeve, and clumsily dropped it. Kíli had never seen his brother drop one of his daggers. It prompted another laughing fit, though, and Fíli managed to pull another one, sloppily, but with a steadier hand.

"Intruder!" he growled, but his mind eventually caught up with his defensive reflexes. "Kíli?"

"That's me."

Kíli wasn't sure how they would react to his presence – he realized by now that he wasn't supposed to be here, and they weren't in their right mind. The wish to join them and learn what went on in here was burning a hole in his throat, but he didn't dare to ask.

"Good. Bring us more!" slurred Fíli, pointing in the general direction of the empty bottles.

"From where?"

"Secret stash," Fíli said, as if he was supposed to know where it was. Bard was looking wistfully at something on the other end of the room, and Kíli thought it might be a clue. He strode up to the cupboard, and opened it.

Nothing.

"Behind!" Fíli shouted the order. Kíli found the secret panel: next to five different types of very expensive liquor (perks of being king, huh), he found three more bottles of Best Friend. It seemed to be Bard's favorite too – or perhaps Fíli was a regular guest here.

He thought they would invite him to sit down, but when he put the bottle down to the table, they didn't even thank him. Fíli eagerly opened it.

"Where were we?"

"Siggy's like…" Bard helped out.

"Yeah, Siggy's like Flor!" Fíli said, and took a good swig straight from the bottle. Bard snatched it from him, and copied his action.

"How?"

"Friggin' Festival," Fíli complained, seemingly forgetting his brother's presence. He motioned for Bard to give the bottle back. Bard refilled his glass before doing so. "Flor," Fíli drank and Bard followed his example, "means flower. It's her festival. She's friggin' everywhere."

Fíli sounded actually vulnerable, and it felt like a punch in the stomach for Kíli. He had no idea such a small thing as a festival's name would affect him so strongly. At this point, he started to wonder…

"She's in everywhere, always, in my dreams, in my actions, my decisions, my… everything."

"Flor," said Bard. It didn't make sense to Kíli, until they both took a swig again. It seemed to be a drinking game.

"Thanks," Fíli said. "I needed it, but I can't say it anymore."

"You're welcome."

"She's everywhere, but only I can sense her. That's how it is usually," Fíli explained. Despite the increasing amount of alcohol they consumed, they seemed almost sober now.

"Yeah, Gina's here, too," Bard muttered, and added casually: "Flor."

Fíli snickered, and they drank.

"There is something purifying in a shot of Best Friend, don't you think?" asked Fíli philosophically, but continued without waiting for an answer. "So, she's in my head, in my heart, but now, she's everywhere."

"I can stop Siggy next year," Bard offered.

"No. I can deal. Just… this love-tour… everyone… no one…" Fíli seemed to lose his track, but he managed to catch onto a line of thought. "Siggy's like her."

Fíli saying Sigrid's pet name was the least disturbing part of the conversation so far, and that was saying something. That two had a strange relationship: they started out as friends, but Kíli knew about the veiled dislike they felt for each other. Fíli comparing her to Flor explained a lot. Kíli knew he should just leave quietly, but he had to hear more.

"She's like Flor," Fíli said, so lost in thought, he even forgot to drink. "Caring. Lost in details. Feminine. Petty. Coy."

"Stop it," Bard growled. "Siggy's not coy! I don't want to hear! She's not like her!"

"Flor took it all out from here," he pointed at his heart, "cut it out, took it apart, and threw the pieces back. Perhaps not all pieces."

"Yeah, Siggy's not like her."

Fíli nodded.

"The worst part is that if she would show up here now, I would… I would do anything she wants from me."

"Let's just pray she doesn't show up, then," Bard said.

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating their miserable love lives, so Kíli left with a whole lot of new knowledge.

Now, on the road to Mirkwood, he started to realize that he had made a mistake. He ran away because he felt overwhelmed and probably a good long talk with Fíli (and Mum too) would have cleared his head.

However, at that time he felt disappointed, rejected and confused.

Since the Quest and meeting Tauriel, he'd felt so grown-up. Losing Tauriel meant he had another common trait with his brother.

It seemed like he was sorely mistaken: Fíli had never talked to him about Flor like this, and regularly dismissed his love for Tauriel as a childish crush.

He'd never for a minute thought that Fíli might be right.

It was time to find out.

"Kíli was at Bard's!"

Fíli bolted up in his bed, suddenly awake. The realization came in his dreams, and he panicked, because he had no idea how long Kíli stayed there. He was in a pleasantly numb state, and he didn't want Kíli there, so he just ignored his presence.

Sadly, he had no idea how long he ignored him, since time was a bizarre, otherworldly concept that night.

What has he heard?!

When his panic slowly lessened and he could breathe evenly. The room was pitch dark. The fire must have died down, but it was too early for the servants to come and relight it before his usual waking time.

Fíli needed to get out.

He had been dreaming before he woke. It started as his usual nightmare: he saw everything in gold. Golden walls surrounded him, golden floor, golden ceiling, golden furniture. It didn't matter where he went, everything remained the same: shiny, sparkling metal covered every surface. Eventually, he always found Thorin, dressed in golden clothes, but at least his features looked natural.

No, not exactly natural. He wore the same glower as he did during his goldsickness. Fíli hated to see that cold, cruel expression on his uncle's face, but in his dream, he couldn't run away. Once he found Thorin, he stayed with him: always glaring at him with disdain. He didn't do anything else, only glared, but it was scary enough, and Fíli always woke up panicking. He needed a moment to realize that it was just a dream, and Thorin's sickness wasn't coming back.

Tonight, the dream changed for a moment. Fíli turned his back on Thorin. Usually, no matter where he turned, Thorin always appeared right in front of him, but this time, his surroundings changed to Bard's sitting room. He saw Kíli searching the 'Secret Stash' in the cupboard, and watched him putting a fresh bottle of Best Friend on the table.

It only lasted a moment before he woke up, but he knew it wasn't a dream – it was a memory. He and Bard were both very drunk that night. Fíli had holes in his memory, and he had no recollection how they managed to get up for the third bottle that Sigrid mentioned.

That's how.

He hastily put on some clothes. He had to get out.

Kasia spent the whole day in the infirmary, wallowing in guilt and occasionally freaking out. She should have known something was amiss: she hadn't seen Raya since she left her to her own devices in Dale. Raya was so sweet and reliable – and sinfully inept sometimes. She shouldn't have left her alone in a city of Men.

Next day, during lunch, she asked about her whereabouts. Someone suggested that she might have stayed in Dale for the night; maybe she was sneakier than others. It was impossible: it was completely out of character for Raya, and Kasia wanted to stride up to the malicious 'dam and yank on her stupid braids until they came loose from her scalp.

She had spent the rest of the day brooding and taking out her frustration mostly on Zaz. She was patiently listening to her doubts about Kíli, only occasionally making 'I-told-you-so' faces. Of course, it was her own stupidity which made her focus solely on the prince despite her intentions to avoid the royals, but acknowledging that Zaz might be right was just as humiliating as going to the Flower Festival without a date. True, Kíli found her accidentally after lunch, but why couldn't he ask her out?

All three of them – Raya, Zaz and Kasia – arrived about six weeks ago from the Iron Hills. Lady Vera, the wife of the Lord of the Iron Hills and Lady Dís, mother of the King of Erebor decided to revive an ancient tradition, the Spring Tour of Love, during which dwarrowdams travelled from their home to another dwarven settlement to find a husband. They were among the thirty-two dwarrowdams who made the journey from the Hills, and they've been living in Erebor since then.

They were preparing for dinner the day after the festival – Kasia was going through a list of names with Zaz about her potential new suitors, as she wasn't satisfied with the young prince's commitment – when Lady Vera asked every dwarrowdam to assemble in their common sitting room directly after the meal. She cited fatigue from their tour from the city of Men the previous day as a reason for calling off the usual party, but it was far from the truth.

She told them about Raya. She and Lady Dís told them she hadn't made it back from Dale, because her parents arrived earlier than planned and when they saw their daughter among Men, they abducted her. It didn't make sense.

King Fíli brought her back, though. He came to speak to the dwarrowdams personally. He still wore the same clothes as on the road, seeing their dirty and bloodied state. While he was as distant as ever, Kasia suddenly regretted every time she made fun of him or spoke about him with any amount of disrespect.

He was there for Raya when she needed someone, and he promised to be there for all of them. Kasia believed him. She only wished Kíli would be the same.

She asked to sit with Raya the next night. Kasia wasn't the most sympathetic soul on Middle-Earth, but Raya was a dear friend, and she would just sleep awfully again. She had too much on her mind: she hadn't seen Kíli since Dale; she started to doubt her decision to leave the safe familiarity of her home for the big, unknown mystery of Erebor; and she felt guilty for leaving Raya alone. She was such a sweet, loyal friend – Lady Vera said they would need to stick together in Erebor, and Kasia felt it was high time to do that.

The healers allowed her to stay. They gave her a chair, but except for a few basic instructions, they left her to her own devices. She wanted to do so much more! Seeing Raya was true horror. She had seen dwarves back at home with black eyes after a friendly fistfight, but Raya's bruises were far more extensive.

In the end, she had a healer fetch them a book of fairy tales. Raya liked those silly fantasies, and Kasia thought maybe hearing them can snap her out of the nightmare she seemed to be seeing still.

She could use a little reading-practice, too – there was no need for it at home, so she'd never bothered to learn. Now, in Erebor, she realized that without knowing her runes, she wouldn't really stand a chance against those intellectual ladies – most rich dwarves here wouldn't be swayed by a pretty smile, at least not enough to marry her. So, she practiced.

It also diverted her attention.

Fortunately, Raya didn't mind her often faltering voice. Time flew by unnoticed – she was about halfway through the book, when she felt Raya's attention shift.

She thought she was thirsty again, but when she looked up, she saw the King standing in the door, watching Raya. Weary and disheveled, he looked like an average dwarf now. Kasia wasn't really fond of him before, but by saving Raya, he fully, unquestionably deserved her gratitude.

"Your majesty," she stood, and greeted him with a deference she'd never shown to anyone.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course!"

He came closer, but refused the seat she offered to him. He looked hesitant, but Kasia could still feel a commanding presence radiating from him. She found it strange how easily his presence humbled her now.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked Raya. He was standing close to her bed, reaching out, but withdrawing his hand quickly. Kasia wondered if he had feelings for Raya. A day ago, she wouldn't approve, but now…

"She's not supposed to talk," she answered instead of Raya.

"Is she recovering well?" he turned to her.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she nodded, feeling tears gather in her eyes, "but it will take a long time. She has broken bones, Your Majesty!"

It was indeed dire: dwarven bones were sturdy, and it required a lot of force to break them.

The King calmly, silently contemplated this information, but Kasia felt overwhelmed.

"Thank you for saving her!"

The King actually blushed, which reminded Kasia that he was very young too, about twenty years younger than her. It only made her admire him more – she remembered well those confused early days of flirting, full of mishaps and uncontrollable bursts of emotion. His usual calm and confident demeanor must be very hard to keep all the time, considering.

"I'm glad someone is here with her," he said eventually. "Do you mind if I stay? You can continue reading."

Kasia obeyed, although self-consciously. The King didn't need to hear her fumbling with the words, but he rounded up a chair for himself and sat down, so she let herself get lost in the story again. When Raya drifted off to sleep, she decided she had practiced enough.

She checked Raya, and stole furtive glances at the King. He looked as distant as ever, but Kasia couldn't find fault with it now. Probably he had a lot to deal with – the thought had never occurred to her before. She always thought of him as an unpleasant, stuck up fellow. She'd never realized that he looked distant because he was distant: he was their King, and instead of the trivial problems they were bickering about daily, he was solving real problems and defending his people. The reason he never mingled after dinner wasn't his haughty and condescending personality – he was simply out of her league, of every dwarrowdam's league here. She tried to picture the woman he could fall in love with, and the thought scared her. She must be truly, completely perfect.

Kasia had a million questions to ask, but she didn't want to disturb his peace. He had to sense her agitation, because he turned to her.

"Do you hear those legends about locking up dwarrowdams in the mountain for their safety and such nonsense?"

"Yes," Kasia answered, uncertain why he brought it up.

"This is what she asked me a couple of weeks ago at lunch. She said she was one of these dwarrowdams," he explained. "I had no idea they would hurt her to keep her safely tucked away."

"It's madness."

The King agreed. "We don't know much about what happened, but I won't allow…" He struggled with his emotions, but when he continued, his voice was clear and determined. "She's going to be alright, and she's going to be safe. I'm glad you're with her. You're a good friend."

Kasia blushed. "She's a good friend, too."

"She is."

He looked like he wanted to say something important. The romantic half of Kasia hoped he was preparing to confess his undying love for Raya, but she hoped in vain. He was preparing to break her heart.

"I hate to bring it up now, but I wanted to talk to you in private," he started. His tone suggested bad news. Kasia looked up, alarmed. "What's going on between you and my brother?"

Her fierceness returned with full force. "That's none of your business, Your Majesty!"

"I wanted to talk to you as a friend, as his brother," he started on a low, but stern voice, "but as King of Erebor, I have every right to ask if he has made any formal attachment to you. Or anyone else, perhaps."

Kasia paled.

"Anyone else?"

"You tell me." His face became an impenetrable mask, hiding every thought, every hint that would help Kasia.

"He's with someone else, isn't he?" She had already dealt with a nightmare today, she didn't want her own to come to life. She was supposed to play offended for a while, but eventually forgiving Kíli. Or perhaps seek out another dwarf in the meanwhile. He wasn't supposed to be leaving her. Now, she remembered every single clue Zaz pointed out, and she felt her heart crumble. "How could I be so stupid?"

The King's stern expression didn't soften.

"Answer first, please. Were you counting on a formal offer?"

"No," she said, astonished to realize it as the truth. "We weren't courting," she repeated, mostly to make herself believe it. "I thought perhaps… but… he's never said anything." She just assumed. "That son of a…"

"That would be my mother too," the King interrupted sharply. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Why? What happened? Is he kidnapped too?!"

The King shook his head tiredly. "Answer me, please."

"Argh!" She was tugging on her beard in agony. She wanted to throw things at him, and only his title and newly gained hero status restrained her. "How can you stay so calm?"

He rewarded her outburst with an impatient glare.

"Fine! We met in Dale. He went for his horse, and I haven't seen him since."

"Did he say something?"

"He said a lot of things."

The King got up from his chair, his frustration showing in his posture. Somehow, he managed to speak calmly, but his words chilled Kasia to the bones.

"He left the Mountain shortly after. We're not sure if he's coming back in the near future, meaning months."

"WHAT?!" she shrieked.

"If you feel like taking a few minutes for yourself, I can stay with Raya for a while."

"Why? How could he?" Kasia stood in shocked silence for a minute. "He left. Zaz was right, and he was playing with me all along."

"I'm not sure he was playing with you," the King defended him. "He's a bit thick in the head. I'm not sure he realized you had… interest in him."

"But where would he go?"

His self-preservation kicked in and didn't answer this question.

Kasia shook her head from time to time, as if trying to shake away the truth. He was watching her with sympathy.

"Will you be alright?"

The genuine question surprised her. She nodded, and watched as he left.