Disclaimer: I do not own these characters…I wish I did

This is an AU where Thorin is the youngest heir and Frerin is the oldest. Smaug never attacks and Erebor is never lost.

Chapter 1

Thorin felt very nervous. He stood outside of his grandfather's study, his hand poised to knock on the heavy oak door. But he hesitated. It was rare that his grandfather sent for him, in his personal study no less. Being the younger son, Thorin was scarcely noticed by the king, his grandfather. All his attention was devoted to Frerin, the eldest and heir after their father Thrain. Or to Dis; the middle child and daughter, a precious rarity among dwarves.

Of course Thorin was loved and included within the family. But it was unlikely that he would ever be King Under the Mountain and therefore he was given less attention than his siblings. He didn't mind, Thorin had fewer lessons than Frerin and was given considerably more freedom within the mountain. He had a few friends and never lacked company.

Now, standing in front of this door he hardly ever looked upon, Thorin thought of the few times he'd been inside his grandfather's study. There was the time when he was a dwarfling and was brought here with his brother and sister to be told that his mother, the princess had died. Thorin could barely remember, he had been very small and hardly recalled any details of his mother. The second time he was a hardy stripling and had sneaked off to Lake Town with two of his friends. They had spent the day and evening drinking in a tavern, oblivious to the fact that Thorin's father and grandfather had sent half the guard out to find the missing boy, thinking he had been kidnapped. When he was brought to the study to answer for his actions he had received a stern lecture from his grandfather about the appropriate behavior of an heir, and a firm beating from his father.

And that brings Thorin to this time. He stared at the carved wood in front of him and wracked his brain to find a reason why his grandfather would summon him. He hadn't misbehaved in years! What could he have possibly done?

Finally mustering his resolve, Thorin knocked on the door. He waited until he heard the deep voice within: "Enter!" The young prince pushed the door open and walked inside the chamber, trying to convey confidence and hide his nerves. His grandfather sat behind his large desk, stoic and regal. Thrain, Thorin's father, stood slightly behind the king's chair, large and imposing. Both stared at the boy as he came to stand in front of the desk, his chin level and eyes meeting both theirs, one after the other. Thorin waited for his grandfather to speak.

"Thorin, my lad," Thror began, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers over his large abdomen. "You will come of age this summer, will you not?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"You understand that as an heir of Durin it is important that you be wed to someone who will bring honor to our line and help to further the prosperity of Erebor."

Thorin felt his heart sink. "Yes, Grandfather."

"A suitable partner has been chosen for you by your father and myself. You will marry Balin, son of Fundin, on this coming Durin's Day."

"Who is that, Grandfather?" Thorin felt like he was suffocating. He was being married off to someone he had never even heard of!

"He is the Dwarf Lord of Moria, the kingdom lies in the west, in the Misty Mountains. You will be married here in Erebor and after the feast depart for Moria."

"M-Moria? I will live in Moria?" The young prince felt hot and cold at the same time, his hands began to tremble and he clenched his fists to keep them under control.

"Of course you'll live in Moria! You'll be wed to the Lord of Moria! This is a great honor bestowed upon you, my son. Moria's wealth is second only to Erebor: why, you will be positively dripping with mithril." Thrain stepped forward, placing an arm on the back of Thror's chair.

Thorin felt like screaming. He wanted to drop to his knees to beg them not to send him from the only home he had ever known. Instead, he mustered up all his courage and stared back at his grandfather, defiantly.

"I don't want to live in Moria! Erebor is my home, with my family. I don't want to marry this Balin, son of Fu-"

He'd seen the blow coming but didn't have time to brace against it. The back of his father's hand sent him sprawling onto the floor and Thorin instantly tasted blood in his mouth.

"You dare deny your king, little whelp!" Thrain stood over the boy, his fists balled at his sides, his single eye fixed on his youngest son heatedly. "Who do you think you are to refuse the request of your grandfather, of your father? This is your duty and you will honor this house or so help me, Thorin!" His father did not finish his threat, he didn't need to. Thorin knew he was defeated, he bit back his tears and he slowly rose to standing.

Thrain didn't withdraw but instead stayed looming over him, as if to impose his very will merely through his presence alone. Thror stared at the boy with pale, unfeeling eyes, as if he hadn't just witnessed the scene before him.

"Grandson, you will be given your choice of servants and possessions to accompany you to Moria. You will bring a dowry of one thousand pounds of gold. In exchange, the lord of Moria will gift to Erebor five hundred pounds of mithril. Your father and I are highly pleased with this match and believe you will thrive within Moria. Do you accept Balin, son of Fundin as your betrothed?"

His heart told him to fight again, to take his father's beating and insist he was not ready to marry. But he knew it would bring nothing but pain and only prolong the inevitable. The choice had been made for him. Thorin blinked a few times and nodded stiffly, good little prince. And so it was settled, the contract was signed by Thror, King Under the Mountain and Thorin, Prince of Erebor. He had been sold. The price for an heir of Durin: five hundred pounds of mithril.

His father chuckled heartily and clapped him hard on the back. Thorin instinctively flinched at the contact, expecting another strike. Thror managed a small smile and dismissed the young prince with a wave of his thick hand.

Thorin turned and left as quickly as he could. He raced down the halls, not caring if he brought notice to himself, if he bumped into guards and nobles. He dashed inside his room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it and sinking to the floor. Finally the tears fell, hot and bitter; he covered his face with his hands and wept for his unknown future.

Thank you always for reading. I apologize for the short chapter, the next will be longer. Comments are always appreciated!