A/N: I'm currently deciding where to take this and how far I should push the Bagginshield in this story and if I should throw in a sex scene between them for old times sake. Let me know what you think :)
Thorin was sitting on his throne, regal and upright. There was an air of hostility radiating from him as he stared down at the elf king from across the room. Beside him stood the Halfling, or more precisely he was perched on the armrest of the throne, one leg on the floor for balance. Thranduil walked up at a measured pace, once he reached the steps he bowed at the waist and tilted his head in placation; blue eyes fixed on Thorin's stern gaze.
"What brings you to my kingdom, Elvenking?" asked the dwarf, his every word dripping with disdain, "at this late hour, alone and unannounced?"
"A matter of a delicate nature that I wish to discuss with you alone," he said with a pointed look at the hobbit.
"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of him, elf." Thranduil noticed how Bilbo shifted uncomfortably in his seat looking nervously at his feet.
"I'm uncertain that it will be wise to…" started Thranduil but Thorin cut him off.
"I said, speak for I will not ask my intended to leave the room, on your behalf elf. We hold no secrets from each other."
'Intended!' he thinks, and were he able to grow any paler all color would have drained from his skin. 'How could it be?' It has only been three months since Erebor was reclaimed. Such a fleeting amount of time for an elf, and yet while he was confined in his kingdom and forced to endure weeks of countless trials and meetings with the Elven council, the world did not stop. And now his dwarf, for no matter what lay between them Thranduil will always think of Thorin as his, was getting married. Was leaving him behind. 'And for a Halfling no less', he cannot help but think bitterly, hiding his emotions behind a flawless mask; for over the centuries it was mastered to such perfection, that nothing would give away his true grief.
"Congratulations King under the Mountain," he bowed and turned towards the hobbit, "Master Baggins," he added with another bow. The Halfling blushed. He looked ready to say something but was interrupted by Thorin, who very openly gave his lover a hearty pat on the knee. Thranduil bit his tongue.
"Yes merry news indeed," his hand remained patting Bilbo, but his eyes never once left the Elvenking's. "Now your highness, I ask once more. What brings you to my mountain at this hour and so lacking in security and councilmen?"
Thranduil wanted to feel bad for Bilbo, but his heart was full of vicious jealousy. He craved to see the Halfling's world shatter at the news he was forced to reveal.
"I come to you to seek sanctuary Thorin son of Thrain," the dwarf appeared overcome by surprise; for a moment Thranduil swore he saw something akin to worry flash in those eyes, but as soon as it showed it vanished, to be once more replaced by narrow eyed disdain.
"And why, pray tell me, do you need sanctuary?"
"I have bought shame upon my people by fornicating with a dwarf," Thorin growled and shot up from his throne. The hobbit, Thranduil noted with a touch of bitterness, remained outwardly unaffected.
"And how is that a crime, it is not like said dwarf wants anything more to do with you." Thranduil flinched, and although the reaction was involuntary it flooded his cheeks with shame. He's never felt as cheap as he did in this moment. Being looked down upon by his former lover and his new consort. Dismissed like a human harlot seeking lodgment with a patron and his wife.
"I'm afraid," he tried to contain the tone of his voice, "the ramifications of our last affair have rather permanent consequences." The king retained a confused frown, but Thranduil noted how Bilbo's face began melting in understanding.
"Speak plainly elf, what permanent consequences could there be?"
"A child," he deadpanned and watched Thorin's face begin to pale, "or two, to be more precise. I carry twins from a dwarf and my people find this action to be the heart of betrayal."
The dwarf took a couple of steps back until his legs hit the seat of his throne and he fell heavily into it. The hobbit hesitated before tentatively placing his hands on the dwarf's shoulders. He began massaging gently, face leaning down to whisper quietly in the dwarf's ear. All the many times Thranduil had been the one doing the very same thing in an effort to calm the dwarf after some or other trying delegation, came forth in his mind. He wanted to cry, but then he remembered himself and decided he'd rather strangle the stupid Halfling. The thought startled him. Where did it come from? He'd always liked Bilbo, and during the war he found him both incredibly helpful and surprisingly pleasant. And he never dreamt of reuniting with Thorin after that final night in the palace; knew in his heart that Thorin would eventually be obligated to marry. So why did these dark and unnatural feelings plague him so? He decided to say something, if only to stave his thoughts.
"I plead sanctuary within Erebor, King Under the Mountain, for the duration of my confinement. After the labor I will require another two month to recover before we can leave; at which point I swear on Mirkwood, the babes and I will not bother you again."
Thorin looked somewhat better. Whatever the Halfling had said to him must have worked to calm him. Now he was glaring at the elf with the same disdain he maintained initially. The hobbit, for his part, was watching the elf with pity. Thranduil wanted to snarl at him.
"I spoke with my consort and he has convinced me, begrudgingly, to allow you to stay for the remainder of your pregnancy plus two month for recovery, under the care of my people and the protection of my land. "
Thranduil opened his mouth to deliver the necessary gratitude.
"However," Thorin barked, "this does not come from any personal desire to assist you or make your life easier in this struggle which you bought upon yourself," Thranduil didn't bother denying it. "Rather I wish to assist the healthy delivery of my children, for dwarfs struggle to reproduce at the best of times, and any dwarrow or half dwarrow children are considered a blessing from Aulë."
Thranduil swallowed, he didn't like where this was going.
"Therefore, upon the delivery of my children I will allow you a period of no more than two month to nurse them and recover your health. Then you will be forced to seek refuge elsewhere. The children however," he intoned darkly, "will remain here."
"No!" cried Thranduil.
"I don't believe you have a choice," Thorin drawled, leaning leisurely back in his throne. "I'd like to see you try your luck in Laketown," he added maliciously and glared down at the panicked elf. "I would bet my kingdom you won't be there a week before they force your penniless hide into service at a brothel; or capture and sell you to slavers to be traded away in the lands across the sea."
Thranduil couldn't repress a shudder. He knew Thorin was right. A lonely elf, desperate and poor was an easy target. Humans saw elves as both fearless and noble but in the dark recess of their minds only beheld their beauty and profit. If he were traded, his children would know no better life than him. Be it slavery or the whorehouse that would become their life also, for he who owned the elf would automatically claim rights to his offspring. If he were caught by the elves, he would be executed thus similarly destroying his children's future. The option offered by Thorin, however heartbreaking, was the only one that allowed him peace in the knowledge that his children would not be mistreated or abused; for as spiteful as Thorin could be, Thranduil knew he had a golden spirit, and would treasure the babes with all his heart; regardless of whether he could be made to admit it. Logically it would be selfish to refuse the king, simply to hold on to them; for their best chance to prosper now lay right here in Erebor, with their father and without him.
"I…" he swallowed before he could force himself to finish, "I…consent."
The gleam in Thorin's eyes caught the light of the gold, and reflected maliciously back at him. The hobbit was biting his lower lip and looking nervously between them, as if at any moment the tension might snap and he will have to jump in and separate them.
"Splendid!" boomed the king and rose from his seat with a grand gesture. "I will have a guard escort you to your quarters. I will also have one of them bring you something to eat, and I will expect you to join us for breakfast tomorrow morning in the main hall, I will send a page to assist you."
Thranduil watched Thorin speak with a smile on his lips, all bitterness seemingly forgotten. He couldn't help but hate him in that moment; couldn't help but hate how nonchalant he was being after so viciously wounding the elf with his heartless demands. He was tearing away his heart, taking it from him and throwing him away. He was going to leave him heartbroken and shattered; with no future, no money and nothing to live for. All he has lost for the right to protect all he has gained was now going to be taken from him. In the end no matter how important this decision was for his children, Thranduil couldn't help but feel wounded at prospect of desolation. After all the sacrifices he has made, it failed to feel just.
"Yes your highness," said the elf, his voice lacking emotion. This must have bothered the dwarf for he frowned at him and demanded he call him Thorin.
"You'll be staying here for eight months, I think it is only fair," he said; making a great show of conceding this small favor. He looked to Bilbo for approval, who only sighed and dragged a hand down his face. Thranduil gave Thorin a tight-lipped smile.
"Of course. If you will excuse me, I would like to retire for the night. It seems the day's events have drained me terribly."
Thorin nodded and called for a guard. A moment later, the same guardsman who announced Thranduil's arrival marched over and bowed to the king.
"Take the Elvenking to the first guest room on the third floor. Place a guard outside and send an order to the kitchen to prepare a meal for him."
The guard nodded and with another bow, began marching back to the door; Thranduil followed him after saying his own parting pleasantries. The hobbit peered uneasily at him from under his fringe of curls and Thorin just waved him off, but he was still a king and if he couldn't leave with his dignity, he will act like he'd never lost it.
The walk to the third floor was long and tiring and by the time Thranduil reached his room, he was all but ready to collapse. The dwarf unlocked the door and pushed it open stepping aside to allow Thranduil to enter.
"I will have the food delivered to you shortly, your highness."
The elf nodded and stepped around him. The bed called to him like an island to a drowning man and he walked towards it as if in a trance, until he was close enough to simply fall backwards atop the covers; and there they found him an hour later, sleeping on his side, one arm protectively curled around his stomach, knees drawn up in a fetal pose. The dwarfs exchanged looks and lay the tray on the bedside table before quietly exiting from the room.
R&R