You were all pretty divided about the last chapter. Some liked it, some didn't. Possessive Thorin isn't everyone's cup of tea, but besides being a request, I felt it was necessary. Thorin is far from perfect, and so is Talaitha, but how they handle their problems is what counts. And because I strive to keep their relationship believable, I cannot wholly abandon Thorin's innate jealousy. Just how he reacts to it. And I feel I must also clarify that he did not hurt her. He would not. For the most part, especially when it comes to those he cares about, he is an honorable dwarf, and if Talaitha had pushed him away, he would not have had sex with her. So when I say "dubious consent," I mean the sex was sudden and shocking, and if Talaitha had had time, she might have hesitated. In the end, though, she went along with it. I don't condone non-consensual sex and would never write it.

Just4Me: Hopefully this chapter will resolve things, then. You're always quite honest in your reviews. XD

BeatofHisHeart: Lol, the claiming and marking are over now.

Knight's Queen: I hope you like this chapter, then, too!

Queen of Erebor: That's a diplomatic review if I've ever seen one. ;)

Undertaker's Wife: Yay!

LianaDare8: In a good way or a bad way, lol?

Disclaimer: I have a secret. *grins*

Enjoy!

Part VII, Act 2: Secret

Talaitha is gone the next day, having taken her clothes and weapons while Thorin was training with Dwalin. The guards posted along the balcony witness her departure but think little of it, for the queen often travels away from Erebor. If they find the pack tied to Szélvész's back unusual, they dismiss it in the belief that the king must surely be aware of his wife's comings and goings.

And Thorin does not need to ask in which direction she has ridden. There is only one path she would take.

To Dís', but not to Dwalin's, surprise, he does not follow. Let Talaitha take counsel with whomever she will. Let her leave him. If it is freedom she desires, he would give it to her. His sister calls him a fool, and Dwalin's raised brow suggests he agrees, but Thorin is stubborn. He will not chase after a woman who does not wish to be with him.

Yet as the days pass, his obdurate nature yields to emptiness and regret.

You are not the dwarf I married. The look of disgust on her face as she said that haunts him. It consumes his waking thoughts and transforms his dreams into nightmarish visions of madness and violence. He wonders if Talaitha was right, if the gold sickness has returned. But when he stares at the mounds of gold in the treasury, he is not stirred.

Another kind of sickness, then. For he realizes he had to have been deranged to act as he did. He cringes when he remembers how roughly he'd taken her, as if she had been a common whore and not his queen. I am not some livestock to be branded. He is nauseated when, even now, he sees the bruises he'd marked her with.

Dís and Dwalin are wrong. He's worse than a fool. He's as vile as the brutish men who rape their women.

Thorin's stomach heaves, and he vomits into a bowl of dried petals on a nearby table.

#

A week later, he is galloping towards Mirkwood and forging into the dark forest more zealously than is befitting a dwarf. The elf guards who Thranduil has stationed along the path to his realm are conspicuously absent, though Thorin knows they are watching. The thought unnerves him, but he rides on. Soon, he reaches the borders of the underground city, and he is stopped.

"I confess I am surprised by your presence here, Dwarf King," says Legolas, motioning for one of the elves to take Thorin's pony. "Do you have business with my father?"

"You know why I am here," Thorin replies impatiently. He glances warily at the guards, but they appear disinterested in the interaction. "I need to see her."

The prince's blue eyes are cold. "She does not wish to see you. Go home."

Legolas turns to enter the cave but pauses when a small figure emerges for a second and ducks back inside.

"Why do you wish to see her?"

Thorin looks up, hopeful. "To speak with her, of course," he answers. The slight tremor in his voice is not lost on the elf. "To see her and speak with her."

Legolas glances at the entrance again, then says with his back to the dwarf, "Come."

Thorin follows the prince through the tunnels and up winding stairs until he's almost dizzy from them. Grudgingly, he marvels at the craftsmanship and wonders how the elves manage to make a cave feel like a forest. He prefers a cave to feel like a cave, of course, but he supposes this is the only way elves can live underground.

They stop before a door, and Legolas regards Thorin with a stony expression.

"Through there." The elf places a hand on his shoulder in warning. "The walls have ears."

Thorin arches a brow. "Really?"

"These do."

A threat. But the dwarf cannot bring himself to resent the prince for it. Thorin waits until Legolas has disappeared, for the elf does not need to be near to hear, and opens the door, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Talaitha stares at him, her face expressionless, and his fears nearly overwhelm him. She has not yet returned to Nemere, but that could be for many reasons that have nothing to do with him or their marriage.

"Talaitha," he says. And it sounds desperate even to his ears.

"Thorin," she responds coolly. He notices her arms are wrapped around her middle. Does she think he will take her against the wall again?

"You are radiant." And so she is.

"You've looked better," she says. He doesn't deny it. With his hair in tangles and the bruises beneath his eyes, he's sure he presents a pathetic image.

"I cannot sleep," he confesses, taking a cautious step towards her. When she doesn't retreat, he takes another and another, until he's only an arm's length away from her. "I cannot sleep."

"Apparently you also cannot eat," she observes, taking in his thinner frame.

Thorin reaches out to her but flinches at the cold glint in her eyes. He is starved for her touch, for her scent, more than he is starved for food or sleep.

"I cannot do many things without you."

For a split-second, Talaitha looks pained, then the indifferent mask reappears. "What's done is done, Thorin. Now we both have to live with the consequences."

Her arms tighten around her middle, before she sits, gesturing to the chair across from hers. He takes it, feeling too small on the furniture.

"And what are they?" he asks. "You return to Nemere and I to Erebor, and we never see each other again?"

"What do you expect, Thorin?" She sounds exasperated and weary. "Did you expect me to run into your arms?"

"Of course not," he snaps. "I do not know what I expected."

"What a surprise. Thorin Oakenshield came without a plan." Her sarcastic tone irritates him, for he knows she alludes to his failure against Smaug. And it hurts him, too.

"Well, since you don't know what to say, I'll speak." Talaitha crosses her legs underneath her and begins. "You are jealous of Etele, yes?" She takes his scowl as answer. "You have no reason to be. We were lovers a long time ago, but we were not in love. Dwarves touch foreheads to show affection, the szelemér cheek-kiss."

"And you say you were not in love with Etele," Thorin mutters.

"Are you in love with Dwalin?" The dwarf looks down, chastised. "It is how friends greet each other among my people. You saw me do so with many szelemér in Nemere."

"They were not-"

"Male. I know." A shadow of a wry smile ghosts across her lips. "I do not condemn your jealousy. I can deal with that. But when you marked me," she says gravely. "That I couldn't abide."

"I know."

"Possession is against my very being, Thorin." And she is so emphatic that Thorin nearly flinches. "The szelemér value freedom and equality above all else. I am not your inferior. I am not to be owned."

"I know," he says desperately. If his grandfather could see him now, he would be ashamed. But perversely, Thorin feels he has more dignity at this moment than he did the last time he saw Talaitha.

"Tell me why, then."

"I feared losing you." He falls to his knees and looks up at her. "I feared you would regret marrying me and that you would go back to Nemere."

"Then you do not know me very well," she says softly. "It is true I had misgivings but never about you."

Thorin bows his head, staring at the floral design on the carpet. "Until now."

Talaitha is silent for so long, watching him, that he believes he has truly lost her. But then he hears the rustle of her dress and feels her fingers lift his chin.

"Not even now."

He is wide-eyed when he meets her gaze, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Don't look so shocked, Thorin," she laughs. "I married you twice. That has to count for something."

He finally regains his composure and stands, looking down at her with the smallest smile. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yes," she replies, somber again. "But I cannot and will not forget. I love you, and I am willing to face troubles together, but I will not tolerate such possessive behavior."

"I swear on my life, on Erebor, that you will never have to again." And he means it, even if he has to punch a wall to relieve his tension.

"Good, because I have a secret to tell you." She is smiling as she beckons him closer. "I am with child."

He straightens so quickly that he feels dizzy for a second. "You're..." he tries. "You're with...child? With my child?"

"Yes," she says calmly, far too calmly. But then he supposes she's had longer to absorb the information.

"Mahal," he breathes and grins at Talaitha. "I'm going to be a father."

He pulls her up and into his arms, embracing her as tightly as he dares, and spins her around. Their laughter melds like a song, her giggles harmonizing with his deeper guffaws. Nothing, not even seeing Erebor glisten again, could compare to his happiness at this moment. He sends a silent thank you to Aulë and Yavanna for granting him a second chance with Talaitha. And by the Valar, he would not foul it up.

Outside the room, a blond elf descends the stairs, a satisfied smile on his fair face.