Kyra Lundair had always thought of her life as a fairy tale.

Granted, it hadn't started that way, not exactly anyway. Every fairy tale seemed to have some tragedy in it before the eventual happy ending.

Hers had simply had a little more than most.

If she concentrated, she could still smell the acrid stench of smoke as Smaug's forces marched through the corridors of the palace, could almost hear the echoing screams of the wounded and dying as she walked those same halls now. She'd been too young to fully understand what was going on as her father dragged her to safety, but she'd known enough to be afraid.

If she thought hard enough she could remember the smell of her mother's perfume, and almost recall the sound of her laugh. She'd always been grateful that her last memory of her mother was a happy one, being tucked into bed after a bedtime story and a kiss goodnight. Her father had never spoken about her mother's final moments, but the haunted look in his eyes had never gone away.

Nor had the anchor of guilt Kyra carried over being the cause of her parents' delay in escaping. She'd been playing tag in one of the lower halls, running along with the twin children of a lesser nobleman.

They'd been her best friends.

Their images were easy enough to recall, forever locked in a single point in time, happy and carefree and utterly unaware of the horror that lay ahead.

Neither had made it out that day.

After that had been the dark days of the exile, as they'd struggled to escape their home and make it to safety. Hunger, a total unknown to her in better days, had become her constant companion, along with cold and fear. There had been days spent hiding in the hold of dank boats, or cowering in dark alleys and cold basements. Even after arriving in Moria, home until the kingdom had been reclaimed, things had been hard. Moria was smaller, and ill equipped to handle the sudden influx of people. Rather than the suite of rooms they'd held at the palace, she and her father had been relegated to a small, drafty place in the lower levels. Kyra had slept on a narrow cot in the corner of the kitchen, near the stove which was the only place that gave off any heat.

It had been difficult, in more ways than one. She'd lost her home, her mother, her friends and, in many ways, her father. He'd been the highest ranked surviving diplomat to make it out of Erebor and his services had been in high demand. It had been a long time before enough organization had been put in place to resume her education and she wasn't allowed outside the gates without an escort so there had been little for her to do aside from aimlessly wander the halls of Moria.

It had been during one of these rambling trips that she'd run into Thorin, doing his utmost to kick a hole in a wall. As the wall was solid rock, he hadn't been getting very far. She could still remember the angry red marks on his face, angry tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, hands clutched in fists so tight that the developing bruises on his knuckles stood out in sharp relief.

Her father ran in the highest social circles so she'd met him before, and they had even played together, along with Dis. It wasn't until that day, however, when she ran into him just after he'd fought a few Moria children who'd dared disparage his father that their true friendship started. They'd come together out of loneliness at first as the adults struggled to keep them all alive, and later had grown closer from familiarity. Most of the nobility simply removed themselves, along with their children, to other estates or family outside of Erebor. It was only those who had no choice, or those desperately needed who went to Moria. She and Thorin had ended up being some of the only Ereborian children left and they, along with Dis, had developed the sort of friendship that, in a different time and place, might never have happened.

Kyra couldn't put her finger on when she went from seeing Thorin as a friend to seeing him as something far more. She thought it might have happened right about the time her father had started seeing someone. Kyra, just entering her teen years and missing her mother more than ever, had not approved. She'd approved even less when the two had married, and when her stepsister and stepbrother had come along over the course of the next two years. Her own idiocy had driven a rift between her and her father that had never healed and, with his death, never would.

She'd made no attempts to bond with any of her new family and, instead, had treated the Durins as if they were her family instead. Perhaps the feelings had started then, perhaps a little earlier or later. It just seemed to evolve naturally, until holding hands with him or kissing was as natural as hide and go seek or tag had once been.

Eventually, Erebor had been retaken. Kyra had been given rooms in the royal wing along with a spacious office a few doors down from the one Thorin worked in. It was then that the idea of being in a fairy tale had really started to take hold. After all, hadn't she lived the basic plot of one? She hadn't started in as poor a place as many fairy tale heroines but she'd certainly been driven out of her home and gone through many a trial and tribulation. In the end, however, she would be rewarded as all the princesses in tales were, by winning her prince and living happily ever after.

That was the way it was supposed to go.

She was the princess.

Her life was a fairy tale.

She would get her prince.

She would live happily ever after.

Except it hadn't gone that way at all.

Because, apparently, she'd made an assumption that she shouldn't have.

The assumption that her life was a fairy tale, and she was the heroine of it.

A knock on her door caught her attention, and Kyra opened her eyes to stare in resignation at the ceiling overhead. She'd been attempting to wade through the massive pile of paperwork on her desk and the seemingly endless pages of emails on her computer when her head had begun to pound with the promise of a spectacular headache. She'd leaned back in her chair in the hopes that resting for a few moments might help, but the dull throbbing in her temples proved her hopes were in vain.

Big surprise.

"Come in," she called, not even bothering to hide the fatigue in her voice.

Immediately the door opened and her personal steward, Dardren, strode in. He'd been with her since before the exile, starting out as one of her father's servants but quickly rising to the position of head butler. In Moria, he'd chosen to stay of his own free will, serving from loyalty to both her family and the crown. As there was little need for servants at that time her father had trained him in other areas to allow him to still feel useful.

After her father's death, Kyra had employed him as her steward and had kept him in the role when they'd all returned. During his time with her, he'd watched her grow up and she, in turn, had seen him fall in love with a young palace maid, Hadra; who, on her own, had risen to become the head housekeeper of the palace. Together they'd raised a large family and were currently the proud grandparents of a large group of grandchildren. As their hair had whitened and their bodies become stiffer and less willing to obey, both had been encouraged to retire, safe in the knowledge that they would be well cared for, but both had flatly refused. They saw the royal family, and Kyra, as their own and planned to serve as long as they were able.

"My apologies, my Lady," Dardren said, hands clutching a large stack of paper. "I'm afraid I have more to add to your workload."

"Of course you do," Kyra said with a sigh. In the past, the grind hadn't been quite as hard to deal with. Thorin was just down the hall and they were forever popping in and out of one another's offices. If things were the way they had been, he'd have already come in long ago. He'd have noticed her fatigue, dragged her over to the couch and given her a very thorough massage that would have left every muscle in her body entirely relaxed.

The memory brought a rush of affection mixed with pain and she grimaced. It was best not to think about Thorin at all, or the fact that the day before should have been their one-month wedding anniversary. A, by now, familiar plain flared inside her and she grimaced.

Damn it all.

Dardren set the stack down on a relatively empty patch of her desk and Kyra shot a look at the clock. Two more hours until she'd be meeting Thorin for lunch and could have a break.

Dardren excused himself while she idly pulled the first sheet of paper off the stack and scanned it. It was an invitation to attend the opening of a new animal shelter. It would be the largest in the city, state of the art and had taken years' worth of fundraising and public support to get it done. Attending it would be good for public relations.

It was also something that, traditionally, would be left to a member of the royal family. A wife perhaps, but not the Queen as her duties didn't allow for many, if any, extracurricular activities.

It would be perfect for the wife of one of the princes, and since only one prince was married...

Irritation flared through her and she clenched her jaw in agitation. She'd carried her own duties, and the duties that would classically belong to the heir's wife, for years now without complaint or second thought. Now, however, she felt split. Part of her was possessive over what she felt were her duties and her responsibilities.

The other part of her deeply resented a woman who'd taken everything from her, but happily left her all the work and responsibility.

Kyra was trying, she truly was, not to resent the Shire princess. She didn't believe the rumors that claimed the other woman had demanded the marriage out of a selfish desire to land Thorin for herself. The girl had shown zero interest in Thorin since her arrival, hadn't so much as seen him or said a single word to him. The first few times Kyra had gone over to watch a movie she'd half worried the woman would burst from her room and demand to know why Kyra was there, but the door had always stayed shut and the room beyond almost strangely silent. The woman might as well not be married for all the concern she showed.

So, no, she didn't believe the marriage was the other girl's doing or design. And if it wasn't her fault, and she was simply another casualty of the Thain's machinations as Kyra suspected, then she had no reason to hate or blame her for what had happened.

No, she blamed the Thain.

Him, and him alone, and so Kyra didn't resent the Shire princess for that, or at least she tried very hard not to.

But the rest...

She'd seen the news coverage just as everyone else had, and had heard the reports of the woman burning through a nearly obscene amount of money in barely a week. She'd heard other rumors as well, and seen the intelligence reports. The girl was known to keep to herself, reportedly as a result of her poor attitude and belief in her own superiority as a member of the royal family. Her academic record listed an almost ridiculous number of schools, with each one insisting she'd been removed or transferred mere steps ahead of being expelled for bad behavior. Each school interviewed was vague on exactly what it was she'd done, but when a family was as obsessed with public image as the Thain was that stood to reason.

In all, the reports seemed to suggest Erebor had been saddled with the black sheep of the Shire royal family and, given what Thorin had reported about Beatrice and some of the other members of the family he'd met, that was saying a lot.

Still, through it all, Kyra had hope the other girl might settle down upon arriving at Erebor, especially if they made it clear they intended to treat her well. She'd been set up in what should have been Kyra's quarters, a fact which still caused her a burst of almost soul crushing injustice, and Kyra had assigned Dardren and his wife to choose a personal steward and maid for the girl.

She'd been hopeful that at least the Shire princess might prove to be a decent person. She'd expected immature and possibly spoiled but neither of those qualities necessarily meant the girl was a bad person and she had held out hope. It wouldn't ease the pain any, but it might at least have made it palatable. Instead, the girl had arrived and promptly locked herself in her room, refused all attempts to speak to her, had summarily rejected Dardren's steward and any attempts at a schedule, and Hadra reported the young maid she'd assigned had been driven to tears and banished from the girl's room.

Over the last month, Kyra had felt her feelings of forced amiability slowly lessening into outright bitterness, and anger. She tried to rationalize it all away, she really did. The girl was being eviscerated by the media, even now, and public opinion, and naturally wouldn't want to make any public appearances or agree to interviews. She also, if Kyra was right about her being little more than another pawn in her grandfather's schemes, was probably none too happy about having been wrenched away from her life and forced to move to a land of strangers.

But still, even giving her the benefit of the doubt, it didn't explain everything, and certainly didn't explain the reports on her character while living in the Shire. Kyra felt more like she was putting on blinders and ignoring the fangs and venom of a snake, insisting all the while it was a princess.

A false hope she'd desperately tried to squash time and time again rose up as she found herself trying to think of something, some way to fix all this. Some way to put it all back the way it was, the way it was supposed to be. A way to send the Shire princess back home, where she'd be happier anyway, and restore her engagement.

The problem was it couldn't be anything on Erebor's side. Their honor was too important, especially as they continued to try and prove themselves to the other kingdoms. How could they ever hope to establish lasting treaties and relationships if they proved they couldn't be trusted to keep the ones they had?

This was doubly true when it came to Gondor. Shire, for reasons beyond her understanding, had a strong alliance with the much larger nation, one that Erebor had yet to attain. Try as she might, Kyra hadn't been able to make any inroads, lacking the sort of resources or contacts that could get her in and smooth her way to an audience with King Elessar. She highly doubted breaking an alliance with their close allies would help in that regard. It would more likely destroy any chance they ever had, if not outright create an antagonistic relationship and that was the last thing they needed. Thror had been an isolationist, and when the fall had come it had left them out in the cold with little to no help, and had paved the way for the disastrous alliance with the Shire. Thrain was determined to not let that happen again, which meant they needed allies and in order to get them it was imperative they portray themselves as trustworthy.

And so, Erebor could not be seen breaking the alliance, be it by fact or by subterfuge.

She tossed the paper down and watched as it swept several other pages off the stack and onto the floor. Grumbling to herself, Kyra slid out of her chair and dropped down to gather them up.

Someone cleared their throat at her open door and she looked up in surprise.

"Thorin." Pure happiness surged through her, washing away the fatigue and even managing to lessen her headache, or at least it made it feel that way.

"When are you going to make the change to digital like the rest of us?" Pushing off the doorframe he'd been casually leaning against, he came and dropped down next to her to help her gather up the pages.

Kyra rolled her eyes. "I think we've beaten that joke to death, don't you?" Her father had been incredibly paranoid of all things electronic, and had passed the same beliefs onto his daughter. Kyra preferred to do her work via good, old fashioned paper as much as possible. Thorin had been teasing her about it for years.

"Nope." He stood, putting the stack back on the desk and then reached his hand down to help her up.

Kyra tried to ignore the way her heart jolted in her chest when his hand touched hers. "What's up?" she asked, turning away to nervously shuffle the stack of paperwork. She never used to be nervous around Thorin but now it felt like she was back in school again trying to act natural around her crush.

So ridiculous.

"My father has requested our presence," Thorin said, rocking absently back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back.

Kyra blinked in surprise. "Why?"

Thorin shrugged. "No idea."

"Fair enough," Kyra mumbled, forcing herself to stop fiddling with the papers. "I suppose if you did know it'd negate the need to go see him, wouldn't it?"

"Definitely be less a waste of time," Thorin muttered. He held his arm out and she wrapped her hand around his bicep without comment. The relationship between Thorin and his father had been decidedly strained since the marriage, yet another casualty that could be laid at the feet of the Thain.

They walked down the corridor together, chatting about nothing in particular. Whatever nervousness she'd felt dissipated until the two of them were interacting the same as they ever had. It was at times like these that she found herself most able to pretend the last month had never happened. That she and Thorin were still engaged, the wedding still ahead of them and her life was still the fairy tale she'd always believed it to be.

A number of servants greeted them, and Kyra nodded at them in return. One or two, mainly the younger maids, gave her oddly knowing smiles, while another gave her an outright wink and she frowned in confusion, unsure what it was they thought they knew.

The Thain's office was on the same floor as the offices for Dwalin and Nori, the captain of palace security and the spymaster and, as they reached the top of the staircase leading to the floor, Kyra was surprised to see Gareth heading toward them.

Gareth and his wife were the absolute best Nori had and were very rarely seen in the palace. They lived somewhere in the city, under a guise of a typical husband and wife, raising their small daughter and working mundane, normal jobs. It gave them freedom to go places others could not, and hear things not spoken of in the presence of palace personnel. It also meant they were deliberately kept far away from the palace, in order to keep their covers in place.

"Gareth," Thorin said casually. "What brings you here?"

The larger man stopped and gave a formal bow. "Purely business, your Highness." He rose and nodded at them both. "Please excuse my rudeness, but I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a time crunch."

Thorin gave a nod of dismissal and the man was gone, moving down the stairs with a silent tread that wouldn't have seemed possible in a man of his size. Kyra imagined Thorin would be inquiring later to find out why the man had been there. Gareth in the palace, and on business no less, couldn't mean anything good.

They continued and soon found themselves before the king's office. The guards standing on either side of the door announced them and they were quickly shown in. The room beyond was enormous, easily several times the size of Kyra's entire suite of rooms. Bookcases, running from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, lined two walls while the one behind the desk held large glass doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking an inner courtyard.

Thrain was seated behind an oak desk that was probably bigger than her bed. It was immaculate, everything perfectly in its place. A mat was on the center, embossed with the royal seal, and holding a laptop that currently had the lid closed. The king was sitting perfectly still, hands folded on the desk and gaze blank.

Kyra felt an uneasy feeling settle in her stomach.

"Father," Thorin said, voice flat. "We've come as summoned."

"I expected better of you," Thrain said flatly, cutting right to the point and completely ignoring any and all pleasantries. "Both of you." His eyes bored into hers, and Kyra mentally shriveled under his gaze. "You in particular," Thrain said, focusing on his son, "are aware of how important honor is to our people, not to mention the rest of the world. We are far too new, and unproven, to risk scandal."

"I am aware of that," Thorin said stiffly, "and I take offense to the notion that I've done anything to bring dishonor to the Durin family name." His voice had gone cold, and he was so formal he may as well have been speaking to a stranger.

"Really?" Thrain asked, voice mocking. "Then the rumors I hear of you and Kyra openly carrying on an affair are false? And you have not had a woman who is not your wife in your quarters on a nightly basis?"

When he said a woman, he looked directly at Kyra as if she were an outsider and she felt herself flush in both embarrassment and hurt. Thrain had been like a father to her after hers had died, and seeing him looking at her with such a cold gaze was cutting.

"I cannot help what people with nothing better to do choose to say or believe," Thorin said, anger coloring his tone. "I can assure you that Kyra's visits to my room-"

"Her visits to your room?" Thrain exploded, pushing up to a standing position and bracing his hands on the desk. "Durin's beard, boy, do you hear yourself? You are the Crown Prince of Erebor, not some commoner skulking in a back alley! You are to be above reproach, not lowering yourself to the base common denominator and blaming others for believing that you are doing exactly what you appear to be doing!"

A flush of shame and outright mortification rushed through Kyra. She'd understood on some level that being in Thorin's rooms, especially when she had to go through his bedroom to get to the main suite, was wildly inappropriate. She'd convinced herself that they were just friends, however, and not doing anything wrong and...

The memory of the night before passed through her mind, when Thorin, not paying attention, had instinctively leaned over at one point to kiss her like he'd done a million times in the past only for both of them to freeze and pull away at the last second.

Oh, Aule, she thought, face heating. A mix of humiliation and anger flowed through her like liquid fire. Humiliation because she prided herself on her integrity and now people actually believed she was not only having an affair, but wasn't even bothering to be discreet.

And anger because she shouldn't have to be discreet about anything, or feel shame or embarrassment because the entire world had been turned on its damned head and she shouldn't have to deal with anyone accusing her of having an affair with her own fiancé.

Thorin and Thrain were now openly yelling at one another, voices rising with every passing second. They were completely oblivious to her, as they always were when fighting.

Kyra could feel the bridge of her nose beginning to burn and her vision was going blurry so she carefully released Thorin's arm and stepped back, behind him. She then turned and quietly walked out, shutting the door behind her and deliberately ignoring both guards. As soon as she had, she wrapped her arms around herself and hurried quickly down the hall, eyes fixed on her feet.

Voices, and footsteps, caught her attention and she made a strangled sound of frustration. Could nothing go her way? She ducked quickly behind a large potted plant standing against the wall and held still as Dwalin and Nori strode past, conversing quietly. The guards said something to them, to which Nori gave a dry sounding response. Dwalin then opened the door, and the sound of angry voices came from within. Neither man seemed the least bit concerned as they both entered and quietly shut the door behind them.

As soon as they were gone, Kyra stepped out, nodding a quiet thanks at the soldiers who'd seen her duck behind the armor. She made her way quickly back to her office, quietly wiping at her eyes when she thought she wouldn't be caught, and avoiding the gaze of anyone she passed.

She nearly screamed in frustration when she walked in her door to see Dardren had returned and was standing near her desk.

"My Lady?" he asked in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said stiffly. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone."

Dardren hesitated. "If you need someone to talk too-"

"I said I'd like to be alone!" Kyra said sharply. "Please leave."

Dardren nodded stiffly and obeyed, closing the door behind him. Guilt assailed her at how rude she'd been but she was in no frame of mind to go apologize. Instead she slumped in her chair behind her desk, propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands.

She shut her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. She'd never been much of a crier and certainly wasn't going to start now. A few traitorous tears slipped out but she stubbornly wiped them away and clenched her teeth until the desire to break down entirely subsided.

When she was sure she was relatively in control, she forced herself to straighten and pulled her laptop closer, planning to answer a few emails. As her eyes scanned the list she noticed several were from her stepsiblings and her stepmother. They'd been reaching out since news of the alliance had come out, offering their condolences and sympathy.

Kyra neither needed nor wanted any pity, and certainly not from them. The pain in her temples reasserted itself, adding to the dry, scratchy feeling she now had in her eyes. Thrain's words ran through her mind again and she felt her face heat. She'd worked so hard on ensuring her reputation was sterling. She was an ambassador, the face of Erebor to neighboring kingdoms. To think anyone would believe she was having an affair, and that she was being so openly blatant about it, as if she assumed the fact she had the nation's sympathy would cover any negative impact...

Even if that were true, and she could have done it with impunity, she wouldn't have. She wouldn't have because she'd never escape the anger or resentment that she knew would build in her at the thought that she was being seen as Thorin's mistress when she should have been seen as his wife.

She groaned and ran her hands through hair, flinching in pain as her fingers caught on knots and pulled several strands painfully.

Why couldn't the Shire princess go have an affair? If she truly was just another pawn of the Thain she could use it to get sent home, which was probably what she wanted anyway. Her reputation wouldn't suffer as, according to the intelligence reports, she didn't have much of one to begin with. Meanwhile, Kyra could reinstate her engagement while keeping Erebor's honor completely intact. The only wrinkle would be in ensuring the alliance was unaffected but, given it'd be Shire who technically had violated the terms...

Kyra went completely still as the idea turned over and over in her head.

It...actually wasn't a bad idea.

Granted, it wasn't perfect. Thorin would still be unable to remarry because Durin I was a bastard and gave no allowances for infidelity but, still. It was only in Erebor that that law held true. She and Thorin could marry in any of the other kingdoms. Given the way the populace was reacting to her and Thorin's forced separation she doubted anyone would begrudge the two of them marrying outside the kingdom.

There was also the fact she couldn't exactly go to the Shire princess and tell her about her plan. The other woman seemed like the sort who might refuse purely out of spite, or because she simply didn't trust Thorin's ex-fiancé.

Kyra couldn't exactly blame her for that one. If there positions were reversed she'd probably feel the same way.

Kyra chewed on her lower lip, and leaned forward to pull up a list of Erebor's nobility, and their families. She'd always made a point of keeping up on current affairs with all of them, never knowing when she might run into someone at a party and need to make conversation. Any number of them had young, eligible sons, some of whom had tried to flirt with her in the past. If she could figure some way to get the Shire princess out of her room and arrange for her to run into an agreeable young man...

Guilt flashed through her at the thought of saddling any of the nobility with a girl who was apparently the black sheep of a disreputable family, but she knew many wouldn't care in light of her rank and status.

A few pictures came up and she rejected several of them immediately. She didn't want the other woman hurt and, as with any of the upper classes, some were noble in bloodline only.

She continued to chew on her lip as she ran the particulars of the idea over in her mind. It was still in its infancy and would need the kinks worked out... but it could work.

For the first time in a long time a thread of hope began to burn faintly within her and a small smile danced across her face.

It could work.

She could get her fairy tale, and her prince, back.

It could work.

It could.

It had to.