"You are acting like a child!" Thrain roared, face red with rage.

He was leaning forward over his desk, hands braced on its surface and Thorin unconsciously mirrored both his position, and his anger, on the other side.

"I am acting," he growled, voice low and dangerous, "like a man who had his life destroyed, on a whim."

His father rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it," he ordered, sinking back into his seat. "You want to hear about having your life ruined? Talk to your grandfather, or the rest of Erebor's citizens who were present for her fall."

Thorin decided not to point out that he'd been one of those present for Erebor's fall. He'd been young, but he'd been there. The smell of smoke was still enough to take him right back, to screams echoing through corridors, the roar of wargs running down victims, the sharp, metallic scent of blood.

A brief tinge of shame flashed through him at the memory, but he stubbornly hung onto his anger. It was justified. He had a right to be angry. He'd been through enough as a child, had spent his younger years fighting to retake the kingdom while his peers had attended school and found their place in life. His place had been ordained the second he'd been born, and again after the mountain had fallen. He deserved one thing, one damn thing in return.

He'd given enough.

"Believe me," he growled, "if grandfather were still here I'd have plenty to say to him."

As he spoke, he crossed his arms over his chest, and straightened his back. It caused him to loom over his father as he sat on the far side of the desk but, somehow, the other man didn't lose so much of an ounce of authority. It was abundantly clear who was in charge, and it certainly wasn't Thorin.

Irritating.

"I can see I indulged you too much as a child," Thrain said coldly. "You're acting like a spoiled brat denied a toy."

A muscle jumped in Thorin's jaw as he ground his teeth so hard it was a wonder they didn't snap. "If by 'toy' you mean the love of my life, then fine," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Thrain actually rolled his eyes. "You can't lose someone you insist on spending every second with."

"You know what I mean," Thorin broke in. "I love her-"

"Apparently not enough to guard her reputation," Thrain leaned back in his chair, wood creaking under his weight, and curled his hands over the armrests.

Thorin ground his teeth, barely resisting the urge to launch into a tirade of all he'd been through as a child and adult. He wouldn't be saying anything his father didn't already know and it'd just prolong the argument. He was aware that Dwalin and Nori had come in at some point, and were casually watching the fight. They had long since lost their fear of Thrain, or Thorin for that matter. They knew their own worth, and so did the royal family. They weren't going to be fired unless they did something truly egregious, and they were far too loyal for that. Both had distinguished themselves in the fight to reclaim Erebor, and their love for the kingdom was unquestioned.

Thorin had no doubt his father was deliberately humiliating him It was annoying, and irritatingly effective. Thorin knew he came out looking the worst in the argument, in spite of how he personally believed about the matter, and was forced to curb his tongue in a way his father wasn't. If he persisted, it'd just give his father room to throw out more barbs and embarrass him further. He clenched his fists at his side, and glared at his father who merely raised a mocking eyebrow in return.

After a few moments of tense silence, Dwalin took the cue and stepped forward, holding up a file folder. He was like Kyra in that way, trusting in paper more than electronic files. Paper files couldn't be hacked by someone on the other side of the planet, as he liked to point out.

"Latest report on the girl," he said casually, handing the folder over to Thrain.

Thorin frowned. "Girl? What are you talking about?"

Thrain gave him a melodramatic look of surprise. "What? Are you finally interested in acting like a prince again? Or is it just because your sparring partner is here and you've nothing better to do with your time?"

Thorin managed not to respond, somehow, but it was a close thing. Instead he deliberately grabbed a chair, dragged it out, and dropped into it with a heavy thud.

Dwalin and Nori both ignored him because, while they might not be afraid of Thorin, it didn't mean they were stupid enough to deliberately bait him. Better to let his father handle that.

Dwalin handed the folder over. He then started talking, giving his report, and Thorin found his eyes slowly widening as the other man detailed what his unwanted wife had apparently been up too. He'd assumed the girl had been sulking in her room, expecting the rest of them to come and beg her to come out.

Apparently not.

"She's sneaking around the palace?" he said blankly. "Why?"

"Trust you to focus on that and not the fact she found a way out of the bloody palace," Dwalin muttered.

"Far as we can tell," Nori said calmly. "She goes back and forth to the kitchen."

"And when she left entirely?" Thrain asked. "She simply went to the movies?"

"It's possible she knew we were there," Dwalin said. "And abandoned her real plans."

"Or," Nori cut in, looking oddly cheerful, "it's possible she just wanted to go see a movie."

"Then why not just leave through the front?" Thorin asked in confusion.

"Maybe she watches the news," Thrain growled, "and didn't want a crowd of protestors surrounding her."

"You can't blame the people for being angry," Thorin muttered. He certainly was angry after all.

"No," Thrain agreed, "but I can blame you for doing nothing to mitigate it."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "What do you expect me to do?" There was little the palace could do without seeming to be censoring the media.

"You're married to her whether you like it or not," Thrain said shortly. "You could have accepted some of the interview requests, gone with her and made it clear you supported her."

A loophole, Thorin thought. His father was deeply upset over the way the media had been attacking the Shire princess, as well as how whipped up the public had become by the constant attacks. He felt it portrayed Erebor in a very poor light, and he wasn't wrong. They'd been focused on showing themselves to be honorable and above reproach, worthy of alliances with other kingdoms. They may have had sympathy over the Thain's actions, but it was quickly cooling in the face of unending criticisms and attacks aimed toward the girl.

Privately, Thorin was confused by it. The media, and public, generally had rather short attention spans and he'd have expected them to have moved on long before now. They might still hold a general dislike or disgust when they saw the Shire girl, might be borderline rude or cold and may pose unfair questions but, for the most part, would move onto whatever the latest scandal happened to be unfolding. The fact they were clinging so stringently to this, and with such a steady anger, was...odd to say the least.

"I'm not sure I'd be able to hold my composure," he said, flatly. Unlike the rest of Erebor, it was personal to him, and his anger had held steady because it reignited every time he saw Kyra.

"And that's why I say you're still a child," Thrain retorted shortly. He turned toward Nori.

"Find out what's going on. If she was meeting someone, I want to know who, and why."

"You think she's a spy?" Thorin asked in surprise. A spark of... something, ignited inside him and he straightened in the chair. "That would explain the Thain's insistence on the marriage. He was trying to get her inside the palace."

"Be a bit on the nose," Nori said dryly from where he was standing near Thorin's right shoulder, arms crossed. "Particularly with our history."

Thrain gave Thorin a look that was part knowing and part disappointed. "All the more reason to get to know her, wouldn't you think? You can find out for yourself."

"Unless her intention is assassination," Thorin countered.

Thrain heaved a sigh and settled back in his seat. "If the girl were going to kill you in your sleep she'd have done it already."

"That'd be embarrassing," Dwalin rumbled from just behind Thorin. "You're at least twice her size."

Thorin ignored the slight. Instead, deciding he'd put up with enough abuse for the day, he pushed to his feet with a non-committal, "I'll consider it," toward his father. He gave a general nod toward the other three men and turned toward the door.

He'd just reached it when his father spoke up behind him. "You could have renounced your title you know."

One hand resting on the doorknob, Thorin half turned with a frown. "What?"

His father leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the armrests and clasping his hands together. Dwalin and Nori bracketed the desk, also half turned to look back at him.

"Renounced your title," Thrain said, voice calm. "Maybe, when you decide to stop being such a stubborn ass, you might ask yourself - why didn't you?"

Thorin's hand tightened on the doorknob until it threatened to snap off. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"More likely you don't have one," Thrain responded. With that he gestured toward Dwalin and Nori, who both immediately turned to face him again.

The dismissal couldn't have been clearer and, with a growl of anger, Thorin stalked out, intent on tracking down Kyra and ensuring she was all right. His father's words ran through his mind again and he rejected them with annoyance, pushing them to a deep place inside his mind.

The sense of disquiet that the words caused to settle over him was far harder to dispatch.

"What were you thinking? You could have been murdered!"

Bilba rolled her eyes and settled back into the mass of pillows gathered behind her. She was curled up on her bed with her laptop on her lap, talking to Rosie back in the Shire.

"I wasn't going to get murdered going to the movies," she said. "It was fine."

Rosie did not look convinced. "And what if no one had been there to help you with the creep at the theater? What if he'd been waiting for you when you left? What then?"

Bilba hid a flinch. Perhaps she should have held back a few details about her trip out of the palace. She hadn't mentioned exactly how she'd gotten out, on the off chance someone, somehow was listening in. "I was fine," she repeated. "I just wanted to get out for a while."

"At night," Rosie said flatly, "in a large city when the only experience you've ever had has been in small towns that could probably fit inside Erebor's palace."

"I was fine," Bilba defended. "I was thinking of going again, but earlier so I could check out the university and dance studio."

Rosie's eyes narrowed. "How are you going to apply for school?"

"I'll get a job," Bilba said immediately, thinking of the bakery Bofur's brother worked at. Surely he'd have a job for her once she told him who she was. Assuming he wasn't on freaking Kyra's side like everyone else seemed to be, but she was willing to bet he wasn't. "I can probably get loans as well."

"And what name will you put on them?" Rosie asked. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, arms wrapped around a pillow bunched under her face. The laptop was in front of her and the angle made it so Bilba saw mostly pillow and then a slice of Rosie's head over the top of it. "You're sneaking out of the palace. Even if you give them your real name, they won't believe you."

And they'd probably reject her on principle even if they did, Bilba thought in irritation. "I don't know yet," she said. "I've got plenty of time to think of something."

Rosie frowned at her for a second, and then sighed and buried her face in the pillow. "All right," she said, voice muffed. She lifted her head again and frowned at him. "You wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure," Bilba said, accepting the peace offering for what it was.

Rosie headed off to find one, while Bilba took the opportunity to go to the bathroom so she wouldn't have to, hopefully, during the movie.

As she walked back out into the main part of her bedroom, she jumped at the loud slam of a door from out in the main living area of the suite. A few minutes later she heard rattling and banging from the kitchen area, not like someone actually destroying anything, but like someone in a foul mood taking it out on the dishes.

Bilba went back and clambered on her bed, settling in. Rosie came back a few minutes later, brandishing the movie in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. "You don't have any snacks?"

"Not sure I should," Bilba said with hesitation. She had scrounged up a few bags of popcorn the last time she'd been to the kitchens and snuck out to the kitchen part of the suite to pop it for movies when she was sure Thorin wasn't around. "Sounds like Thorin's out there, and in a bit of a bad mood."

Rosie scoffed. "See, now that's just crossing the line. All the other garbage is bad enough, but now they're denying you popcorn for the movie? It's too far, I say, just too far."

Bilba giggled. "I guess I could go down to the kitchen real quick." She chewed on her lip absently as she spoke. She usually waited until late in the evening to make her trips, and it was far from that, but it was late enough that most people should be where they were supposed to be for the day, right?

Aside from Thorin, she amended, as she heard another loud bang that sounded suspiciously like the microwave door. A few seconds later she heard a second slam that sounded like his door closing. Most likely he'd made something to eat and planned to fume privately.

"You should," Rosie said sagely. "If you don't, I'll feel too bad to eat any myself and that won't do." She gave Bilba a pointed look. "Half of movie watching is the snacks. If we don't have snacks, it's a guarantee we'll have 50% less fun."

Bilba laughed outright. "Fine. I'll call you back soon."

Shaking her head, she ended the call and then headed toward the door. Putting one hand on the doorknob, she pressed the side of her head against it, listening. There was no sound from outside and, given how angry Thorin had sounded, she doubted he could manage to stay quiet out there.

Taking a deep breath, and screwing up her courage, she opened the door and peeked out, breath exhaling in relief at the sight of the empty room. Before she could talk herself out of it, or Thorin could come back out, she hurried out and to the door leading into the hall. She left her bedroom door, and the main door, both open a tiny crack to allow her to dart back quicker if needed, and started down the hall toward the kitchen.

Her trip proved uneventful, for which she was grateful. Her skills at moving about undetected had improved and the few times she did hear voices she was able to hide behind plants or decorative statues. Mentally, she acknowledged she was behaving ridiculously, but it was better safe than sorry, or locked in a tower somewhere.

The kitchens weren't empty, never were during the day, but they were so busy and filled with smoke from the ovens that no one took much notice of her. She had her hair up in a tight bun and was wearing some of her old clothes from home, so it was possible those who did see her simply assumed she was someone's assistant. It helped that she strode in as if she owned the place. Bofur had always told her that one could get away with a lot simply by behaving as if they belonged there, and knew what they were doing. Apparently, he was right.

Finally, bowl of popcorn in hand and swell of triumph in her heart, Bilba started back toward her room.

As she reached her floor, her heart jolted, and she felt a quick surge of panic at the sound of voices coming from just down the hall. She froze, only to relax minutely a second later at the realization the voices she was hearing were coming from children.

"Don't be pathetic," she chided herself under her breath. "You can walk past a couple of children."

She put her head up and tried to affect a posture of authority, even as her body began to shake with nerves. If these kids were up here they were probably related to the royal family in some way, and very likely could have had their feelings toward her affected by whatever it was they'd heard their parent's saying. She didn't much fancy being insulted by kids, not to mention they could report to their parents that they'd seen her and...

Bilba shook her head, tsking at herself as she did. She was being paranoid. They were kids. All she had to do was walk past them.

"Okay." She tightened her grip on her popcorn bowl, tossed her hair back, and strode forward.

The kids didn't give her so much as a second glance.

There were two of them, a small dark-haired child who looked to be about six or so and an older, fair haired boy of about nine or ten, who was following him with an exasperated look.

The younger one was on his hands and knees, peering under a bench set against the wall. "Shelly?" He frowned, and then crawled forward to look under another bench. He had a tangle of leather leads in his hand that she assumed was some sort of strange leash or harness. "Shelly!"

The other boy sighed. "Don't crawl, Kili. You'll ruin your clothes."

Kili ignored him, clambering to his feet to go and look behind a statue. "Shelly! Where are you?"

As Bilba passed, keeping her eyes ahead, the small boy suddenly whirled and asked, "Have you seen Shelly?"

Bilba gasped in surprise, and froze for a moment, eyes going wide before she blurted, "No."

Kili sighed, shoulders slumping. "Okay."

He turned away, and Bilba felt a stab of guilt run through her. "Sorry."

"It's fine," the other boy said. "Shelly gets away all the time. We'll find her."

"Oh," Bilba stammered. "Okay."

She started to ask them to describe Shelly, but the two boys had already moved on, still looking under every bench and behind every plant and statue.

Bilba shrugged after a second and continued on her way. The door to the suite was still cracked open and she peered in, ensuring it was still empty, before heading in and going toward her own room.

By the time she reached it, she was feeling quite accomplished, right up until the moment she pushed open her door and came face to face with the a spider of the size of a large dog crouching dead center in the middle of her bed like some sort of obscene decorative pillow.