Bilba was so caught up in her dancing that the sound of the music being shut off took several seconds to register. When it did, she spun to a stop, and felt her heart quicken at the sight of a guard practically sauntering down the stairs toward her.
She recognized him vaguely as one of the two that had been posted at the front doors of the palace. She'd given them only the barest notice as she'd passed. That was one thing she'd learned early on in Shire. Don't totally ignore because it pisses them off but, as much as possible, keep your head down, and do your best to not draw their attention.
"Greetings, Your Highness," the guard drawled, stopping on the final step near where her now silent stereo sat. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."
Bilba stayed silent. She was suddenly very much aware of just how isolated the ballroom was, and just how very alone she was. It wasn't a mistake she'd have made in the palace in Shire and she was somewhat surprised to realize she'd made it here.
The guard was of average height and build, an anomaly amongst the giants she'd met so far, with sandy blond hair and dark eyes. He might have been attractive, if it weren't for the sneer currently twisting his lips. Assholes always seemed to have that sneer. Bilba had wondered on occasion if there was an asshole handbook or course they all took that taught them how to perfect it.
The guard's eyes tracked down her figure. Bilba shuddered and her stomach clenched. In Shire the guards had been awful, but they hadn't been allowed to touch her. Her grandfather had treated her virginity the same way he treated everything else, as a personal possession that was his to give away as he saw fit.
Bilba might have fooled herself into thinking her grandfather had been bored of her for those few years in college, but the fact she'd always refused to sleep with Bofur suggested that, deep down, she'd known better. That she'd still had that ingrained, almost instinctive fear of what her grandfather would do if he found out, not just to her but also Bofur.
She'd remembered, even if she'd tried her best not to, the threats he'd made about giving her to various sycophants as a reward for their loyalty. All of them would have expected her to be pure, even if they weren't. For that reason, and that reason alone, the guards in the palace had known better than to try and touch her.
None of that held true in Erebor. She doubted the royal family would appreciate her carrying on an affair, but would it matter to them if the guards mistreated her? Would they protect her, or leave her to handle it alone? In Shire at the least, the very least she'd known it could only go so far, and that if any of them tried to cross a line they would simply disappear like all the rest that had dared displease her grandfather.
She had no such assurances here.
The guard stepped forward and Bilba sucked in a harsh breath and took a step back. She cringed instinctively as if it could somehow make her disappear and clasped her hands in front of her as an ineffectual shield.
She was deeply regretting having ever left her room.
"What's wrong?" the guard asked, still moving forward at a slow, steady pace. He wasn't in any hurry; he knew there was no one who was going to hear anything. "I just wanted to meet the Princess of Shire. I've heard so much about you."
The way he said the last part made her skin crawl. There were so many rumors about her, and more than a few dealt with her apparent promiscuity. Even Beatrice had tried to fuel that one all the way back on her wedding night when she'd implied to Thorin that Bilba had snuck out to carouse and party. Not that the truth, that she'd tried to run away with Bofur, would have cast her in a much better light, but still.
"You need to leave," she managed to get out. She wanted her voice to sound strong and firm like the princess she was supposed to be, but it came out shaky and weak instead, barely a whisper. The guard's eyes were still openly roving over her and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively.
"Come on, now, Your Highness." The guard said, opening his arms wide in a mock show of innocence. "I just want to be friends. What's wrong with that?"
"Everything," a deep bass rumbled from the stairs. "For starters, there's the question of why you aren't on your knees."
Thorin's voice was like steel and made Bilba realize she hadn't yet heard him truly angry. That anger didn't stop the flood of relief that flooded her or the way her body reacted almost on its own. She darted past the guard, who was rapidly losing all color in his face, and practically slammed into Thorin who stood about halfway up the stairs. She buried her face in his chest, squeezed her eyes shut and curled her fingers into his shirt.
The action surprised her as much as it probably surprised him. Apparently, she trusted him more than she'd thought, or at least she trusted that in this moment, in this situation he was the lesser of two evils.
The far lesser.
One of his arms came around her back. His hand rested on her shoulder and she could feel his thumb lightly moving back and forth over her skin. She burrowed even harder against him and slid both arms around him. She tightened her grip and dug her fingers into his back, fighting the irrational fear that he'd vanish if she loosened her grip.
"Your Highness," the guard stammered from behind her, voice suddenly far more respectful, and far less confident than when he'd spoken to her. "The Princess requested my presence. I wasn't sure -"
Bilba tensed and a rock settled into her gut. She could deny it, but what good would her word do? What good had it ever done? Her fingers convulsed where they were clinging to Thorin's shirt, so tight he'd probably have permanent wrinkles in it.
"The Princess has a personally selected security team for a reason," a new voice cut in. Dwalin, Bilba recognized. Great, maybe she should just start running around naked. It seemed any time someone saw her lately she was in a robe or leotard. It wasn't that either was necessarily a bad thing, just that she'd like a little more say over who saw her in them and when. "Your job would have been to summon them and remain at your post."
Bilba heard a female voice murmur something, and she raised her head enough to peek behind Thorin. Ori was there, near the door, with a robe thrown on hastily over her nightclothes and her hair pulled into a messy bun. She was talking to Cerys, who was fully dressed and looked fantastic because the woman was apparently inhuman and never slept.
Suddenly it didn't matter in the slightest that Ori was related to Erebor's Spymaster, or that Bilba didn't really know Cerys all that well. She unwound her arms from Thorin, bolted over and threw herself in the arms of the nearest woman hard enough to rock her back on her feet.
Ori returned the hug immediately.
Bilba pulled away but kept an arm around Ori's waist. Her adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving her shaky and mildly nauseous. She was also becoming aware of the cold again, and wished she had her coat. It was lying several feet away, however, and she couldn't seem to bring herself to let go of Ori and cross the short expanse to grab it.
She sent a nervous look over to where the guard was on his knees before Thorin, and Dwalin. They didn't normally kneel like that from what she'd seen. They bowed to the royal family, and saluted Dwalin, but she'd never seen any of them kneeling. "I wish they wouldn't do that," she whispered shakily.
Cerys frowned. "Wish they wouldn't do what?"
"Make him angry," Bilba explained. "Thorin and Dwalin won't always be around."
She could already picture what the guard must be thinking, plotting for when he next saw her. He'd blame her for whatever punishment he got, no matter how deserved, and would be targeting her for revenge. She'd have to start figuring out his schedule now to try and avoid him and -
He thoughts trailed off as she noticed the dead silence that had greeted her sentence and she frowned in confusion. Cerys and Ori were both staring at her as if she'd grown two heads.
"Your Highness," Cerys said finally, slowly. "That man will never be anywhere near you ever again. Do you really think we'd allow him to stay after he threatened you?"
"How do you know he threatened me?" Bilba asked dumbly. She hadn't said anything, and all the guard had gotten out were words attempting to implicate her. It was he said, she said, and no one here had any reason to believe, or trust, what she said.
"Why wouldn't that be what happened?" Ori asked with a frown of her own. "You're clearly upset, and he's not at his post. It seems pretty obvious, doesn't it?"
It did to Bilba, but since when did that matter? She'd spent a solid month sitting quietly in her room but, to listen to the rumors, she'd been out almost nightly cavorting with all manner of other men and engaging in all sorts of illicit activities. People were predisposed to thinking the worst of her, no matter what she did.
"I'd like to go back to my room, please," she said, suddenly wanting desperately to not be in the ballroom anymore. She hesitated. "I need to get my things."
She tried to convince her body to move, and take her to get her stereo and coat, but her feet remained stubbornly rooted to the floor. She could hear the low sound of the guard saying something, and the rumble of Thorin's voice as he responded. Was the guard lying about her? Was Thorin believing whatever it was he was saying?
"I'll get it," Ori announced, breaking into Bilba's train of thought. She threw her head back, chin high and proceeded to march toward the men as if she were the queen herself come to call.
"I wish I could do that," Bilba muttered.
Beside her, Cerys chuckled and then put an arm around Bilba's waist. It probably wasn't proper etiquette, but that didn't stop Bilba from leaning against the other woman in response. "Come on, Your Highness. Let's get you back to your room before you freeze to death."
Bilba nodded and allowed the woman to lead her toward the door. Ori reappeared and handed her coat over. Bilba took it gratefully and slid it on, before nervously asking in a low voice, "how mad do you think Thorin will be at me?"
She'd promised not to sneak out and get in trouble anymore and she hadn't, or at least she hadn't snuck out, like outside the palace. Still, she'd gone out and now the guard was saying Yavanna only knew what and Thorin had no reason to believe her side of things, especially in light of all the horrid things people kept saying about her and...
Ori and Cerys stopped dead in their tracks, exchanged an unreadable look with one another and then started walking again. "Thorin won't be mad at you at all," Ori said soothingly, patting Bilba on the shoulder. "We can wait with you if you want, until he gets back."
Bilba doubted that would do anything but prolong the inevitable but she didn't relish the thought of being alone, so she nodded. "All right. Maybe we could watch a movie?" That would help get her minds off things at least, and not leave her waiting anxiously with her eyes on the door for Thorin to return.
Ori's eyes lit up. "Yes," she said in excitement. "I've got a new romantic comedy that Dwalin refuses to watch with me." She wrapped an arm around Bilba's waist and squeezed. "You'll love it."
Bilba forced a smile and nodded. "All right."
It'd be okay, she told herself. Really, it would.
Now if she could just convince herself to believe it.
From the corner of his eyes, Thorin watched as Bilba was escorted from the room by Cerys and Ori. Gareth, who'd been standing guard near the door, fell in behind them, and he felt some of his tension ease. No one would come near her with those three surrounding her, and he knew he could trust them to stay with her until he made it back.
He returned his attention to Dwalin and wasn't at all surprised to see Nori standing beside him, having seemingly materialized from nowhere. Thorin was half convinced the man had memorized Erebor's secret passages and made regular use of them.
He faced both men, struggled to control the rising anger that he knew would have him saying things he'd later regret, and finally settled for a curt, "Does it even need to be said?"
"No." Dwalin looked just as angry, if not more so, while Nori had a quiet, grave air about him that never boded well for whoever had pissed him off.
Thorin's eyes went to the idiot sniveling on his knees before them. The man was shaking and pale, a vast difference from how Thorin had witnessed him behaving when faced with a woman half his size and strength. Asshole.
"Get him out of my sight." It was all he could do not to physically assault the man, and if they didn't remove him in the next few minutes, he wasn't sure he'd be able to continue resisting the urge. He could still feel Bilba shivering against him, slender fingers digging into his back and, Mahal, but he wanted to end this asshole for terrorizing her like that.
Dwalin wrenched the now ex-guard to his feet and dragged him toward the door, only to stop as Thorin bit out his name.
"I know," Dwalin said shortly. "I'll get the others on the way."
Three others, the two posted at Thorin's quarters who'd failed to report her leaving despite having been given strict orders to do exactly that less than three hours earlier, and the one at the front door who'd watched his partner leave to follow the princess and done nothing. Even had he not understood the other man's intentions he should have immediately contacted his superiors to have Gareth or Cerys alerted to their charge's movements.
Bilba had been right in her assessment of the staff and security. There was a rot spreading through the ranks, a complacency that went Mahal only knew how deep.
The one thing Thorin did know was that he was going to cut it out, down to the very roots.
Kyra resisted the urge to call out as the two men turned and headed toward the doors.
Please don't turn off the lights.
To her relief, Thorin passed through the portal without touching the switch. Nori sauntered out behind him and then she was alone in a still lit ballroom.
An uneasy feeling settled over her. She'd attended many a ball in here but had never visited the room by herself before, and certainly not at night. It was surprising just how eerie it felt without the musicians and other guests. As if any second she'd see something move in the shadows, or hear a disembodied voice call out from the dark.
A footfall came from behind her and the knot in her stomach unwound. "I was wondering how long it would take you— "
Her voice trailed off as she turned and found herself facing Nori. Suddenly very much aware of how she was dressed, Kyra flushed and yanked her robe closed, cinching the belt tight around her waist.
Nori's eyes took in her clothing clinically and then returned to hers. There was a vague, almost mocking air about him, and Kyra bristled.
"I was on my way to the kitchens," she explained defensively. "I saw Thorin go by and was simply curious. That's all."
"Is it?" Nori mused. He held an arm out, elbow bent. "The prince requested I see you back to your room."
Kyra imagined she heard a hint of accusation in his voice and felt a flush run through her. He knew full well she never went to the kitchens at night, and undoubtedly knew she hadn't started doing so that night.
What had actually happened was she'd been reading one of her favorite books. A romance where the heroine, a commoner, caught the eye of a prince and, in the process, rescued him from the clutches of his conniving fiancée.
She'd been drinking wine, not a lot, but enough to allow herself to be inspired by a scene where the heroine became lost on her way to the bath and accidentally wandered into the prince's chambers.
Shame rushed through her and Kyra winced. Mahal, what had she been thinking? If she hadn't happened to see Thorin leave his room and followed...
Well, she wouldn't have made it inside his suite, that was for sure. She'd have simply managed to humiliate herself in front of the guards he'd posted at the doors. It'd have spread from there and, by the next morning, her reputation would have been in tatters.
It still could be.
She scowled at Nori. "I trust you to show some discretion, Spymaster."
He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I don't think I'm the one you have to worry about, Ambassador."
He indicated his arm but, with a huff, Kyra strode last him. "This is highly inappropriate."
The last thing she needed was for anyone to see her wandering about arm in arm with the Spymaster whilst dressed in lingerie. Thorin could be so dense sometimes. It was nice of him to worry over her, but he should have come himself to escort her, not sent Nori.
"That it is," Nori murmured as he fell in behind her.
They made their way back to her room in silence and, once there, Kyra practically ran inside and slammed the door shut behind her. She sagged against it with a groan and sent a glare at the book and empty wine glass on her coffee table. "This is all your fault."
She let out an annoyed sighed, passed over to her desk and dropped into her chair before her computer. Absently, she propped her head in one hand and, with the other, pulled up her Ravenshill account.
She'd had the messenger box up the last time she'd closed it and, as it came up, the box automatically opened to the last message she'd received.
I think we should meet.
The words burned into her retinas, just as they'd done the first time she read them, and the second time, and the third.
She hadn't responded. Not yet anyway. It was one thing to talk to Gandalf. She'd get in trouble for that certainly, but she was confident she could talk her way out of it. Show that she'd been doing it to protect Erebor and the royal family.
But that was talking, writing message in Ravenshill. She could print those off if she needed, provide proof that she'd been trying to find out who this Gandalf was and why he'd placed a bug in the princess of Shire's room.
Meeting in person, face to face - that was something else entirely. She could prove nothing from a meeting unless she tried recording it and if Gandalf found out it'd ruin the trust she'd been building with him. He'd vanish and, with him, her chances of proving herself to the royal family.
The small dot next to Gandalf's name suddenly glowed green, indicating he was online. He'd started to do that more often of late and Kyra wondered if he had his account set to notify him when she came online.
She hovered her hands over the keys and chewed on her lower lip nervously.
The princess had looked like a child.
Kyra pursed her lips in annoyance. She didn't want to think that, even if it was true. The princess hadn't look like a seductress, or like anyone capable of being a threat. She'd looked every bit her twenty years of age, if not younger, and as much as Kyra had tried, and wanted to, she couldn't blame the girl for running to Thorin the way she had.
Not when she'd have done the same thing had their positions been reversed.
The computer dinged at her and she frowned at the message that popped up.
Have you thought about what I said?
Kyra frowned. Her fingers tapped nervously on the keys, before she finally forced herself to type. I don't know.
I thought you said you were concerned she'd endangered the prince?
Kyra scowled. Pain suddenly sliced through her lip along with the metallic tang of blood. She'd chewed on her lip so hard she'd bitten through it.
She had said that, and had believed it too...but now...thinking about it...
I don't know what happened, she wrote back. But it seems a little farfetched, doesn't it? She's a fraction of his size, and Thorin's not an idiot besides.
Perhaps you're right, came the response. Once may well be simply an accident.
She saw him typing but, after a moment, it vanished, and the messenger fell quiet.
Waiting.
Kyra started to chew on her lip again, only to stop as sharp pain reminded her of the damage she'd already done. I still want to fix things; she wrote after a few minutes of silence, mentally kicking herself in the process. She hoped she hadn't ruined everything, that her reluctance to meet hadn't made him question her intentions.
The screen remained quiet and her anxiety increased, causing her to tap her fingers nervously on the table. I had a few ideas, she sent after another few minutes. Maybe we could talk about some of them?
She never had gone anywhere with her initial idea of introducing the princess to someone else in the hopes they'd hit it off and she'd run off with him. That would leave Thorin free, she hoped, to divorce her on grounds on abandonment and then be free for the two of them to marry as intended.
Gandalf still wasn't responding, and Kyra let out a strangled sound. The truth of the matter was Gandalf had proven to be an exceptionally good listener, regardless of everything else, and the thought of him going dark permanently was an unpleasant one, and not just because it would lose her the opportunity to prove herself to Thorin and the royal family.
If they don't work, she wrote, or if something else happens then perhaps we could meet to discuss other options. I'm just concerned about the possibility of being seen is all, no matter how careful we are. It could create problems for both of us, and then who would be there to fix things?
Finally, finally, the words Gandalf is typing appeared.
Apologies, he sent. I had to step away. I'm more than happy to consider other ideas. What did you have in mind?
Kyra sagged in relief and let out a huff of air.
Then, with a determined air, she lifted her hands and started to type.
