"Well?" The king's sharp voice broke the silence and Bilba jumped. She hadn't realized that she'd frozen, her mental faculties completely abandoning her.
It shouldn't have surprised her, she thought bitterly. This was how it always went, wasn't it? She was so certain she could handle things, so confident of any confrontation and then it happened and she just…. fell apart.
She'd almost had it, once. A month ago, now, though it felt like an eternity. Back when she'd so boldly marched into her grandfather's office to demand an explanation about why he'd dragged her away from her performance.
Time spent away from her family had blurred the pain of her past, softened the sharp edges and pushed the worst of it deep inside where her mind could more easily pretend it never happened. The woman who'd marched into her grandfather's office had been a product of those years, so close to the person she might have been had her parents never died.
So confident, and all of it had been stripped away in an instant.
Every time she tried to stand up, step out, be someone else, there was always something, someone waiting to knock her back again.
"Are you mute, girl?" Thrain pushed to his feet and slapped a hand on his desk in irritation.
Bilba dug one of her fingernails into the joint of her thumb. "I'm not sure what you're asking, Your Majesty," she managed to get out, her voice soft. She could almost feel the bars closing about her again. She liked to think she'd escaped them, but they were always there, not gone, just pushed a little out, ready and waiting to close back in again when she least expected it.
Thrain's eyes narrowed. "Have you been frigid toward my son?" he demanded. "Have you refused your duty?"
Heat flooded Bilba's face, partly from humiliation and partly from irritation that Thrain simply assumed the fault was entirely hers. Thorin was the one openly running about with his ex-fiancée and yet she was somehow the problem?
A calculating look entered Thrain's eyes and a shiver ran down Bilba's spine. The expression was reminiscent of her grandfather, never in public of course, but in private when it was just the two of them and there was no need for the mask.
"You are capable of conception, are you not?" Thrain asked curtly. "I have heard of your…antics in Shire. Either you are more careful than your character would credit, or your grandfather has sent me a defective princess." His voice, if possible, grew colder and a strange, almost manic look entered his eyes. "Is that it, then? The reason your grandfather was so adamant about this marriage? Did he seek to undermine my throne by ensuring I would have no heir?"
Bilba's breathing grew short as the scathing words pierced her like blades. She desperately wanted to point out that she'd only been married to Thorin a month, that he was the one causing problems not her and, the most obvious fact of all, that Thrain had no less than four male heirs at his disposal which meant his throne was anything but in jeopardy.
She wanted to say all that, but the words froze in her throat, because all she could see was her grandfather. His face, his voice, and the actions he'd taken to ensure she never crossed him. There had been no one to help her back then, and no one to help her now.
At least in Shire, horrible as it had been, she'd known where she stood. She'd known that no matter what, her grandfather would at least stop short of killing her. He needed her, for his audience and, later, for this farce of a marriage he'd forced her into.
She had no such assurances of safety here. Misstep, forget her place, falsely believe she'd escaped as she'd so stupidly let herself think in Shire for those few short years…and the consequences could be a thousand times worse than anything her grandfather had ever done.
She clasped her hands in front of her, careful not to clench them into fists, and lowered her eyes to the surface of the desk. "I know of nothing in my personal, or family, history that would suggest an issue with…conception."
She stumbled over the last word, and felt her face grow hot again as humiliation flooded her. This was the last thing she wanted to be discussing with someone, let alone Thrain.
At the same time, her mind couldn't help but catch on the word conception. Conception meant a baby, Thorin's baby. A baby who would have a father that openly loved another woman. A baby with her grandfather and Thrain as family. With relatives like Beatrice and her aunts on one side, and the Durins who couldn't stand her on the other.
With her as the mother.
"Could you be any more stupid?"
"Trust Bilba to screw up the simplest things."
"Take some pride in your appearance. You dress like a commoner."
"That dress is far too short. You dress like a tramp."
"No one will want you if you don't shape up, Bilba. Why can't you be more like Beatrice? She at least makes an effort."
Her aunts had been wrong on that last one at least, Bofur had wanted her.
Or, at least…he had.
The words wormed their way into the base of her brain, spoken in a tone that sounded suspiciously like that of her Aunt Lobelia. Bofur had wanted her, before he really got to know her…
Would he have gotten tired of her? Had he gotten tired of her, and simply been too kind to say so?
Was he relieved she was gone?
Thrain had gone completely still, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Were you not checked before being chosen?" His voice was deceptively calm, and Bilba felt a chill run down her spine. Her grandfather would get like that, outwardly calm when he was inwardly seething.
"I've had medical exams before." One very recently, in fact. Thrain seemed unaware of the injuries Thorin had sustained rescuing her, a fact for which she was extremely grateful. She didn't want to know how he'd react to such news.
"Is this it then?" Thrain asked. "Why your grandfather was so adamant I marry one of his granddaughters to my heir?"
Bilba gaped in confusion. "Your Majesty?"
Thrain made a slicing motion with his arm and then slammed the desk a second time. "Gerontious!" He roared, face nearly purpling with sudden rage. Bilba tensed as he rounded his desk and advanced on her, pushing a finger in her face. "This is his plan, isn't it? He seeks to undermine me, prevent my line from continuing!"
Bilba crossed her arms and tried not to look like she was leaning away from him. A low sense of panic began to beat in the back of her mind. This wasn't her grandfather; she didn't know how to navigate his rages. The right words to say to placate him.
She didn't know the ways in which he would take out his anger on her.
Thrain spun away from her suddenly, and she flinched at the sudden movement. An almost otherworldly sense of detachment began to fall over her, allowing her to observe the scene almost as if she were somewhere else.
She really wanted to be somewhere else.
Thrain dropped into his chair and slapped a button on his desk. A voice that sounded vaguely familiar answered, and Thrain began speaking in rapid, clipped Khuzdul, the native language of Erebor.
The other voice answered in the same language and the two began to engage in what sounded like an argument, words flying back and forth so fast that Bilba doubted she'd have understood even if she'd been fluent in the language.
Thrain slapped the button again, cutting the other person off mid-word and settled back in his seat, the wood cracking loudly in the silent room. "Go to Oin," he said flatly, that strange calm once more draping over him like a shroud. "He will establish your suitability."
Behind her, the door opened with a rush of air and Bilba turned to see two guards she didn't recognize step inside the room.
Thrain must have summoned them somehow for he waved a hand at her as if shooing an insect. "They will escort you in case you attempt to circumvent my command." His eyes darkened and he barked an order that had Soren appearing from somewhere in the corridor as if he'd sprouted from the floor itself.
"Escort her to Oin," he ordered. He glowered at her. "Nori will meet you there to witness and ensure my orders are followed."
A mix of both hot and cold washed over Bilba at the mention of the palace Spymaster. Images of a small, dark room and a deep, hollow voice stirred in her mind and she had to bite back a whimper.
She barely noticed one of the guards taking her by the arm to lead her out of the room. The guards always took her by the arm to lead her places she didn't want to go. It barely registered that it was even happening to her, like she'd stepped out of her own body and was watching things happen to someone else.
It wasn't until they were halfway down the hall that her head began to pound, and her stomach clenched with nausea. Her heartrate spiked, and suddenly she couldn't breathe. She pulled away, or perhaps staggered away from the guard holding her and collapsed against the wall, mouth open as she gasped for breath. She sank to a crouch, arms wrapped around herself. She couldn't seem to stop shaking, and black spots swam in her vision.
She didn't want to be here. They were going to hurt her. They were going to lock her in the tower again. She'd have to go see the Spymaster. She hated the guards, hated them. They were supposed to protect her, but they never did. Not once. No one ever did. It was just her, always just –
Hands grabbed her shoulders, and Bilba jerked. She'd put her head down on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, and her head snapped up so fast that she cracked it into the wall behind her. Pain bloomed through the base of her skull, and tears rushed to her eyes as her emotions proved entirely unable to handle it.
Ori, she recognized through her blurring vision, it was Ori in front of her. The other woman was talking, but Bilba couldn't hear her through the roaring in her head. Ori gave her a light shake and Bilba focused on the movement of the other woman's lips.
Look at me, Bilba. Come on, look at me. All right, now breathe, okay? Just breathe. In, and out, in and out. That's it, you can do it. Just focus on me and breathe.
Slowly, the roaring in her ears lessened until she could make out the actual words Ori was saying. Her breathing began to even, and her heartrate started to settle.
She became aware of the fact she was in a hall she didn't recognize, one that was completely clear of any other people except her, Ori, and Cerys standing several feet further down the hall. Even the guards and Soren were gone, though how Ori had managed that she couldn't begin to imagine.
"Are you okay?" Ori asked. "What in Durin's beard did Thrain do to you?"
Bilba didn't answer. She struggled to her feet, using the wall as a brace. "It's nothing," she whispered in a shaky voice. "It's fine."
She didn't want Thrain thinking she was complaining about him. Her grandfather used to accuse her of that, regardless of if she'd done it or not. He'd scream at her and insist she was lying until she broke down and admitted to things she hadn't done just to get him to stop.
"Sure it's fine," Ori grumbled as she wrapped an arm around Bilba's waist. "That's why you're having a panic attack in the hallway."
"I have to go see Oin," Bilba mumbled, eyes fixed on her feet. She did her best to not think about why she had to go see Oin, or who else would be there when she arrived. Instead she tried to focus on the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she would end up being unable to conceive.
If she couldn't, then the marriage could be annulled, and she could go to Gondor. Her grandfather would never allow it, but she could get there, she was sure, before he ever knew. Thorin would let her. He wouldn't care where she went, so long as she went. Arwen would let her come, and then maybe she could finally feel safe…assuming her grandfather didn't come after her and…and…
Her mind derailed as she realized they'd been moving while she'd tried to delude herself, and now they were standing outside the doors she recognized from that last time she'd been there, just after nearly getting Thorin killed.
Funny, how when she'd gotten up that morning, she'd thought the worst she'd have to deal with was breakfast with Ori, and the soreness in her side. Ori's fingers were accidentally pressing into the bruised area, sending dull bursts of pain cascading through her, but Bilba didn't comment on it.
The door slid open and they walked in, Ori alongside her and Cerys just behind her. The first person Bilba saw was Nori, standing in the center of the room and, without thinking about it, she unwound her arms to wrap one of them around Ori.
Bilba was surprised by her own reaction. Ori was Nori's sister, and the wife of the Captain of the Guard. She was the last person Bilba should ever want to turn to. Ori had all the power she could want through her husband and brother, but Bilba seriously doubted she'd use any of it to help her.
All these people, Thorin and Kyra and Ori, had all grown up together. They'd been through the exile, the retaking of the kingdom, through experiences and memories that had bonded them together in an unbreakable way that would never, ever include her.
Perhaps Ori was supporting her right then, but if it ever came down to a choice between an interloping princess and someone Ori had known her entire life, Bilba knew she would lose every time.
"Why are you here?" Ori asked in surprise, eyes narrowing at her brother. "Do you know what Thrain did to upset Bilba?"
"You know how the king can be," Nori said mildly. He inclined his head toward Bilba. "Your Highness, if you'd head right through that door," he nodded toward the room where she'd had her original exam. "Dr. Belarius is already waiting."
"Belarius?" Ori asked in surprise. "Why did you call her in?"
"Her?" The tiniest burst of relief raced through Bilba. She'd rather not do any of this at all but, if she had to, she'd prefer it be a woman.
She hesitated and pulled free from Ori and stepped forward. She started to move toward the door, but stopped again, unsure as Nori stayed where he was.
She wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. Shire's Spymaster would have already made some remark or another, innocent on the surface but with some barb so cleverly hidden it was impossible for anyone to say if he'd really intended it.
Nori gave her a surprisingly reassuring smile. "Go ahead, Your Highness. I'll wait out here."
Bilba didn't know how to respond to that. Sure, it looked as if he was doing her a kindness, but she'd lived far too long in the shadow of her grandfather to take anything at face value. The Thrain had ordered him to witness her being tested, did he plan to blackmail her with the fact he hadn't?
Yavanna, but she'd forgotten how it was to be around royalty and their retainers. It wasn't just watching everything she said and did, but everything everyone else said and did as well. It was like a chess game where she constantly had to be five steps ahead, and every misstep was punished.
It was exhausting. She wanted to go back to bed. It was the only time she could truly escape from it all, off into a dream where royalty and her grandfather didn't exist, and she was back with Rosie and Bofur again.
Nori didn't appear inclined to give her any indication of his motivation so, with a sigh, she turned and walked through the doors into the small room beyond.
The faster she could get through this the sooner it could be over with and behind her.
And maybe, just maybe, she could start packing to go to Gondor.
Or just…go back to sleep.
For just a little while.
Ori smiled brightly as Bilba vanished.
The second the doors slid close the smile dropped off her face, and she whirled to face her brother. "Start talking."
