Thorin hadn't realized it was possible for a human to turn as scarlet red as the girl did when he opened the door. She then did her best to look anywhere but him but her eyes, almost on their own, darted toward his chest every few seconds. Every time they did, he swore she discovered a new intensity of red.

At least he didn't have to worry about whether his young wife found him physically attractive.

The thought passed idly through his mind, only to be pushed out by another taking its place. He had personally seen her being escorted back into the palace on their wedding night, and her cousin had all but accused her of infidelity. The media reports and rumors, many traced directly back to Shire, also painted her as…promiscuous to say the least.

Thorin had half expected similar rumors to crop up in Erebor, especially after discovering she'd found a way to sneak out of the palace.

Those rumors had never come, however, and now, watching her reaction to him, he questioned if she'd ever seen a man without his shirt on much less done anything else with one. Instead of behaving like the tart the media painted her as, she was behaving far more like a…

"I'm sorry," Bilba suddenly blurted, derailing his train of thought. She waved a hand vaguely toward where the worst of the bruising from the ocean fiasco had stained his torso a mottled yellow and black. "That must hurt."

It did, but there was no reason to rub it in her face. "It's fine," Thorin said instead. "What about you?"

"Oh." Her hand lifted slightly toward her side. "I'm all right. Thank you for asking."

They lapsed into an awkward silence, until Thorin finally cleared his throat. "Did you want something?"

Bilba jumped. "Did you hear what happened today?" Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her. She started wringing her hands aggressively, leaving the skin reddened.

Without thinking, Thorin put a hand over hers, stopping them mid-motion. She froze, and her eyes went wide.

"Sorry." He pulled his hand back.

"No, it's fine," she said quickly, waving her hands in front of her. "It's- "

She trailed off again and Thorin suppressed a sigh. They'd be here all night at this rate. "You were saying?" he asked, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice. "I was in meetings all day, so I haven't heard much of anything."

Meetings that had left him drained and fighting a headache, which was why he'd grabbed some pain medication and gone straight to bed afterward, only to be woken up less than an hour later by her knocking on his door.

Her shoulders slumped a half inch or so as if relieved to find him ignorant. Probably not a good sign.

"I just thought I should tell you. Before –"

"I hear it from someone else?" Thorin filled in. Definitely a bad sign then. He sighed and resigned himself to still more frustration before he'd be allowed to sleep again. "All right." He gestured toward the couch. "Shall we?"

She nodded, and then paused, eyes darting toward his chest. Thorin raised an eyebrow in question. "Would you prefer it if I put on a shirt first?"

Another nod and Thorin pushed off the doorframe to retrieve a black t-shirt from his closet. It was one he used as an undershirt so it was on the tighter side, but it would have to do. He didn't really have any casual clothes and he wasn't about to get dressed back in his uniform for…whatever this was.

He returned to the door. "Better?"

She muttered something that sounded like "marginally" and headed for the couch with him close on her heels.

He sat on one end, and she immediately headed to the exact opposite side. In a seamless, graceful move she sat and pulled her legs up so they somehow fit perfectly beside her on the small cushion. Thorin would have dislocated a hip if he tried to copy that position, but she looked entirely comfortable. His own flexibility was limited to throwing an arm along the back of the couch and crossing a leg to allow him to face her easier.

"You're a dancer, right?" he asked, only to mentally kick himself. Of course she was a dancer, he'd literally witnessed her doing it.

"I danced for a company back in Shire." A look of genuine happiness crossed her face, and Thorin realized it was the first time he'd ever seen it. "I was hoping I could maybe dance for the one here in Erebor too."

Thorin tried, and failed, to find a diplomatic response. He suspected the girl didn't understand being crown princess wasn't just a title, but a full-time job. Nori had reported Bilba had lived a relatively civilian life in Shire, but Thorin had thought she'd at least have some idea of what being a princess entailed.

It was becoming increasingly clear that she did not. She'd never inquired about her duties and responsibilities, and while a schedule had been mentioned to her, Thorin doubted she understood just what it meant. The fact she wanted to work at a bakery, and attend college, and was now expressing interest in dancing proved that much.

The look on her face was fading, and he knew he'd waited to long to answer.

"We'll see," he said finally, lamely trying to salvage what little he could. "You can bring it up to Balin."

Perhaps they could work something out where she did certain things part time or only part of the year. There was also the possibility of patronages where they could potentially incorporate what she wanted into her actual duties. It'd depend on what duties she ended up having, and the possible conflicts between those responsibilities and the things she wanted to do.

She gave him a weak, false smile and focused on where her hands were clasped in her lap. "I suppose." She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. "All right, I guess I should stop stalling and just tell you."

The sense of dread reared up again and settled across Thorin's shoulders. If she'd gone to the trouble of getting him up and was fidgeting this badly, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. "All right."

She started talking, eyes focused on her hands and voice low as she recounted the events of the day. By the end of it all, Thorin had shut his eyes and was pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the worsening headache behind his temples.

Bilba lapsed into silence.

"First off," he said eventually, opening his eyes and straightening to face Bilba. "I apologize on behalf of my father. He's an idiot and had no right to do that to you."

Or at least he had no right to do it the way he had. Thorin doubted the Thain of Shire cared whether or not the girl could produce an heir, not with the crown having four already, but he wouldn't put it past the man sending someone infertile out of simple spite. So Thorin could at least understand having the question.

Having the question after barely a month, however, was ridiculous and forcing the girl into an exam was asinine. He could imagine what his sister had said to their father, and he fully intended to add his own part in the morning.

He'd also need to speak to Kyra. She didn't deserve whatever his father had said on top of everything else she was dealing with. The media had been split on her since the wedding, with some giving her sympathy and the rest mocking her mercilessly. He'd heard some of what was being said and it was brutal. Kyra hadn't commented on it, but he had no doubt she was aware of it.

"It's all right." She bit her lower lip. "I tried to tell Dis I didn't need-"

"Dis is a force of nature," Thorin said, waving off her explanation. "Trying to control her just encourages her."

A ghost of a smile graced Bilba's face. Her shoulders slumped with relief, and she leaned a little harder into the back of the couch.

"I appreciate you telling me," Thorin added, and he meant it. It suggested at least some level of trust, even if she didn't fully realize it. Even if she'd believed his reaction might be negative, she'd still gone to the length of waking him up to have a private conversation with him.

She was more comfortable with him than she thought, and if that was the case...

An idea that had been percolating at the back of his mind for awhile pushed to the front, and Thorin acted on it before he could talk himself out of it.

"I wonder," he started slowly, his own nerves suddenly on edge. "Since we're already on the topic, if I could ask you something."

She raised an eyebrow in question, and he froze as uncertainty settled in. This probably wasn't the best time but, then again, when was a good time to bring up physical intimacy? He'd idly hoped she'd approach him, especially based on the reports from Shire, but that hadn't happened. Was it because she'd been finding an outlet somewhere else, or was it that the reports were wrong all together?

There was also the fact that he hadn't even spoken to her until just recently and, again, how did one broach such a topic, particularly to a stranger? Oh, by the way, I know we barely know one another, but I'm not a huge fan of celibacy so I was wondering…"

Yeah, that would go over well, wouldn't it?

But now she'd brought it up, in a roundabout way, so wouldn't this be the perfect time to…

"You didn't consummate the marriage, did you?"

Kyra's words, almost the first thing she'd said to him after he'd called her on the wedding night.

A sick feeling settled in his gut.

What was he thinking? How could he do that to Kyra? She'd be devastated if he did…that…and she found out.

"Of course not."

That's what he'd said to her. Of course not, and he'd meant it even though, in the back of his mind he'd been thinking of the duty of one day needing to produce a male heir.

Duty.

Just a duty.

An obligation.

Intimacy for a purpose, not because he simply…wanted it.

And yet, here he was, about to ask about exactly that.

Mahal, what did that say about him? Was he really that fickle? Was it so important to him that he'd betray the woman who'd been by his side since childhood?

But you betrayed her already, didn't you? A voice inside his head whispered. You broke your engagement, and married another, didn't you?

He'd thought he was doing the right thing. He still thought so, most of the time. He'd made his choice and it had been the right one, hadn't it? He'd been taught since childhood that duty to the crown came above all else. It had been a matter of honor.

And, besides, if he'd refused…if he'd abdicated the throne in favor of marrying Kyra…would that have really been better? Frerin, who had neither the temperament nor the desire to rule, would have been named heir. The nobility would have torn him apart.

Dis would have been there.

Even so, Thorin knew his father would have disowned him and fired Kyra from her position as ambassador. He would have been left penniless, and at the mercy of living off Kyra's finances.

Excuses.

It was highly possibly they'd have had to leave Erebor, and for what?

For what indeed?

Krya would never be happy living a simple life, and Thorin would be useless for it. He was a crown prince. He didn't know how to be anything else.

He'd had an uncle once who left everything behind to marry a woman his family had not approved of. He'd ended up rotting away at the villa of some benevolent relative or another, unable to find work due to his notoriety and lack of skill set. There was little call in the workforce for an ex-noble that had fallen out of favor with those in power.

Over time, his uncle had begun to resent his new wife and that resentment had grown into a cancer that had utterly poisoned their relationship.

If Thorin had gone down that same road, would he have faced the same end?

He feared the answer was yes. Yes and, in that, the choice, in the end, had been that there was no choice.

His father questioned why he didn't abdicate.

The answer was he couldn't. The answer was there were no good options, no good roads or paths to take that would lead him to an end he desired.

There was only the least painful route.

The route that did the least damage.

The route that protected Kyra from the worst possible pain, even if she didn't see it.

If it was the right choice, then why work so hard to undo it?

Why are you questioning it?

Why not just ask?

Kyra's face when he'd told her the engagement was broken filled his mind and a surge of nausea roiled in his gut. He pushed to his feet, guilt making his very bones ache. "Never mind," he said, voice sharper than he'd intended. "I shouldn't have said anything."

He almost ran into his room and shut the door, the last sight he had of Bilba's eyes, wide and startled where she still sat on the couch.

He pressed his hands on the door, leaned his head against it, and let out a quiet groan.

She probably thought he was insane.

He thought he was insane, sometimes.

He pushed off the door and paced to his balcony. He threw open the doors and was immediately hit by the bitter cold air coming off the ocean. The loud roar of the sea washed over him, and he heard the distant sound of a ship's horn.

Thorin walked out onto the balcony, stone cold beneath his feet, and leaned forward to rest his hand on the stone railing. The skies were overcast, as they often were in Erebor, so there was little to see but he could imagine it well enough.

Light caught his attention and he turned to see it shining merrily from Bilba's windows.

Those windows were supposed to belong to Kyra. The entire room in fact. She'd designed it, even slept in it when she wasn't in his room. They'd been all but living together right up until the very end when he'd pulled it all down around her without warning.

What kind of man did that?

He tightened his hands on the railing until he felt the edge of the stone cutting into his palms, and then shoved off it angrily.

He stalked back into his room, dropped onto his back on his bed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Mahal, what was he doing?

This was done with. He'd made his decision. Why was he questioning it now? He needed to stop. Stop questioning, stop having Ori look for ways out, stop…

Kyra's heartbroken sobs rang through his mind, and suddenly bile was forcing its way up his throat. Thorin lunged from the bed, and barely made it to the bathroom before he lost what little he'd been able to eat that day.

When he was done, he leaned forward to rest his head against the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Some crown prince he was.

Some fiancé, or husband for that matter.

He and Kyra should have just eloped, years ago when they'd have the chance. He could have given Kyra the large wedding she wanted later, after his father had a chance to calm down. Bilba would have ended up married to Frerin, who was closer in age to her and had far less baggage to cart around.

It would have been better for all of them.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet and went to rinse his mouth at the sink. A glance in the mirror showed him looking haggard, dark circles under his eyes from the day full of meetings, and his hair unkempt.

"Get ahold of yourself," he ordered under his breath to his reflection. "You're the crown prince for Mahal's sake."

His reflection offered nothing but judgement in return. Thorin splashed water on his face, grabbed a towel to dry off and went to try and get some sleep.

It would be a long time coming and, when it did, his dreams were haunted by the sound of a woman crying and a voice shouting one single question for which he had no answer.

Why?

Bilba didn't know how long she sat on the couch before finally getting up to retire to her room. At her door, she paused and looked over her shoulder toward Thorin's room. She could hear him in there, pacing about, clearly unsettled.

"Since we're already on the topic, there's something I've been wanting to ask you about."

Which topic? They'd talked about money before, and he'd never brought anything up so that left the topic of…heirs? He'd wanted to talk about heirs?

No, she thought as sudden heat flooded her face. Not heirs.

Sex.

He'd wanted to talk about sex.

Wanted to but, instead, had freaked out as far as she could tell and ran off to his room?

Bilba walked into her own room slowly and shut the door behind her. Her room, but Kyra had designed it. How close must they have been to the wedding for Kyra to have designed her room in the marital suite?

He must have been sleeping with her.

Bilba paused mid-step as the thought crossed her mind. She knew that already, logically. They'd been together for years, all but married. She knew it, but this was the first time she'd recognized it.

It must have been a drastic change, for both of them. Their entire lives upended in an instant.

A heavy feeling settled over her, and Bilba wrapped her arms around herself. She'd been congratulating herself on not being bitter but had simultaneously been judging Thorin and Kyra for every time they so much as looked at one another.

If anything, they should be the ones who were bitter. Especially Kyra. Every day she saw the man she loved but couldn't touch him.

Bilba sank down onto the end of her bed and tried to imagine if she had been Kyra, having to watch Bofur with someone else.

It would have hurt, and she hadn't even been with him that long. Not as long as Kyra and Thorin had been.

She sighed and studied her hands. She wasn't so good a person that she fully sympathized with either of them, but she supposed it wouldn't kill her to try a little harder to be understanding, would it?

A soft scratching came from her balcony doors, and she got up to go open them a slit. Immediately the beach cat strolled in, damp and irritable but with tail and head held high.

"Did you get caught by the tide coming in?" Bilba asked. She scooped the small creature up and went to grab a towel to dry the small animal off with. Once that was done, she changed, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. The cat burrowed under the covers and curled against her stomach, purring softly.

Bilba absently stroked its head, while staring blankly into the darkness.

Had Thorin really wanted to talk about…that? She suppressed a shiver. If he had, it'd probably come up again, or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't even what she'd thought. Maybe he'd been wanting to ask her if he could continue to have sex with Kyra.

Bilba scowled. Sympathy or not, she didn't think she'd be okay with that. But she also didn't think she'd be okay with him wanting to be intimate with her, either.

That wasn't particularly fair though, was it? If it was something he wanted enough to try talking to her about, then shouldn't she at least hear him out? Should she bring it up, or wait and see if he mentioned it again sometime down the road?

She'd prefer the latter. Maybe he'd just forget about it all together and never bring it up again?

She sighed. It had been so much easier with Bofur. They'd had a foundation, a relationship that made it easy to just talk when they needed to talk. They'd talked about intimacy. He'd understood her hesitancy, if not the reasons for it, and had assured her he was fine with it.

It had honestly never occurred to her that Thorin might not be.

She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin. The thought of him possibly wanting…intimacy…made her nervous but didn't particularly scare her. Mainly because she was confident that, if he'd planned to bully her or pressure her, she'd have known that by now. So she could say no.

She hoped she could say no.

She hadn't actually said it to him yet, had she?

Some men were so kind, until they heard the word no.

Bilba shook her head. She was reading too much into it, working herself up over something that probably wasn't even what she thought. He'd probably wanted to talk about something innocuous and, even if it had been that, there was no reason to believe he'd turn into a monster if…when, she rejected him.

"Please don't a monster," she whispered out loud.

The kitty grumbled against her stomach, and Bilba settled against the pillow, hoping sleep would find her sooner or later.

Maybe she could try talking to him? Not about that per se but just…about…stuff? She'd talked to Bofur all the time, and she missed it.

Maybe.

She'd think about it.

Maybe she'd just solve the problem by ignoring it all together and hoping it went away.

It had never worked before but there was always a first time.

Right?