Rest did not come easy to the little queen.

After Dwalin had taken her to their camp in the dining hall Baylee ended up crying herself to sleep. It was a fitful slumber, with her waking often due to the nightmares that plagued her—nightmares that were almost too real. One of the nastier ones had been about Thorin's Dragon Sickness advancing to the point where he even began to take on the appearance of a dragon: Patches of scales on his skin, fingernails turning into sharp claws, and great black horns protruding from his forehead.

It was after another particularly frightening dream that she awoke to find Bilbo kneeling beside her, his hand hovering above her shoulder. He let out a small, shocked yelp when her eyes shot open which, in turn, made her squeak in surprise.

"D-Da'?" she stammered, brows furrowing. "Is-is something wrong?"

He shook his head, doing his best to give her a reassuring smile. "N-no, no, dear, nothing's wrong—you merely startled me is all, opening your eyes right as I was about to wake you." Then, holding up a small bowl, he rubbed the side of his neck. "I brought you a bit of food, too. It's not much, but given that you hadn't eaten since yesterday…Oh, and here's some water, before I forget." From his shoulder, he removed a waterskin attached to a long strap.

A quiet chuckle left her mouth and she relaxed somewhat. "Thank you, da'," she said.

Bilbo watched as she started to push herself upright, her face screwing up in pain. "Your hip is still bothering you, isn't it?" Setting the bowl down, he moved to carefully help his daughter finish sitting up before gathering some of the furs around them. He carefully stacked them behind her, giving her something to rest her back against.

"Yes…but there's not much I can do to help it, aside from not walking on it. And I can't not walk." She lightly shook her head as she took the bowl of food from him. It held some dried fruit and nuts, dried meat, and a bit of cheese; it wasn't very much, but they had to conserve their food supplies. "I'll be fine, though, da'."

"I wonder if Oin would be able to come up with something to help the pain?" he sighed, shaking his head. Looking over his shoulder at the doorway, he frowned slightly; he could hear the scraping of rocks as the others put the finishing touches on the wall.

Having heard the sounds as well, Baylee let out a heavy sigh. "…Has he gotten worse during the night?" she quietly asked. She glanced at her father from the corner of her eye as she ate a bit of food; she was far from hungry, but knew she had to keep up her strength.

For a long moment, Bilbo said nothing, his eyes shut in contemplation. "I'm afraid so," he finally admitted. "He worries that the people of Laketown will try to rob us—to rob him. I tried telling him that that's not the case, th-that they just need a spot to shelter in for the winter, but he…" Shaking his head, he sighed as well.

"I tried telling him that last night, but he wasn't having it." Her own eyes closed and she shuddered at the memory of how cold Thorin's voice had been. "That was the first time he ever raised his voice with me…"

Bilbo's eyes shot open, his brows practically knitting themselves together. "Wh-what!? He raised his voice with you?" he spluttered, his tone both shocked and protective. "Do I need to go and raise my voice with—"

"N-Not like yelling," she quickly corrected. The last thing she needed was for her father to go scold Thorin at a time like this. "He didn't yell—he didn't even come close to yelling, to be honest. He just…spoke a little louder than what was necessary. But his voice…" She bit her lower lip with some nervousness. "It was like ice. I had never heard it so cold before."

"I'm afraid it may only get colder from here on out," Bilbo said before he could stop himself. "Until we can figure out how to snap him out of this Dragon Sickness, he's not going to be the Thorin you know and love, I'm afraid." Reaching over, he gently rubbed her back. "I think I'll be able to sneak out of here soon to go in search of Gandalf, though," he then said, trying to give her even the tiniest of threads of hope to hold onto. "Gandalf will know how to get the old Thorin back."

It didn't work however. "I don't know if Gandalf will be able to help, da'…Balin said the only one who can help Thorin now is himself," she told him. "He said that the sickness makes the greed in someone's heart become stronger."

At that, Bilbo fell silent; Balin had told him the very same thing. Swallowing hard, he glanced around the room as if expecting to find a miracle before he scooted closer to his daughter. Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he gave her a tender squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

"I know things may seem bleak right now," he said, his voice gentle, "but there is always hope, dear." Letting her rest her head on his shoulder, he tilted his own head back to look up at the ceiling. It was still covered in thick, dusty cobwebs, but at least it was visible. As he looked back down at her, there was a hopeful smile on his lips. "Things will get better, dear. Just you wait and see."

Part of her badly wanted to tell him that no, things weren't going to get better. That they had steadily been getting worse ever since they had left Rivendell. That they were going to starve to death in this mountain because of Thorin's sickness-induced greed.

But a small voice in the back of her mind spoke up, telling her that Bilbo was right. And it was to that voice she desperately clung onto.

"You're right," she murmured, eyes closing. Turning her upper half, she ignored the pain coursing through her hip and thigh, instead wrapping her arms around Bilbo. Her brows furrowed ever so slightly when she felt something hard in his coat pocket pressing against her; it was far too large to be his magical ring and felt like it could be a stone…

'Surely he doesn't have the Arkenstone tucked away in his jacket,' she told herself. 'No. That would be foolish of him—foolish and disastrous.'

"Of course, I am." A quiet laugh left his mouth. "I'm your father and, as your father, I'm always right."

She quietly snorted, her brow rising as she tilted her head back to look up at him. "I can name at least a half-dozen times you've been wrong throughout this journey alone," she joked. "And don't get me started on the amount of times you've been wrong throughout my life."

He lightly tapped the end of her nose. "Don't you give me that sass, young lady," he teasingly scolded. "You may be a queen now, but I'm still your father."

Both hobbits suddenly went quiet as they felt eyes on them. Looking at the doorway, they found Fili standing there. A meek smile came to the prince's lips and he gave them a small wave; in his other hand, he held a wooden mug.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said.

"You're not," Baylee assured him. "I'm just teasing da' is all." A soft hiss left her mouth as she moved to sit upright once more.

"Oin wanted me to bring you this." Walking over, Fili crouched down in front of them and held the mug out to Baylee. "It's to help with the pain in your hip. He's already made up a large batch so you an' Kili can go at least a few days without pain."

Bilbo's brow rose slightly as Baylee took the mug from the prince. Peering down into it, he saw that the contents were muddy brown in color and looked thick. He also noticed how there was barely even a tablespoon worth of the stuff inside. "What is it made of?"

"Various dried herbs and mushrooms he was able to recover from one of the halls," Fili explained. "He also said not to sm—"

Baylee suddenly gagged, thrusting the mug away from her and waving her other hand in front of her nose. "That smells horrific!" she wheezed. "I'm supposed to drink this?!" Beside her, Bilbo was struggling to hold back a bit of laughter at her expression: Her face was scrunched up in disgust and she had her tongue sticking out like a defiant child.

"—Not to smell it," Fili finished with an apologetic chuckle. "It smells and tastes horrid, but Kili said his leg was pain-free in just a few minutes."

She nodded in understanding, though she warily looked at the mug, which she kept at arm's length. Tilting it towards her, she made a small sound of revulsion when she saw how thick the mug's contents were; it almost resembled the mud pies she and her grandmother would make when she was just a child. She sighed in defeat and, plugging her nose, she did her best to down the concoction in one swallow.

The smell had been bad enough, but even with plugging her nose, the taste was thrice as bad. And what certainly didn't help was that, as it went down, the mixture burned her throat as if it were strong alcohol.

Once more, she thrust the mug away from herself. "Yavanna help me, that is awful!" she wheezed.

Fili chuckled, taking the mug from her. "Hopefully, the pain relief will be worth the horrid flavor," he said, a pitying look on his face. "And you should also be thankful you only got a mouthful—Kili had to drink an entire mug o' the stuff."

"I take it that's because of their difference in sizes?" Bilbo asked, picking up the waterskin and uncorking it. He held it out to her, knowing she would want to rinse away the taste.

She took the waterskin and took a few desperate gulps from it; as she did such, the disgust somewhat left her face.

"More than likely." Then, looking at Bilbo, a look of recollection came to his face. "Oh, I almost forgot: Uncle wanted to speak with you, Bilbo."

Bilbo's amusement faded into a small frown. "Do you know what about?"

Fili shook his head. "No, I don't. He merely told me t' tell you t' meet him down near the treasury." Disgust filled his tone as he spoke the word 'treasury'.

Nodding, Bilbo made to stand up. "Thank you, Fili. Will you be staying in here a while or…?"

"Aye."

"Do me a favor then and make sure Baylee eats everything in that bowl I brought her, will you?" Before Fili had a chance to reply or for Baylee to even pout, he turned and headed towards the doorway.

Fili sat down properly, setting the mug on the floor beside him. "I take it you lost your appetite long before I got here?"

She nodded. "Yes. I must admit, I haven't had much of one the past few days. And that concoction just now didn't help matters much…"

"Me neither." He let out a heavy sigh, slowly shaking his head. "After starving for nearly half a week, you'd think I'd be able t' eat no matter what."

"It's hard to be hungry at a time like this." She let out a sigh of her own and looked down into the bowl. Despite her lack of appetite, she picked up another bit of cheese. "Have you eaten at all in the last two days?"

"I had some bread and dried meat yesterday morning." He blinked as Baylee picked up the bowl of food and held it out to him.

"Take some," she gently ordered.

"Your dad said I had t' make sure you eat it all," he retorted.

"Yes, well, I'm sure he'd be making you eat some of this, too, if he knew you haven't eaten in over a day. Now take some." She gave the bowl a little shake as if to entice him.

He quietly snorted and shook his head. "I'm not hungry, Baylee."

She pursed her lips in a pout. "As of last night, I'm your aunt and if I have to eat when I'm not hungry, you have to eat when you're not hungry," she stated. "Anyway, of the two of us, you're the one who needs to keep his strength up." It was a struggle to keep the pout on her face as Fili started to snicker; regardless of his amusement, though, he reached forward and took a small handful of the berries and nuts.

"Alright, alright…but I'm only eatin' because you told me to, auntie." A louder snort left his mouth as she threw the chunk of dried meat at him.

An hour later found Baylee making her way towards the front gate and, to her great relief, she didn't feel an ounce of pain in her hip. She still walked with a limp, however, though it wasn't nearly as noticeable as before. As disgusting as the medicine had been, she was more than a little thankful that she had forced herself to drink it.

She also found herself immensely grateful that a path to the gate had been made. A few days ago, she would have been stepping over desiccated corpses, piles of rent and ruined armor, and other bits of rubble from when Smaug originally attacked. It wasn't completely cleared, as larger rocks and plenty of dirt and dust were still laying around, but the bodies and armor were gone and her cloak didn't get caught on anything.

Coming out from behind one of the pillars, she paused in her steps as a cold wind suddenly blew into her face, making her shiver. She pulled her cloak closer around her and looked up only to find herself staring at the gate, which was now blocked off by a thirty-foot wall of stone. There was even a zigzagging staircase and battlements built into it.

Both amazement and horror filled her mind: Amazement that the dwarves could construct such a thing overnight and horror that it had been built at all.

'It's so much taller than I thought it'd be,' she told herself, starting to walk towards the gate. 'And they built it in such a short timespan…'

As she came closer to the wall, she found that the others were no longer working on it. Instead, they were sitting either on the floor or large pieces of stone as they ate and talked with each other. She was glad to see that they were finally getting a chance to rest, though she couldn't help but wonder how long that would last.

Bifur was the first to notice her and, speaking in Khuzdul he let the others know of her arrival. They all started to scramble to their feet, making her frown in confusion.

"Wh-what are you all doing?" she asked. Looking around, she could see that Oin, Balin, Fili, and Kili weren't present. Where they were, though, she hadn't the slightest idea. Thorin was also missing, but she knew exactly where he would be.

Gloin cleared his throat. "You're queen now, my lady. It's courtesy t' rise when a queen enters the room an' stay standing until told t' sit or she sits down herself."

Her cheeks started to burn. "We-well, you don't have to do that. N-not for me, anyway. Just…just treat me the same as you always have. Please." She watched them exchange looks with one another—some uncertain, some amused—before they started to sit down again.

All except Bofur, that is.

Instead, he came walking over to her, a tired smile on his lips. "Was wonderin' when we'd see you, lass," he said, following alongside her as she began to walk again. "How's your hip feelin'? Judgin' by the way you're walkin', I'd wager it was feeling mighty better."

"Yes, it is," she smiled. "So much so, it doesn't hurt at all. I really need to thank Oin for that medicine. Even if it did nearly make me throw up."

He quietly laughed, nodding in understanding. "Fili mentioned that you weren't the biggest fan o' the taste."

She gave him a mildly disgusted look. "Please tell me Kili didn't enjoy it."

"Oh, no, I assure you: Kili very much despised the stuff. But he said he'd drink a whole cauldronful if it meant keepin' the pain away."

"I have to agree with him on that," she said with a small laugh. As they approached the wall, her pace slowed until she came to a complete stop. Looking up, she could see that the pieces of stone had been fitted together like a puzzle. "I can't believe you all managed this in one night…" she murmured.

Bofur took off his hat and rubbed the back of his head. "Aye, I'm still a bit amazed by it myself…but, when you get twelve dwarves together, you could probably build a whole fortress in just a few days," he chuckled. "Helps that Dori's the strongest out o' all o' us. Just him an' Dwalin moved the foundation into place." Looking down at her, he saw her eyes widen as she stared at the massive stones in front of them.

"I…knew dwarves were strong, but I didn't know you lot were that strong," she said.

"Aye, Mahal made us tough an' hardy beings," he chuckled. Putting his hat back on, he looked up at the top of the wall. "Though, we didn't do it entirely by ourselves…We used some pullies an' such t' help us."

"That makes far more sense." She, too, looked towards the top of the wall. "Is…is it alright if I go up there?" she asked.

"Aye, but let me escort you," he answered. "The stairs are a wee bit steep an' not too even in places."

Nodding, she let him guide her up the stairs. As they climbed the steps, she had to keep her dress lifted up a few inches so as to not step on it; in combination with how she was dressed, she almost felt like she could be from an illustration in one of the fairytale books she had read as a child.

'It would have to be one of the unhappy tales, though,' she thought, sighing softly.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, she walked out onto the parapet and over to the divot between two triangular merlons. Letting her hands come to rest on the cold stone, her brows furrowed and her breath caught in her throat. Across the valley from them, she could see wisps of smoke rising from portions of Dale. Figures stood along the city's walls and battlements, their skin—no, their armor—shining in the winter sunlight.

"Bofur…is that-?" She looked up at him, her stomach beginning to churn nervously.

"An army o' elves from Mirkwood?" A solemn look came to his face as he slowly nodded. "Aye, it is. We don't know when they arrived, but it had t' have been sometime in the wee hours o' the mornin'."

She swallowed hard and nodded in understanding. "I…I hope they're helping the Laketown refugees," she said, voice quiet and small. Despite her words, she knew there was only one reason why there would be an elvish army less than a mile from the gate.

"I wish that were the case, lass." He set his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "This isn't exactly how we were hopin' things would go, is it?" A heavy sigh left his mouth and he closed his eyes. "We were supposed t' be celebratin' the death o' Smaug an' sharing the wealth with Laketown…"

Her hands balling into fists, Baylee let out a shaky sigh. "M-maybe…maybe there's some way Thorin will keep his oath to them." As hopeful as she tried to make her words sound, she knew that Thorin wouldn't let a single coin leave the mountain.

Bofur gave her shoulder another small squeeze. "I pray Mahal makes him come to his senses and allow that to happen," he murmured.

Squinting again, Baylee leaned forward slightly; she thought she could see some movement on the far side of the valley. "Can you help me up onto the wall?" she asked.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Why do you want up on the wall, lass?" he questioned.

"I think I see something, but I'm too short to be able to make out what I'm seeing," she explained. "If I were a bit higher up, though, I think I could see it better."

"Alright…But you best be careful. The last thing we need is for you t' take a tumble down the side o' this wall." Taking hold of her waist, he easily lifted her up onto the battlement before holding her hand while she took a moment to get her dress and cloak arranged so that she could sit atop the merlon.

Then, shielding her eyes, she peered back out at the valley only to find that she had been right: There was movement. A lone rider was coming towards the dwarven city. She squinted again, trying to see if she could recognize the rider. Surely it had to have been an elf, though? None of the people from Laketown had had horses, so perhaps it was a messenger from Thranduil—maybe it was even Tauriel.

"Do you see what you were lookin' for, lass?" Bofur asked, watching her curiously.

"Yes, I do, but now I'm trying to figure out who it is that I'm seeing."

"'Who'?" he repeated, brows knitting together once more. "What do you mean, 'who'?"

"There's a rider coming this way," she explained. "I'm trying to see if they're human or elf."

A heavy sigh left his mouth. "This isn't going t' be good," he murmured. He gave Baylee's knee a small pat before stepping away from the battlement. Going over to the top of the stairs, he cupped his hands on either side of his mouth. "Someone go fetch Thorin! There's a rider comin' our way!" He watched as the others started to scramble, some intending to run off and find their king while the others went to go retrieve some weapons from the armory.

Hearing him call out, Baylee bit her lower lip and looked back at Bofur. Part of her wished that he hadn't done that—that they simply just not tell Thorin and let her deal with speaking to the messenger—but she knew better. Thorin would be beyond angry if they were to keep something like this from him.

'Valar, please don't let this be the disaster I fear it'll be,' she thought, looking back out at the valley.

As the rider drew ever nearer, she was able to start distinguishing more of their appearance: Their clothes and hair were both brown, though their hair was darker in shade and it was cut shorter than an elf's. The lower half of their face looked dark, telling her that it had to have been a beard, making the person a human male.

'That has to be Bard, then,' she told herself. 'It wouldn't make sense for it to be anyone else…The Master wouldn't send Alfrid, nor would the Master come here himself. He's far too cowardly.'

"Lass?" She looked down to find that Bofur had returned to the wall. "Can you tell who it is yet?"

She nodded. "I'm fairly certain it's Bard."

A small sigh of relief left his mouth. "Well, that makes things a teensiest bit better," he said, pulling off his hat to rub the top of his head once more. "If it were an elf comin' t' parlay, then I'm certain Thorin would have us shoot on sight." After putting his hat back into place, he stood on his tiptoes and squinted in an attempt to get a better look at the rider himself.

The pair soon heard the heavy footsteps of the others as they climbed the stairs. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, Baylee took a deep breath and did her best to steel herself for whatever mood Thorin was in—which, as she soon learned, was disgruntled.

"'Ibinê, what are you doing up there?"

Turning her head to look at him, she gave him a small smile. "I couldn't see very well, so I asked Bofur to help me up here," she explained. As Thorin came over, his arms reaching out to pluck her up, she let herself slide down off the stone and into his embrace.

He cupped the side of her face in his palm and kissed her forehead at the same time. "I don't want to see you up there again, 'ibinê," he quietly ordered. There was little warmth in his voice and in his touch. "You could have fallen."

"Bofur made sure I was good and seated before he let go of me," she assured him. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss against his palm before glancing up at him; there was a faint smile on his lips as he watched her, but it disappeared soon after.

"You're still not allowed up there again," he told her. Moving his hand away from her face, he instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping her at his side as he stepped forward to look down between the merlons. "Do we know who the rider is yet?" he then asked, his voice louder so that the others could hear him. "Or if they come alone?"

"It's a single rider," Bofur answered. "Bard."

Baylee let out a soft squeak as Thorin suddenly brought her closer to him, practically pressing her into his side. His hold on her shoulder also tightened—not painfully so, but possessively. Confused, she looked up at him only to find his eyes narrowed as he stared out at Bard. "Thorin…? Is—is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong," he replied. Tearing his eyes from the sight of the human, he looked over at Balin. "Balin, go get Roäc. I have a feeling we may need him to deliver a message."

"…Who's Roäc?" Baylee questioned, hearing Balin quietly grumble as he turned to head back down the stairs.

"He's, ah—he's the King of Ravens." Bilbo had appeared at her side, making her gasp quietly in surprise; he was on her left, having made it impossible for her to have seen him coming. "The ravens here are quite extraordinary."

Her brows creased. "Extraordinary? How so?"

"Well, for one, they talk," Bilbo said. "Secondly, they're also quite large—quite a bit bigger than the ones we have back in the Shire, as a matter of fact—"

"The ravens have been friends to the kings of Erebor since the mountain was first delved into," Thorin interjected. "Do you see those ruins to the north of us? They're the remains of a great tower that once stood there—a gift from my grandfather to the ravens so that they may have a place to make their rookery."

She nodded slowly in understanding, having to rise up onto her tiptoes in order to see the ruins he spoke of. Even then, it was hard to see the ruins, though, as they blended in quite well with the surrounding rocks. "What sort of message do you think you'll need to send?" she asked, lowering herself from her tiptoes.

"Never you mind that for now, 'ibinê," he told her. "For now, we have a pest to deal with."

Returning her gaze to Bard once more, Baylee saw that he was now nearly at the gate.

Bringing his horse to a halt, Bard looked up at the dwarves. "Hail, Thorin son of Thrain!" he called out. "We are glad to find you alive beyond hope."

Thorin glanced down at Baylee as she shifted her position slightly, allowing her to peer down at the human.

Seeing her head appear in front of the king, Bard allowed a thankful smile to come to his lips; Thorin frowned at this, the sickness in his mind making him misread the smile as one of adoration. "Mistress Baggins. I am glad to see that you and your companions made it to the mountain safely as well."

"And I'm glad to see that you and the refugees arrived safely as well," she called down, having to cup her hands on either side of her mouth to be heard. Behind her, she heard Thorin quietly growl.

"She is no longer 'Mistress Baggins'," Thorin told him, a sharp coldness to his voice. "As of last night, she is now my queen and you would do well to remember that when addressing her."

Baylee swallowed hard; his grip on her shoulder had gotten tighter as he brought her even closer against him. She looked up at him nervously, praying he wasn't about to do anything rash.

The combination of Thorin's tone and the way Baylee nervously glanced up at him made Bard frown in worry; he knew then that the king was infected by the Dragon Sickness. But he didn't know how deep the infection ran. "My apologies, my lord and lady. I offer you my sincerest congratulations on your union."

Once again, the sickness made Thorin misinterpret Bard's expression—this time, to be one of jealousy and anger. "You offer words of felicitations and yet, you came to the gates of the King Under the Mountain armed for war. Why is that?" Thorin demanded, ignoring Bard's well-wishes.

Bard's brow rose. "Why does the King Under the Mountain fence himself in like a robber in his hole?" he retorted.

"Perhaps it is because I am expecting to be robbed."

"My lord, we have not come to rob you," he called up, his voice filled with nothing but honesty. "We only seek fair settlement. Will you and your queen not speak with me?"

After a moment, Thorin silently nodded. Then, releasing Baylee, he turned his back on Dale. "You're to stay here, 'ibinê," he quietly ordered. Without waiting for her to reply, he started to make his way to the top of the stairs.

She frowned, starting to follow him regardless of his command. "But Bard wanted to speak with both—" Thorin suddenly whipped around, making her squeak and shrink back in surprise.

Instinctively, those dwarves nearest to them took a step forward, intent on grabbing the little queen if Thorin's rage got the better of him.

"There are many things that Lake-man wants," he told her, his voice cold as ice, "but he will learn that he cannot have them—least of all, you."

Confusion came to Baylee's face. "M-me? What do you mean?"

A quiet, humorless laugh left the king's mouth and he reached out, cupping her face in his palm once more. She flinched at his touch, but he paid no mind to it. "Can you not see it, 'ibinê?" he asked quietly, his words laced with distrust. "Can you not see how he is envious of me? How he wishes that you were his wife and not mine?"

"W-what?! Thorin, that's utterly preposterous!" she scolded, her tone betraying her incredulousness. "Bard doesn't want me as his wife—he's just glad to see that I'm alive and well."

Shaking his head, Thorin let out another soft laugh, this one filled with mockery and disdain. "'Ibinê, you are too sweet and gentlehearted for your own good," he told her. "Your kindness blinds you to the faults of those you hold dear, even when others can see them plain as day." He leaned over, gently pressing his forehead against hers.

"I saw it in his face, Baylee. That man wants to take you as his own—to take you and make you his wife. To take you and make you the stepmother to his children." His voice was nearly a whisper now and a hint of warmth had returned to his words, though it was a false warmth, one created to mask the bitter jealousy hiding underneath. "But I swear to you: I will not let him touch even a single hair upon your head."

Baylee stiffened as Thorin's hand came to the back of her head, holding her in place as he kissed her. There was little gentleness in the touch and a whimper left her throat only to be muted against his lips. Unlike the previous night, she was unable to force herself to relax and return the kiss; she remained as rigid as stone.

A few seconds passed and the kiss was ended. "You're mine," Thorin told her, the words dripping with jealousy. "You're my wife. My queen. Do you understand, 'ibinê? Mine."

She swallowed hard and nodded shakily; she was afraid to speak, lest she make him more upset. Forcing herself to look into his eyes, she found the gold brighter than ever. Her body began to tremble; in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to put on her father's magic ring and disappear.

"Now stay here," he commanded. "I'll deal with the human by myself." He kissed her forehead before turning away from her and making his way down the stairs. A few of the others followed after him, wanting to listen in on the conversation between him and Bard.

Clenching her eyes shut for a moment, Baylee took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She knew those who remained were staring at her, waiting to see what she would do and to see if she was alright. She didn't want to break down—not here, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Turning around, she gave the others a meek smile. "I'm fine," she assured them before any could ask. Despite her words, her voice was wobbly.

"Are you sure?" Fili asked, his brows furrowed deeply.

She nodded, managing to keep the smile on her lips. "Y-yes. I just…I just never had anyone be that…protective over me is all."

As the day grew older, the skies became less and less clear. By the time the sun set beyond the western horizon, black clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the moon and stars completely from view. They brought with them a bitterly cold wind—one that felt almost unnatural to all who felt it.

Baylee brought her cloak closer around her as she walked through the entrance hall, the cold managing to seep through her clothes. All day, she was kept at Thorin's side, never leaving his sight. When someone other than Bilbo came near to speak with him, the king would pull her close to him in an attempt to partially shield her from their sight. The only reason she had managed to finally escape his selfish watch was by pretending to fall asleep.

While she was relieved to finally be away from him, part of her couldn't help but feel guilty. When he felt her slump against him, fast 'asleep', he had been so gentle as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the dining hall. He had used the same care to lay her down on the furs, making double sure she was covered up against the chilled night air before whispering soft words of love to her and kissing her temple.

That had been the real Thorin. The Thorin that was still untainted by the Dragon Sickness. The Thorin that cared for his friends and his family. The Thorin who wanted nothing more than to reclaim the mountain for his people.

That had been her Thorin.

Seeing just that small glimpse of the dwarf she knew and loved come to the surface had managed to bring her a bit of hope. 'He's still in there,' she told herself, wiping a tear from her cheek. 'Somewhere in there, he's still my Oakenshield.'

Despite her hope being rekindled, it was a fragile hope. One that would shatter instantly should something go wrong.

Abruptly, she stopped walking as she heard a strange sound. Her brows furrowing, she tilted her head somewhat, listening a bit harder. It almost sounded like someone was…sniffling. She knew it would be foolish to go investigate, especially if she ended up getting caught by Thorin, but her curiosity got the better of her.

With the sound guiding her, she followed it towards the gate. She couldn't see anyone there, however, so she closed her eyes and listened again. Though still quiet, the sniffling was louder now and she could hear that whoever it was choking back sobs now, too. She was also able to now pinpoint where the sound was coming from: The gatehouse to her left.

Quietly, she made her way over to the archway leading into the gatehouse, her brows still knitted together. She could already tell it wasn't her father who was crying, but that left the question of which one of the dwarves it could be. Balin, perhaps? Bilbo mentioned having caught him crying earlier…Or, perhaps, Ori? The poor thing was certainly the most sensitive of the dwarves. There was a chance it could also be Bofur, as he was also a dwarf who allowed his emotions to show.

But who she saw, curled up in the corner of the darkened room in as little a ball as he could manage, took her completely by surprise.

"Fili?!" Having to lift her dress slightly so she wouldn't trip over it, she hurried over to his side and knelt beside him. "Fili, what's wrong?" Her voice was filled with worry as she reached over. Gently taking his face in her hands, she turned his head towards her; his face was soaked with his tears, telling her that he had been like this for quite some time.

His jaw quivered as he looked at her and she saw there was no hope left in his eyes. Only fear. "Everything," he croaked. "Everything's wrong, Baylee."

Releasing his face, Baylee instead wrapped her arms around him and brought him against her in a hug. She felt him hesitantly begin to embrace her in return only to end up clinging onto her like a child. Doing the best she could, given their difference in size, she started to gently rub his back while her other hand rested on the back of his head.

Nearly five minutes of semi-silence passed between them when he finally spoke. "I'm scared, Baylee." His voice was quiet and small, almost like that of a frightened child. "I'm so scared…I see what my uncle's becoming an'…an' I'm afraid that the same thing will happen to me and Kili."

Baylee swallowed hard, his words bringing a small ache to her heart. She had known that Fili was scared of what was happening to Thorin, but she hadn't realized just how scared he was. "I don't think you and Kili have anything to worry about," she quietly reassured him. "Neither you nor your brother have shown any increase in greed. If anything, the exact opposite is happening."

"But what if that's only because we haven't seen the Arkenstone yet?" He struggled to swallow a sob, not wanting to let it free. "What happens if, when it's finally found, we look at that stone an' the lust for gold starts t' grow in our hearts? I don't want t' become a monster, Baylee!" Giving up on trying to quiet himself, he sobbed into her shoulder.

"You won't," she promised, voice soft. "You'll never catch the Dragon Sickness. Balin told me that it's a sickness that strengthens the greed a person already has in their heart. But, Fili, out of everyone in this company, you are the least selfish." Unconsciously, she started to rock side-to-side with him.

"Not once have I heard you mention what you would buy for yourself with your share of the gold," she continued softly. "In fact, I've never actually heard you mention your share at all. Whenever the topic of the treasure came up, you always spoke about rebuilding Erebor and Dale or sending some over to your mother in Ered Luin so she could help the people there. Never anything about yourself."

"Uncle wanted the same things," he whispered. "He wanted those same things and now look at him."

"For as much as Thorin wanted Erebor reclaimed for his people, he wanted it reclaimed for himself as well." She quietly sighed; her knees were beginning to ache and she could feel pain finally returning to her hip, but she didn't care. Fili was her focus, not herself. "While we were in Laketown, he would tell me of the grand feasts and parties that he would hold once the city was reclaimed. How he would make sure that all of us were robed in the finest of clothes and wearing the most precious of stones and how we would never want for anything again."

Fili said nothing, merely letting out the occasional sob or sniffle as he continued to cling onto her for dear life. This wasn't how he had been raised. He had been raised to keep a calm composure no matter the circumstances; kings always had to stay levelheaded, after all. A king's ability to keep his composure in the face of fear is what would help keep their people calm and what would help to earn people's loyalty, Balin had once told him.

But nothing about his upbringing could have prepared him to watch as his uncle—the man who had been all but his surrogate father and who he had looked up to his whole life—rapidly descended into greed-fueled madness.

It was like a nightmare come true.

As if able to read his thoughts, after a few moments, Baylee murmured, "It's alright to be afraid. What's happening to your uncle is terrifying…Valar help me, is it terrifying. But he's in there. I promise you: Somewhere inside his sickness-riddled mind, the real Thorin is waiting for the chance to break free."

"How can you be so sure?" She frowned; his voice was quite raspy by now, making her wish she had some water to soothe his throat. "How can you be so sure he's still in there?"

"Because I saw it. When he—when he put me to bed earlier. I was only pretending to be asleep." She leaned back slightly before gently making him look up at her again. "He's in there," she said again, voice soft and reassuring. "We just need to figure out how to draw him back out."

He was quiet for a moment, trying to find any trace of uncertainty on her face. "…You really think he's in there?" When she nodded, a small, wobbling smile came to his lips. "If…if you say he's in there, then I'll believe you." Then, hugging her again, he breathed a small sigh. "Thank you."

She smiled, giving him a small squeeze—or, at least, tried to give him one. "What are aunties for?" Hearing him let out a hoarse laugh made a small wave of relief crash through her.

"I thought you didn't want us calling you that?"

Leaning back again, she pulled her sleeve over her palm and started to use it to dry his face of tears. "Only because I wasn't married to your uncle yet." She let out a small, theatric sigh in hopes of making him laugh. "But now that I am married to him, I suppose I can relent and let you have free reign to call me such."

"Oh? Well, I'll be sure t' let Kili know, then," he chuckled.

"I'm sure he'll have me regretting that I said that within an hour."

"Half an hour is my guess." Fili's laughter abruptly stopped and, in a somewhat embarrassed voice, he asked, "You…won't tell the others about this, will you?" A bit of worry had returned to his face. "About me breaking down, I mean. It's not…exactly the behavior a crown prince should exhibit…" Rubbing the side of his neck, he glanced away.

"I promise I won't tell," she assured him. "Now let's go splash some cold water on your face. It'll help bring down the redness in your eyes and cheeks."

Nodding, Fili pushed himself to his feet before offering Baylee a hand up. As she took it and started to stand, though, she let out a hiss of pain. "Are you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Y-yes. Oin's medicine is just finally starting to wear off is all," she said. Standing upright, she gave him a small smile; the pain wasn't too bad yet. If anything, her knees hurt more from kneeling on the stone. "I'll have to take more come morning."

"We can get you some now if you'd like," he offered. Concern still lined his features as he watched her start to walk towards the archway.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I'm fine, Fili," she assured him. "Like I said, it's only just starting to wear off. I can wait until morning to take some—Valar knows it'll take me that long to hype myself up to drink that nasty concoction anyway. Now come along, nephew. We need to go get you cleaned up."

Despite not entirely believing her, Fili couldn't help but smile when she called him 'nephew'.

A/N: Hello, lovely readers~ For those of you who don't read my PotC fanfic, an apology for the lateness of this chapter. My mother passed away at the end of February, so I haven't been in the right headspace for doing much writing-wise. I'm beginning to ease myself back into writing, though, so here's to hoping (mostly for my sanity, since writing and drawing are my escapes from Reality) I get back to my writing schedule soon. In the meantime, updates may be sporadic for a time.

Onto a happier topic: How 'bout that cute auntie-nephew bonding at the end there?