Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. This is Tolkien's world. I'm just living in it.

Through the Inferno

Chapter 4: This Could End Badly

"Master Fili?" I called. "I think I'll take that sword now." No one laughed at me this time. They knew that there was nothing funny about a duel with Thorin. I was about to duel Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, who had fought and defeated Azog, a freaking enormous Orc, and hundreds of other stupid creatures that dared attack him after that. Thorin Oakenshield, who was pretty much glaring at me. I didn't dare look away. I would probably lose the duel. I was definitely going to lose the duel, but the least I could do was win a staring contest, even if I was shaking in my boots. Even as Fili stepped forward and handed me one of his swords, I did not look away from Thorin's icy stare.

Thorin smirked and walked away, breaking our eye contact. He had let me win, something he wasn't likely to do again. As he unbuckled his sword and sheath, I got the feeling that this was about honor. I hadn't really fought the others. Dwalin didn't know I could do more than just dodge an attack, and Fili and Kili had let me win. Thorin was reclaiming the integrity of the group while giving me a chance to show what I was really made of. Unfortunately, I was hardly the stuff of legends.

I tried to figure out all of Thorin's strengths and weaknesses. He was stronger and bigger than I was, just as Dwalin had been. He was an expert swordsman, a survivor, and he knew to not underestimate me. He had armor and I had a hoodie. He knew about my knives and he had observed the way I fought three times. I had taken the sword as an attempt to throw him off, hoping he wouldn't know what to expect now that I had a new weapon, but Fili's sword was so different from the swords I was used to. They were precision instruments. That's what Master drilled into our heads. Precision. But that only worked because of the design of the swords. I hefted the weapon in my hand, feeling its weight and balance. Fili's sword was good for hacking and slashing, delivering heavy blows. Still, it would help to block Thorin's attacks.

I tried to come up with something that gave me an advantage over Thorin. The darkness? No. He wouldn't go hunting for me. He'd let me come to him, because he knew I couldn't creep off into the night forever. What gave me the upper hand here?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The only chance I had was if I got close enough to use my body against him... That sounded wrong. Maybe I could take out his legs or put a knife to his throat. It was highly unlikely that I would have such luck, but I would take full advantage of it if I did.

"Ready?" I asked calmly, my eyes fixed on hers. Blair's eyes shifted from studying my weapon and armor to my face. She looked deadly, but there was fear behind her eyes. I smirked and the fear left, replaced by irritation. She shrugged and positioned herself in a defensive pose. She expected, or hoped, that I would strike first.

"As I'll ever be," she replied with a playful tone.

Thorin came at me quickly, his sword flying and his eyes blazing. Meant to intimidate. More than effective. The sheathed blades met with a dull thud that stung my hands. I backed up quickly; or rather Thorin drove me back in a relentless onslaught. My attention was divided between keeping my footing and parrying Thorin's attacks. At this rate, I was sure to slip up and lose within the first minute.

Desperately, I pushed his sword back as well as I could and dove to the side. I felt the tip of Thorin's sword connect with the bone of my ankle. I winced as I frantically rolled out of the way. Thorin followed and didn't give me so much as a moment to stand. I rolled once and his sword hit the ground. A second time and it was closer still. By the third time it was getting old, but if I stopped I would have a bruised ego and ribs to match. I feinted grabbing one of my knives and pretended to throw it. Thorin raised his sword to block the attack as I stood. He realized in half a second there was no attack. As if I was going to throw a knife in his face. This was a mildly friendly duel, after all.

Blair was a good fighter, when she finally attacked. Her movements were practiced, but wrong for the sword in her hand. Perhaps it was the sword that was wrong for her.

Her technique was quick and straightforward, and I noticed that her movements naturally moved upwards. I remembered that she was not actually a Dwarf, but of the race of Man. She was used to fighting taller opponents. Perhaps someday she could kill an Orc, but it would do little to help her against me.

He was just too damn short. If he was taller, no problem. I always fought tall guys. If you're hiring muscle, you want them to be intimidating, so most of them were anywhere from two to two-and-a-half feet taller than me. Climb them like a tree and slit their throats. That method was null and void if the person was only a few inches taller than you. It didn't help that his guard was impenetrable. Still, I gave myself a mental pat on the back for holding out as long as I had.

I stepped back to give Blair a moment's pause. I moved to circle her, but she mirrored my footsteps, her dark eyes on the sheathed blade in my hand. I noted the way she held Fili's sword. Her arms were only slightly lowered. I glanced down at her legs. Her steps were sure and stable. She had endurance, enough to not be entirely helpless.

I attacked first this time, even though there was no opening. Thorin was far too experienced to do anything so stupid, but why delay the inevitable? I aimed for the base of the blade, hoping to at least weaken his grip. I knew it wasn't going to happen easily, if at all, but it was worth a shot.

Thorin seemed completely unaffected by my attacks. He stabbed forward and hit the flat of my blade. It threw me for a split second and with lightening speed he stabbed again. I ducked and saw something that resembled an opening.

I kicked upwards, aiming for his hand. Thorin saw my movement and withdrew his attack. I growled at my failure. It would have worked on someone with less experience, but Thorin had strong instincts, sharp eyes, and quick reflexes.

Thorin smirked at the noise I made as he began circling me again. I didn't like it. I didn't like the way he looked at me when he did that. I felt like a deer being sized up by a wolf. Maybe that was exactly what was happening.

Blair's arms were tiring. She fought well, but her weapon of choice was a knife, and that made all the difference. The unfamiliar weight was a hindrance to her, and I intended to exploit that.

Once again, I attacked her unremittingly, leaving no room for her to rest and regain her stability. She looked annoyed by my method and I smirked. In my moment of distraction, the blades locked and I found myself in a test of strength. Blair's brow furrowed as her arms began to shake. I smiled and pushed harder, pleased by the give in her elbows.

"Had enough?" I teased. Blair's gaze shifted from our locked weapons to me and I was taken aback by the rage in her eyes. She smirked and leaned forward slightly, as if she was about to say something, before I felt her knee connect with my elbow.

Our weapons were freed and she moved back quickly. I could feel that her arms were nearly spent as our blades met again and again. I focused on delivering heavy blows, and I was rewarded by the sight of her guard falling apart.

Our swords met once more and her arms gave out. I raised my sword to strike her, victory within reach, but she dove away again. She was better using her body than a sword. I thought briefly of my nephews and decided I would never voice that opinion.

When Blair stood upright, I noticed she could barely hold the sword aloft. She noticed as well, and released another low growl before tossing the weapon towards its owner. I saw Fili retrieve it out of the corner of my eye, but focused on Blair as she pulled her sheathed knife from her belt.

Her eyes held a dangerous and desperate look. She knew she was going to lose. Her knife would do her little good, especially since her arms were slowed from exhaustion, but she chose to fight to the end all the same. I respected her sense of honor. Or perhaps it was simply stubbornness.

I swung at an angle towards her throat. She used the downward force of the stroke to push it away from her with her knife as she darted to the side. She moved towards me, attempting to get close and use her weapon. I stepped back as she slashed at my throat. She aimed to stab at my chest, but the flat of my sword met the tip of her knife. As she withdrew her arm, I raised my leg and kicked her squarely in the stomach. She grunted as she fell back. I was on her in seconds but she responded quickly.

I stabbed at her chest and she used the hilt of her knife to knock my sword to the side. She deflected a slash to her stomach as she backed up, desperation and fury written clearly on her face. I moved to strike again, and as she lifted her knife to meet my attack, it was obvious she wouldn't make it. I paused a moment before the tip of my blade hit her stomach to avoid injuring her.

"Fuck."

I blinked.

She blinked.

Absolute shock settled over the present company as the word echoed in our memories. Blair looked at me with a confused expression, as if she wasn't quite sure who had spoken the word. I could scarcely believe it myself, but it had happened all the same.

Blair began stammering as if she was trying to take it back. Perhaps she realized it was generally considered improper to curse in front of a king. In fact, was improper for a woman to curse at any time.

It was somehow comical enough to make me laugh.

I didn't get it at first. I had been prepared to be scolded, yelled at, even to have my throat cut for disrespecting the Dwarf king. Instead, he was laughing. Thorin Oakenshield was laughing. He had briefly chuckled earlier, but this was a real knee-slapper laugh. He threw his head back and everything. When he had finished, he lowered his head and smiled at me. His smile made me feel a bit lighter somehow. I returned the expression nervously and he nodded reassuringly.

"Let us return to the house," he said. "There is business to discuss." He turned and headed back inside, myself and the company following him. A few of the Dwarves clapped me on the back and complimented my fighting, despite the fact that I literally ended up on my ass. I absolutely refused to look at Fili and Kili. I knew that they were looking at me, but I would not give them the satisfaction of my attention again. I had to cling to what was left of my pride.

We settled around the tables again in our original seats. I felt a little awkward sitting next to Thorin, but he looked like he was still laughing on the inside. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Bilbo. He looked like he was going to go into shock. I nearly snorted. I had forgotten that he was there. He wasn't used to that kind of language. I bet that the worst word that had ever come out of his mouth had been "adventure."

I was slightly dazed by what had just happened. I had just dueled Thorin Oakenshield. That had happened, because things like that happened to people. I doubted this was what my grandmother had in mind when she told me learning to defend myself would come in handy someday. Well, she hadn't exactly said that. It was more like, "Blair, there are so many people in this world that need to be taught a harsh lesson: fools get their asses handed to them." She was an interesting lady.

I folded my arms tightly over my chest as I thought of my family. I pushed away their memories, but my mother's smile kept flashing behind my eyes. She smiled a lot around my dad. They were so in love it was disgusting. Grandma liked to throw things at them when the kissed and grumble in Korean about how in her day couples were respectful and private. Sissy would… no. No, I wasn't going to think about them anymore. I gnawed at the inside of my cheek and focused on the pain in my mouth rather than the gaping hole in my chest. They were dead and gone, just like Em, just like me.

I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, barely aware of the conversation happening around me. I was wearing myself out, thinking about my family and then thinking about dying. Oddly enough, it hadn't seemed like that big of a deal at the time. It still didn't seem that bad. Maybe that was because I wasn't dead-dead. I was still alive, in a way. I had to be, right? I opened my eyes and stared at the table, briefly taking notice of the map that Gandalf had laid out before me. What if this was just reincarnation gone wrong? What if I would just keep changing from one story to the next, a never-ending cycle of pain? My own personal hell. After all the shit I had gone through, oblivion wasn't that bad. I hadn't been a perfect person, but staying alive forever… that seemed rough. But why be in my favorite story if this was hell?

I was taken out of my thoughts by a shout from Thorin. I realized that the company had been arguing loudly and their leader had just silenced them. I sat back and waited for Thorin to speak.

"If we have read these signs do you not think others will have read them too?" He wasn't even addressing me and I felt like a child being chastised. I could see in his face how serious, how real this was to him. Holy shit this was real and he was real. How was any of this real? I shook my head to clear it. Heaven or hell or something in between, whatever. All I could do was focus on what was in front of me and deal with it.

"Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon, Smaug, has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected." No. No, not exactly. "Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"

I sat back, slightly amazed. Sitting there, in Bag End, listening to the King Under the Mountain speak so passionately about reclaiming his home, had moved something inside of me. I knew his speech was meant to inspire his Dwarven followers, but it had somehow struck a cord with me. Maybe it was because I hungered for a home, or for an adventure. Maybe it was just me being a geek and getting way too into it. Yeah, that was probably the case, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I wanted to go. I wanted to help them regain the Lonely Mountain.

I watched as my men raised their fists and made passionate declarations. My words had had the effect I had hoped for, and more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blair raise her head and listen intently. I risked a glance and saw her eyes filled with strange emotions I couldn't quite read.

"You forget the Front Gate is sealed," said Balin, and I sat back down. I had forgotten, and let foolish emotion block my reason. Sometimes I hated that Balin could be so levelheaded, but I knew I needed him to be. "There is no way into the Mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," said Gandalf, and he produced a small key from his robe. I recognized it immediately.

"How came you by this?" I asked quietly.

"It was given to me by your father," he answered, "By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now." The wizard handed me the key. It was strange to hold it in my hand. I remembered my grandfather showing it to me when I was young, telling me of its use. It was a piece of my home, a promise of a future I thought was lost in the dragon's flames.

"If there is a key," said Fili, "then there must be a door." At least my heir had some grasp of basic logic.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the Lower Halls," announced Gandalf.

"There's another way in," said Kili happily, as if it needed to be explained.

"Well, if we can find it," admitted Gandalf gently, "but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it." At this he looked curiously at Blair, and she shook her head. Did he think someone from another world, or even someone of the race of Man could read a Dwarvish map? He looked back to the map and continued, "But there are others in Middle Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage." He glanced at the burglar as if he was directly addressing him. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar!" observed Ori.

"Hmm," agreed the Hobbit. "And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine."

"Well, are you?" asked Dori. I turned my head slightly towards the Hobbit, but my eyes landed on Blair. She had a knowing smile on her face. She was a strange woman indeed.

"Am I what?" asked Bilbo. Blair smirked and looked at me. I mirrored her expression. This poor creature had no idea what was happening to him.

"He says he's an expert!" called Oin gleefully. There were a few protests around the table before the Hobbit got a chance to speak.

"Me? No. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar," he protested. "I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"Well, I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," said Balin. "He's hardly burglar material." I could sense the Hobbit nodding behind me. I couldn't help but feel irritated by his behavior, and by Gandalf's poor judgment. The wizard had never been wrong before, but it seemed that there was a first time for everything.

"Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," agreed Dwalin. The group erupted into chaos as everyone attempted to have their opinion heard. I glanced at Blair and noticed she was looking at someone behind me. A flicker of fear passed over her face before she pulled her hood over her head and slouched in her chair. I found myself wishing to do the same as I felt a powerful presence behind me.

"ENOUGH!" boomed the wizard's voice, louder than it should have been. I had only really made Gandalf angry once. I had been careful to never make that mistake again. I was a Durin and able to hold my ground, but that did not mean I was immune to fear. I felt it at that moment, gripping my heart and trying to make me shudder. "IF I SAY THAT MR. BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR, then a burglar he is." Everyone sat back in their seats, silenced by the wizard's power.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," said a small voice. I turned and saw a pair of strange dark eyes peering up at everyone from beneath a hood. Blair glanced at Gandalf before continuing. "In fact, they can unseen by most if they wish. And while while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbits is all but unknown to him."

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company," continued Gandalf, "and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself." Gandalf looked at me meaningfully. "You must trust me on this." I mulled over their words for a moment before nodding.

"Very well. We will do it your way," I said, and then to Balin, "Give him the contract." As Balin retrieved the long piece of parchment from his pocket, I found myself looking at Blair again. She was staring intently at Balin, and then at Bilbo as I passed the contract to him. I wished that the contract was in her hands instead. She was light on her feet and could disappear if she wished. She had proven that she was worth a great deal more than any of us had suspected. She could fight well enough, and that was more than could be said of our burglar. He seemed to be just slightly more than useless, and would no doubt flee at the first sight of trouble. He would likely die in the first battle.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses," Balin explained to the burglar, "time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" the small creature repeated. I doubted he would accompany us. Balin had been particularly thorough in his descriptions, said he wanted to ensure everyone knew exactly what could happen. Still, the lure of Dwarven gold was strong, though the cost was immeasurably high. The contract would keep Mr. Baggins in line, but I began to wonder about Gandalf. I stood and leaned toward him so the burglar could not hear over his own mumbling.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," I whispered to the wizard. The Hobbit, for whatever strange reason, seemed to be dear to him.

"Understood," he replied.

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," I continued. I would not let the wizard hold it against me if any harm came to the small creature. A wizard with a grudge was not something to be trifled with.

"Agreed," he said evenly, and I seated myself.

"Incineration?" questioned the Hobbit nervously. I looked back at Bilbo. Why did he seem surprised? We were going to fight a dragon, not a house cat.

"Oh, aye," said Bofur with a grin. "He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye." Bilbo's breathing stopped briefly, and when it returned it was labored.

"You alright, laddie?" questioned Balin with barely concealed amusement. The Hobbit leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees for support.

"Uh, yeah," he breathed. "I feel a bit faint."

"Think furnace with wings!" supplied Bofur helpfully. He stood and gestured dramatically, ever the mischievous one.

"Air. I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash." The burglar gasped and desperately sucked in air. If that was how he reacted to words, I hated to think of how he'd respond to the sight of the beast. Of course, if we did reach Erebor and he lived to see the Smaug, I wouldn't hold it against him if he fainted then. The sight of the worm had been enough to steal the strength in my knees and the breath from my lungs. Few things caused me to feel such terror, and the dragon was one of them. Bilbo straightened up and took a deep breath. He nodded as if to say he was going to be alright.

"Nope," he said, and fell. I turned, unable to look at his pathetic state. Someone stood up from their seat and walked towards the fallen Hobbit. I turned and saw Blair picking him up in her arms. She grunted and adjusted his weight before taking him to the sitting room and depositing him in a large armchair. I turned back to the company as Bofur returned to his seat. I could see in all their eyes their disapproval of Gandalf's choice of burglar, but they dared not say it.

"I think I agree with the wizard 'bout the lass," grumbled Gloin. Everyone nodded and murmured. I nodded and looked to Gandalf. He had a rather smug look on his face. Blair returned, gently massaging her right shoulder. Everyone looked to her expectantly, as if she was going to speak. She stopped in her tracks and looked around at everyone. A light blush crept over her face as she awkwardly sat back down.

"Lady Blair," I began.

"Just call me Blair," she cut in. I couldn't find it in myself to be irritated with her interruption. She seemed so embarrassed. "I'm clearly not a lady or anything."

"Well, Blair," I resumed, trying to keep my amusement out of my voice, "the company and I are of the same mind as Gandalf regarding you." She raised an eyebrow. "We wish you to accompany us on the quest. You have proven that you are capable of defending yourself, and we believe you could survive in the Wilds. We can have a basic contract drawn up soon enough." I let my words sink in. Blair looked stunned at the idea of traveling with us. Her expression changed, and I thought I saw excitement in her eyes, maybe even joy. Then she looked around the table, her eyes resting on each Dwarf. When her gaze returned to me, they made me feel hollow. I recognized the look in her eyes. I saw it in the face of mothers and wives when they received the news that their men had been killed in battle. I saw it in the face of my men after Erebor had been taken from them. Somehow, seeing that look, one of pain and loss, in her strange dark eyes was unnerving.

"No." She stood and left the room. Gandalf stood to follow her, briefly checking on the burglar and telling him to stay put. I stood and followed the wizard, not knowing exactly what I was going to do. I stopped and peered around a corner. Blair was sitting in a small chair with her head bowed and her legs and arms crossed tightly. Gandalf squatted down in front of her.

"Well, my dear?" he said softly. "What is it that you know that repels you?" Blair looked up and I could see the torment clearly on her face. She ducked her head again and was hidden under her hood once more. Gandalf gently questioned her. "Is it something that happens along the way? Is it the journey itself? Do you simply not wish to join them? Do you fear you will change to course of what is meant to be?" Of what is meant to be? What was the wizard speaking of? I believed in destiny, and I did not see how Blair could possibly alter what destiny dictated. The woman took a shaky breath.

"I know who dies," she said in a broken voice. I frowned. She had the gift of foresight? Why hadn't Gandalf mentioned that? It could prove to be useful. We would be able to avoid dangers along the way. I didn't see how foresight was a change of destiny. From what I had been told, those who could see into the future saw possibilities only, not that which was meant to be. Was Blair somehow different?

"Well," said the wizard, "when does it happen?"

"In a battle, after they've regained Erebor." My heart swelled, but I tried to keep myself in check. Possibilities only.

"So they do reclaim it?"

"That's what happens in the book, yeah." Book?

"This book from your world, this one is the most important?"

"It's the beginning," she said with a shrug, "so yeah, I guess you could call it that." My head ached from their talk; books and the future and Blair's mysterious world. What did they mean?

"You are worried that you'll change what was written," stated the wizard. Blair looked up at him, her eyes unreadable.

"Two people I loved very much died in my arms," she said. "I know the Dwarves from the book already. I already like them. If I go on this journey, and I care about them any more than I already do, I will try everything possible to keep them alive." Her declaration both confused and moved me.

"Are their deaths imperative?" questioned Gandalf. "You are already here. Clearly some things have been changed already. I don't know what end goal you are guarding so dearly, but would the Dwarves' survival affect it?" Blair retreated into her hood again and was silent for a time.

"I don't know," she said quietly. Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked up again. I could see a hint of a smile on the side of his face.

"I still believe that you should go with them," he said. "You think you might be a hindrance, but perhaps you could be a guardian of sorts. Something has changed the story already, and you could try to ensure that what must happen comes to pass. If after everything, you find that the Dwarves must die all the same, you could remove yourself from them and leave the rest up to destiny."

"I wouldn't be able to let them die," she said harshly, a fierceness entering her expression. "I can't leave them to die."

"Then join them, and be their guardian." With that, the wizard stood. I hastened to put as much distance between myself and Gandalf as possible. After a few moments, a gruff voice reached my ears.

"Don't let her know that you know," said Gandalf. I glanced up and found him staring down at me. "She is simply trying to do what must be done. Do not blame her if she lets hardships befall you. She may not even know of them before they happen." I watched him disappear down the hall and tried to make sense of everything I had heard.

Blair claimed to know the future from some book she had read, and Gandalf believed her. Though his judgment of the Hobbit was questionable, I did not think he would believe that some strange girl knew everything that would come to pass without proof. If Blair was telling the truth, it meant that we would succeed in our quest. We would reclaim Erebor. We could finally go home… but some of us were meant to die. That had only ever been a possibility in the back of my mind. To know that someone under my protection, whatever the contract might say, was going to die was alarming.

I clenched my jaw, wondering what Blair would do with this information. Would she withhold it from us? Would she allow my Dwarves to face the same pain she claimed to have experienced? Would she try to save them? I briefly entertained the idea of her charging into battle screaming profanity at an Orc attacking our burglar. I was inclined to believe that was the most likely scenario if she truly felt some fondness towards our company. It mattered little. I would get the names of my doomed followers out of her whether she volunteered the information or not.

A/N: Wow we are on chapter four and we're still at Bag End... I swear, it gets interesting. It might even be worth it. Who knows?

Tune in next week to find out if Blair actually decides to go on the journey or this is just a really long fanfiction about a kick-ass vigilante retiring in the Shire... I mean that could be the direction this goes. You don't know what's going to happen.

Avalanet: Aw, thank you so much! I'm so happy you're enjoying the story so far!

ShannonTheAwesomeOne: Thank you so much for this review. I really appreciate the constructive criticism. I went back through this chapter and added a few explanations for the previous chapter. I'm not trying to "explain away" Blair's victories so much as ground them and give them a reason for actually happening. They all would have beaten her if they'd actually fought her, but of course, only after a good fight. Everyone has a natural talent, and Blair has two: languages and athletics. I try to think everything through, and mostly I have good reasons that will be revealed at a later date,but sometimes I get an idea that I'll think is cool but doesn't make much sense. I hope that I made this work! (and if you see me accidentally writing Mary-Sue instead of Blair, please call me out on it and I will give it serious consideration and maybe rewrite because that would be embarrassing.)

echoi5004: I'm sorry! I meant to upload early for you, but then Game of Thrones happened and I needed some recovery time. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! And thank you. I'm glad people are noticing fanfiction tends to be a bit whitewashed. I guess I just figured, "Why wait for someone else to do it?"

Kilataia: I'm glad you think so!