I stared at my brothers in shock, my mind blank. Thranduil… is dead? He's gone? I knew most daughters would break down and weep if they received news that their father had died, but… he wasn't my father. Not really. After everything he had done to me… I had every right to hate him. And I did. If it weren't for him, the battle would have gone very differently. Thorin might still be alive. Aicanar and Avelain might still be alive. I couldn't forgive him.

I shifted, feeling the lash marks on my back stretch painfully. No one mentioned the lashes there; I myself had almost forgotten about them. It had been less than three weeks since I had escaped from Mirkwood. It was hard for me to believe that so little time had passed; it felt like so much longer. But now I was rid of him. He was gone. He couldn't hurt me anymore.

I took Legolas's hand. I knew how hard this was for him especially. He had always been our father's favorite. Thranduil had banished Maladernil after my mother's death and exiled me two decades later. Legolas was the only one to stay behind; the only one whom Thranduil really seemed to care for. Because I was so young at the time of my exile, I never got to know Thranduil like Legolas and Maladernil did. I never really had a father growing up. Both of them did, and I knew that they both were grieving him. They still loved him in their own ways, I knew, even though they disapproved of his actions and loathed how he treated me.

"I am sorry," I told them softly. "But I cannot grieve for him. I received nothing but hatred from him, and because of that I grew up without a father. I did not know him as you did."

"I do not expect you to mourn, Aeyera," Legolas answered softly, closing his eyes. "Not for him."

I looked away, thoughts whirling around in my mind. I was free, free from the two beings in Middle Earth who had hated me and tried to manipulate and kill me. And, although I grieved him, I was also free from Thorin. I knew in my heart of hearts that had he not passed, his presence would have forever been a reminder of the darkness that had always tried to corrupt and consume me. But he had fallen. He was gone, along with the pale orc and with Thranduil. "How did he fall?"

Maladernil and Legolas glanced at one another, troubled. Legolas's expression was wary, but Maladernil's was determined. Whatever had happened, they didn't want to share the information with me. "His elk was cut down from under him," my eldest brother told me softly. "He was thrown from its back and into the fray. He… he was attacked from behind. Your betrothed's brother, Fili—he tried to defend him." Kili tensed beside me, frozen. "That was how his leg was injured."

I sat in horrified silence, completely still, his words ringing in my ears. It was Thranduil's fault. Even beyond the grave he still was able to hurt me. He was able to hurt Kili. I gripped the sheets below me, twisting the fabric between my fingers until they cramped. "Is there anything else?" I asked. My voice was hoarse. I wanted to go out and find Gandalf, make him resurrect Thranduil so I could kill him again myself. I felt the darkness, the madness, stirring once again. But this time I was loathe to press it down. It was all I could do to keep from welcoming it and letting it consume me. I wanted it to take my pain away.

"Yes," Legolas whispered. "He… Aicanar tried to stop him from retreating. In the midst of the battle, Thranduil tried to round up his men and flee. When Aicanar stood in his way, he struck him down. He didn't kill him," he murmured, closing his eyes as a singe tear fell onto his cheek. I knew how hard this was for him; he had lost his father and his best friend, and had almost lost his sister in one day. "But he may as well have. Azog was on his way to you when Aicanar was struck to the ground, and he… he killed him," he whispered, placing his face in his hands. A lump rose in my throat. I thought I was beyond tears—beyond grief. I supposed not. "Thranduil fled. He and his mount were running towards you; you fought at the edge of the valley, closest to the path leading to Dale. That was where Thranduil was heading; it is the fastest way back to Mirkwood. Azog saw him, then saw you, and—" he stopped. "Azog went after you, then his soldiers killed Thranduil."

Sometime during his story I had taken hold of Kili's hand, and he of mine, and my fingers were numb from gripping his and being gripped so hard. "How do you know this?" I asked, my voice hushed. I lifted my bowed head to look my brothers in the eye.

"I saw it," Maladernil said softly. "I watched it happen. Legolas did as well, as did many others. You may remember that the battle was winding down by the time you fell; it was not difficult to discern what was going on."

"Did you see me fall, then?" I asked.

"No," Legolas murmured, gazing past me to Gwenithil. "Maladernil was attacked by a troll, and I was trying to move Aicanar. He was not killed right away, but grievously wounded; he passed on after he was moved to the mountain."

The only reason Aicanar fell was because Thranduil struck him down. If he hadn't, Legolas wouldn't have been occupied when I was attacked. I might not have even been attacked. Aicanar would still be alive. Thorin would still be alive. "So it is his fault," I murmured. My voice was distant. "He is the reason for Thorin's death. For Aicanar's death." Although I did not know if he actually was responsible or involved in any way in Avelain's death, I blamed him for that as well. I blamed him for everything. "Everything that happened is his fault."

"Aeyera—" Maladernil tried to cut me off, to reason with me, but I continued, ignoring him.

"He banished you. So many dwarves died because he wouldn't help when Smaug attacked Erebor. He exiled me. I was tortured for twenty years because of him. And then, after I go to redeem myself, he captured us and delayed our journey. He tortured me," I spat, shaking. Legolas flinched back, and Maladernil's face went white. He hadn't known.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered. His expression was frenzied, wild. His eyes were wide and horrified, and pain beyond description churned within them.

"The Company was captured in Mirkwood." I refused to make eye contact with Legolas; I could feel the shame and guilt rolling off him in waves. I didn't blame him for what had happened, but I knew his thoughts. He was the one who had captured me, the one who refused to let us go for fear of the consequences. Although he had not known what Thranduil was capable of, he still was responsible. "Thranduil wanted me to betray the dwarves, to spy on them and lead him to the mountain, to the door, to the gold. I refused. He tortured me for weeks, Maladernil. Legolas helped me escape."

Legolas looked away as Maladernil closed his eyes. Both their expressions were pained, and it broke my heart to know that I was the cause of their grief. We sat in silence for a couple minutes unwilling to break it. Kili held me close to his chest. "I am so sorry," Maladernil finally whispered, a tear falling down his cheek.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have been there for you. I should have been there to protect you from him, Aeyera, I—"

"Enough," I cut him off sharply. "You have nothing to apologize for, Maladernil. You had no way of knowing what was going on. You could have stopped him no more that I could. Do not dwell on it any longer. Please."

He bowed his head over our clasped hands and said nothing. Kili rubbed my shoulder. Legolas looked like he wanted to say something, but instead chose to be silent. Finally my eldest brother lifted his head and looked me in the eye. "All the same," he told me softly. "I am sorry." As I opened my mouth to protest, he cut me off. "You are my baby sister, Aeyera. It is my job to protect you."

Oin reappeared in the doorway. "Aeyera," he called, holding up his ear trumpet. "You must get some rest before tomorrow."

I took a deep breath and pulled my gaze from my brother, still thanking Eru that I was able to see at all. I thought back to the few months nearly a century ago, when a human necromancer used his magic to blind me. It had lasted until we reached Imladris, where Mithrandir had waited and restored my sight. Eru-willing, this would not become a habit. "What's tomorrow?"

Kili looked down, clenching his jaw. "Thorin's funeral," Oin answered quietly. "And Fili's coronation."

I nodded and stared down at my lap, silent. My brothers rose to leave, both kissing my forehead gently before departing. Finally it was just Kili and I. Neither of us spoke—we just sat there in silence, both basking in the knowledge that the other had made it.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. I didn't add what I was apologizing for; there was too much: my inability to protect Thorin, Thranduil's cowardice, which had cost Fili so much, and finally, all the pain I had caused him. I regretted not being able to protect him better, yes, but it was more than that. I didn't want to be a burden. I never did. I hated that Kili and Fili and Thorin had felt the need to protect me at the expense of their own lives. I hated it. I didn't want to be protected. If someone died protecting me, then their blood was on my hands.

"No," Kili breathed. He too stared down at his lap, his gaze unfocused.

I turned to look at him, confused. "What?"

"Stop apologizing, Aeyera," his voice broke, and his hands clenched into fists on the blankets. I nodded, my throat hurting, and looked away. After a few minutes of tense silence, he spoke once more. He sounded hesitant, but at the same time desperate and strong. He didn't meet my gaze. "Aeyera, will you tell me the truth about something?"

I nodded.

"When we were prisoners in Mirkwood, Thranduil said something in your own language right before he put you in your cell. It was the night you escaped. Do you remember?"

I nodded. I remember.

"What did he say?"

I swallowed. I didn't want to delve into my memories. These were recent, but they were tied in with other memories of torture, pain, and loss. They were too painful, and yet I knew I had to tell him. "He told me that if I did not betray the company, he would kill you."

"In those words?" he asked.

"One more chance, traitor," I whispered, staring blankly ahead as my eyes filled with tears. "Or they all die, starting with the one you love most." I looked at Kili as the tears fell from my eyes. "Those were his exact words, Kili."

He nodded. The candlelight danced across his features, lighting his cheekbones and casting shadows over his eyes. "This is where I need you to be honest with me," he said, his voice hushed. "If you hadn't escaped that night, and if your brother hadn't let you out, what would you have done?"

"Bilbo let you out the next day," I replied, closing my eyes. "It would not have mattered."

"That's not what I asked." He took my hand, but I didn't grip his in return. I couldn't. The knowledge I had pushed down welled to the forefront of my mind. "If you hadn't escaped, if Bilbo hadn't come… I am asking you if you would have done it. Would you have betrayed us?"

A vision formed, capturing my attention. Images played out in my mind. I knew I was seeing another reality, one where I had been far less fortunate than I had been here. My choices and chance had saved me from this fate, but… I had come so close to losing everything. There were two other realities I had avoided, two choices I could have made; and the first was of my refusal to betray the company.

I saw myself in Mirkwood, kneeling before Thranduil. Guards held me down. I spat at him as I defied him, not believing that he would kill the company. I was wrong. Eru, I was wrong. I was forced to watch as each of them was dragged out in front of the others and murdered. The screams of the dwarves tore at my mind. I was wrapped in chains, unable to do anything but watch and pray for a miracle as my sanity slipped away and my screams filled the cavern. None came. Finally it was only Thorin. He stared in absolute shock at the bodies of his nephews, his cousins, his friends—and then turned his gaze on me. Thranduil stepped up, smirking. My mind was all but gone, but still I caught his words: "Behold, Thorin Oakenshield—" he dragged me forward. "She refused to betray you. And she willingly cast aside the lives of your kin. This is where loyalty gets you," he snarled.

The look Thorin gave me… the loathing his gaze carried… it lasted but a moment before his life was snuffed out, but it burned through my soul, driving the last of my sanity away. Thranduil stepped over his corpse and stood before me. I stared at the bodies of my friends as tears poured down my cheeks. "Kill me," I whispered. I stared at Kili, shaking wildly, unable to tear my gaze away from the pool of blood gathering beneath him. "Kill me."

"No."

He cast me out into the wilds of Middle Earth, leaving me to wander alone in my insanity until I wasted away to nothing, forever plagued my the memories of seeing my friends cut down in front of me because of my choice. I was driven mad by it. I watched myself die, withering away until I fell, alone, somewhere beyond the edges of all maps.

Then the vision changed. Once more I saw myself in Mirkwood on my knees, bloody rags hanging from my starved form, but this time I nodded, tears running down my face as I gave in, unwilling to risk the lives of my friends. I heard Thranduil's command: I must tell no one. If I were to tell the dwarves, they would die, and then I would as well. I saw Thranduil shove me into my cell, a smirk on his face: he had gotten what he wanted. I saw Bilbo let us out, saw us ride the barrels down the river to Bard's barge, and I knew it all was according to Thranduil's plan. I saw myself sneaking away from the company in the dead of night and sending messages to Thranduil of the company's movements, each time with tears on my face and curses on my tongue. I saw myself standing atop the gates of Erebor as Thranduil revealed my treachery to the dwarves. I watched as Thorin struck me, watched as the rest of the company looked on, impassive, but for a few, who stared at me in confusion and hurt. And I saw Kili's face: he was heartbroken, and he hated me. I saw the battle. I still fought for them, but this time Maladernil and his army never came. I watched as I fell in battle, defending Thorin from Azog. I saw the aftermath as well. All the company remained alive, even Thorin. I saw my brothers mourning me, along with all my friends who had fallen in this life. They had survived, because I had not called them to war.

Would I have betrayed them? Even to save them?

I saw Thorin pass away of old age, watched as Fili ascended the throne. He walked without a limp, and his wife and children sat at his right hand. Kili stood at his left, his… I shut my eyes… his wife and child beside him. So he moved on then. He was happy, and his family surrounded him. Mine was the only life lost, and all was well.

The visions faded. I felt a shift in my mind as the visions turned to memories and settled there, tearing at my sanity. I opened my eyes and gazed at Kili, tears running down my cheeks. "Yes," I whispered, my heart breaking. "To save you, yes."

His heartbroken look mirrored the one in my vision. "But why?"

"Because if I had not, you all would have been slaughtered."

"No one can know the future."

"I can."

He stared at me, confused.

"I can see it, Kili. I have seen it. And Kili, your life is worth more to me than my own. Kili, the future was set. I betrayed you, but you lived. All of you, even Thorin—" my voice broke. "You all lived. None of my people died."

"But if you had not betrayed us, what then?" he asked. I stared blankly at him, the vision still fresh in my mind. Something flashed, and I flinched, and suddenly I saw him lying on the floor, as still and cold as he had been in Thranduil's dungeons. I saw his blood pooling on the floor, lifeless brown eyes staring into nothing. I choked and clamped my hands over my ears, screwing my eyes shut as I began screaming. My body shook wildly, and I curled into a ball, my limbs tangled amongst the blankets.

I could not tell which reality was which. The visions pressed down on me from all sides. The battle was lost; the battle was won. I was alive; I was dead. The company had survived; the company had been slaughtered. It was my fault. No, it wasn't. I didn't betray them. Didn't I? Was I in Erebor? Was I dead?

Kili's voice pulled me back. I was curled in the fetal position, my hands pressed tightly over my ears, whimpering. He wrapped his arms around me, brushing his fingers through my matted hair. "It's alright," he whispered. "I'm sorry. You're going to be alright."

"The voices, Kili," I rasped, shuddering. "They're in my head. Get them out. Please."

"I'm going to find help," he said. He disappeared from my side. Without him there, I slipped away, and by the time he returned, I had fallen into a deep, troubled sleep.