Talessa's dreams had been empty for the past few nights. No visions, not even fragments of ordinary dreams. The absence felt thoroughly unsettling. She had just started to find solace in knowing she could see the future, and now that little sense of certainty had slipped away once again.

She wandered through the treasury, her steps echoing softly among the towering piles of gold and glittering jewels. Thorin allowed no one else in here—this space was his sanctuary, and by extension, hers. Torches mounted high on the walls cast flickering light across the chamber, but the shadows seemed to stretch deep and ominous.

She stopped before a display of ornate crowns, each encrusted with unimaginable wealth. Her breath caught when her gaze landed on the one in the center. Recognition struck her like a blow. She had seen this before—not here, not in waking life, but in a vision. She remembered the weight of it on her head, the black veil trailing over her shoulders, the somber gown draping her frame like mourning shrouds. It had felt like a funeral. A warning. She didn't know when or how, but the memory chilled her to the bone.

Her body felt numb, a creeping sensation that had lingered with her for days. Doubt gnawed at her thoughts, regret surfacing at every turn. Thorin's behavior had grown erratic, like a man consumed by some unseen madness. His paranoia seemed to deepen every passing day, no matter how much she tried to reason with him.

She reached out to touch the sharp edges of the crown, running her fingers along its intricate patterns. It was stunningly beautiful, a masterpiece of craftsmanship—but it felt cursed.I never should have come here,she thought bitterly. She should have accepted Beorn's offer and parted ways when they had the chance. But she had been so enchanted by the company of dwarves, so certain that something better awaited them if they stayed together.

Now, she wasn't sure she could leave at all. Thorin had made it clear he wouldn't let her out of his reach.

"You can have it," came a voice behind her, low and possessive. She stiffened, shuddering as Thorin stepped closer, as if summoned by her dark thoughts.

"You can have anything in here," he said, his hand brushing her waist as his gaze fixed on the crown she was touching.

"Thorin… we should send some gold to Laketown," she said softly, lifting her eyes to meet his. "They truly need the—" Her voice faltered when she saw the cold, angry emptiness in his gaze. "—the help."

"Those greedy folk will get nothing from us," he snapped, his voice harsh and unyielding. "This treasure is not to be given out freely. My ancestors fought and toiled for it. It is ours."

"But there's so much here," she argued, her voice faltering as his eyes darkened with anger. "I'm sure you could make more if—"

"Enough!" he interrupted, his glare silencing her. They had argued about this too many times, and each time he grew angrier, more impenetrable.

Without another word, he pushed her aside, reaching for the crown. He picked it up and carefully placed it on her head, as though the conversation had never happened.

"It is a bit wide," he mused, tilting his head to study her. "I'll have it adjusted for you."

Later, Talessa met with Bilbo, Balin, and Dwalin. They still clung to a sliver of hope that she might be able to reason with their king, but once again, she had to disappoint them.

"We all admire him," Dwalin said, his voice heavy with concern. "Any of us would gladly follow him—even into death. But we are worried."

"I know," Talessa murmured, looking at their troubled faces. "I am too."

"I believe I'm not saying anything new," Bilbo added carefully, "but with this kind of behavior, we might as well—khm, die, and sooner rather than later! Laketown is furious, and understandably so. All they asked for was a bit of help, and he turned them away so cruelly."

"And that's not the worst of it, I'm afraid," Balin sighed, his expression grim. "The ravens have brought word—an elven army is approaching from Mirkwood."

Talessa buried her veiled face in her hands, despair settling deep within her chest. It could only be Thranduil, coming to claim the jewels she had promised him. Jewels she would never be able to deliver—not with Thorin guarding his treasure as if every single coin held his very soul.

The only solace Talessa found was the unexpected presence of Bertra and Nídhiel. She hadn't even noticed their arrival until Eline found her and hurried her to them.

It was a tearful reunion as they spoke of everything that had happened—almost everything. Neither Eline, Nídhiel, nor Bertra breathed a word about Quinmaer Manor. Eline had made certain of it, pleading with her friends to keep silent. There was already too much weighing on Talessa's shoulders, and she feared that adding this loss to it would only pull her back into that dark, suffocating sadness she had fought so hard to escape.

But when the conversation turned to Thorin, there was no hiding the worry on Talessa's face.

When she admitted that, by dwarven standards, she was as good as married to him, Bertra nearly fainted. They had to help her into a chaise and press a cool cloth to her forehead until she recovered.

"Oh, you foolish child, how could you?" Bertra gasped, clutching her chest, her voice stricken with disbelief.

"As far as it matters, it's not a legitimate marriage on your part," Nídhiel said, her tone soothing but firm. "Men and elves have different traditions, Tessie. It means you're not bound to him. You're free to leave."

But Talessa knew it wasn't that simple. If she left now, Thorin would only spiral further into madness—and it would be his loyal companions who suffered for it.

"Has anyone heard from Gandalf?" Eline asked when Bilbo entered the room, some of the dwarves following behind him. The wizard might have answers. Perhaps even a cure.

Bilbo shook his head, his expression grim. "No word from him. And what's worse, Thorin has forbidden anyone from entering the mountain. Even if Gandalf arrived, he wouldn't be able to get in."

Thranduil's army arrived that afternoon, settling among the ruins of Dale. Their golden armor stood out vividly against the city's dull grey remnants, a stark contrast that reminded Talessa of the cursed gold resting in Erebor's caverns.

Bard of Laketown was the first to approach, requesting an audience with Thorin. Talessa didn't hear their exchange, but Balin later told her that Bard had come to claim Thorin's promise—to share his gold with the men of Laketown. Once again, Thorin refused. Instead, he ordered the gate to be barricaded with stones, even sacrificing one of the proud dwarven statues that stood before the entrance. Balin also mentioned that Thorin had sent a raven to his cousin, Dáin, the Lord of the Iron Hills, summoning his army to Erebor.

It was an omen. Talessa didn't need her foresight to know that war was coming.

That night, she waited in silence until Thorin fell asleep. In the evenings, when they were alone in his chambers, she could almost forget what was happening outside. He was gentle with her then—calm and even cheerful, as if, for those few precious hours, he could forget about his hoard. But in the mornings, he would rise and go straight to the treasure chambers, falling deeper into his affliction with each passing day.

Talessa slipped out of bed and returned to her own chamber, which was right next to his. She knew what she had to do, even without a vision to guide her. She changed into the simplest midnight-blue dress she could find and draped a matching veil over her head. One by one, she removed her golden rings, her bracelets, and her necklaces—all the jewelry Thorin had liked her to wear.

Barefoot and silent, she left the room, moving downward through the halls until she reached the vast treasure cavern. She knew exactly where to find what she was looking for—she had seen them before, on one of the walks Thorin had taken her on through his hoard. Slipping a delicate glass box into her bag, she turned toward the exit.

Thorin was in a deep sleep, yet an unease settled over her. Somehow, she felt certain that even while he dreamt, he would know what she had done.

She was nearly at the door when she bumped into something soft.

Startled, she peered into the dim chamber. With her veil obscuring her vision, she saw nothing before her—yet her instincts whispered otherwise. Taking a cautious chance, she spoke into the darkness.

"Bilbo?"

A rustling sound followed, and a second later, the hobbit appeared in front of her, clutching a bag conspicuously similar to her own.

"How did you know it was me? Did you see me?" Bilbo whispered, confused and uneasy.

"I didn't," Talessa admitted. She decided against asking how the hobbit had managed to turn invisible at will. Instead, her gaze flickered to the faint glow escaping from his bag. "Is that—?"

"The Arkenstone," Bilbo answered sheepishly. Then, eyeing her bag, he asked, "Is that—?"

"Thranduil's jewels," she replied with a quiet laugh. "Youarea burglar after all."

"And so are you, my Lady, it seems."

There was no accusation in his tone, only understanding.

"I believe we're both on the same mission—trying to stop this war before it begins," Talessa sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I only got this far, though." She lifted her bag. "I don't know how to get out, now that the gates are barricaded."

Bilbo considered for a moment. "I might have a solution for that."

Retrieving Eline, Bertra, and Nídhiel was not a difficult decision. Bilbo was an expert at sneaking about, and they reached her friends' chambers in no time. Convincing them was even easier—they all knew the longer they stayed, the more likely they were to be trapped forever. Talessa's heart ached for Eline, knowing she had found something precious with Fíli. But Eline was brave enough to leave when she had to, her expression steady, her shoulders straight.

Bilbo led them to a small window, not far from the main gate. It was just wide enough for them to squeeze through and close enough to the rocks below that even Bertra could climb down safely using a rope.

Talessa watched as Nídhiel helped Bertra descend, the moonlight casting the valley in silver. She raised her eyes to the barren plain beyond—then, suddenly, her vision blurred.

The next moment, the landscape before her shifted.

She saw it vividly—flames and chaos, a battlefield teeming not only with dwarves, men, and elves, but also a nightmarish swarm of orcs, wargs, and other dark creatures.

The vision changed.

She stood on the parapet above the gate. Thorin was there, clad in his armor, his back to her as he watched the battle unfold. He turned, his face solemn, yet filled with a new kind of resolve. Talessa watched herself move, her hand extending his oaken shield toward him. He took it, his grip firm, his eyes meeting hers for a fleeting moment before looking apprehensively back at the battlefield.

The vision ended as abruptly as it had come.

Talessa blinked, shaken.

Next to her, Eline was about to climb through the window. Talessa clenched the bag containing the jewels.

"Eline, wait."

She pulled out a small piece of parchment and the chalk she always kept in her satchel. Quickly, she scribbled a message addressed to Thranduil. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to sign it asQueenTalessa. Then, slipping the note into the bag alongside the glass box, she handed it to Eline.

Eline frowned. "What are you—?"

"You need to take these to Thranduil," Talessa told her firmly. "Then take Bertra and Nídhiel and get as far from here as possible."

Eline's face paled. "What do you mean? Tessie, you're coming with us!" But realization dawned on her even as she protested.

Talessa wasn't sure how to explain it—not to Eline, not even to herself. But she knew. The vision had settled something deep inside her. She had to stay. Fate had shown her where she was meant to be, and she owed fate too much to disobey.

"We'll meet after," she said, though she wasn't certain it wasn't a lie. "I'll find you all—and we will go home."

She thought she saw a shadow pass over Eline's face before her expression hardened, as if she were about to argue. But before she could speak, Nídhiel called up from below. With one last unreadable glance, Eline clutched the bag, then slipped through the window and disappeared into the night.