Hello there!

I am sorry for the abrupt cliffhanger last chapter, but I couldn't think of a better place to stop than there.

In my defense I had another chapter nearly finished to post closely after. So hopefully that will make it all better.

Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me and continue to stick with me. I appreciate your support more than you will ever know.

happy reading friends 3

*Mistlynn*

Ash. She tasted ash, scratchy and thick upon her tongue. Her body felt heavy as if she was being weighed down by sand. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the bright light that greeted her. Her vision was blurred and spinning, forcing her to close her eyes again.

She groaned as nausea set in.

Too quick.

She heard a gasp, a scraping sound, then a cool hand gently caressing her brow. "Mistlynn? Can you hear me."

"Dis?" she croaked. She cringed at the raspy, death like voice that left her dry lips.

"Kili. Go and get your Uncle and Oin. Quickly!" She heard Dis whisper urgently. The sound of heavy footsteps rushing out of the room made her attempt to open her eyes again. Spinning, bright shapes teased her cruelly as she forced them open.

"Relax Mist. Don't push yourself. Amad is pouring you some water." A familiar and soothing male voice came from the other side of her.

"Fili? Where am I? What happened?"

"Easy now, drink first before you stress your voice too much." Dis was back on the other side of her. "Help me sit her up, gently."

She felt the bed dip beside her before a gentle hand slid behind her upper back, easing her up slowly. She gasped in pain, her body protesting against the slight movement of her torso.

"Here sweetie, drink." Dis instructed gently as she brought the cup up against her mouth. She sighed as she felt the water slowly trickle into her parched mouth, soothing and washing away the pallid taste from her tongue. "Just a little bit at a time, we don't want to overwhelm your body."

She whimpered slightly in protest as she felt the cup leave her lips. "Just one more sip please." Her voice, already sounding clearer and stronger, pleaded as she attempted to raise her arm that she knew was closest to Dis.

"Oin will have my hide, I'll have you know." Dis chided, her voice sounding suspiciously teary as she brought the cup back up to Mistlynns mouth, allowing her to take a couple more tentative sips. "Great Yavanna Mist. We were so worried." She felt her sister-in-law grasp her hand tightly as Fili slowly lowered her back onto her pillowtop bed.

"I'm ok Dis. I promise. Just feels like I took on an Ice Bear and was used as its plaything." She tried to joke, her chuckle turning into a hiss as her torso protested the movement.

Her neck twinged as she tried to move her head in what she knew was Dis's direction, only for a hand to stop her from moving. "You don't want to put strain on your stiches dearest. Hold as still as you can, okay?"

"Stiches?" she echoed, her voice becoming heavy as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her.

"She doesn't remember." She heard Fili whisper, his tone dismayed.

"It may take some time. She is still in shock." She heard Dis's hushed reply as she continued to rub her hand comfortingly.

"Do you think it's because of that elvish medicine Thranduil used?"

"He told us it wouldn't affect her like that." Dis's voice was hushed yet stressed.

Thranduil? Elvish medicine?

Sleep began to pull her under, and she found herself welcoming it, knowing deep down that the cause of Dis and Fili's poorly concealed pain was her doing.

She drifted, in and out of consciousness, the time passing by unknown to her. She awoke in brief spurts between Oin and Gemlinn checking her wounds and changing her bandages. Other times she would hear the hushed voices of her friends, concern adding a sharp edge to their muffled words.

She would feel Thorin's presence, rather than hear him speak. Some quiet rumblings passed between him and Oin or Dis, who were her most frequent of visitors. But nothing as solid and present as the feeling of him holding her hand as if she were the most delicate of flowers. But whatever the healers had been giving her kept her sedated, foggy, and distant in that place between drifting amongst dreams and awakening.

*Thorin*

Thorin glared at the warrior's kneeling before him. His fingers drummed on the armrest of his throne, his silver rings flashing in the faint light as the muffled sound of flesh against stone was nearly lost in the vast room.

Balin and Dwalin were standing on his right side while Fili and Kili stood to his left. The atmosphere was tense.

The Dwarf King was dressed in black leather, the only bit of color was the Durin's blue tunic that peeked through more black leather making up a vest and jacket, as if he was still braced for a fight to come at any given moment. Orcist was strapped at his side.

The warrior at the front, Markos if he remembered correctly, studied him in turn. He knew that he recognized Mistlynn's handiwork of the leather ensemble he wore. It was comforting to have something she crafted for him, as if he was keeping a piece of her with him at all times.

He missed her voice.

Her missed her touch.

He missed her.

He was incensed that she was lying in a bed, bandaged and stitched up because of the insanity her crazed twin wrought. All in the namesake of a dark lord who was trying to sink his talons once again into the realms.

His blood ran hot under his skin as his eyes narrowed at the warrior that stared back, unflinching.

Thorin's jaw clenched like a vice. His patience was long spent, as was his coherent need for sleep. He couldn't rest fully until he knew without a doubt that she would be okay. Until then, he needed answers, and he didn't care how he got them. By any means necessary.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have the lot of you thrown into my dungeons along with that madman you once called King? To rot for the rest of your days?" His timbre was dark and menacing, the words rumbling through his chest.

"He was never our King." Markos was the one to speak up. The black kohl around the dwarven warrior's eyes was smudged and faded, making the crow's feet appear to be etched deep into his skin. If Thorin wasn't in such a foul mood, he would have noticed they all seemed to be just as tired as he.

However, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"You followed him from your lands in the North and followed his commands to raid my mining towns and kill my people. How is that not showing fealty to him?" The corner of Thorin's lip stretched up into a snarl as he leaned forward in his seat, his body tense.

Markos bowed his head slightly, his shoulders and back still held straight, unyielding to the pressure Thorin was projecting down on him. "I was instructed by the late King Valos to wait until the opportune moment, and to assist the princess in taking her rightful place as our Queen."

Thorin sprung to his feet. "Now this is where I seem to get confused. My wife told me she was outcasted at the death of her younger brother Argos. Before that she was removed from the line of succession. And in this instance, I am more inclined to believe my wife than the likes of you." His eyes were menacing slits as he took each step towards Markos slowly, his hand resting steadily on the pommel of Orcist.

"It was for her protection, my Lord." Markos's voice was strong and unwavering as he brought his eyes back up to Thorin, who was now standing above him. "I was there when King Valos overthrew King Varric. It was imperative that Varric's allies thought her dead along with her mother. All ties were able to be severed. We were able to disappear."

Thorin's head tilted slightly to the side as he studied Markos intensely. "What allies?" he growled.

Markos shook his head. "I do not know. I was a young foot soldier and was not privy to such information. I just knew they were from a dwarven clan in the East."

Thorin looked over his shoulder towards Balin. The older dwarf nodded stiffly; his eyes alight with an understanding that Thorin knew he would share with him later. Whatever Marko's was claiming was accurate thus far with what little they already knew.

Thorin looked back down at the warriors still kneeling before him. "So, Mistlynn arrives to your camp, and you all just change sides that simply?"

"He threatened the lives of my wife and children!" Another warrior behind Marko's barks out, his nerves getting the better of him. "Until we knew for sure that it was truly the princess who made it to Erebor and became your Queen, we had no choice but to follow him."

Markos hissed for the soldier to shut up, but another was speaking up just as quickly. "Those who opposed him found themselves thrown to the frost bears, we dared to not go against him unless we knew we had a chance of survival. Princess Mistlynn was our last hope."

"You forsook her the moment Argos was killed." Thorin growled, as he searched each face of the defeated warriors one at a time.

"She knew Valinn would use the death of Argos against her, and she would be outcasted. She never returned to our settlement. King Valos was so preoccupied with hunting frost drakes he saw nothing else that was happening until it was too late. Valinn had hold of that ring for many years and his influence and power had grown far beyond any of us imagined. King Valos was dead before we could come up with a counterattack while keeping our women and young safe." Markos conceded after shooting his comrades a withering look.

He was afraid to surrender too much information, lest they lose their usefulness. It was smart thinking on his part.

"Why did King Valos not wear the ring? Would he have not noticed that it was missing from his possession if Valinn had had it for years?" Thorin pressed.

Markos sighed. "It was never his ring; it was King Varric's. He had no desire to wear it after the uprising. He never liked the influence it seemed to have over the late King. He had placed it in a crate of his wife's things and forgot about it like he did everything else."

Thorin's frown grew deeper. "Forgot what other things?"

Marko's bravado seemed to deflate at the question. He looked back at his comrades, and they all nodded in unison before Markos looked back at Thorin. "He was never the same after his wife passed. The first thing he decreed was that no one was to speak her name, or sing. Our stories, our culture that we kept alive through the songs and music of our people has been mostly forgotten. Anyone caught singing or speaking of times past were punished … severely. Mistlynn was forced to train as a foot soldier, to be among us. Hidden amongst the masses. Valinn was left to wander in his loss of Amad and Gamul'adad. The ring preyed on this, and it drove him mad. He blames Mistlynn for the demise of their family and our people."

The muscle in Thorin's jaw ticked as he mused over what Markos had shared. It was a lot more disturbing than he originally thought. He crossed his arms across his chest before asking his final question. "Do you know what the Iklal Kurdu is?"

Marko's eyes narrowed before shaking his head again. "No. Not specifically. All I know is that Valinn wanted it. Badly. Claims that its why Mistlynn fled here to Erebor, and that it was his birthright. It was his right to wield it."

Thorin's eyes flashed in recognition to that particular phrase. The right to wield. "He acknowledged this Iklal Kurdu as a weapon?"

Markos swallowed, the first sign of nervousness he had displayed through their entire exchange. He noticed the instant shift in the King's demeanor as his icy gaze locked in solely on him. "Yes, my Lord. Of sorts. He didn't go into specifics, but it was something that would amplify some sort of ability he held."

"And what of my wife? Why did he think she came here specifically for this…weapon he thought we had?" Thorin demanded through gritted teeth.

"He kept saying she could not be allowed to realize her full potential, that if she was able to harness this weapon her abilities would far overpower his. I do not know what abilities he spoke of, I just assumed it was ramblings of a madman." Markos spoke earnestly, as if pleading for the enraged dwarf that stood over him to believe him. "King Varric had become obsessed with it. He kept rambling how Mistlynn would be the most powerful of our race, and of the honor it would bring to our people. Valinn did not like being overshadowed by his sister and losing his place of honor in their Gamul'adad's eyes."

Thorin nodded thoughtfully, his tone still devoid of any warmth. "Thank you for answering my questions. You may return to your dorms for now." Thorin gestured for the guards to come and see them out.

As Thorin turned his back and walked back up the stairs towards his kin, Marko's voice rose above the sound of marching steps and the clang of weapons and armor clashing together in movement. "Is the Queen alright? We have been told nothing of her well-being." Markos slowly rose from his knees, his voice filled with concern.

A menacing growl ripped out of Thorin's throat before he could stop it. "That is none of your concern. Now I suggest you leave before I change my mind that you are to leave here in once piece."

Markos swallowed hard, apparently fighting back a retort at Thorin's cold threat. He nodded stiffly, making eye contact with each of Thorin's companions before casting one final look at the Kings back before he turned and followed his comrades and the guards out.

No one spoke until they heard the loud echo of the doors shutting.

Thorin was now facing his throne, arms crossed over his chest as he stared hard at the place where the Arkenstone used to be housed.

He heard the sounds of his nephews and friends approaching him cautiously, yet he still stared at that accursed spot, the vicious slash marks that cut through the stone as if it had been butter still evident on its surface. He kept it as a reminder, of what greed and pride brought. Even with Erebor won back and his rule solidified, he still refused to forget what had happened here, of what the Arkenstone and all the richest of this kingdom cost him and his people.

He loathed that accursed stone. Even with it buried deep within the bowels of the mountain, in the farthest reaches of the treasury it was still wreaking havoc on his life, and on the lives of those he treasured most in this world.

"Ye were a bit rough on em." Dwalin's gruff voice cut through the silence.

"He was very agreeable." Balin agreed, a slight chagrin was laced within his tone. "He came right to Mistlynn's aid and fought by her side until we got there. He is not deserving of your ire Laddie."

"They are all deserving of my ire." Thorin growled menacingly. "They followed that madman on a rampage of blood and destruction all for some measly gem our ancestors mined out of this very mountain with their own hands. They are entitled to nothing."

"That was Valinn. Not those soldiers who were left with no choice but to protect their own." Balin stepped up alongside the throne so that he could look Thorin in the eye.
"I know your worried, and you are running on mere minutes of sleep. But this is not the way to handle this. Those people are deserving of a true leader, and that falls to you now as Mistlynn's One. You are by law their King now. They will be looking to you, and you will need the fealty of those warriors to keep them amiable."

Thorin's hard gaze softened slightly at Balin's words as he turned his focus to the elder Dwarrow, who was looking at him in concern.

"He gave us a lot to work with." Balin continued. "Now we know truly what is wanted with the Arkenstone and what they believe it to be. This was kept from Mistlynn, all of it was. At least you can be assured of that."

"What are we to do with the Arkenstone?" Fili spoke up. He and Kili both shared the same looks of unease.

"We checked on it with Gloin as you asked." Kili continued. "It's getting colder down there. I could scarcely feel my fingers by the time we reached the door of the vault. It was iced over again. Gloin says they have to chip off the ice now every couple hours and that frost is now starting to show on the walls on the outside of the vaults in the main treasury room."

Thorin let his eyes slide shut as he attempted to rub the rising tension on the back of his neck. "I've been trying to find a way of destroying it, but I have found nothing. Thranduil has informed me he thinks it's a bad idea, that it could unleash some sort of magic that has been trapped within it."

"He is probably right then. He would know more than us about such things. Unfortunately." Balin grumbled begrudgingly.

"Magic? Like what Gandalf has?" Kili tried to keep the awe from his voice.

"Maybe." Thorin muttered before sighing long and wearily. "But I don't think it's from a wizard. It's from something else, and it was buried long ago before our kin ever step foot on this mountain."

"What makes ye say tha?" Dwalin shifted his stance as he let his eyes fall to where Thorin was staring at on the throne.

"It doesn't feel evil, but there is a heaviness to it." Thorin mused aloud, "It feels … ancient and …primal?" He seemed to be confused by his own thoughts. "Nothing like how the gold felt when we first got here, when I succumbed to the dragon sickness. That was malicious. Even though I despise it…it harbors no ill will like the gold and my Gamul Adad's ring did."

His kin looked at him surprise. "You can…feel the difference between them?" Balin tried to not sound incredulous.

Thorin hummed as he nodded. "Yes. I've read all that I can find and between my Gamul'adad's journals, our research and my own experiences, there are huge differences between the gold sickness from the ring and gold, and the Arkenstone. It only seemed to heighten the desire. It didn't cause it."

"Like what that warrior Markos said." Fili pointed out as his eyes grew wide. "He said Mist's brother claimed that it would amplify whatever abilities he thought they had? Like a weapon."

"It appears there is a correlation there." Balin conceded as he, Dwalin and Thorin all shared a look of exhaustion between them.

"What does that mean for Mistlynn?" Kili asked quietly.

"It means nothing for her at the moment." Thorin replied gruffly. "There is much to be done. As Balin so eloquently put it, the people of the White Kingdom are now ours to care for at this time. Valinn is incapacitated in his cell, and the Arkenstone is still safe in the vaults for now. Until Mistlynn is fully recovered, I want to keep this quiet. Only when she has regained her strength, we will look further into it."

Balin raised his eyebrows incredulously. "And how well did that work for you last time?" He gave the dwarf King a pointed look.

"She's recovering from an injury that should have killed her." Thorin's tone was barely over a whisper. "When she awakes, she will have her Adad's death to process, and what to do with her people. I will not overwhelm her with this too. I will tell her at the right time."

"With all due respect Thorin, I dinnae think there will ever be a good time to tell er of this." Dwalin pointed out gruffly, his expression nearly identical to that of his older brothers.

Thorin finally turned away from his throne so that he could look down the walkway. He looked grim as he nodded stiffly at their words. "What other choice do I have?" It was in that moment, he allowed his kin to truly see just how at a loss he was, frightened beyond anything he had ever felt before. "It feels like no matter what I do, I am losing her. In one way or another. No matter how hard I try to hold on to her, keep her safe, I fail her at every turn."

"You are not failing her Laddie." Balin placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Am I not?" He grumbled; voice thick with emotion as it seemed to rumble through the air as the stillness of room grew heavier around them. So many regrets and spoken secrets from the past haunted this throne room, and now it seemed he was adding to that number with some skeletons of his very own.

Later that evening…

He was sitting in the chair by her bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. He knew it was late, he could feel it heavily in his limbs. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon hours before. After the last council meeting, he had come straight to their room, skipping dinner entirely.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he leaned his head back against the chair to rub his face in exhausted exasperation. He felt powerless, just sitting, and waiting for her to wake up.

It had been touch and go for the first week as her body fought to come back from what would have been a fatal amount of blood loss. Tauriel, Thranduil and Kili had reached them just in time, and the elven King had helped Tauriel bring her back from the precipice of death, just as he had begun to feel his heart shattering into countless pieces, leaving his soul bare and painfully raw as he felt her start to slip away from him and their world. He still couldn't shake off that hollow feeling, even as she lay breathing before him.

It haunted him.

He would forever be in Tauriel and Thranduil's debt, much to the despair of many of his council members. But he didn't care about that or what anyone thought. He would pay any price to spare her countless times over. He had failed to protect her, and he nearly lost her as she bled out in his arms after fighting for him and for Erebor.

He had been plagued with the worst nightmares of his life, outreaching any horror that had stalked him in his sleep since the Battle of Azanulbizar and of the Battle of the Five Armies. He would be holding her, watching her gasp for air as he fought to stop the bleeding with his bare hands.

He shuddered as the images rushed through his mind, of how slick then sticky his hands had been as the smell of her blood choked him, how he had been drenched with it when he had rushed her back to Erebor. The look of absolute horror on Oin and Gemlinn's faces at the sight of him.

Balin, Dwalin and Dis had to help him out of his bloodied armor and clothes as he stood there in their room in a daze, the water had turned a bright red as he washed her life source from his skin.

He felt tears prick his eyes at the onslaught of memories that plagued him day and night. He groaned quietly as he fought them back down into the recesses of his mind, pushing them back to the ravenous shadows of regret and self-loathing that were once again threatening to consume him.

"Thorin?" It was a hushed whisper, her voice cracking from disuse, but to him it was the most beautiful sound, one he had been so desperate to hear again. He jolted upright in his seat, his eyes instantly connecting to her bleary gaze.

"Mistlynn." He couldn't help the choking rasp of his voice. She gave him a faint smile.

"You look exhausted Kardun. Have you not been sleeping?"

He reached for her as quickly as he could without jostling her. He grasped her hand in his as he sat down gently on the bed, bringing it up to his lips to kiss reverently. "Thank Mahal!" he breathed into the back of her hand before pressing another kiss to it. He dared to bring his eyes up to her face, to see her watching him with loving concern written on her face,

"How long have I been sleeping?" her held hand gripped his softly, her strength still faint. His heart ached at the thought.

"Two weeks." His voice became deep as his eyes scanned over her bandaged neck.

'Luna?"

"She was injured, but she is recovering."

"Olos attacked her, she was trying to protect me. I thought she was dead." She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"She has some serious wounds. But she will recover." His thumb rubbed the back of her hand soothingly.

"Valinn… is he? …" she couldn't bring herself to finish her question.

His throat bobbed as he pressed his lips in a tight line. He shook his head. "He is gravely injured, but alive."

She breathed in raggedly. "What?" She felt her stomach churn.

Thorin squeezed her hand gently. "Do not stress yourself, I am taking care of it. He is not a threat at the moment. We will figure out what we are to do about him when you are fully healed."

Mistlynn willed the nausea to subside at his words. Valinn was injured, and probably in worse shape than her. She nodded stiffly. She couldn't allow herself to dwell. "Okay. What of the ring?"

"I had Balin retrieve it, it is locked away."

She sighed in relief before she allowed herself to relax once again into the bedding. "The Iron Hills? Dain?"

"All is well. When they heard of Valinn's defeat they laid down their arms. The remaining generals are in our dungeons." His voice was soothing as he traced his thumb over her knuckles.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Tell Dain and Sindri I am sorry. For dragging them into this fight."

Thorin shook his head vehemently. "No, you do not need to apologize to anyone."

She brought a shaky hand up to caress the side of his face, feeling his scruffy unkept beard under her palms. "Yes, I do." She whispered as she looked at him meaningfully.

She felt her throat tighten as his neutral expression fell from his face, allowing his brokenness and exhaustion to show. He turned his face into her hand, as if seeking out her touch to remind himself she was really there. "Come here." She coaxed gently, her hand weakly attempting to pull him closer.

"I don't want to risk hurting you, your wounds …"

"I need you to hold me." She interrupted, "You could never hurt me Thorin."

A quiet, shuddering gasp escaped his chest as he leaned down slowly, being overly cautious of where he placed his hands before he drew her into an embrace. His body trembled as her arms wrapped around him, pulling him in closer to her.

"I thought I lost you M'eudail. Mahal, I couldn't stop the bleeding, I was losing you no matter what I did." His voice was shaky and hollow as he breathed her in, his face buried in her hair just behind her ear.

She savored the feeling of his arms around her, gladly soaking in his warmth as she rubbed her hands consolingly on the back of his head and shoulders. "I am so sorry Thorin. I had no other choice. I couldn't let him carry out his threats against you or Fili and Kili. I couldn't let him take Erebor. And when I saw you get to your knees …"

He couldn't help his fingers from clenching in reflex to her words. "I am angry M'eudail. I love you beyond life, but I am so angry. In what world would you think sacrificing yourself for me is acceptable?" He breathed hotly into her neck as he fought to keep his voice steady.

"I know, Kurdun. But I am just as protective of you as you are of me."

He let out an exasperated huff. She nuzzled him gently. "Hold me." She whispered gently. "Hold me while we sleep. You look exhausted."

He couldn't help the humorless laugh as he slowly released her from his arms. "I don't know if that is a good idea, I don't want to hurt you,"

"Thorin, Son of Thrain, you will take off those boots and that jacket and hold me! We will continue this when I am able to hold up my end of a fight." Her stubborn tone left no room for argument.

He couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle softly. "You think you can boss me around in your condition?"

"Oh, you know I can, and I will." She smiled ruefully as she watched him kick off his boots and shrug off his jacket. He turned back towards the bed and slid carefully under the blankets, taking extreme care to not jostle her as he settled in close to her.

"Don't think, for one minute, this absolves you from finishing this. We will be discussing this topic in depth!" He growled.

She smiled softly as he gently slid one arm under her shoulder, avoiding her torso completely as he rested the other hand on her hip. Aware of the stitches under the wrappings on her neck, she turned slightly to kiss under his jaw. "I love you Thorin."

Her words puffed warmly against the skin of his neck, making his throat tighten again with those unbridled emotions he had been fighting with for the past couple weeks. He swallowed again, closing his eyes at the sound of those words.

"I love you Mistlynn. Always." He breathed into her hair.

"Even though your angry with me?"

He savored the feeling of her breath warming his skin. He brought his hand up from her hip to rest against her chest. He sighed as he felt the steady thrum of her heart, the heat of her skin settling into his.

The pain that had lurked within him, holding his lungs and heart tight in its suffocating hold eased slightly as he allowed himself to feel the spark of her settle back within him.

"Especially when I am angry with you."

She sighed as the deep timbre of his voice washed over her as she laid her head gently against his chest, tucking her head under his chin so that she could feel and hear the beat of his heart.