Neither of them left her bedroom that morning.

They stayed in her bed, and Thorin ordered one of the servants to bring up breakfast.

Now, curled on Thorin's broad, muscled chest, the sunlight streaming in through the windows, Arien did not know if she'd ever felt so content. She closed her eyes, savouring his fingers as they played with her hair, taking a deep breath that brought his pine and metal scent into her nostrils. He kissed the top of her head gently, running a hand down her spine, over and over, the muscles of that magnificent chest of his shifting with the movement. The whole of his glorious body was peppered in scars, big and little, including one that stretched all the way from his collarbone to his torso. Arien rubbed her thumb over a scar on his bicep, savouring the hard muscle beneath.

Her warrior prince.

"Tell me your greatest wish," Thorin murmured, his warm breath lifting the strands of her hair.

"I don't have a greatest wish."

He kissed her.

"Liar," he breathed onto her lips. "You're the world's worst liar. Tell me."

She couldn't bring herself to deny him anything, so she said quietly

"My greatest wish is for you not to be covered in scars that tell the story of someone who would sacrifice everything for his people and those he loves. Whose duty is to protect them at his own cost. My greatest wish is for you not to have that burden."

He was silent, because they both knew it was a wish that could not come true. He had that burden, would always have it, through no choice of his own, and there was no running away from it.

"Tell me yours, Prince," she said, if only to break the silence.

The fingers stroking down her back paused for a moment, then resumed.

"I wish," he said quietly, his voice rumbling against her skin. "For a day when we do not have to worry about Thror, for a day when we can do what we want, be what we want. I wish for a day when I am free to love you, Arien."

She put a hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

"We'll find a way, Thorin. No one, least of all Thror, can stop us from loving each other. We'll find a way. Together."

His beard scratched her hand as he nodded.

"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, we will."

***

Five minutes later, Arien was seated between Thorin and Balin, watching as Thrain sat down at the table. They'd been summoned to a meeting Thrain had called, and Arien and Thorin had dressed as quickly as they could before making their way to Thrain's room. Dis, Farin, Frerin, Freris and Balin were already there, with Dwalin having followed Thorin, insisting he was his second and therefore needed to guard him. Thorin had scowled, but hadn't protested. She supposed with Thror, any extra protection was welcome.

Now, as Thrain sat down and leaned towards them, Arien wondered what this was about. The old dwarf put his hands on the table.

"You're probably wondering why I've gathered you all here today," he said.

"Yes, I am," Dis growled, who was trying to restrain Fili from grabbing the dagger that lay on the table. "And I hope you're going to get on with it, because Fili's bored and hungry, and that's a lethal combination."

"If you give me a chance," Thrain said, though the corners of his mouth twitched up. "I've called you here to discuss the attack on the Grey Mountains. It still has not been identified, and I want to..."

Thrain's words were cut off as a deep, echoing boom sounded from the northern side of the mountain.

Arien froze as the boom sounded again, like great wings flapping.

"What was that?" Thorin growled, his head snapping up.

The noise was like a hurricane, a thunderclap, like a great storm brewing. One from which there would be no returning.

Thorin stood, his chair scraping. There was a wild fear and dread in his eyes, as if he too felt the grasping bonds of fate twisting around them. As if he too realised that there would be no coming back from the storm about to be unleashed. The foundations of the mountain seemed to shift as a third boom echoed around it, the very sound sinister and dreadful.

"Balin," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "We're going to the barracks. Now."

No one questioned him as he and Balin stood, followed by Arien and Dwalin. She made to move after him, but he stopped her with a hand on her chest.

"Not you," he growled, though his eyes were gentle. "You stay here."

"No," she told him, pushing against his hand. He shoved right back, the muscles in his arm bunching and shifting as he held her there. "I'm coming with you. I'm not leaving you now."

"Arien, do as I say. Stay with Dwalin, I will find you when I'm done."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head.

"Do it."

She stepped back, though it was against every instinct to do so –– to let him go into danger alone. Dwalin obviously thought so too, because he stepped after Thorin as the prince and his friend made to leave the room. Thorin turned in slight exasperation.

"Nor you," he said. "I need you to look after Arien."

"I don't need looking after," she snapped. He silenced her with a look.

"You're grandfather once threatened to gut me if I let you out of my sight," Dwalin said.

Thorin put a hand on his second's shoulder. "You're going to have to decide," he said, firmly but not harshly. "Are you his spy or my second?"

"I serve you," Dwalin said quietly. And there was no fear, no pain or hesitation in his voice. Only iron-willed loyalty.

"He's your king."

"I serve you."

Thorin's gaze softened, his blue eyes filling with a gratitude and love that he could not express in words. But he only said

"Then you will do as I say."

And was gone.