Attention, emotional outburst alert! Proceed with caution! :)
My darlings, you cannot even imagine how much I love you all! You are wonderful, brilliant people and the cynosure of readership! ;)
Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, discussing, worrying, exclaiming, nudging, sniffing, and hopefully enjoying, and altogether being the reason this story has even been written! :*
Loads of love to all you, my lovelies, and hopefully see you in the sequel! :D
You are squealing and wiggling, the King is unrelentingly nuzzling your stomach, gently scraping your skin with his beard, and you beg for mercy, "Enough… I surrender… I surrender..." Your body goes limp, you fall into the sheets and spread your arms showing your capitulation. "I give in to your power, oh the majestic King Under the Mountain..." He blows a raspberry in the softness of your stomach below your navel, and you are howling with laughter. "That is dishonourable! I have already surrendered..."
He is looming over you supporting his weight on his straight arms, "I suspected a treachery and decided to finish you off. You tend to fight dirty, my insolent Queen."
You tap your finger to his long nose, "Not your Queen, not for another day." He smiles to you widely, and you push up from the bed to catch his mouth. One of his arms wraps around your middle, and he collapses on you with all his massive weight. You emit an "oomph" and start laughing into his mouth. He is intentionally peppering sloppy, open mouth kisses on your neck and clavicles, knowing that you will shriek and try to fight him off. The ridiculous dalliances go on for a while until you manage to overpower him, which quite obviously for both of you happens only because he let you, and you maliciously tickle him under his knees. He flails his extremities, emits an undignified sound that would be considered a squeak if his voice were not so low and falls off the bed with a loud thud. You are snortling on the sheets. And then you peek over the edge of the bed and see him splayed on the floor with a blissful smile on his lips, his eyes closed.
"You, my King, should not even be here. It is the night before your wedding, you are not supposed to be in my chambers."
"These are my chambers, which I for no reason whatsoever was evicted from six months ago," he murmurs with the same content expression on his face.
"Six moons of engagement are to precede a wedding, my King, these are the customs." You feign a strict tone, and he barks a laughter.
"The tradition is to ensure that either of the sides has an opportunity to change their decision. Meaning in most cases that a woman is given a chance to choose herself another husband. Would you like another husband, usataf, or you are settling for an old and boring Dwarf?" He still keeps his eyes closed and wiggles his brows. You snort.
"Under no circumstances I am marrying an old and boring Dwarf, I value myself too much. A dashing and alluring King on the other hand..." You stretch your hand off the edge of the bed and brush your fingers on his stomach. His abdominal muscles jerk, and his eyes fly open. You know this expression. "Oh no! No, Thorin! No more of that! I will not be able to sit on my own wedding feast! And you do need to go, to prepare!" He is watching you with burning eyes, and a wave of heat licks the back of your neck. "Go back to your rooms, and ponder the free and careless life you are giving up and the shackles this marriage is going to put you in!" He guffaws.
"Do you mean a constantly nagging wife and children that will demand my attention all day long?" You lift a brow, and he chuckles. And then he pounces at you, grabs you under your arms and drags you off the bed. You laugh, and he arranges you on his chest. "I would rather marry you..." You two are kissing for a while, and then you sigh.
"You do need to go, Thorin. Tomorrow is to be a long day." He strokes your hair and kisses the tip of your nose. And then he makes the last attempt to evoke some pity in you.
His eyebrows lift mournfully, and he drones, "Could I stay here, my heart? I miss the bed..." He throws a longing look at the oaken bed and gives out a long exaggerated sigh. You smack his chest. "Oh, yes, pardon me, and I miss you too..." He does not manage to keep his tone even and snorts at the end.
"You were not supposed to even see me for six moons, Thorin, and yet you are here every night. Have some respect for the customs of our people!" He looks at you and smiles widely.
"Our people? That is the first time I heard you say that." You blush and hide your face into his chest. He pushes his fingers into your hair at the back of your head and scratches you as if a cat. That is his customary tender caress, and you nuzzle him. "You are right, usataf, I should go… After all, I will be finally permitted back into my rooms tomorrow." He emphasizes my, and you slightly bite his chest.
"I do not remember this door ever being closed for you." He pulls you higher and catches your mouth.
It takes another two hours to finally expel him out of the bedchambers. You close the door behind him, and then he opens it again, and the upper half of his body is once again inside. You are giving him a stern look, but the corners of your lips are twitching in a suppressed smile. "I have a favour to ask..."
"Yes, Thorin?" Fake wifely obedience spills over your features, and he guffaws.
"After the feast, when I am supposed to return to these chambers and you are to demurely wait for your husband to come to you for the first time," he is murmuring sensually, and you shortly ponder pulling him in and ravishing him on the floor, again, "Could you please come out of the bathchambers in the exact same manner as six moons ago?"
You smack his chest again, and he smirks. "I was given an enticing nightgown of Dale lace by your sister, it was made bespoke for our wedding night, Thorin… Do you not want to see me in it?" You give him a suggestive smile. He considers it for a moment and then quickly pecks your lips.
"We shall do both." And then he disappears in the passage. You laugh, lock the door behind him and fall on the bed. You cannot believe it only has been six moons, but it is true, Thror is eight months old. You have declared your engagement right after your reconciliation, your wedding and coronation were to happen as soon as the traditions permit. The day is tomorrow, and to your own surprise you are not anxious in the slightest. You are serene and joyful. You curl into the blankets and close your eyes.
This time Dain is sitting on the balcony of the Higher Halls, his legs crossed, on a narrow stone balustrade, and although you know it is a dream, you exclaim, "Careful, Dain!" He looks at you over his shoulder and smiles.
"I am a every good climber, amad. No tree in Mirkwood will be too high for me." You approach him and lean on the carved rail.
"Mirkwood? Are you not to reside in Erebor?" He clasps his palm over his mouth theatrically and looks at you with laughing eyes.
"Oh Mahal, I have disclosed too much, have I not?" His voice is ringing with mischief. "Do not worry, amad, I will grow into a proper prince of Erebor. But there will be certain appeal in Mirkwood for me." He is giving you an impish look from the corner of his bright green eyes, and you laugh.
"You are just like your father, same puckish demeanor." He smiles and looks at the distance. The lights are all ablaze in Erebor, the city is readying for tomorrow's festivities.
"We did well, amad, did we not? It was hard, but you straightened your path. I did not expect you to do so well, but even the birth dates of your next children are now aligned with the initial design." You watch the city as well. You feel endless content and then gaze at your son. He is such a beautiful young man, the auburn hair, his father's noble profile, the same line of lips, but a narrower, lighter build. There is endless grace and some sort of ethereal ambience around him. "It is such a pity though that you will not have a chance to enjoy the famous Mirkwood wine that King Thranduil is bringing to your wedding." You look at him in confusion while he is feigning nonchalance, and then the understanding dawns. You press your palms to your flat stomach and gasp. The heartbeat is faint but you can already hear it. Dain is chuckling warmly.
You breathe out, "Unna..." Dain nods.
"Haban Ereboraz," he pronounces in a melodic voice, "The Gem of Erebor."
"But I am still nursing!" Dain mockingly shakes his hand in the air, chuckling.
"None of these details, please, amad!"
"The Gem of Erebor..." You try the name on your lips.
"Oh yes, many noses, training swords, and shields will be broken for one glance of my sister's hazel eyes. Adad is in for a lot of worrying ahead of him. He will be accustomed to it by then, I suppose. After already having one reknown beauty for a daughter… And again with the whole Legolas and Mira conundrum…"
"Oh now you are just teasing me, impossible boy!" You shake your head in disbelief. He laughs and nods.
"I am, amad." You lean onto him and press your temple to his warm side. He looks down at you and smiles lovingly. "Thank you for Mira, amad. She is a gift that we all have to be grateful for. She will save us from so many turmoils that are now to never happen." You smile softly.
"You will not come anymore, will you, Dain?" You feel piercing sadness in your heart, but it is not dark. He shakes his head and looks at the city lying before him.
"But think of that, amad… In eight years you are to hold me in your arms."
"It is so long..." Your voice trembles, and you press your face into him. "I will be waiting for you, ghivasha… I will be waiting for you impatiently..." He carefully turns and slides off the rail. You embrace, and you lift your tears stained face to him. His eyes are brilliant as well, but he grins widely.
"Just give me one more promise, amad..."
"When I am ten, and Othin and I steal that pie from the kitchen, do not take away my sword. It will get lost in the closet, and I will never get it back!" You gasp and smack his chest. He roars with laughter, and you wake up.
The day when you are marrying Thorin Oakenshield has arrived.