Work Text:
It was so strange, Bella reflected. When speaking in front of a crowd, he was always so composed. The picture of the modern monarchy, really: confident, well-spoken, and generally charismatic. The royal family was more a mascot for the country now than an actual ruling power, so image really was everything, and his image at speeches and press conferences was everything that anyone could hope for. And he was just a bit handsome too, if Bella was being honest with herself.
And yet. The second things went off-script, or if the setting was an interview rather than a speech or a press conference, he went from confident and powerful to gangly and awkward. It would have been cute, if it wasn’t so cringe-inducing. He was a prince. Surely he had been coached for handling the press all his life. Everything from the way he folded himself into chairs, to that strange, lip-licking thing he would do was so un-princely, Bella was certain he had been ruining the dreams of young girls the world over for decades.
Obviously either Thorin Oakenshield had not listened to his tutors, or he was utterly inept at dealing with… what? People? Attention? Absurdly stupid questions? He did get asked a lot of very stupid questions, and she supposed she wouldn’t handle them much better. Though she would probably go more toward anger than… whatever it was he was doing.
Bella frowned. She almost had a sixth sense for some things now. Not useful things, but she could sense when Thorin was about to make a truly terrible joke, and- oh, there it is. She shook her head, disappointment weighing on her features. How could such a man really be real? Some days (and some interviews) it felt like he had been brought into the world to torment her.
She had always been relatively practical, and generally sensible, but she did have a bit of a weakness for the forbidden. In the past this had just meant a little too much cake, or sneaking out after dark to go star-gazing (she was rebellious, but not in an exciting way, her older self reflected). Now, it meant that even though she was a grown woman, far past the starry-eyed days of her youth, she had developed a crush on the crown prince. Well, soon to be king, if his father’s health was any indication, but the title hadn’t meant much since the revolution in his grandfather’s time. Not that that made a prince more accessible.
Thorin had basically grown up on television, along with his siblings, but he hadn’t caught her eye right away. In still pictures, before she had ever seen him speak, he seemed pretty average-looking, and it was easy enough to avoid paying much attention to him. But then, he became a man, right before the nation’s eyes (or well, he grew into his nose anyway). His father had encouraged him to champion causes, use the attention the media gave him to do something, and suddenly the crown prince was speaking passionately and she couldn’t look away. How had she ever thought him plain?
And that was why the way he came off in interviews was so infuriating. Such a brilliant speaker, a man with so much intensity and sparkle, and yet he became an awkward teenager when asked personal questions. And yet! The awkward teenager of a man was endearing in his own right! From his clear inability to dress himself, to his terrible jokes, she couldn’t look away. He was like a trainwreck, except she would really prefer that he wreck her. (That same blue shirt he was always wearing would look absolutely lovely on her floor, after all).
All things considered, her obsession probably wasn’t healthy. Which was why she had found herself clicking over to dating sites, hoping that an attainable man would go a long way toward solving the problem. She had forgotten that being a woman on a dating site was like wading into a cesspool and hoping to find a piece of gold in there somewhere. So it wasn’t long before she turned her attention back on Thorin, just in time to see him make the biggest fashion mistake of his career so far.
What on earth was wrong with his hair…?
The phone rang, and Bella fumbled it, answering on the last ring, a little out of breath. “Hello-”
“Bella did you see his awful hair?!”
Bella almost dropped her phone. Ah, of course. Lobelia, calling to commiserate. “I did,” she moaned. “What can he possibly be thinking?”
“Most likely nothing, and that’s the problem! Princess Dís always looks so impeccable, so they must have stylists in there!” Lobelia sounded thoroughly agitated. But then, she had long been a stalwart devotee of Prince Thorin. And during his recent trip abroad, evidently he had grown out his hair. It was such an awkward hair length for a man.
“The least he could do is pull it back,” Bella observed. “At least then our crown prince wouldn’t look like a hobo.” She was greeted with silence on the other end. “Lobelia?”
“It would be such a short ponytail,” Lobelia muttered. “Hardly any better.”
Bella was not so sure, but it did not do to argue with Lobelia when it came to Thorin. They were cousins in reality, and sisters in common cause: getting Thorin Oakenshield a goddamn stylist. Surely he could afford one.
In one respect, the dating site she joined proved useful, for the sudden arrival of a message distracted her from these completely useless musings. Not that she expected much when she opened it. One dick pic too many will do that to a girl, and the sender had no profile picture. Probably a spambot, she thought, her mouse already hovering over the ‘delete’ button.
Burglar wanted to steal the crown jewels, it read, which had to be the strangest message she had ever received. Probably just another oddly worded solicitation, but she felt she owed the sender at least an acknowledgement.
That has to be the most unique attempt to solicit sex that I’ve gotten on here, so kudos for that I guess, she replied, closing her laptop and thinking no more about it for a while.
Across town, a pair of princes were having their ears boxed.
Thorin Oakenshield made a point of being busy. The royal family still lived on the taxpayer’s dollar, even if they weren’t collecting or distributing tax funds anymore, and he preferred to make himself useful. If this meant that he hadn’t gone on a date in a while, well… it wasn’t like there was a pressing need for him to marry and produce heirs. But his nephews were “concerned” (along with his siblings, who were less shy about commenting that his recent hair choices were proof that he needed “a woman’s touch,” when really he had just forgotten to cut it and was too proud to admit it). And when Fíli and Kíli were concerned, they had a tendency to do whatever they thought would help.
In this case, that meant setting up a profile for him on a dating site, and messaging women on his behalf. He had been content to ignore it, since they never got any messages in response. Women on these sites were constantly inundated, so he wasn’t really surprised. They had better things to do than indulge the whims of his nephews, and so did he.
Except someone did respond. He knew of it the instant it happened, not because he actually logged into the account, but because Fíli and Kíli shouted all the way down the hall as they scrambled into his office, Kíli’s laptop carried before them.
“Uncle-”
“We got a response-”
“She’s just your type-”
“What should we do-”
They were both making an effort to talk at the same time, leaving nothing but a confused mess that Thorin couldn’t really parse. “Boys,” he interrupted firmly, silencing them instantly. “What have you done?”
Kíli held out the laptop. “One of the women we messaged actually responded!”
“She’s your type uncle, you should reply,” Fíli added with an encouraging nod.
Thorin glanced at the open message on the screen. Oh, for the love of-
“This is the kind of message you’re sending in my name?” He tried and failed to keep the angry tremor out of his voice. “And how do you suppose that this is helping? I didn’t ask you to harass women for me.”
They crumpled under this attack, offering feeble protests, which were easily swept aside by the threat of telling their mother. Fíli and Kíli trooped out, defeated, but they left the laptop, still open to the offending message. He risked a glance at the profile picture of the woman his nephews had successfully baited into responding, and dammit she really was his type: cute and curvy, and rather bookish. He really should apologize for their behavior. That was the only reason he was going to message her. To apologize for his nephews bothering her. That was it.
I’m terribly sorry about that. My nephews set up this account, and have apparently been using it to bother women, in an attempt to “help.” I hope they didn’t bother you too much.
Satisfied that the rules of politeness had been properly observed (or at least his nephews’ blundering was handled as well as could be expected), he close the laptop, and set out to return it to Kíli. He always felt bad after being hard on his nephews.
Bella was oddly charmed by the apology that appeared in her inbox overnight. Somehow, she immediately knew it was sincere, and not the backpedaling of a creep. Maybe it was the slightly old-fashioned phrasing, without any attempt to open the lines of communication further. Someone on the internet was respecting her boundaries? What a concept! That in itself was worthy of a reply, just for giving her something nice to wake up to.
I’d like to say your nephews are thoughtful, but if all the messages they send are that strange, they’re probably doing more harm than good. Not that they bothered me, it was good for a laugh anyway. But you spelled out every word in that apology, so I doubt you really need their help. Men who can spell are hard to find.
A little rambly maybe, but thinking about responding to this mystery man was time not spent thinking about Prince Thorin, and that was probably a win. And he seemed polite enough, which was more than she could say for everyone else she'd messaged.
Not that she expected this to go anywhere, of course. Just because his nephews had messaged her didn’t mean that the man himself was interested. And an account without a profile picture raised some red flags. It wasn’t quite “every picture is with my collection of samurai swords” tier, but it did imply either laziness or something to hide. It wasn’t out-and-out dishonest like using a picture from 10 years ago or a picture of a friend though, so she supposed she could overlook it.
...Not that she was going to be called on to overlook it anyway! This man had messaged her one time, and that was to apologize! She was overthinking this. Bella willed herself to close the laptop and go to work. He probably wouldn’t write back. If he did, that would mean that he actually was interested, wouldn’t it? How would she feel about that, she wondered? It had been too long since anyone was interested in her in that way, and wasn’t a total creep about it. If that was really the case, then she would have to be careful. Too many decent guys had been scared off by less than judicious comments about Prince Thorin. She might always carry a torch for him, but as it couldn’t come to anything, she needed to try and move on.
Her mystery man replied later that same day.
They’re good boys, but as foolish as any others their age. Apparently I don’t get out much, but last I checked that was my choice to make?
I shouldn’t bother you.
Bella smiled as she read it. Oh, so very sincere. And a little more honest than she might be in his situation. It was a little endearing, and she couldn’t help replying at once.
I don’t mind! Why waste the opening they made? It’s nice to talk to another rational human being, even if you ‘don’t get out much.’
His reply was almost immediate. Oh, he was interested.
It seems wrong to take advantage of their attempts at harassment, but if you insist. So, you’re a librarian?
And that was all it took. It didn’t take long to learn that they had more in common than the circumstances suggested. Her mystery man also enjoyed reading, though apparently he had less time to read for pleasure than he preferred. It was a little more surprising to learn that he enjoyed the classic romances, though he considered Romeo and Juliet less a classic romance and more a cautionary tale about dumb teenagers and their fondness for doing the forbidden. Rather than accusing him of lacking the true romantic spirit, Bella found she rather agreed.
You really can’t compare Pride and Prejudice with Romeo and Juliet, he wrote, if for no other reason than the difference in timescales. Romeo and Juliet takes place over what, at most three days? Pride and Prejudice slowly builds over more than a year, and they actually talk in that time before deciding that they have a love for the ages, their families be damned.
Bella suspected, if called on, he could easily write an essay on the matter. And that, honestly, was a good thing. Despite working in a library, she so rarely got to do any serious literary criticism. People looking for a book generally don’t want to know about how this author’s experiences in World War I colored everything he wrote afterward. They just want the librarian to shut up and find the damn book for them.
The fact that one is a play and one is a novel has to be taken into account though, Bella pointed out. Novels can take place over whatever timescale the author chooses, but the entire story of a play has to be told in a few hours. Not that I disagree with you per se, but the play can’t be blamed for being a different medium.
Bella had never flirted via literary debate before, but wow it was fun. She had never been good at flirting, period, so it was a surprise to learn that she actually could do it… in the nerdiest way possible. Perhaps her mystery man’s nephews knew exactly what they were doing.
Ah yes, his nephews. She was surprised, given that they were the authors of their circumstances, at how little about them was volunteered. She supposed, given that she still didn’t know the name of the man she was talking to, he wasn’t just going to give up details about his family members. But aside from the fact that they were teenage boys and his sister’s sons, the nephews remained a mystery.
Another thing they had in common was that they were both fond of classical music, and he actually played cello, though again, less often than he preferred. Bella’s own musical talents lay more in writing and composing, though really she just dabbled (alas, her interests never did tend toward fields where it was easy to make money), but he was appropriately impressed anyway. He knew little of popular music, which given his slightly stilted way of writing, didn’t surprise Bella in the least. Her mystery man was a little vague about his work, but it seemed humanitarian in nature. Much more important than what the kids are listening to these days.
The fact that she was making excuses for him told her that it was probably time to meet. He had been nothing but a perfect gentleman these past several weeks, though questions that were a little too personal were met with rather abrupt subject changes which she should have found suspicious. Instead, she thought it reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t exactly say who.
Just as she was beginning to wonder if she should broach the subject of meeting, he did. I hope this isn’t too forward, the message began, and Bella smiled. I was wondering if you would like to have dinner. With me. Sometime soon.
Okay, maybe he did need a little help getting his foot in the door. His nephews were probably standing behind him as he typed, she guessed. She resisted the urge to ask who else he could possibly think she thought he meant when he asked if she’d like to have dinner.
Of course it’s not too forward! I would love to. When and where? And how will I recognize you?
If Thorin was slower to respond than usual, well, there was good reason. His entire family had their own suggestions on what venue was appropriate for a first date. Not that he had asked for their suggestions, or indeed for their tendency to lean over his shoulder, or just beg Kíli for the password to his account so that they could read his messages. Because even in his own home, his life was a spectacle for all and sundry.
“Don’t be cheap, you need to show that you can provide for her,” Frerin was saying as Thorin rubbed his temples. He didn’t need to wait long before Dís interjected.
“A restaurant that’s too expensive will make her think you’re expecting to be paid back with sex,” Dís argued. “Not exactly the message you want to send, though still no excuse to go somewhere where jeans would be acceptable attire.”
“Why not?” Kíli asked. “If the food’s good, does it really matter?”
Fíli looked ready to try and temper his brother’s impulsive statement, but their mother and younger uncle rounded on him, and of course at that moment Thrain wondered why Thorin couldn’t just bring his date here. Rather than demanding that his family quiet down and stop trying to help, Thorin took advantage of the ensuing chaos and arguing to type out his reply uninterrupted.
Friday at 6, at the White Tower? I’ll reserve the table by the window.
Fíli repeated this back to the room, being the only other member of the family who hadn’t gotten involved in the bickering. They were all grudgingly forced to agree that the White Tower was a good choice, though Dís questioned his table choice (“Really? By the window? Monarchs have so often died that way.” “Those monarchs actually made laws.”), and Frerin wondered why he continued to be so cagey about his identity.
“She’s going to find out when you meet, so why not tell her now?” he wondered with a frown.
“She may not come if she knows who she’s meeting,” Thorin argued, and was met with matching frowns from the rest of the room.
“That’s complete nonsense-”
“That’s her choice to make-”
Frerin and Dís replied at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes wryly. But the message was sent, the invitation accepted, and there was nothing more to be done. Well, the royal siblings might argue that he could still tell her who he was, but Thorin disagreed. They might have talked online, but it was basically a blind date, so it was hardly deceptive. Even if he told her, she probably wouldn’t believe him until they met. After all, who expected to find an actual prince on a regular old dating website?
When the promised day came, he put a little more thought into his appearance than usual. It wasn’t that he was normally disheveled, but he had a tendency to throw on whatever was closest, and it took a lot to make him throw out an article of clothing. His hair, which he had grown out a bit during a recent trip abroad, he tied back, remembering a comment Bella had made in one message where she bemoaned how few ponytailed men there were in the world. He wasn’t sure if it suited him, but Dís seemed to think it looked better than it had, so that was something.
He barely even noticed the paparazzi clustered outside the palace gates as he got into the car just a little bit early.
Bella wasn’t sure why she thought going online right before her date would “fortify her,” but she did it anyway, absently checking her notifications to see if Prince Thorin had done anything thoroughly mortifying again. As it turned out, some very recent pictures revealed him looking very well put together, which was not at all mortifying, but then he turned around.
Oh, ye gods. What a silly little ponytail. He looked completely normal from the front (which was a recent improvement), but then he would turn, revealing a very short, almost tufty, ponytail. Which was growing on her the more she looked at it. It really was so much better than just leaving that hair loose.
Bella checked the time, and nearly squeaked. She was going to be late to her date with her mystery man, because of the Prince’s new ‘do. Well that was an excuse she certainly couldn’t use.
It was a little awkward, biking to the restaurant in heels, but close as the restaurant was to her house, there was no time to walk. The first thing that struck her when she arrived was the presence of suited security men strolling around the perimeter. The White Tower was on the nicer side, so she supposed someone important might be dining there, but she hoped it wouldn’t interfere with her date.
Speaking of which, upon entering the restaurant, she turned to look at the table by the window, and then threw herself behind a nearby potted plant on instinct. She knew that ponytail. She had been late because of it. There was no real reason to hide from him: Prince Thorin had no idea who she was, or what kind of inappropriate thoughts she had about his person. But she was doing it anyway. Had Prince Thorin decided to have dinner at the White Tower, and her date had been cancelled because of it? Well, there was one way to find out.
Bella had her mystery man’s number. Her hand was shaking when she pressed the call button, and after a few seconds of silence, she saw Prince Thorin dig his phone out of his coat pocket and put it to his ear.
“Hello?” His rich voice greeted her, a little tinny and rough in the phone speaker.
Bella bit her lip. That first message, about stealing the crown jewels, suddenly made a lot more sense, but she really wasn’t sure she could do this. She had managed just fine talking to him when his identity was unknown, but that had been before… Before he had been the man she was trying to forget. Not that there was even the slightest chance of that now.
“It’s Bella,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “I’m sorry I’m late, there’s security outside and they wanted to search me. I suppose my bicycle is a serious threat to national security.” Not exactly true, but better than ‘I was too busy staring at grainy pictures of your hair to keep track of the time.’
Thorin turned in his seat, standing with a smile when he saw her. And oh, that smile. She had seen it a thousand times before in pictures, but it was so much brighter in person. It took her a moment before she remembered that just because his profile had been remarkably bare did not mean hers had been. He knew what she looked like, and had known since the beginning.
That made one of them, anyway.
She heard a rush of static that she guessed was a sigh. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, and sounded sincere. It also sounded like he was apologizing for more than the security, but maybe Bella was just trying to read too much into it. She was always ascribing motivations to stranger behaviors of Prince Thorin’s, but this was hardly the time for it. More than likely, she had the expression of one struck dumb on her face, and he felt a little badly for causing it. If only he knew.
“Are we still on for dinner?” he asked, cutting through her musings.
“Y-yes, of course!” she replied without thinking. She knew it could so easily be the most mortifying affair she’d ever been a part of, but Lobelia would harangue her for weeks if she knew that she had turned down dinner with Prince Thorin. And that would be nothing to the haranguing she would give herself.
So, Bella closed her phone, steeled herself, and walked over to where Thorin was waiting. He looked a little chagrined, but really, what had he expected? The kind of girl who would squeal over her good fortune in catching the eye of a prince really wasn’t the type of girl who would be good for a prince. Or so she told herself, anyway. She waited until he pulled out her chair and she was seated before saying more.
“So, this is why you were so cagey, your highness” she observed, studiously keeping her tone neutral. She knew she had a right to be displeased, but she couldn’t blame him for all of it. He didn’t know exactly how much of a shock the sight of him was. “Your difficult nephews are Princes Fíli and Kíli, aren’t they?” And they, in their one message, had been more honest about the identity of the owner of that profile than Thorin had been.
“Yes,” Thorin admitted, with a wince at the use of his title. “Please, just Thorin.”
“Thorin,” she repeated. It felt a little strange to leave off the title when speaking to the man himself. Normally, his first name alone was reserved for whining about his latest fashion disaster to Lobelia. “The ponytail is because I said something, isn’t it?”
“Do you not like it?” He seemed genuinely concerned to hear her answer, his blue-grey eyes watching her intently. Like his smile, his gaze was more intense in person, and she was crumpling under it.
“I like it more the longer I see it,” she admitted, her cheeks slightly flushed, and she watched a slow smile spread across his face. “Why did you wait until now to tell me who you are?”
“I never get to have that kind of anonymity,” Thorin told her, a little chagrined. “I wanted to see if my sparkling personality was enough to get you to agree to dinner with me.”
Bella gave a little snort of laughter at the sarcasm. ‘Sparkling personality’ indeed. Even his writing was stiff. Especially his writing, actually.
Thorin said nothing. He was biting the inside of his mouth and licking his lips, which were sure signs that he was certain he’d said something wrong. Or at least, they were in his interviews, from what she could tell. He didn’t think he was off the hook yet. Well, that much at least she could do.
“You’re so much funnier when you aren’t focused on the idea that ‘telling jokes’ is the important part of comedy,” she said with an encouraging smile, and he gave a relieved smile in return.
“What if I was serious, and I think I’m a delight?” he asked with mock seriousness, and Bella nearly giggled. Nearly. She was a grown woman.
“Oh, you are certainly a delight,” she replied, laughter breaking through, and the spell was broken. He was still a prince, and she was still a slightly obsessive fan, but it no longer mattered. She could already feel all of that slipping away, as the real Thorin, the private Thorin who so few people ever saw, was sitting in front of her. Thorin was looking at her, and hanging on her every word, and she made him just as nervous as he made her, and that was a wonderful thing. Her feelings for the two men, now revealed to be one, were melding, and the end result was something healthier.
Bella didn’t remember ordering food, or even eating it really. She did remember refusing wine, because the last thing she needed to do was to get drunk and admit that she was actually an avid member of his fan club. And she did remember letting her free hand creep across the table, until Thorin covered it with his larger, warmer one. It was such a strange feeling, being able to touch a man she had only ever seen through a screen. But if the jolt that ran through her when their skin met and the intensity in his eyes afterward was any indication, hand holding wasn’t enough for either of them.
They lingered in the restaurant long after their dinner and dessert had been cleared, only leaving when it was suggested, oh-so-politely, that they were closing. Out on the sidewalk, with Thorin’s security team keeping a respectful distance, Bella was reluctant to let the night end, but knew she should. Thorin didn’t know that her feelings were deeper than they should be at this point, and there was no easy way to tell him.
“Can I see you again, or was one dinner with a deceitful prince enough?” Thorin asked, his eyebrow raised. The twinkle in his eyes suggested that he didn’t think she would refuse, and it made her want to tease him a little.
“I don’t know, it depends on what the deceitful prince has in mind,” Bella replied tartly. She met his eyes, and could practically see his mind working. Good.
“The symphony,” he suggested after a moment’s consideration. He was biting the inside of his mouth again, like there was a chance she would refuse.
“Okay,” she agreed with a smile. That it would be very public, and they wouldn’t really be able to talk only occurred to her later. There would be music, and it would be dark, and those were more important considerations.
Thorin lifted her hands to his lips, and kissed it, the barest press of lips against her knuckles, but she was flushed, and her hand felt like it was on fire for the whole bike ride home. Thorin offered her a ride of course, but she really didn’t trust herself in a car with him. It was one thing to say, hypothetically, what you would do if the man you dream about is in front of you and clearly into you, and another to actually do it.
When the tabloids came out with grainy pictures of their faces on them, she was glad of her restraint. It was a lovely thing, to be able to read horribly untrue rumors about oneself, and know that there wasn’t even a grain of truth to them. It was less lovely anticipating the inevitable call from Lobelia, where she would no doubt be lambasted for breaking some kind of sisterly alliance by daring to actually go out with the object of their affections. The reality was rather different.
“How did you do it?!” was Lobelia’s salutation when the call finally came.
Pretending not to know what she meant would only agitate her further, so Bella answered. “We met online. He didn’t tell me his name, and I only found out at the restaurant.”
Lobelia was not one for stunned silences, launching right into another train of thought. “Do you have any idea how lucky-”
“Yes, yes, I think I have a rather good idea,” she interrupted fondly. Thorin was rather different in person, but so far he hadn’t said or done anything to make her think she had been wrong to like him all these years. In that respect, she really was lucky.
The next half hour was a barrage of probing questions, that had anyone but Lobelia asked, she would have refused to answer. And she did refuse to answer a question or two, like when and where their next date was. Lobelia wasn’t likely to tip off the media, but it seemed like a bad idea to tempt fate. Lobelia, when she had gotten over her shock, was mostly just happy for her cousin, and what jealousy there was could be put aside. Prince Thorin was dressing and grooming himself better. This was a victory that everyone could enjoy.
And Bella particularly enjoyed it, in the runup to their next date. Though she did have a thing or two to be guilty over, she no longer had to feel guilty about ravenously consuming every new picture of him that came her way. Well, not too guilty. He was everywhere, and he could hardly expect her to cover her eyes and plug her ears (though she did put her blog on hiatus). She kept it to herself that she knew what he had worn to the second date before he arrived to pick her up.
Thorin handed her into the car, like the proper gentleman that he was, and kept a respectful distance when he sat beside her. Like before, his eyes didn’t stray to the cut of her dress, and his hands remained stiffly at his sides. Bella suppressed a laugh. Gangly and awkward Thorin was back. She slid across the seat, until their thighs were pressed together, leaning against him until his arm came around her shoulders. With her head on his shoulder, she could feel the hammering of his heart, and it brought a smile to her lips.
The ride to the concert hall was quiet, Bella content to enjoy Thorin’s copious body heat, and Thorin not trusting himself to speak, lest he ruin the moment. He didn’t know that there was little he could say to do that, except perhaps declare that this was all some mistake.
When they arrived, and emerged from the car to a blinding amount of flashing lights, Bella rather hoped that their destination at least was all some mistake. She very much doubted her ability to go out there.
“I’m used to being on the other side,” she admitted quietly, relishing the comforting squeeze Thorin gave her shoulders.
“They will be nice, or I will have something to say about it,” he promised firmly, and Bella let herself be pulled from the car. She had her doubts: she had certainly never seen him be firm with the media, but she said nothing. It was hard to find her voice when she stepped out, the press stepping back to give them room. It was almost like a red carpet, if there were routinely red carpets at the symphony. Thorin didn’t even seem to see them, and she realized what a skewed picture of him she had gotten all these years.
The sharp look a reporter who got a little too close received was further proof of that.
It was a little dizzying, looking down from the royal box, but it was private, and when the music started, it was dark. Thorin’s hand quickly found hers, and, feeling a little daring, she drew his hand onto her thigh. He kept it there, unmoving, until the second movement, when oh-so-cautiously, he began to trace small circles into the fabric of her skirt, his eyes steadfastly watching the orchestra. He grew bolder during the third movement, his hand sliding right to trace the curve of her inner thigh, and Bella’s breath hitched in her throat.
She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
With no other thought than that, she turned his head toward her, and did just that. She felt his breath come out in a surprised rush, but then his grip on her thigh tightened, and he was kissing her back feverishly, his stubble rubbing against her skin in a way that made her short of breath. The kiss was brief, both of them realizing at the same time that a private box didn’t mean no one could see them.
“I don’t normally go this fast,” Thorin admitted, sounding a little breathless. Good.
“We’ve been talking for weeks and this is fast?” she teased quietly, lacing her fingers with his.
“Well, I knew what you looked like, but you didn’t know what I looked like,” he explained, his lips brushing her ear. “There was always a chance I wasn’t your type.”
Bella’s laughter probably wasn’t an appropriate volume considering they were at the symphony, not the opera or a play. “You know that half the women in the country have posters or pictures of you on their walls, right?” she asked at a more reasonable volume, her eyes still dancing.
“You could have belonged to the other half,” was the self-deprecating, and yet oddly arrogant response.
“I don’t think you’ll say that after seeing my bedroom,” she replied playfully, realizing the instant it left her mouth that it was more of an invitation than she had intended to give. Thorin definitely didn’t miss it, as he stiffened against her.
“That is definitely too fast,” he murmured against her ear. “Though, next time, if you still don’t find me horribly disappointing…”
Bella shivered from the words he left unspoken. She had come so close to admitting the truth, and he seemed perfectly okay with what she had said. A little vain, perhaps? Or maybe just used to it. It had to be just about impossible to find someone to date who hadn’t watched him grow up on TV.
And suddenly his desire for just a little bit of anonymity made a whole lot of sense.
The fourth and fifth movements of the symphony received a lot more attention from the handsy couple than the earlier three, their ardor dampened a little. But the music was lovely, and if she hummed along to some parts once she had the melodies down, well, Thorin seemed to enjoy it if the way he squeezed her hand and smiled was any indication.
“I see that I wasn’t exaggerating when I said you were very musical,” he observed on the ride home, and Bella laughed.
“Not much of a compliment if you really had no idea,” she replied tartly, knocking her shoulder against his.
“You haven’t heard me with a cello, and you still thought that was very impressive,” he reminded her, his voice oddly husky.
“Playing an instrument, no matter how poorly, is still more than I ever did,” she said matter-of-factly. The car pulled to a stop, and Thorin helped her out, his hand lingering in hers a little longer than was necessary. When she was steady on the pavement, Thorin’s free hand cupped Bella’s cheek, his head dropping to her level a little slower than she would’ve liked. So she stretched onto her tiptoes, meeting him halfway.
Their second kiss was longer, more languid, though no less heated than the first. Even though his driver was waiting, Thorin traced his tongue around the curve of Bella’s lips, making her weak in the knees. Oh, not telling him the full extent of things had been an excellent idea. He would have entirely too much power over her if he knew.
It was already a tenuous balance, as they stood kissing on the curb, and as he pulled away, she caught his lower lip between hers, letting it drag slowly through her teeth. “Come inside?” she asked, her voice little more than a breath. “I’m not quite ready for tonight to end.”
There was a brief moment where she could practically see the indecision warring in Thorin, his entire body coiled like a spring. Then, in a blink, the decision was made, and he was saying something to his driver. The car drove off moments later.
Bella unlocked the door, Thorin following stiffly. She would have laughed if she weren’t so nervous herself.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked, feeling fidgety and struggling to make eye contact. Thorin shook his head, but Bella found herself bustling into the kitchen anyway. She started moving things around to make it sound like she was actually doing something, but didn’t realize that Thorin had followed her until she stepped back from a cabinet and found her back pressed into his broad chest.
“Bella, relax,” he said, his voice warm with laughter. “I can still call my driver back if you’ve changed your mind.”
She twisted in his arms so that she was facing him, and decided that the best way to quiet both of their doubts was to kiss him again. The effect was instantaneous. Thorin did not hoist her up on her countertop, but the tension did drain out of his muscles, and he kissed her back eagerly. His hands settled into place on her hips, keeping her locked in place against the cupboards. It was handy, Bella thought as she wrapped her arms around his neck. If her legs gave out, she’d hardly notice.
Though after a few minutes of tangling tongues, she found that her counter digging into her back wasn’t the most comfortable sensation. Without breaking the kiss, Bella inched slowly sideways until Thorin got the picture, and they fumbled their way over to the couch. It was like being a teenager again, making out until something started to hurt and it was time to change positions.
They started more innocently, seated side-by-side on the couch, Thorin’s hand on her cheek while hers were folded in her lap. It did not take long before Bella was in his lap, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. It was a bit of a surprise when his hands moved from her hips to cup her butt, and Bella may have squeaked into his mouth, but then his grip tightened, and her squeak became a moan. Encouraged, Thorin let his hands wander back up until he held a breast in each hand, his thumbs teasing her nipples through the fabric of her bra.
Thorin was grinning into their kisses now, clearly pleased by how his ministrations were being received, and Bella wanted to break that composure a little. Taking advantage of her leverage, she rocked her hips forward, rubbing against the growing bulge in the front of his trousers. The groan that he bit back, his teeth pressing into his lower lip, sent jolts of electricity through her veins.
Pins and needles were shooting through her legs from being in that position for so long, so she didn’t object when they ended up lying down on the couch, their limbs tangled together. She was floating on a heady mixture of lust and Thorin’s scent, the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of his firm muscles under her fingers, his heavy breathing music to her ears, so that every sense was utterly consumed by him, except sight because her eyes were closed. But that felt wrong; why shouldn’t she enjoy the sight of him too? She still needed convincing that this was real, and honestly, how many people got to see the up close and personal view?
Eventually, the honk of a car horn outside startled them, and a quick check of the clock revealed that it had been two hours. Thorin looked deliciously tousled, and a little apologetic. “I told my driver to come back in two hours,” he admitted, the rasp of his voice giving Bella goosebumps.
“It’s probably for the best,” she said, giving her grudging assent. Still, there was another lingering kiss at the door before Thorin departed, with a promise to text her later about plans for a third date.
Then she called Lobelia.
Work the next morning was interesting. She felt light as a feather, but was dragged down to earth by the odd stares levelled at her by her coworkers, and some of the patrons. They were polite enough when she talked to them, but she got the feeling they were watching her. When lunchtime came, and she adjourned to the lunchroom, it started making a bit more sense. She normally ignored the TV in the lunchroom, as it was usually turned to a channel she didn’t like and it had been new 15 years ago, but the sound of Thorin’s voice coming through the ancient speakers immediately got her attention. The info bar on the bottom of the screen informed her that they were rebroadcasting an interview from earlier that morning. It was standard fare, Thorin being asked about his humanitarian work and Thorin looking a little uncomfortable bragging, but doing it to raise awareness, but then the subject changed.
“The tabloids are abuzz with rumors that you’re seeing someone, Your Highness,” the interviewer said playfully, and Bella could practically feel his discomfort.
“The tabloids are so often wrong, I suppose they have to be right once in a while,” was the guarded response.
The interviewer was undeterred. “Anything you’d like to tell us?” she pressed.
Thorin was biting the inside of his mouth. “We’ve only been on two dates, so I think she still has the right to some privacy,” he replied neutrally. Normally when Thorin didn’t want to answer a question, he would change the subject a little and answer that question instead. It was interesting to watch him simply refuse instead. And a little flattering, since he was doing so to protect her.
Despite Thorin’s best efforts, the interviewer tried several more times to engage him on the subject, and the interview ended with a picture of the two of them arriving at the symphony. So that explained the funny looks. Plenty of people ignored the tabloids, but the morning news had a bit more reach.
Bella dug her phone out of her bag, where it had sat silently for the first half of her shift, and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see that she had quite a few missed messages. The first was actually from Lobelia, letting her know that her picture had been on TV. There were a few from other relations and friends, and then there was a series of messages from Thorin.
They didn’t tell me they were going to show a picture.
They didn’t tell me they were going to ask about you, actually.
Bella I’m sorry.
Bella?
Bella snorted. All they had done was show her picture on the morning news. It wasn’t really something to freak out about. The media hadn’t rushed to her workplace to harass her anyway, and all anyone had done so far was stare. When she started getting questions about Thorin’s bedroom prowess, that was when she would start to worry.
I left my phone in my bag, she typed. It’s fine, really. I was already in the tabloids last week, and this was going to happen sooner or later.
Thorin’s response was almost immediate, suggesting that he’d been waiting impatiently to hear from her. It won’t happen again.
Oh yes it will, so don’t make promises you can’t keep.
Across town, Thorin ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The first exposure by the media was usually the hardest part. So many promising relationships had ended at this point, because inevitably the kinds of women he liked tended not to be overly fond of the spotlight. Not that he was either, but he was used to it.
But Bella seemed… okay with it? Resigned, maybe? It could be too early to tell. Flashing a picture that she knew had been taken was one thing, ambushing her outside of public places was another. Would her reaction be so measured when she couldn’t go to the grocery store without being surrounded?
He was being hasty, and he knew it. It might not even get to that point, as lovely as last night had been. His skin warmed at the mere thought of the previous evening, and he spared a moment to be grateful that he had managed to keep his thoughts elsewhere during the interview. At least there was no photographic evidence of her sitting on his lap.
Thorin shook his head to clear it, and typed out another message. Do I still get a third date?
He could practically hear the exasperation in Bella’s reply. If you come up with a good one.
Well, he had never been one to turn down a challenge.
The door opened, Frerin walking in carrying a laptop. He never had been one for knocking, or privacy for that matter. “I found your girlfriends blog,” Frerin announced, plopping the laptop down in front of Thorin without warning.
“I don’t think two dates makes her my girlfriend,” Thorin replied half-heartedly, barely glancing at the screen. “And given that I’m certain you’re the one who orchestrated this dating site conspiracy, your due diligence seems a little late.”
As usual, Frerin ignored his perfectly legitimate complaints. “Probably for the best that you’re not official yet, if you’d actually look at her blog,” Frerin replied airily. “Not much recently, but if you scroll back to before you started talking…” That sure was his face. And the rest of him. For pages and pages.
Ah.
He was going to need some time to think.
Bella was a little worried. Thorin went radio silent for days, and then texted her out of the blue about their third date. Based on how he had appeared during that time, she thought her concern was justified. He snapped at reporters, got lost in thought when being asked questions, and was just generally inattentive. It wasn’t the least bit like him, and she wondered if she had accidentally done something.
There were a lot of things you could still learn about someone, even after years of watching them on TV. Bella knew this intrinsically. The image on the screen was carefully manicured, both literally and figuratively, and she had always known that. She had always known that she had feelings for just one part of this person, just for what she and everyone else was allowed to see. She had always been careful not to say that she loved Thorin, because what she loved was the image of Thorin that she had seen, and that was like an image seen through a distorted glass, or a cracked mirror.
Now that she was faced with the real thing, acting normally after a week of being seen acting abnormally, she realized exactly how little she really knew about him. It hurt a little, but considering that this was only their third date, she was also gobsmacked by how normal it was. She no longer looked at him and thought “how can this man exist?” Instead, she thought, “what can I do to make him smile again?”
It was those thoughts, as they traveled down gravel roads, that led her to the decision that it was time to be completely honest.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. Her heart hammered in her chest, and Thorin’s hand tightened around hers. Would he still want to hold it when he knew how utterly creepy she was?
A glance over at Thorin revealed that his relaxed posture was gone, replaced by total alertness. “Is something wrong?” He sounded so concerned, and Bella had to fight back another extremely negative thought.
“You may think so when I’m done, but I have to tell you anyway,” Bella replied doggedly. “I joked about it before, but I really am one of your more avid fans. The word obsessed comes to mind, really. I started poking around online because I thought I would find someone who could help me get over you. Except, I started talking to you.”
Thorin’s expression was unreadable, but he was still holding her hand. “I haven’t heard anything worth how upset you seem,” he said finally, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Frerin found your blog, and showed it to me.”
Bella knew there was a good reason she had always disliked the second prince. “Is that why you were so moody this week?” she asked tentatively.
“I wasn’t moody,” Thorin protested. “I was thinking. You haven’t updated your blog since we started talking.”
It wasn’t a question, but Bella felt like it required an answer. “I was trying to forget you. I knew exactly how creepy it was, and I went on that dating site hoping someone would catch my eye, and I could stop thinking about you,” she muttered. “Obviously it didn’t work as intended.”
“Clearly,” Thorin agreed faintly.
Unhelpful in the extreme. “What did you decide, at the end of all that thinking?” she pressed, barely aware that she was clutching the cuffs of her shorts.
“I decided that you had a right to a past, even if that phrase is normally used to refer to past relationships,” he said, smiling faintly. “If you had known who I was when we first started talking, then yes, I might have had some concerns. But you didn’t, and we connected anyway. And when we did meet, you acted like a normal human being meeting another normal human being. If more than that was happening in your head, well…” he shrugged. “I’m told by a reliable source that half the women in the country have posters of me.” There was an amused glint in his eyes. “If I rule all of them out, would there be anyone left willing to date me?”
Well she felt thoroughly stupid. But better for having said it. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”
Thorin shrugged again. “I’m a public figure. I was more worried you were going to say that until recently you absolutely hated me.” Some of the tags on her blog were certainly vitriolic enough.
“Oh yes, I hated your dumb face, and your ridiculous hair, and your thrice-damned blue shirts-” she enumerated, stopping when Thorin’s smirk became unbearable. “That smirk is a new addition to the list, since I don’t think you’ve ever been photographed with it.”
“I certainly tried not to be; my mother always said no one likes smug royals,” he replied, the smirk still firmly in place.
Bella shook her head. “Absolutely insufferable.”
There was a brief silence, filled only by the crunching of the tires on the gravel road, and then Thorin said, more seriously, “You didn’t have to tell me. Everyone has blogs these days, and they’re allowed to be embarrassing and semi-private. But…” he smiled, the smirk completely gone. “I’m glad you did.”
Bella had nothing to say to that, though she did duck her head and blush. Then the car lurched to a stop, the gravel road terminating abruptly, and Thorin handed Bella out of the car. She never would have guessed that Thorin’s brilliant third date idea would be a picnic in his favorite patch of wilderness. At least after their first two dates were fairly posh affairs. Not that she had a problem with it: It was a lovely spot, near a little stream, with great oak trees surrounding them. The kind of place you might expect fairies to have lived in, centuries ago.
Her worries dispelled by their little chat, Bella took the opportunity to soak in her surroundings. Those surroundings included Thorin dressed much more casually than usual. He did look very nice in his usual blue button-downs, but he was always photographed that way. She need no longer imagine what his arms looked like under those crisp sleeves: he was showing them off in a short-sleeved t-shirt (one that looked a little too tight, like a much smaller Thorin bought it). The change in clothes also extended to his attitude. He had always been a little nervous before, but everything from the soft smile on his face to careless way he dangled his bare feet above the water suggested perfect ease.
“It really is a lovely place,” Bella murmured, watching the way the dappled sunlight reflected off the water. “I see why you like it.”
“There aren’t many opportunities to visit. I think you have some idea why,” Thorin said wistfully.
“It’s not exactly in your backyard,” she agreed. “But I know I would come here as often as I could. It feels almost magical.”
“It has always been lovely, but there was nothing magical about it until you came,” Thorin said, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Add being a hopeless romantic to the list of things she hadn’t expected from him.
“Ridiculous man,” she muttered fondly, letting his fingers capture hers. It was so peaceful, and really, she was glad she came clean before they arrived. It was a good place and time to fall in love, and just see where things led.
And if the road led to burgling the crown jewels, who was she to complain?