Chapter Text
Dragon fire. Screams. Always the endless screams.
Sigrid’s eyes flew open. The visions of burning buildings faded, but her heart continued to thunder in her chest. Sweat covered her skin. Even though an autumn breeze fluttered through the open window, her hair and nightdress clung to her in a sticky mess. There was a low glow coming from the fireplace, but otherwise her room was covered in quiet darkness. No flames. No screaming. Careful not to disturb the small figure tucked under the covers, Sigrid carefully slid out from under the blankets. The room was nearly as big as the entirety of their old home. The walls and floor were made of heavy stone. Much warmer and sturdier than the waterlogged wood house she’d been born in.
Walking past the dying embers in the hearth, Sigrid approached the white curtains that were gently swaying. The breeze was cool against her overheated skin, but it didn’t hold the biting cold that winter would soon bring. From her window, she could easily see over the partially ruined wall of the city. It was hard to believe autumn was already coming to an end. The previous year had gone by so quickly, she hardly had time to recognize they were approaching the anniversary of it all. Of when their lives had been changed forever.
The anniversary of every image that plagued her nightmares.
So much had changed. Overnight, Sigrid was no longer a child of a bargeman but had become the eldest daughter of the Lord of Dale. Sigrid wasn’t even sure how it happened. If she were being honest, she wasn’t sure her father knew either. It turned out killing a firedrake made you a leader and in their part of the world, the race of men had needed one. Desperately. So desperately, the people were eager to follow the ancestor of the previous Lord of Dale without hesitation.
The year that followed moved quickly. For months, everyone lived in tents scattering the rocky remains, but buildings were eventually repaired. Market stalls began to appear. More people arrived. Traders. Hunters. Farmers. Children laughed in the streets. The smell of fresh bread began to waft amongst the stone in the early hours of the morning. Guards marched on patrol. Instead of campfires lighting cobblestone paths at night, candlelight from open windows flickered across the ground. Although much work still needed done, Dale was reborn.
And she was its Lady.
“Sigrid?”
The small voice came from the bed. Turning her gaze from the star speckled sky and the enormous black silhouette of the mountain against it, Sigrid caught Tilda raising her head sleepily.
“Shh,” Sigrid hushed her softly. She crossed the room quickly, laying overtop the blankets to brush Tilda’s hair from her face. It used to be necessary for them to share a bed just for the sake of warmth. In their new home, it was merely a habit her sister could not seem to shake. Although she always went to bed alone, Sigrid often woke to find her younger sister tucked in close to her. “Go back to sleep.”
Tilda obeyed. Already closing her eyes, she clutched the raggedy doll that had survived their escape from Laketown tightly to her chest and tucked herself into her sister’s side. Sigrid moved her fingers gently though her hair, caressing the soft strands. Just as she thought her sister had drifted off, she mumbled against Sigrid’s nightdress.
“I dreamed of it again. The dragon.”
Her throat constricted. Swallowing thickly, Sigrid continued the soft stroking on her sister’s hair hoping her fingers weren’t shaking. “Me too.”
Tilda remained silent and Sigrid was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about the dragon or the orcs. Not the fire or the battle or the clanging of weapons that she’d never be able to erase from her mind. It made it worse knowing the same images and sounds were buried in Tilda’s mind as well. In a child’s mind. And there was nothing Sigrid could do to erase them.
She’d confessed her bad dreams to her father once. After waking from a particularly bad one-one where she was too slow and an armored orc was too fast-she’d found him in his study.
“They will pass with time.” He had told her solemnly. “It may not seem like it now, but good days are coming again. When they do, they will chase away the nightmares.”
Sigrid wasn’t sure if she believed him. Surely, he suffered from memories of flames? Of her mother? Did he expect good time to simply brush those away as well?
She didn’t mention her nightmares to him again.
Tilda’s breathing evened out, but Sigrid continued her slow ministrations. Dawn was only a few hours away, maybe two, and it was unlikely she’d fall back asleep. She settled into the soft pillows and prayed if she did drift back to unconsciousness, she would not dream.
***
“Are you alright, my lady?”
Sigrid jumped slightly at the question. The market around her was bustling with activity. Men and dwarves alike were crowding the streets and the sounds of children squealing with laughter filled the air. The autumn sun was high in the sky and Sigrid blinked against its light as she looked to her newly appointed handmaiden, Amabel.
“Yes, quite alright. Why do you ask?”
Sigrid was supposed to be showing the young woman around the city of Dale. It had only been a few days since her father decided it was time Sigrid had a handmaiden. Apparently, ladies of her status were meant to have such things. Personally, she found it to be bit of a waste. She was quite capable of braiding her own hair and dressing herself, but he had been adamant. He wasn’t the only one with a new role to play and so Sigrid had reluctantly agreed.
Amabel had appeared the next morning.
“You’ve been quiet for a while. That’s all.”
Sigrid sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I could make you a special brew tonight, if you’d like. My mother used to make it for me and my siblings when she couldn’t get us to sleep at night.”
“That would be nice,” she smiled lightly. She doubted a drink would chase the terrors from her mind, but she wasn’t going to ruin the woman’s kindness. “Now, allow me to finish showing you around. One of the best bakers in the city is around the corner and further down from that, the orphanage. My sister and I try to make it there several times a week to check in.”
It usually took Sigrid ages to cross the city, especially when the market had new wares, and that day was no exception. Old women grasped her hands and children tugged on her skirts to offer her flowers. The men didn’t stop her. They only bowed their heads respectfully. In Laketown, she had been mainly ignored. In Dale, she was a symbol of their prosperity. Proof of could arise from the ashes of dragon fire.
“The city adores you,” Amabel commented some time later, as they turned onto a much less busy line of buildings. “You must be very good to them.”
“I’m not anything special,” Sigrid argued lightly. “They like having a figure to look up to. That’s all.”
“I heavily disagree with that statement.”
The two women turned. Instantly, Sigrid groaned and rolled her eyes while Amabel sunk into a curtsy. The youngest Prince of Erebor was approaching them swiftly, the reigns of his pony held tight in one of his hands as it followed behind him. He was dressed simply, as usual, with his bow slung across his back. It had only been a couple weeks since Sigrid had seen him in the square of the city, but her annoyance towards him hadn’t wavered.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ouch,” Kili grinned. “That’s not a very nice tone. People might start to think you don’t like me, Lady of Dale.”
“They’d be correct in that assumption.”
His grin widened, as though she’d offered him a compliment. Acting as though he hadn’t heard her, Kili nodded towards the women by her side. “Who’s your friend?”
“Amabel, your highness. My lady’s handmaiden.”
Sigrid gently shoved the young women as she bowed her head respectfully. “Don’t do that. You’ll only add to his big head.”
“Big head,” Kili scoffed. “Your lady is only jealous because the children in this city like me better than her. Tell me, have you found her to be as bitter as I have?”
“The Prince of Erebor, not the heir to the throne by the way in case you were wondering, is quite mistaken,” she said assured Amabel. Her handmaiden appeared to be struggling against a grin. “He does like to imagine things. Come on. There’s still much to see.”
“If I recall, I don’t think I imagined those children in the square abandoning your storytelling for mine.” The young prince’s smile was wicked as he and his pony caught up with them easily. “Turns out they find giant spiders pretty entertaining.” In a mocked hushed voice, he continued speaking to Amabel specifically. “She’s been mad ever since.”
“Where’s Tauriel?” Sigrid demanded a little heatedly. Amabel had let out a short laugh. “Have you annoyed her too? Or has she perhaps realized she’s much too good for you?”
“Oh, she’s always known she’s too good for me,” Kili assured her. “She and Fili left a few hours ago to go hunting. I had to distract Thorin so he could get away. I’m going to try and catch up with them.”
A strange knot appeared in Sigrid’s stomach, but she remained silent. Unlike his brother, she had not seen the heir to the throne of Erebor for several months. Not since the sky blazed with a heated summer’s sun.
“The inside of the mountain is chaos at the moment,” Kili continued. “Preparations for the celebration have been going on for weeks. I think Fili was going to jump into one of the furnaces if he didn’t get out soon. He didn’t stop to see you this morning?”
Sigrid only shook her head.
“Strange. I figured he would have after being gone so long.”
“I didn’t even realize he had come back,” Sigrid replied a little more curtly than she meant to. “When did he return?”
“A few nights ago. Thorin’s kept him busy ever since he walked through the gates.”
The knot in her stomach twisted and Sigrid felt an overwhelming amount of hurt. A silly thing to feel. A stupid thing to feel. The heir to the throne under the mountain didn’t owe her anything, as she owed nothing to him.
How could she have expected him to greet her upon his return, when he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye?
“Tell me how you distracted your poor uncle,” she asked after a few beats of silence. She was eager to pull the conversation away from Fili. “I’m already pitying him.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. One of the tapestries in the Hall of Kings just happened to catch fire.” Kili sighed heavily. “Nasty business.”
Sigrid nearly snorted. “Tilda will enjoy that one when I tell her. You know, she’s very excited about next week’s celebrations. Probably the most excited person in Dale.”
“She should be. Both of our kingdoms have much to celebrate.”
Endless things to celebrate. A year since surviving dragon fire and an army of orcs. A year of rebuilding. Ruling. Living. A year of sleepless nights.
“Well, between us I think she’s most excited to wear her new dress,” Sigrid replied. “You’ll have to make sure you compliment her on it.”
“I will make doing so my utmost priority.”
They were nearing the eastern gate. Further down the perimeter wall, there was still a gaping hole where a troll had clambered through. Kili pulled himself up onto the back of his pony, before nodding to both women.
“I’ll see you under the mountain, if not beforehand. Try not to bore the children in town in my absence, my lady.”
Had she been holding something, Sigrid would have thrown it at him.
***
Sigrid sat upright in bed. A scream caught in her throat. It took her a moment to take in surroundings. To realize she was not holding a wooden door closed tightly as an orc swung its jagged sword towards her, but safe in the dark of her bedroom. Her breath was too loud in the empty space. With a trembling hand, she wiped stray pieces of hair from her damp forehead.
Amabel’s brew of mint and white flowers hadn’t worked.
Careful not to wake Tilda, she slipped from under the covers. Grabbing her dressing gown from her wardrobe, she slipped it on before silently leaving the room. She kept her steps as soft as possible. She had no desire to wake anyone. It was bad enough she couldn’t get a decent night’s rest. Sigrid didn’t want to be the reason anyone else’s was disrupted.
The guards didn’t say anything as she quietly stepped out the front door. It wasn’t the first night she needed fresh air and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She was sure it was improper to be outside in nothing but her nightdress and dressing gown, but she never ventured outside of the garden walls. Besides, the hour was late. It wasn’t as though there was anyone to see her.
Sigrid settled on the stone steps leading to their house. They were cool from the night air and felt refreshing on her sweaty skin.
Was this how it was going to be from now on? Sleepless nights? Horrific images clouding her mind whenever she closed her eyes? Sigrid couldn’t rule like that. She couldn’t spend her days convincing the people of Dale that the worst was behind them when she screamed into her pillow every night. She needed to be brave. Do her duty as the Lady of Dale with no false pretentions.
Her father and Bain didn’t seem to be bothered by what they had endured and Tilda couldn’t be blamed for having bad dreams. She was just a child, after all. Sigrid doubted the dwarves were plagued by nightmares like she was. The idea was laughable.
She tightened her skirt around her legs as the breeze grew sharp. Distantly, she could hear laughter. Drunken yells from the tavern. She was just thinking of going inside before she worried the guards too much, when another sound reached her ears. Horses on the stone street and the boisterous laughter from two brothers. A softer, female voice accompanied them.
Pulling her dressing gown tight around herself, Sigrid padded across their garden barefoot just as a horse passed by their front gate.
“Good evening, Tauriel.”
If the elf was surprised to see Sigrid there, she didn’t show it. Kili’s wife was dressed for travelling. Leathers in placed of the elvish dresses Sigrid had spotted her in occasionally. She hadn’t worn the green uniform of the Greenwood elves since the battle.
Since her banishment.
“Sigrid,” she replied pleasantly, halting her horse. A large buck was slung across the back. “Whatever are you doing out here at this hour?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kili countered as his pony approached. “Delaying our return to our uncle for as long as possible.”
She smiled, tightening her dressing gown for a second time as the third pony approached. Sigrid felt her smile falter. It had been at least three months since she’d seen Fili. He too was dressed casually. Leathers in place of expensive cloth. Two swords were crossed on his back. Braids were twisted into his golden hair. He was watching her with a still face, giving no indication of what was going through his mind.
“Hello, Fili.”
“Sigrid.”
“It’s good to see you home.” She knew there was a bite to her words. The others must have heard it as well, because from the corner of her eye she caught Tauriel ushering her horse forward. Kili did the same and in the matter of a few short moments, she and Fili were as alone as they could be. She didn’t know what she expected from him. An explanation, maybe. Some sort of apology that signified that they were actually friends, as she had once believed.
Fili broke their locked eyes, glancing to the retreating figures of his brother and sister in marriage. His chest heaved as he let out a long breath. “I know I didn’t tell you I was leaving. I’m sorry.”
She lightly shook her head, leaning against the stone gate to their garden. “I could ignore the leaving. Kili told me the morning after you left your uncle sent you away, so I understand. But I’ve just found out you’ve been back for several days-.”
“I’ve been busy. Thorin’s had me in meeting after meeting-.”
“It’s just odd,” she finished lamely. “We used to see each other nearly every other day and then we go months with nothing and now…”
More silence between them. The knot that appeared in her stomach twisted from hurt to anger as he continued to just look at her. Sigrid had half a mind to go back inside and leave him there in the moonlight, if he wasn’t going to say anything. When he finally spoke it was in a low, gruff voice.
“What are you doing out here?”
She stiffened against the stone and sniffed. “It’s hardly any of your business.”
“You’re right.” Fili’s voice was deep; harsher than she heard it directed to her before. “It’s not my business. Go inside, Sigrid.”
Her throat burned. She looked away from him, blinking furiously as she pushed away from the stone. “Did I offend you? The day before you left? Is that what this is about? I said something I shouldn’t have or-.”
“No,” he interrupted her with a sharp jerk of his head. The moonlight caught the beads in his beard. “No, you haven’t done anything. Just please-please-go back inside.”
Sigrid obeyed, not looking behind her once.
***
Fili scraped the sharpening stone along his knife. Despite the heated temperature outside the fire in front of him was roaring. It didn’t matter that it was summer. There was always a cool draft inside the mountain walls.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight, son.”
He didn’t look up to his mother. She was seated in a cushioned chair, her fingers working swiftly over a bit of needlework. It’d only been a month since she, and the rest of their kin, had come to Erebor and it already felt as though he and Kili had not been separated from her. They frequently spent their evenings together, discussing coming and goings from under the mountain.
Fili only shrugged in response.
“Kili mentioned you were with Lord Bard today. Helping repair their perimeter wall?”
He nodded.
“I never thought my two boys would be so friendly with men.” She kept her eyes on the needlework. “I also never thought I’d come back to my home to find my youngest married to an elf, of all foul creatures, but here we are.”
Fili snorted. “I would not be sitting here if it weren’t for that elf, as you are well aware Mother.”
Her sharp eyes flickered to his for half a second. “Oh, you know very well I thank Mahal everyday for her. I only meant I didn’t expect it, is all. How could I?”
She wasn’t the only one who was surprised at Tauriel’s occupancy in the mountain. In fact, Fili distinctly remembered some heads of the great families being absolutely livid when they realized Thorin had offered the banished elf sanctuary. It wasn’t until the stories of her great heroism in the battle spread that she began to be accepted.
It also likely helped that Kili was prone to attacking anyone who even dared to utter curses under their breath when she passed.
“I think it’s good of you to keep up friendly relations with Dale. With Azog still out there somewhere, your uncle will need allies.”
She spoke the truth. Azog hadn’t been seen since he nearly killed Fili on the top of Ravenhill. Thorin had been anxiously awaiting to see when the giant orc would play his next hand and been friendly, or rather tolerable of Bard, in the meantime. He couldn’t risk political trouble on his doorstep if an orc attack was in the making.
“Speaking of friendly relations with Dale…” Fili swallowed thickly. He’d been waiting for an opportunity to breach the subject with his mother, but hadn’t found a proper opening. “I was wondering if-well, has there ever been a dwarf that’s courted a daughter from men?”
He kept his eyes low on his knife, hoping he looked casual. Relaxed. His mother’s fingers had stopped their swift work and he could feel her eyes, the same eyes that had caught every wrong doing in his childhood burning into him.
“I’m sure it’s happened once or twice, but nothing comes to mind. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged for a second time, still refusing to raise his head. “Just curious.”
The air in the room shifted. The fire was suddenly much too warm. His mother moved, leaving her chair to settle next to him in front of the hearth. Fili felt his face burn, but he kept a steady hand as he continued working his sharpening stone.
“I’ve heard talk that Lord Bard has a very pretty eldest daughter.”
His hand slipped. The knife cut along his fingers, and he hissed a curse, dropping the stone as a streak of blood appeared.
“Had you been here for dinner tonight, you would have heard Thorin speak about her. Apparently, there’s been offers for her hand. He said Lord Bard is practically drowning in them but doesn’t want to trouble her yet with them.” She laid a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “The Lord of Dale didn’t happen to share the same news with you today, did he?”
Fili couldn’t speak. No words would come to mind. Wiping his blood-stained hand on his pants, he remained silent. His mother leaned closer, her hand squeezing tighter as she spoke softly, but firmly.
“I think, if a young dwarf prince was wanting to court a young lady he would need to think seriously about the consequences. That her life would be a fraction of his. That his children-his heirs-should she be strong enough to carry them, would be half-breeds. Loved by their family, but isolated from our society. Ask yourself, would she want to live under rock and stone? Away from the sky and all things green?” There was another tight squeeze from her hand. “Would the lady be happy marrying a dwarf prince, or would she be better off marrying a distant lord?”
He looked at the blood dripping from hand. Watched it fall to the floor. Tried to focus on the drops of red instead of envisioning the light brown hair caught in the sun. A pale neck stretched back in open laughter. A smile, so soft and bewitching he never had trouble finding it in the crowds of Dale.
He knew it was wrong. Thorin would never allow it. Not when he already had one nephew hopelessly in love with a she-elf. But a small shred of him had held out hope that his mother would have thought differently. Would have given sound reason on why he should pursue such companionship, not avoid it.
But she spoke the truth and as she did, he felt the final shred of hope flicker out inside of him.
“I think I might leave for a while.” The blood on his hand stopped dripping. “There's reports of orc packs in the north. I’m sure Thorin will give me leave to take care of it.”
His mother nodded, before her lips softly to his temple. It almost felt like an apology. “That’s probably a good idea.”