Work Text:
Thorin had believed for most of his life that he would never have a soulmate. It was something he didn’t like to talk about, making him feel bitter and angry. When he was young he would wake up every single day and check his whole body to see if a Mark had finally appeared, until — as the years passed, and disappointment got too heavy to bear — he finally stopped, as much as it had hurt he had had to come to terms that perhaps he wasn’t meant to have a companion, after all.
He should be fine, for all accounts. Many dwarves didn’t have soulmates, craftbound as they were. It wasn’t uncommon — Balin being one of them — one thing they all agreed, though, was that none of them found the revelation of not having a One crushing in the sightless, what’s more, they all found it freeing .
That wasn’t the case with Thorin.
Whenever he thought about spending the rest of his life alone, the sadness and loneliness he felt on his heart were paralyzing.
He didn't understand it.
Why?
If he was meant to be craftbound he shouldn't be feeling as if the whole world was crashing down on him, he shouldn’t be dreaming of things that couldn’t be and feeling a longing so fierce he felt like his soul might split in half.
But in the end, Thorin couldn’t do anything but to accept the crushing reality that he didn’t have a soulmate.
He didn’t feel particularly bound to his craft either, but he supposed this was for the best. He knew that despite what he liked to daydream about it was very unlikely that someone would ever feel a fierce and endless love for him, a love that was enough to warrant a soulmark. Thorin wasn’t an idiot, he knew his strengths but he was also acutely aware of his shortcomings — and those he tried to work on, but some, it was impossible to change.
He was aware of it.
All direct descendants of Durin were, their looks were something their own peers found an ugly sight and that was fine, it was how things were but to Thorin, it felt like another jab from Mahal. He looked more like a Man than a dwarf, absolutely horrendous, each day hoping that perhaps as he aged his face would turn more dwarf-like.
It was no wonder he didn’t have a soulmate, who would want to look at his face for the rest of their lives…
So Thorin got over it. He did his best to forget about it and figured that perhaps his true craft was being a king, not blacksmithing, it was the only thing that felt right. Perhaps not as right as the idea of having a soulmate but Thorin tried not to think too much about it, instead, dedicating his life and time to his kingdom and his people.
He learnt to feel comfortable with his looks — with his too pale eyes and delicate features — even if everyone else but his family abhorred them, whispering about him behind his back.
He made of himself a respectable dwarf and made everyone know his name so the last thing they noticed was his less than blessed features or his lack of soulmate, instead, being known for who he was.
When he got to hold Fíli — and later Kíli — on his arms, he thought that despite not having a One he had plenty of love in his life, and much more to give. Thorin believed, as he cradled his nephews in his arms, that this was as close as he would ever get to finding a soulmate. If he was meant to not have a One then he would give all the love he had stored for them to these children. He would love these tiny pebbles like his own children.
It wasn’t ideal, no. Far from it, especially on the nights where he dreamed of holding someone else's hand, and even less as his people struggled after Erebor fell, but it was enough.
It had to be enough.
So when, a few months before he turned 145 — his people safe and thriving in Ered Luin — Thorin felt a trickling sensation and the warmest feel around his ankle in the middle of the night, he was more than a tad startled.
He threw the thick blankets aside and took off his woolen socks, watching in astonishment as a phrase formed lovingly around his left ankle.
Tinted in the most enchanting green Thorin had ever seen could be read-
Where you go, I will go also
Thorin let out a half-choked sob, hardly believing his eyes as the warmth spread from his ankle all the way to his heart.
It washed over him, mending all the pain and the hurt. Making it all worth it .
After he finally calmed down and told his family, the questions and doubt arose.
What could this mean?
Thorin had had to wait for more than 140 years to get his Mark, as far as he knew that had never happened. Did this mean his soulmate had been just recently born? What did that mean for Thorin, who had almost reached half of his life?
He had too many questions and not a single answer, and suddenly the elation and happiness he had felt for the past week started to dim, until his sister opened her mouth, looking at Thorin as if she had just realized something, a small smile on her lips.
“Perhaps-” His sister said. “Perhaps your One is not one of us.”
"Whatever you mean by that?" Asked Thorin.
"I'm saying that your soulmate might not be a dwarf at all."
And that phrase — that single phrase — changed everything.
Suddenly Thorin had an entire world of possibilities in front of him.
Of course, that didn’t mean Thorin found his soulmate right away. There was still much he didn’t know or understood.
Things he hadn’t even considered before came to light, such as just because he had finally gotten his soulmark that didn’t mean he would be meeting his One anytime soon. Mahal! For all Thorin knew he wouldn’t even know until he was on his deathbed.
How could Thorin had managed to forget something so elemental, he wasn't quite sure. His only excuse was that he had been too busy dreaming of just getting his Mark that he hadn't thought much about what would happen after. His siblings got a good laugh out of it.
The phrase on his ankle wouldn’t be uttered until the very moment his One loved Thorin at his fullest. Until his soulmate accepted Thorin and saw him for who he was and still loved him despite- no, because of it.
That sure put things into perspective. He had been so enamoured with the idea of simply having a soulmark that the most important facts hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time.
It was fine, though. Thorin could wait, he had already waited 145 years, he could wait another century more if necessary.
He would do anything for his One, because someone who was willing to go with Thorin to the very end of Arda — as his phrase implied — deserved everything Thorin could give them.
So he would wait and he would long, awaiting the moment to give his heart entirely to his One.
Then fifty years later Gandalf had come and as always Thorin’s life just became a tad more complicated.
Meeting Bilbo had been odd.
Thorin would look back and admit that that day hadn’t been good, carrying all the weight of his failures and duties, he had been in the worst mood possible and had ended up taking it with the poor hobbit. A hobbit that called Thorin’s attention without even meaning to, with eyes that reminded him so much of his Mark that it was almost painful — almost being the keyword, as the warmth they brought was far greater, something Thorin made sure to ignore as best as he could.
If he was being honest, Thorin would admit that their meeting couldn’t have gone worse.
The days after the troll incident, although, those were far worse. Because Thorin slowly got to know the hobbit, feeling his whole chest swell with every tidbit he found about their burglar, every new little thing he learnt Thorin greedily stored inside his mind, and inside his heart...
It made him feel guilty, thinking he could be feeling these kind of things , for someone who might not be his One.
And if when he dreamt of his soulmate at night his One’s face took the shape of round beardless cheeks and fluffy golden copper curls, he made sure to keep it to himself.
But as it seemed Dwalin didn’t need him to say anything.
“How are you gonna find yer One if you keep stopping yerself from falling in love?” His cousin said one day, while Thorin stared down at the freshly baked blackberry cobbler Bilbo had baked for him and their Skin-changer host. “For someone who’s so fixated with the idea of finding the one meant to be with you, you keep forgetting the obvious things,” Dwalin added with a teasing smirk.
Not for the first time, Thorin realized how stupid he had been.
“Of course...” He said, voice low and his mouth still tasting of blackberry and hope.
At night, listening to Bilbo’s breathing as he slept mere feet away from him he wondered, not for the first time, what Bilbo’s soulmark said.
Falling in love with Bilbo, as it turned out, was easier than breathing — especially after once he let himself, he finally realized he was already halfway gone for the clever hobbit.
Being the receiver of his warm smiles and gentle touches made all the teasing his nephews and Dwalin bestowed upon him more than worth it.
It wasn’t easy, trying this, this- thing with Bilbo. He was sure that even if the quest hadn’t been in the middle of all, it would still have been hard, but it certainly didn’t make it any easier. While they tried their best to make their relationship work, they were fundamentally different and it wasn’t easy to overcome those differences, but neither of them faltered and that’s what made a difference.
"You're unfathomably gorgeous." Mentioned Bilbo one day, as Thorin battled with his hair, trying to take the twigs and leaves that had gotten stuck when he had to help get Ori out from where he had fallen in a ditch.
Thorin turned sharply to look at him, his hair almost slapping him straight in the face at his sudden turn. He absently noticed the rest of the company looking at Bilbo, all in varying degrees of astonishment.
"What?"
"Ah." Bilbo's cheeks turned bright red, as he lowered his gaze to the ground, not meeting Thorin's eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I know it's not very polite to fawn over someone like that, but I can be hardly faulted, you're very handsome and regal after all and-" Bilbo started rambling, his face turning increasingly red as he kept talking.
Thorin's heart skipped a beat, he could hardly believe his ears. Bilbo found him- handsome ? He had always thought the hobbit liked him despite his looks, not because of them. Thorin thought for a moment this was all a well-convoluted dream.
"What are you talking about, Bilbo? Uncle is really ugly. I mean, I'm not any better but-" Kíli babbled, and Thorin would feel offended if it wasn't the absolute truth, or if the one who had said it hadn't been as ugly as him.
"Excuse me?! How very well dare you?! Your uncle is stunning! You all would be lucky to look like him!" Exclaimed Bilbo, this time flushing from anger and not embarrassment.
"He's not trying to insult me, Bilbo." Thorin clarified, feeling a bit faint after seeing Bilbo's fury — all because he thought he had been insulted. "He's simply saying the truth, for us dwarves I'm nothing much to look at, far from it, in fact."
"Oh." Bilbo looked at them consideringly and after all the dwarves nodded, he looked confused. "Really? I- Uhm, I suppose that's another thing we'll just have to agree to disagree." After a moment of hesitance, he asked, "then which one of you would be considered handsome?"
"That would Gloín." Said proudly Oín.
Bilbo looked at the dwarf in question, his look of confusion turning into bewilderment. "I- Huh. I- Interesting."
No one said much after that, and from time to time Bilbo would look from Thorin to Gloín, shaking his head as if the thought of Gloín being more attractive than Thorin was almost impossible to grasp in his mind.
From that moment forward Thorin began to stand a little taller, a little prouder, and when Bilbo mentioned that both Fíli and Kíli had a very fetching resemblance to Thorin they did as well.
Neither of them talked about soulmates with each other, it seemed unnecessary, even if sometimes doubt and insecurity clouded Thorin’s mind.
But it was alright, the feel of Bilbo’s hand clasped with his own, the feel of a soft mouth pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and the feel of a smile against his neck made it all go away.
Hearing Bilbo tell him “I love you,” for the first time was something Thorin would never forget. It had happened in the most unfortunate of times; when Thorin had been sure he was going to rot in Thranduil's dungeons. Bilbo had managed to slip in without being seen, he had hugged and kissed Thorin, telling him he would get him out soon and just before he left he had murmured his love against Thorin's lips as he kissed him one last time before leaving.
But as they came closer to the mountain Thorin felt a darkness seep into his mind making him feel as if it was slowly tearing him from the insides, it scared him, even thinking about what that meant and what would bring, so — against his better judgment — Thorin pushed all his worries and any thought concerning his grandfather or any darkness as far away as his could. Instead, he focused on Bilbo and his brightness, feeling whole only in his presence.
As they reached Lake Town, the weight of what they were about to do weighed on Thorin more than ever. Everything was uncertain, they lived day by day, praying to live another one, and for the first time, Thorin regretted ever meeting Bilbo, bringing him on the mad quest Thorin selfishly had embarked so many honourable dwarves in.
He couldn't bear the thought of losing Bilbo. At this point it didn’t even matter if he wasn’t Thorin’s One, the hobbit meant the entire world to Thorin and he loved him more than he could ever hope to love anyone. It would be too cruel if that was the case, if it turned out that Bilbo wasn’t his One, both for Thorin and the other person he was supposedly meant to be — but especially for his soulmate because Thorin was sure he would never be able to love them as much as he loved Bilbo.
As the days went by his mind became fuzzier to a point where Thorin could barely understand what was going on, he felt like he was underwater, trapped in the deep ocean that was his slowly rotting mind.
Then it happened…
One day before they decided to part towards Erebor — after Bilbo had made a full recovery — Thorin had visited his room and took him up to the roof, knowing the hobbit would be feeling restless after having spent a whole week without feeling the breeze on his face, and also because that might be the last time he could ever be with Bilbo like that.
They looked at the bright stars, the moon nowhere to be seen, fingers intertwined as Bilbo rested his back against Thorin's chest.
Thorin nuzzled into the freshly washed curls, smelling soap and craving Bilbo’s natural scent.
“I can’t believe we have come this far.” Whispered Bilbo, turning slightly to look up at Thorin. “It feels like a lifetime has passed since I left The Shire.”
Thorin hummed in agreement with a smile, simply enjoying the feel of Bilbo in his arms.
“I can barely remember what my life was before I met you,” Bilbo said with a small laugh.
“Empty.” Replied Thorin.
“Sorry?”
“For me it was empty.” Thorin clarified. “Meeting has changed everything.” Letting out a sigh, he added. “It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Bilbo chortled, snuggling closer to Thorin and turning his head further to be able to kiss him sweetly on the mouth.
Thorin melted on the kiss, tightening his grip on his beloved. As he drew back slowly, Thorin couldn’t help himself and rubbed his nose against Bilbo’s, closing in for another quick peck.
“I don’t regret it,” Bilbo whispered as if he was telling Thorin a secret. “I don’t regret coming with you or-” He cut himself short, licking his lips. “I don’t regret any of it. I would do everything the same a hundred times over as long as it led me to your side.”
Thorin felt his eyes burn with unshed tears, his heart swelled with love and simultaneously broke at the thought that as much as he wanted he couldn’t be certain that they would have many moments like this.
“ Where you go, I will go also ,” Bilbo whispered, with a smile so soft and warm that if Thorin hadn’t been sitting it would have brought him down to his knees.
He felt as his heart stopped for a second, taking his breath away in the process. Thorin took a shaky breath as he felt his entire body, his soul , fill with warmth, with light, with love.
He closed his eyes, basking in the gift Bilbo was, in the gift he had given Thorin by loving him, by accepting Thorin despite everything.
Thorin cursed destiny, he cursed Mahal for making finally known that his One was Bilbo, in the worst moment possible, when he didn’t know if by tomorrow they would be alive. If he would have the chance to say Bilbo’s phrase and finally feel whole and complete as their bond snapped in place.
He bit his lip, pushing back the bittersweet tears that threatened to leave his eyes and stopped himself from uttering a single word that would clue Bilbo about how much his words had meant to Thorin. How much he had been waiting to hear them, this wasn't the time. Instead, he smiled at his One — Oh Mahal, finally his One — and gave him another kiss, a kiss he hoped would convey all he felt for Bilbo, how much he felt and how much the hobbit meant to him. He hoped Bilbo knew Thorin would give his life for him.
“I love you.” Whispered Thorin, as he held his entire world in his arms.
Despite everything, Thorin couldn’t help to think that there couldn’t have been a better way to receive his phrase.
The moment they reached the mountain Thorin knew something was awfully wrong.
All senses screaming at him, he was about to turn and shout to Balin that they had to leave, that it wasn’t safe.
He couldn’t risk it, he couldn’t risk the safety of his companions, the safety of his One. Thorin would find another way, another way to sustain his people, to regain their lost lands, to- there had to be another way.
But before he could even utter a single word his mind became fuzzy, the darkness within his mind taking hold of Thorin, like a puppet on a string, and suddenly all he knew was that he had to get inside the mountain, no matter the price or what it took, he had to get in.
Thorin felt like everything he had ever loved slipped through his fingers, being buried deep in his mind and after a single moment the thought of Bilbo entering a dragon’s lair didn’t scare him anymore. It jabbed at a certain part of his soul but Thorin, too deep in the darkness of his mind, almost didn’t feel it.
After that, all became a blur, a blur of noise and gold — oh, so much gold — and Thorin found himself wavering on an edge he wasn’t quite sure how he had reached.
There were moments, moments when his mind was his own and not some sort of empty vessel for the- the sickness to fester in. All of those moments happened around Bilbo and he wanted to tell him. Let him know how unwell Thorin really was but he was sure that his One already knew, and as much as he wanted to tell him there was a part of him that wouldn’t let him, as if his own body was betraying him. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring himself to say anything except to give Bilbo false reassurances that everything was alright.
As the days went by his lucid moments were fewer and fewer and at night, with the shine of gold on his skin, and the weight of a crown on his head, Thorin couldn’t help but curse his legacy and the moment he stepped foot on that cursed mountain because with him being like that, Thorin was sure he would never get to find what Bilbo’s phrase said. Of course, just as that thought crossed his mind, darkness pulled Thorin even deeper and this time, heartbroken as he was, Thorin wasn’t strong enough to resist.
Was it worth it?
Was it really worth the pain he caused Bilbo? Just for the sake of a few coins and a shiny rock?
Thorin didn’t think so, but after reaching this far, he didn’t really see the point of anything or it’s worth now that his One was no longer by his side.
He had finally been able to snap out of it, to fight the wretched sickness that had festered in his mind. The burning pain on his ankle having made Thorin holler in pain, having made him realize what he had almost done.
But it had been too late. The damage was already done.
His Mark had turned into a murky shade of green and Bilbo was gone.
Running straight into battle after that, felt like the most right thing to do. Thorin felt reassured that Bilbo was safe, most likely already heading back home — away from Thorin.
Thorin was sure he was not going to come out alive of this one, he had foiled death many a time, looked at its face and said ‘not yet’, but this time it wasn’t like that. It was more than fine, though. As long as nobody in his company perished, Thorin was alright with it.
He just wished he had been able to apologize to Bilbo, to tell him how much he loved him, to say the phrase that was engraved in Bilbo's skin and feel as their bond tied them together for all eternity. But it wouldn’t be like that, destiny had never been kind to Thorin, and when it had been, he had made sure to make a mess of things all on his own.
Bilbo was better off without him.
All his life he had promised himself he would do anything to make his One happy, to never hurt them and in a single moment, he had committed the most grievous sin.
He had almost killed Bilbo.
Thorin could barely stand with the grief the mere thought of it brought.
So he fought, he fought through the pain, through the blood and sweat. Pushing his body to the limit to save his family, to save his nephews. And as he finally faced Azog, unconsciousness threatening to take over, he only asked to have the chance to meet Bilbo again in another life. To have the chance to be with him and love him as he deserved, to finally be able to say the words he longed so much to say.
The last thing he saw, as his body finally gave in, was a blur of messy golden copper curls and warm arms around him.
Ah, Mahal had been merciful , were Thorin’s last thoughts as he drifted off.
Pain.
That was the first thing Thorin registered as he opened his eyes, eyelids heavy. A horrible pain, like nothing he had ever felt before.
He lost consciousness again, just as he saw Oín hurrying towards him.
The next time he woke up he felt less like a living corpse and more like himself.
He absently felt something brushing against his arm. Thorin turned, even as his head pounded slightly at the faint movement, only to find — to his absolute surprise — a sleeping Bilbo by his side.
He had half of his body on the chair that was beside Thorin's cot and the other half sprawled across the edge of the bed —neck bent in a painful angle.
It was with absolute dismay that Thorin realized that the hobbit was covered in bandages.
Thorin's head swarmed in confusion.
What was Bilbo doing here? He was supposed to be safe, away from the battle.
“He has been by your bedside from the moment Dwalin brought you here.”
Thorin turned his head in surprise, worsening his headache even more, only to find Oín a few feet away from him.
“His wounds are not even healed but he refused to leave you, said you might end up dying without him knowing again,” Oín explained, rolling his eyes exasperatedly.
“I-” Thorin began, voice faint, his dry throat making it painful to speak. Oín quickly handed him a cup with fresh water. Thorin took a small sip, letting out a sigh. “Why is he here? I thought he hated me and that by now he would be long gone. I wouldn’t fault him, what I did is unforgivable.”
“I don’t hate you. I could never, I’m not very pleased with you at the moment but that hardly has anything to do with what happened on the ramparts.” Bilbo said, voice groggy and sleepy from where he was slowly managing to get into a sitting position.
“Bilbo.” Thorin murmured, his mind still unable to catch up to the concept that his love had stayed by his side.
Bilbo interlocked their hands together. Thorin hesitantly brought them up to his lips and placed a kiss on Bilbo’s palm. He looked at the hobbit and tried to convey all the sorrow and regret he felt, all he couldn’t quite manage to say, all that a few words could never be able to express what Thorin felt for him.
“I love you, more than anything,” Thorin said, softly. Sleep pulling him once again.
Bilbo chuckled wetly, a single tear running down his left cheek. Thorin brushed it away with his thumb and before he could remove his hand, Bilbo placed his hand on top of it and nuzzled into it.
Thorin’s heart filled with warmth, a warmth he hadn’t felt since the moment they had stepped foot inside Erebor.
Mahal might have made him wait 195 years for him to meet Bilbo but it had been more than worth it. Bilbo was everything he had ever dreamt of and much more.
“Sorry to cut this short, lads, but Thorin has to rest and you too, Bilbo,” said Oín, pointing accusingly at Bilbo, his eyes worried. “Here, drink this,” he added, as he handed Thorin a foul-smelling cup.
Thorin drunk it with a grimace, swallowing down the urge to gag.
“Do as he says, go rest, please.” Thorin urged Bilbo, feeling his eyelids starting to drop.
Before unconsciousness finally took over Thorin could have sworn he felt the faint brush of chapped lips against his forehead.
One week had passed, one week of boring and painful rest. This time Thorin woke up to the sound of laughter, fond and happy laughter.
His eyes fluttered open and he turned his gaze to look at the picture beside him. It looked like his nephews had come to visit Bilbo and him. They were finishing their bowls of food as Bilbo was trying to untangle Kíli’s wild mane from where he was sitting on his own cot.
He and the boys were laughing, Kíli slightly pouting as his brother teased him. It eased Thorin worries, they were healthy and with the exception of a couple of broken bones and minor injuries he had been able to keep his boys safe.
Thorin turned to look at Bilbo and found himself unable to take a single breath, his smile and the gaze he directed at his nephews — so full of love and raw affection — having stolen the breath away from him.
He kept his eyes on his family, enjoying their happiness and basking in it. He didn’t say anything until well after the younger dwarves had left. Bilbo threw his blanket aside and walked slowly towards Thorin, climbing on his cot.
Thorin chuckled, scooting to the side so the hobbit could snuggle beside him.
Bilbo let out a pleased sigh as Thorin cradled him in his arms.
Thorin looked at his fluttering eyelashes, the sun slipping through the tent and making Bilbo’s eyes look the exact same shade that was Thorin’s soulmark.
They still hadn’t talked about what happened on the ramparts, it was something they had to do sooner or later, but on the second day after waking up in the tent Thorin had asked Dwalin to help him so he could see his Mark. He had wanted to remind himself of his failures, to make sure he never forgot what he had done, but to his utmost surprise, he had found his Mark back to the colour it used to be, if not more vibrant.
It had left Thorin speechless and after a minute of him gawking at it he had burst out in tears, hanging for dear life onto Dwalin, as the relief that Bilbo still loved him and that their chance to form a bond hadn't been ruined by Thorin — even after all he had done — filled him.
Bilbo didn’t say anything, simply smiling at him, looking at Thorin as if he was the most important person in his life.
And in that moment Thorin let himself feel that love, for a moment he forgot the guilt and self-hatred that plagued his mind and the only thing that he could feel and think was the enormous amount of love he felt for Bilbo, it was so much he couldn’t comprehend how his heart hadn’t busted yet.
Was it really possible to feel so much for a single person?
It must be. Thorin was proof of it.
He laughed, feeling drunk on the love, the appreciation, the affection and joy Bilbo brought from deep inside him.
“What?” Asked Bilbo, still smiling at Thorin as if he was his whole world. Looking at Thorin as if he loved him just as much as Thorin loved him.
Without even thinking, feeling as if the words spilt from deep within his soul Thorin answered, “ I would ride all the way to the end of Arda to see you smile like that every day. ”
Bilbo gasped and before Thorin could ask him what happened, he felt it.
He felt a warmth equal to none settle inside his chest. A sense of belonging he had only ever dreamt of feeling and a void he had been keenly aware all his life had finally been filled.
Ah , Thorin thought, this must be what forming a bond feels like.
Images suddenly filled his mind, an entire life passing before his eyes. But it wasn’t his own, it was Bilbo’s .
Thorin saw in astonishment the moment Bilbo arrived in the world, red-faced and screaming, his blue words, already engraved in his skin, looking gigantic on his tiny chest.
He saw Bilbo take his first steps, he saw him baking with his father and playing with wooden swords with his mother. He saw as Bilbo got his heart broken for the first time.
He saw every moment Bilbo brushed his fingers against his Mark, looking at the stars wondering where his Fated would be. Thorin saw, with heavy heart, Bilbo get ostracized by his peers for being different.
Thorin had to see him lose his parents and wept with him, feeling his sorrow and sadness, wishing he could have been able to be there for Bilbo, to be able to comfort him in such difficult times.
But Thorin also saw good things, he saw all the times Bilbo had been able to feel a slight warmth on his soulmark — as if his soulmate was sending him comfort and love through their Marks. Thorin rejoiced, even if he hadn’t been able to be with Bilbo in presence, some of his love had been able to seep through their Marks. Even if it had been a little bit, he had been able to show Bilbo how much he meant to Thorin, even when they had yet to meet.
He saw Bilbo’s entire life laid out before him, then he saw himself entering said life and had the chance to experience the quest from Bilbo’s eyes. He saw and felt what Bilbo had felt for him, since the moment they met to the second the bond began forming.
Thorin finally felt it snap in place as he realized, amazed and dazed, that since Bilbo had said Thorin's phrase the hobbit had never stopped loving him, not even for a second.
Not even when Thorin had almost killed him…
He had been angry, heartbroken and even had felt betrayed, but his feelings for Thorin had never changed.
Thorin finally came back to his senses, feeling his cheeks wet with tears, sobs still racking his body. He felt the warmth of the bond buzzing under his skin, right on top of his soulmark.
Thorin took a deep breath, trying to calm down, just realizing that Bilbo wasn’t faring any better. The hobbit was still crying, hugging Thorin with all his might to the point it was painful, but Thorin didn’t care, the mere idea of pushing Bilbo away from him was painful enough to make him let out a half-choked cry.
He wrapped Bilbo in his arms and began peppering his face with kisses, murmuring sweet nothings, telling him how amazing he was and how much Thorin loved him. It only made the hobbit cry harder but Thorin persevered, it was for the best. Since they had entered the mountain Bilbo had been swallowing too many of his feelings, it was high time he let it all out.
“You tried to fight it.” Said Bilbo, half-choked on his tears. “You tried to fight the sickness and even tried to warn us, but you couldn’t.” Bilbo placed his hand shakily on top of Thorin’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that all alone. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Thorin told him, biting his lip as tears began pooling in his eyes once again. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, I tried to stop myself, I promise. I never meant to hurt you.” Thorin pleaded for Bilbo to believe him. He needed the hobbit to understand Thorin had never intended to hurt him.
“I know, I saw, Thorin, I saw .” Bilbo smiled at him, pressing a messy chaste kiss on his lips. “It’s alright, you have now. I’ll never let anything like that happen again. Our bond won’t let it happen.”
Thorin kissed his One once again, feeling relief and love, so much love flood him. He hadn’t realized how afraid he had been of falling into the dragon sickness once more until Bilbo had reassured him. Deep in his guilt, he hadn’t even contemplated how horrible it had been for him, too worried about the repercussions his actions would bring to Bilbo and the company.
He might have had to wait an entire life and some to bond with his One but he would do it all over again without a second thought if it meant he would have Bilbo by his side. All the hardships he had gone through were worth it, Bilbo was worth all of that and some more.
“Thank you, for loving me. For not giving up on me even in my darkest moments.” Thorin said, caressing Bilbo’s curls.
Bilbo laughed wetly. “Thank you for loving me, even when you didn’t know me. For being there for me, when I had no one.”
“But now you have me.” Retorted Thorin, rubbing his thumb against Bilbo’s Mark, placed right on top of his heart.
“Yes,” Bilbo said, rubbing his nose against Thorin. “Yes, now we have each other.”
Aye, Thorin thought. In the end, all the wait had been worth it. Mahal had blessed him with someone Thorin would spend his whole cherishing and loving, and from whom he would get just as much affection in return.
He couldn’t wait to tell his sister, she was going to love Bilbo.