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So often since they had come to Erebor, Kili felt lost.
In the Blue Mountains, he had known his place. He was their village’s best hunter; he was great in the forge. He helped take care of his amad (though she insisted she needed no taking care of), and he took lessons from Balin and Dwalin on decorum and swordplay, respectively.
In this strange, unfamiliar kingdom, things were different.
Here, Kili was a prince. The second heir to the throne. Here, there were archers and hunting parties that took care of getting food for the royal family. He had no time to go to the forge, and his amad had royal attendants flocking around her at all times. Here, he no longer took lessons. It was time to enact everything he had learned, and if was honest with himself, that was not much.
Fili had been preparing for such a thing his whole life–so had Kili, but not to nearly the same extent. He had spent most of his adolescence skipping lessons, or distracting Fili throughout all of their learnings. Even if he had been a perfect student, there was nothing that could truly prepare him for real royal life. It was boring, stuffy, and consisted mainly of one meeting after another.
That was where he had to be today. Representatives from both Dale and Mirkwood were visiting and Thorin was hosting a feast to welcome them to Erebor in all its former glory. At least for tonight, there would be music, dancing, and ale. And if Kili was lucky, maybe Tauriel would be among the elven delegation.
Until then, Kili was lost. He thumbed once again through his grand wardrobe, the soft fabrics feeling out of place under his bow-callused fingertips. Having nice clothes was extremely foreign to him. Before, he had only owned a few tunics and trousers, as well as the leather coat Fili had made for him on his coming of age. Now, his closet was stuffed full of multicolored fabrics; more clothes than anyone could possibly need in a lifetime.
Kili wasn’t a typical dwarf. He felt himself to be too slim, too tall. His nose was slight and even though he was nearly 80, his beard had yet to fill in. Self-consciously, he wrapped an arm around his stomach and sat on his bed. If it was up to him, he would wrap his favorite coat around himself and be done with it, but that wasn’t very princely.
A knock sounded on his door, pulling Kili out of his contemplation. He frowned, but got up to open the door. Fili was standing on the other side, his red velvet robes already on, and his raven crown nestled in his perfectly braided blonde hair. The perfect picture of the perfect golden prince of Erebor. Kili shifted subconsciously.
“What do you need, Fili?”
“You aren’t dressed yet? Kee, we have to be in the great hall very soon. We’re going to be late.”
“You can go without me,” Kili added hopefully, but Fili just rolled his eyes, coming into his room.
“What’s the problem? Can’t find anything to wear?” His tone was teasing, but when Kili didn’t snipe back, Fili frowned. “Talk to me, Kee.”
Kili sat on his bed, wrapping his arms around his stomach to try and hide. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good in anything. I don’t want to go. I feel–” he closed his eyes, willing tears not to spill out. “I just don’t want to go.”
“Let me do your hair,” Fili softly suggested. “Would that make you feel better?”
It probably wouldn’t, but Kili sighed and nodded anyway. He should have known there was no hiding from Fili. His brother's weight settled on the bed next to him and Kili closed his eyes. His fingers began to run through Kili’s hair.
“What is it about this feast that is getting you so worked up, nadadith?”
Kili hummed softly, leaning into the feeling of his hair being played with. Fili’s fingers were deft–familiar–and Kili felt himself begin to relax at long last. “I just always feel out of place at these things, that’s all.”
“I’ve always been jealous of your dark hair,” Fili began, seemingly ignoring Kili’s comment. “You and Thorin both have it. Most of the line of Durin has your hair. I felt out of place without it. Right after you were born, I used to take mud and put it in my hair so that it didn’t shine so brightly and I looked like Thorin. Only then did I feel like I looked the part to be his heir. I’ve never told that to anyone before, not even Amad.”
Kili frowned. “But your hair is beautiful. You are one of the only golden haired dwarves in Erebor, and you have suitors lined out the door just to get a chance to see it for themselves. Surely you no longer feel that way?”
“I don’t mind it so much now,” Fili hummed, and extended his hand. Kili reached over, placing his hair clip into Fili’s palm. Fili deftly attached it to the back of Kili’s head, then got back to work. “After Adad died, Amad could hardly bear to look at me because all she saw was his golden hair. Thorin told me once when I was older that he had felt the same when I was born. Frerin had my golden hair as well, and all my life I looked so much like him that Thorin said it made his chest ache.”
“Fili,” Kili tried to turn around to look at him, to offer him comfort, but Fili firmly placed a hand on his shoulder so that he could keep doing his hair.
“Hush, nadadith. Let me finish. For many years, my golden hair was what made me different. I felt unfit for the throne because of it. I felt ugly. But this is the hair of our father and of our uncle. It took me a long time to come to terms with it, but now I wear my hair with pride. If I were to hate my hair, it would be to dishonor them. My hair is a connection to our family, just not in the way that I had thought.”
“I didn’t know you felt like that,” Kili bit his lip, closing his eyes. “Even so, you’re still the most handsome dwarf in all of Erebor, and I’m just… me. I don’t belong at feasts like this.”
“I understand feeling like that. It’s all so new, being true royalty. We’ve been preparing for it our whole lives, but to actually be in the face of it is scary. I’m right beside you the whole way. You don’t have to feel like that.”
“It's not that–not really,” Kili whispered. “You’ve been training your whole life for this. Extra lessons with Balin, one on one time with Thorin, trips to the cities of men. You are Thorin’s heir. I don’t see why I’m needed here.”
Kili yelped as Fili tugged on a strand of his hair. He turned around, pouting, but Fili tutted softly. Rolling his eyes, Kili faced towards the front again, and Fili’s careful fingers continued to braid.
“You are a prince, Kili. Someday, I will name you captain of the guard, or something similar. You are always needed in meetings like that. Besides, I don’t know how I could survive without you at my side.”
Kili ducked his head slightly, embarrassed. “Captain of the guard?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with that. Only you. Now, go see. I’m all done.” Fili tapped Kili’s shoulder, tugging lightly on one of the braids again for good measure. Kili laughed this time, hopping up to stare at the polished silver. When he caught a glimpse of himself, he gasped, whipping around to stare at Fili.
“Fili, no.”
“Fili, yes,” his brother grinned, and Kili swallowed heavily. Fili had somehow without him noticing given him the royal braids. The two braids that stemmed from the temples and went past the ears. The braids that both Thorin and Fili wore. The braids that were only supposed to be worn by the king or the heir to the throne.
“No, Fili, you can’t . These are meant for the direct line of the throne, and I’m just the second heir.”
Fili let out a sound of distress from the back of his throat. “Kili. Nadadith . You are not just anything.”
“But-”
“You’re so dense,” Fili chuckled, standing. Slowly, he brought their foreheads together; Kili closed his eyes, breathing deeply, allowing his brother’s familiar presence to calm him down. “Kee, I don’t care about formalities or propriety. I care about you. I want you to be happy because you are the most important person in the world to me. If I had to choose between you and Erebor, I think we both know what I would pick.”
“Won’t Thorin be mad?” Kili protested weakly, but his cheeks were flushed. He felt warm from the inside out and suddenly the prospect of going to this stupid formal dinner was far less daunting. He felt happy, wanted; the earlier dilema of finding a tunic to wear seemed distant.
“Probably,” Fili grinned, cat-like and confident. Kili loved him so fiercely that it hurt his chest. He was so, so lucky that Mahal had given him a brother as good as this one. He made a mental note to thank Him more often. “But when has Thorin being mad ever stopped us before? Where is your sense of adventure, little brother?”
The moment between them broke, and Kili laughed, shoving at Fili’s head to escape his gaze. “What kind of princes would we be if we didn’t try to send the king to an early grave?”
Fili smiled, and reached to the side table to grab Kili’s small silver circlet. For the first time, the sight of his circlet didn’t make him nauseous, and Kili let Fili settle it on his head without complaint.
“Now be careful, Kee. I worked hard on those braids. Don’t mess them up.”
Kili stuck his tongue out and Fili sighed. But Kili could see that he was smiling.