Chapter Text
Thorin watched you from a distance in your light blue gown. You were on your father's arm, chatting away with the baker in front of their shop, the bread you had just bought in your hands. A charming smile was plastered on your lips, and he nearly struck his thumb with the mallet he had been using to forge a sheet of iron.
"Are you staring at her again?" Dwalin appeared from behind the corner and made Thorin drop the hammer painfully on his foot. He glared at his friend rubbing his foot to hide his blush.
"I am not staring." He muttered, his eyes flashing back to you as you accepted a flower from a man walking down the street and tucked in your hair, giving a bright smile to the man. You had just dropped off food at the orphanage like you did every time you visited the village.
You hurried to the clearing, hair being swept around in the wind. You gave the blacksmith, whose name you remembered to be Thorin, a smile as you passed his house on your way back. You had talked with him briefly a few times. He was polite and pleasant, and very handsome if you saw past the spot covering his skin. You couldn't stop to chatter now, you were late. Your father didn't like you being alone in the village, despite your insistence that you were completely safe. You could already see his royal purple cloak. But you never made it to him.
When you were at the edge of the clearing, you were grabbed from behind, a hand clamping over your mouth to stop you from screaming.
"Hello, princess." The voice in your ear was gruff and it sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You struggled against their grip, trying to get free from the hold, but their hands were clamped tight around you and it became clear to you that they were much bigger than you.
"Now, you are going to be quiet and behave yourself. You don't want your father hurt, do you?" Your breath hitched when you were turned around and you saw a crossbow aimed at your father. If they would fire now, it would hit him directly in the lower back. Your father wasn't young anymore, and a hit from an arrow, even if the hit itself was not fatal, the wound could kill him if it got infected. You couldn't lose him, not after your mother. You gave a shaky nod as your mouth was still covered, and allowed yourself, although grudgingly, to be dragged along.
In one moment, Thorin was gleeful, and the next, furious. You had smiled at him. You had looked directly at him, and smiled. It was almost as desirable as you stopping by and talking, but he cherished the small victories. But then he had noticed the men stalking closer to you and hadn't been able to do anything before they had their hands on you. He had left his shop immediately, but he had lost them in the chaos. He forced his way through the crowd, eyes darting around to find the men that had taken you. When he reached the darkened alley he had last seen you, he noticed a ring glittering on the ground. He recognized it as one of yours, and pocketed it, striding into the dark, his hand tightly squeezing the sword.
You were dragged into a darkened building, the floorboards were creaky and bent and the ceiling was leaking in many places. Some of the windows were cracked, and gushes of wind made it tough, causing you to shiver in the cooling evening. You were sat down in a chair next to the wall furthers from the door, your face facing the center of the room. Now you could finally get a look at your kidnappers, and they were all men nearly twice your size, and they all carried swords at their hips, and probably had a load of hidden weapons hidden in their jackets. A flash of fear surged through you, and tears started to collect in your eyes. You should have just stayed with your father and this hadn't happened.
You winced as a drop of water hit your shoulder, the sudden cold feeling sending a shiver through you. This was clearly amusing to the men, their chuckles and smirks didn't go unnoticed by you.
"We apologize that our residence is in such poor condition, we don't usually have royal visitors." One of the men that had taken you drawled out in fake sympathy, his eyes shining with maliciousness.
"But where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Khous, and these are my brothers, Kafor and Caster." The two men lounging behind him nodded, their eyes trailing up and down your body. You tucked your feet closer to you, fiddling with your fingers as you heard one of them approaching. You kept your eyes down as fear gripped your heart. He leaned in closer, lifting your chin up with one finger, your tear-filled eyes meeting his for a moment before you shifted your gaze away as you had been taught. Do not look at your kidnappers, do nothing that might make you a threat.
"And who might you be?"
"Y-Y/N." Your voice was trembling, quiet, and filled with terror.
"Oh, we know, poppet. I just wanted to hear that sweet voice of yours." He let go of your chin with a laugh and took a few steps back, turning to talk to his brothers. You realized that the reason they hadn't tied you up was that they knew that they didn't have to. You were too frightened to try anything, and even if you did, there were three of them and one of you. And what could you do anyway? You had no weapons, and even if you somehow managed to get one, you had never wielded one in your life!
The sun was sinking below the horizon. You couldn't hear what they were planning, and the uncertainty was dreadful. They were clearly talking about you as their eyes visited you, malevolence in their eyes clear. You were trembling with dread, tears now streaking down your cheeks as you waited for your faith. You could only comfort yourself with the fact that they had wanted you to go with them alive, and they probably planned to keep you so, at least for the time being. It was a thin line of hope but it was hope nonetheless, and it was what you clung on.
"Now, we're gonna do a little business with your father, and he'll have to pay up if he wants to see you again in one piece. You're gonna sit here, nice and quiet, and won't cause any trouble. Then, you can get back to your father without any missing parts." Khous' smile was malicious as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on your necklace.
"But first, I'm gonna need that." He pointed at your necklace, and your hands rose to it, your fingers gripping it tightly.
"I-I can't, it was m-my mother's." You sobbed fingers clutching the chain like it was your lifeline.
"That's too bad, hand it over or I'm gonna take it myself." You didn't even have the chance to move before he strode closer. You winced as he grabbed your jaw and with a harsh tug, yanked the necklace from around your neck.
"No, please, don't. It was- It's all I have left of her." You begged, but it didn't have any effect on your captors. Your desperation drove you to stand forward, and you took a step in his direction.
"Please, I-" Khous' hand made contact with your cheek as he yanked himself around, disdain clear in his eyes as he shoved the necklace into his pocket. You stumbled back and into the chair again, your hand lifting to your throbbing cheek. Tears slipped out of your eyes, the hot liquid burning as it hit the cut on your cheek.
"You better learn your place, poppet. Kafor will keep an eye on you and make sure you won't be doing anything foolish." The man in question was leaning against a wall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"If we aren't back in an hour, kill her," Khous ordered and slammed the door closed behind him, making you wince at the loud sound, tears dropping from your chin to your lap, wetting the fabric of your dress.
Thorin was sneaking around in the shadows, senses perked for the smallest sign of your whereabouts. When he heard footsteps ahead, he quickly slipped into the shadows, holding his breath as they passed.
"That old crank is gonna pay a sizeable price for her return. And if he won't believe us, we'll show him these." Thorin stiffened as he saw the jewels tangling in the man's hand. They were undoubtedly yours, he had asked about them one time when you had stopped for a chat. They had been your mothers, and you would never part with them willingly. Squinting his eyes in the low light, he followed the men's footprints until he arrived at the door of a worn-out building, he carefully peeked in, seeing you huddled on a chair, tears streaking down his face. Red-hot anger coursed through him, and he would have stormed straight in, hadn't he seen the man standing next to the door, hand on the hilt of a sword.
A knock sounded from the door, and your captor frowned, stepping closer to the door but not opening it yet.
"Who is it?" His grip on the sword tightened, and when there were not any answers, he kicked the door open, the cold air flushing in and causing you to shiver, goosebumps rising onto your flesh. A rock was thrown in, and it skipped on the floor until it rolled to a stop.
"I swear that if it is a bunch of kids..." Your captor muttered, exciting the house and slamming the door shut. You were left sitting alone in the dark, not daring to move. You were frightened of what he might do if he came back and saw you had moved.
The door swung open and the air current swept across your face, causing you to close your eyes as a reflex. When they opened again, the door was closed and Thorin was standing inside, panting slightly. His clothes were muddied but he was unharmed, and he was clutching a rusty and bent shovel in his hand.
"T-Thorin?" You gasped, Thorin's eyes snapping to you. There was a red mark on your cheek with a small cut, and Thorin was enraged. They had hit you?! He immediately dropped the tool he was holding and hurried forward, kneeling next to you. Startled by his sudden movement, you jumped away from him, eyeing the blacksmith wildly. He inched backward slightly, giving you room as he saw the frantic look in your eyes.
"My lady, are you alright? " Your eyes jump between the door and Thorin, expecting Kafor to come barging in any moment, your brain searching for words.
"He won't come back," Thorin assured, your eyes filling with tears. You jumped at his neck, and Thorin nearly fell back as you collided with him, but managed to catch himself with the help of a wall.
To say Thorin was surprised when you jumped into his neck was an understatement, but he let you stay, his arms resting on your sides gently.
"I was so scared." You sobbed into his shirt, clutching him as if he was your lifeline. Your breathing was erratic, and it hitched every once in a while when you took deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. You were shaking, partly because of your slowly vanishing terror and partly because of the cold. Thorin hushed you, trying to calm you down, his hands running up and down your arms gently.
"You're safe now." He lifted his other hand, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. His finger accidentally brushed the red mark on your skin and you winced. Thorin yanked his hand away, eyes studying the mark on your cheek. The bastard had been wearing a ring, and now there was a cut on your pristine skin.
You sniffled, trying your best to compose yourself. This was not appropriate behavior for a princess, and you sniffed again to keep your nose from running. Thorin noticed this and fished a handkerchief from his pocket, his only one. His mother had given it to him when he had come of age, it had his initials embroidered into it. He handed it to you without hesitation, and you gave him a quiet thanks, drying your eyes and nose quickly.
A cold evening breeze blew across the house, causing you to shiver. Thorin would have wanted nothing more than to hold you for a couple more moments, but he knew you must be freezing. You were wearing a thin dress, as you had expected to return to the kingdom well before sunset.
"Let's get you back to your father," Thorin whispered gently, pulling you to stand with him. He slipped his jacket off of him, placing it on your shoulders to warm you up. You jumped as the garment landed on your back but quickly slipped your arms through the sleeves. It was still warm with Thorin's body heat, and you shrugged it higher up your shoulders to keep it from falling and took the arm Thorin was offering you. You stepped outside, the sky was covered in grey clouds, the moon barely shining through. Thorin led you briskly across the city, keeping you close to him as you passed dark alleys and abandoned buildings. Your hand clutched the handkerchief, your eyes wildly darting around,e expecting someone to jump out of every passing shadow. It didn't take long until you started to recognize some of the buildings surrounding you, and you soon reached the main clearing.
-
No one was moving, everyone was standing still. Your father, with his guards on the other side and your kidnappers on the other. Khous was still holding your necklace, and you could see the desperation and fear in your father's eyes.
"Now, we can come to an arrangement. We'll return your daughter but you'll have to give something in exchange. Something precious." Khous drawled, not minding the arrows pointed at his chest.
"And why wouldn't we kill you where you stand?" Algrid, head of your father's guard, asked, his hands tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Because if I and my brother aren't back in an hour, she will be dead. Our brother will make sure of it." Khous drawled, your father gripping the arm of his commander tightly, who gave the archers a mark to lower their weapons.
"What do you want?" Your father asked simply, trying to keep his tone even but the desperation was still audible.
"Gold." Was the simple answer, and the two men turned on their heels, starting to make their way into the shadows.
"And bring plenty of it. If there is not enough for us, things will end very unfortunately for the princess. Bring it here, tomorrow when the sun is setting." They disappeared into the dark alleyway. Algrid was immediately preparing to send a few men to follow them, but Khous' voice sounded from the shadows, drawing out words.
"And don't follow us, we might be forced to take a longer route and the princess might not have that time." With that, they were gone and your father was left shivering in desperation.
The king's shoulders were slumped and he was utterly defeated as he muttered commands to his most trusted men
"Fetch gold from the vaults. As much as you can carry."
"That won't be necessary." Thorin stepped into the clearing, your shivering form glued to his side. He gently guided you forward, allowing you to stand in front of him. To the guards, it must have looked like he shoved you forward because, in a blink of an eye, every guard in the clearing had their weapon drawn and pointed at Thorin.
"Release her." Algrid hissed, ready to give the order to fire. Thorin took a step back, but you grabbed his wrist. You were not going to let them treat him like a criminal after he had saved you.
"It wasn't him, papa!" You cried, shaking as the guards were inching forward. The weapons were lowered as fast as they had been drawn, and you could see the relief washing over your father. His face relaxed, and he took a few staggering steps as relief filled his whole body. Thorin gave you a small nudge, bringing you out of your haze, and sent you running into your father's arms.
The king enveloped you into a warm hug, squeezing you tight as you clutched his clothes, tears making their way out of your eyes again. But this time, they were happy tears.
"Oh, my sweet darling. I was so scared. So scared that I would lose you too." Your father's voice was a whisper, and you snugged closer to the familiar chest, the fur of his coat tickling your face.
"I'm sorry papa. I didn't mean to cause you so much worry..." You muttered against his chest and he shook his head at your words.
"I do not blame you." Your father pulled away slightly, his eyes searching your face. His eyes landed on the cut and he gently brushed it with his finger, making you wince as a dull pain shot out at his touch.
"They will pay for this." He swore to you in a quiet voice, and you gave him a small smile.
"I'm safe now. Thanks to Thorin." He pulled your necklace out of his pocket and handed it to you. It was muddy like it had been thrown into the ground, but you were happy that it was in your hands. You held it tightly, squeezing it in the same hand you held the handkerchief.
The king turned his eyes to Thorin who was standing in the clearing, staring at his boots.
"I am in your debt, son. Whatever you wish as a reward, it will be yours." Thorin's eyes visited you for a moment before they returned to his feet. He could ask for your hand, but you were a lady, not a prize to be won. And he was a blacksmith, someone that was not meant to marry a princess.
"Nothing, my lord." He turned on his heel, returning home as you watched his retreating back, a feeling you couldn't recognize tugging your heart.