Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Once upon a time, a long long time ago, there lived a prince."

Nori groaned from across the room, his coppery eyes rolling back in his head in a show of disgust. He lounged in his boyfriend's lap lazily, his head propped against Dwalin's shoulder, his fiery red hair flowing over his boyfriend's body as well as his own.
"Come on Ori, you're supposed to give us a good starting sentence, not something stupid."
Dwalin huffed softly, rolling his eyes at his lover's eccentric show of distaste, and carded a hand through Nori's hair fondly.

"What do you mean not something stupid?" Ori hissed, crossing his arms. He was bent over the marble counter at the front of the store, his arms propped under his chest as he stared at Nori. 
"You said, when you gave out the rules, I could say anything." 

It was a slow day in the Craft and Cup Cafe. Stragglers wandered in and out during the breakfast 'rush', which was never more than 10 people in total. 
As of right now, at 2:15 in the early spring afternoon where the sun has just begun to dip in the sky, there wasn't a single customer in sight.

It isn't that the Cafe is bad, per say. The tea sold and produced here is renowned across the square, and even across various other 'blocks' within Arda, such as Esgaroth or the Greenwood. But... it's an older shop, and most of the Erebor population drinks coffee or those stupid Cuinar-Dîr drinks, the ones that make you stay up an extra six hours or seem to give off inhuman bursts of energy?

Ori never understood the point of them. They taste horrible, the bubbles and fizz are beyond overstimulating, they rot the enamel on a person's teeth and cause a whole variety of other health issues. But alas, the general majority of humanity seemed to favor Cuinar-Dîr over tea. 

Ori is... here, tending the counter of a store that barely gets enough foot traffic to stay open. Bent over the counter, raised brow at Nori.
Not working, but if Dori asks, he's most definitely working. 
Nori had come out from the back, sporting a new bloom of red and purple marks across his neck, and trailing his boyfriend in tow. He had seen Ori and grinned wildly, a feral gleam in his eyes.

Then... Nori had become Ori's problem.

The game was Dwalin's suggestion. Sit where they are, look pretty -and busy-, and talk. One person starts off a sentence, the next person continues with another sentence, then the next, until a good story is told. A game that suited Ori just fine, actually, what with his writing prowess.

"It's stupid! You want there to be a story about a prince, with a 'Once Upon A Time' kind of start? Are we writing a fairytale?" Nori prodded his little brother, crossing his arms.

"Why can't it be a fairy tale?" Ori asked, scowling. He moved his stance, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he shifted, switching the position of his arms and crossing his legs. 

"Fairy tales are boring." Simple and bored came Nori's reply.

"Says you." 

Dwalin looked at Nori and bent down slightly, his lips brushing against Nori's ear as he whispered something. Nori glared at Dwalin, lifted up a hand, and pinched Dwalin's side. 
His boyfriend laughed, swatting Nori's hand away and re-training his eyes on Ori.

"Once upon a time, a long long time ago, there lived a prince. A prince who...." He looked around the tea shop, his deep brown/black eyes darting around, searching for inspiration. "... Who was turned into a vampire."

Nori cackled at that, shooting up straight and giving Dwalin an incredulous look as he laughed. "Holy shit- You two are a bunch of teenage girls, princes and vampires! What next? Werewolves? Soul mates?" 

Ori scowled, biting his tongue and with that, the response that Nori didn't have to be such a jerk about it. 
"It's just a game, Nori. Chill. It's your turn, anyway."

Nori, still laughing, panted out, "uh- hah- hic- H-he lived in an apartment- Oh my god I can't take this seriously-."

Ori let Nori’s laughter run its course, waiting patiently with his arms crossed. He glanced at Dwalin, who was doing his best to keep a straight face while Nori practically wheezed in his lap.

“Done yet?” Ori asked, his tone dry.

Nori wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, catching his breath. “Not even close, Ori. Please, keep this riveting tale going. I haven’t laughed this hard since Dwalin tried to explain quantum tea leaves to Dori.”

“I thought it was fascinating,” Dwalin muttered, his arm tightening briefly around Nori’s waist.

“Of course you did darling.” Nori patted Dwalin’s cheek before grinning at Ori. “Alright, Shakespeare, take it away. Give us more broody vampires and whatever nonsense you’ve cooked up.”

Ori’s lips twitched in a restrained smirk. “If you’re quite finished interrupting, I’ll continue. Now, where was I?” He tapped his chin theatrically, waiting for silence. “Ah, our vampire-apartment-prince. He lives in an apartment now, but before that, he was part of a great kingdom."

Ori's brow furrowed as he thought, his eyes going wide, a smile lighting up his face as he continued. "An ancient kingdom of vampires. The crowning jewel of this kingdom was the palace, built into the very rock of the mountain itself, it was large, blue and green stone with gold veins. This domain was ruled over by the immortal Vampire King and his lover."

Ori paused, eyes brimming with excitement as the story began to come together in his mind. For the others, the pause was an excellent halt, thick with tension.
"The King, through his sister, had two nephews. Two heirs, our vampire prince, and his younger, more reckless brother. The kingdom's power was absolute, their dominion unchallenged... until one fateful night, Thorin’s most trusted general turned against him. A bloody coup erupted in the royal court, and amidst the chaos, our vampire prince and his younger brother fled the castle."

“But the general’s treachery wasn’t born of ambition alone.” Ori paused, letting the suspense hang in the air, then dropped his voice conspiratorially. “He had allies. Werewolf allies. The wolves of the... uh... Mirkwood! - came howling, thinking that the Vampire kingdom had grown unchecked for too long.”

Nori snorted, but it was quieter this time. "Mirkwood? Did you just change the name of the Greenwood to make it more interesting?"
Ori glared at Nori, and Dwalin, intrigued, leaned forward slightly.

“The beautiful and fair-haired Werewolf King,” Ori continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “was more cunning than anyone realized. While the Vampire court squabbled over politics and power, the Werewolf King waited. He let his wolves grow stronger, faster, more coordinated. He offered the general power in exchange for a promise: destroy the Vampire King, and the Mirkwood would finally dominate the night.” 

Nori raised an eyebrow. “Werewolves? Werewolves are so fucking boring, bookworm.”

“Werewolves aren’t boring if you know how to write them,” Ori snapped back.

Dwalin chuckled. “Let him work, love.”
Nori huffed, but relaxed against Dwalin, his eyes fluttering shut when Dwalin started to play with his hair again.

“Thank you,” Ori said sharply.

“The two princes managed to escape, but not unscathed. In their flight through the Mirkwood, they were ambushed by the Werewolf King's pack. The younger brother was taken.” Ori’s tone grew quieter, and his eyes darted around the room as if envisioning the scene. “Our vampire prince returned to the vampire kingdom alone, broken and shamed. He found his uncle alive, his kingdom in chaos but not destroyed. For months, he searched for his brother, but the trail was cold. The rumors said his brother was dead—others claimed worse.”

“Worse?” Nori asked, leaning forward now, his mocking tone softened with genuine curiosity.

Ori met his brother’s gaze. “They said that he had become a wolf.”

Nori let out a low whistle. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“And just when our crown prince thought things couldn’t get darker, his uncle, the Vampire King, vanished. Some say he was killed; others say he went into hiding, trying to regroup. But without a king, the kingdom fell to ruin. The crown prince- er- now the exiled prince, is left to pick up the pieces and uncover the truth."

The bell above the door chimed, cutting through the growing tension.

“ORI! NORI!”

All three of them turned to see Dori, the owner of the Cafe as well as Nori and Ori's oldest brother, storm in, his face a mix of fury and exhaustion. His eyes landed on Nori first. “What are you doing lounging around? And with your boyfriend, no less? Have you no care for your public image, or the image you're putting off in my shop? You look like you’ve done absolutely no work all day!”

“Love you too, Dori,” Nori drawled, blowing a kiss in his brother’s direction.

“And you!” Dori turned to Ori, his expression softening only slightly. “I left you with one job—one! Where’s the inventory list? The shop doesn’t run on your whims, you know.”

Ori straightened, his face impassive but his tone deadpan. “I thought storytelling was an essential part of customer retention. Oh wait, there are no customers.”

“Don’t you get smart with me,” Dori snapped, though his glare softened when he turned to Dwalin. “Dwalin, dear, how are you? You’re far too good for this nonsense.”

“I try my best, Dori,” Dwalin said warmly.

Nori snickered, poking Dwalin’s side. “See? Teacher's pet.”

“You—zip it!” Dori snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Nori. Dori sighed, rubbing his temples. “If you two are going to sit here giggling like schoolchildren, the least you can do is make it look like you’re working."

“I am working,” Ori muttered defensively, grabbing a rag and half-heartedly swiping at the counter.

“And I was entertaining our dear Dwalin,” Nori said breezily.

Dori groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… get back to work before Dwalin starts thinking we’re a pack of lazy fools.”

“Too late,” Nori whispered theatrically, earning a sharp elbow from Dwalin and an exasperated sigh from Dori.

"Ori, finish the story later. Nori, inventory. Now.”

Nori groaned dramatically but slid off Dwalin’s lap with an exaggerated pout. “Why are you giving me Ori's job? It's not my fault if he didn't finish it."

Dori shot him a withering look before turning to Ori. “You, counter. And don’t let me catch you slacking off again.”

Ori gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

As the brothers scattered to their tasks, Ori caught Nori muttering under his breath, something about vampires, wolves, and Dori being the real kingdom tyrant. He smiled faintly to himself. 

Chapter Text

Time came and went since the conversation with Nori and Dwalin, the strange tale fading away like ashes in the wind, breezed off to some strange land. 

Ori found himself struggling through the month, rent prices being raised due to the incoming inflation, a benefit that all the civilians of Erebor square got to reap due to King Dain's new policies.
School hurt, with midterms kicking his ass and showing him that he had so much more work to do, so much more effort that needed to be put into his studies.

The pay from Dori decreased as well. It wasn't hard to imagine why. With inflation, and Dori paying out of pocket to keep the Craft and Cup Cafe open, it's been hard. Dori's had extra payments on the business, prices for the tea went up, electricity and water and internet bills skyrocketing...

Ori hasn't bothered Dori with his need for normal pay. Pay cuts are fine. 

Nori's struggling a bit too. It's not like his... uh... side business isn't always thriving, because it always is, there are always people on the streets to be pickpocketed, but times have been hard.
Dwalin's been pushing for them to move in together, and from what Ori can tell, Nori's commitmentphobic behaviors have not decreased.

Through it all, the one thing that stayed consistent was the tea shop. Ori enjoyed working there, to be honest, it's quiet and slow and easy.  

Anyways... things aren't too bad. The shop is consistent, in a good way. 

Ori is behind the counter right now, scrubbing it for maybe the... 10th? 12th? time today. It's been quiet. So quiet. No regulars in, one or two stragglers, and several people in to hide from the chill.
Few bought things, even fewer talked to Ori. That's fine. He likes the quiet.

Nori's fucking around in the back, every so often a crash comes tearing through the eerie silence of the store, followed by an echo of Nori voicing his opinions about that crash. Most are curses, most are complaints. 

Ori has so far avoided walking back to check on Nori, just because he's afraid of the mess he'll see. Or, maybe, when he walks back, Dori will come out of his soundproof office and see Ori standing with the mess and blame Ori for it. 

Ori shudders softly, rubbing his hands together as he did so. The cold seeped in sometimes, from outside that is. Glass doors and all. He turns around from the counter to pull on his grey knitted fingerless gloves.

The bell over the door jingled, barely audible in the otherwise quiet tea shop. Ori, still turned away from the counter as he reached for his gloves, glanced up. His eyes skimmed over the stranger who had just walked in, a figure that seemed to draw attention the moment he stepped through the door.

He was tall—probably a good six feet, maybe a little more, towering over Ori by at least half a foot. His skin was pale, almost unnaturally so, and his long blonde hair fell in a messy but somehow perfect cascade around his shoulders. A neatly trimmed beard framed a strong jawline, and there was something almost regal about the way he carried himself, as if he had just stepped out of a painting. He had piercing blue eyes, the kind that seemed far too bright, too vivid—unnaturally so, as if they could see through everything around them.

Okay, he's... striking, Ori thought, his gaze flitting away quickly. Don’t be weird.

Ori had never been one to make a big deal out of appearances, but something about this man made him feel like he was suddenly standing under a spotlight. It wasn’t just the man's looks—although, yeah, the guy was handsome in a way that made Ori feel a little embarrassed just from looking at him—but it was the whole vibe. There was something about the stranger's presence, something off but not threatening, just... otherworldly.

The stranger smiled, and Ori’s heart skipped a beat before he could stop it. "Good afternoon," he said, his voice low, smooth—too smooth, like a warm velvet blanket wrapped around every word. "I was hoping for something to wake me up. Something strong."

Ori cleared his throat and reached for the nearest tea jar, trying to ignore the fact that his hands felt just a little bit too unsteady, or trying to ignore how they trembled a bit as they clasped around the jar. "Sure," he managed to say, trying to sound casual. "How about a nice black tea? We’ve got a few blends, but they’re all pretty strong."

The stranger stepped closer to the counter, his intense blue eyes never leaving Ori’s face. “Black tea sounds perfect. Do you make it a special way, or just... the basics?”

Ori fumbled with the teapot, trying to get a grip on himself. God, why am I being so awkward? "We make it strong. The basics, I guess. Nothing too fancy- that is unless you want it fancy and then I'll try and see what I can do for you?" Smooth, Ori. Smooth.

A small chuckle escaped the stranger. It was subtle, but it made Ori’s stomach flip. “Nothing wrong with that. Simple is sometimes best.”

Just as Ori handed over the tea, trying not to stare at the man’s hands (because his fingers were long and elegant, and what would they feel like intertwined with his- and okay, focus, Ori! Get a hold on yourself!), the loud sound of a box crashing to the floor came from the back. Nori’s voice followed, as loud as ever. "What the hell? Why is there a box full of lavender and chamomile in the middle of the room? I swear we have every herb in existence back here!"

The stranger turned his head toward the back room, the slightest quirk of his brow showing that he’d heard Nori’s antics. Ori chuckled under his breath. “That’s Nori. Another employee... and.. a hot mess? Always messing with the inventory, even when we tell him not to.”

The man smiled again, this time a little wider, though his gaze never fully left Ori. “I see,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Must keep things interesting around here."

Ori cleared his throat again. “Something like that.”

Before either of them could continue, Nori emerged from the back, rubbing his hands together as if trying to rid himself of some invisible dust. His eyes flicked to the stranger standing at the counter, and for just a second, there was a slight hesitation. Nori's usual cocky grin faltered for a fraction of a second, but then he shook his head, clearly brushing it off. “Hey, man." He nodded to Fili, then turned to Ori "You snagged a customer?” he said, then offered the stranger a half-hearted salute. “I’m Nori. Sorry about the racket.”

The stranger gave him a polite nod, offering a smile that was as smooth as it was deliberate. “No harm done. I’m Fili.”

Ori blinked, startled by how unusual the man’s name sounded. Fili—like a name from an old tale, something out of a fantasy novel. Not the kind of name you hear every day. Certainly not a name from this area.

“Well, Fili,” Nori said, still grinning, “you got the best place in town for tea. But don’t take my word for it—try the chamomile.” He shot a playful look at Ori as he said it, a secret joke between the two of them passing in his eyes.

Ori’s stomach did a little flip. I can’t handle this today, hell, I can't handle Nori today. He tried to act normal, brushing aside the strange feeling that seemed to hang in the air around the newcomer. “Uh, yeah. We’ve got some nice blends.” He motioned vaguely toward the display. “Whatever you like.”

Fili didn’t seem bothered by Nori’s antics at all. Instead, he turned back to Ori, his eyes warm, yet still calculating in that way that made Ori feel oddly exposed. “I'm happy with the black tea for now, thank you."

Nori, meanwhile, was already messing around with some random herbs on the shelf, tossing them in the air like he had no care in the world. Such a child, Ori thought with a faint smile.

The silence stretched for a few moments, during which Ori couldn’t help but glance at Fili again. His pale skin, his elegant features, the way he stood so confidently but not arrogantly. It was almost like he was... waiting for something, beyond the drink. For a reaction. Or maybe Ori was just imagining it.

“So, Ori,” Fili suddenly said, causing Ori to snap back to reality. "How long have you been working here?"

Ori’s heart skipped. Oh god, he knows my name. He stuttered for a moment, then tried to compose himself. You're an idiot, Ori, your name is on your apron, your nametag? Stupid. “Uh.. sort of since opening? My brother- not Nori- owns the place, and he kinda started having us work for him since he bought it." he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. "Longer than I thought, actually. It’s... it’s been a good place to work, one I trust run by people I trust."

Fili nodded, taking another sip of his tea, his eyes always locked on Ori. “Good to know. It’s a nice shop you’ve got here.” He paused for a beat, as if deciding something. “Do you mind if I come back often? I’m quite partial to tea.”

Ori’s stomach did another flip, and this time he couldn’t tell if it was because of the man’s strange intensity or the way his voice seemed to wrap around Ori’s thoughts. “Of course, you can come back,” Ori managed, mentally cursing himself for being so tongue-tied. “Anytime.”

Nori, in the meantime, had finally stopped with the herbs and was now leaning against the counter, watching Fili with a raised eyebrow. He was staring at him a little too long, as if trying to figure something out. It was strange, really. Nori never sized anyone up like that.

After a long moment, Nori’s gaze sharpened as he continued to study Fili, his usual casual demeanor slipping just a little. He crossed his arms, leaning slightly forward, and there was a new edge to his voice when he spoke. “You look familiar,” he said slowly, his tone thoughtful, but with an underlying note of skepticism.

Fili’s eyes flickered just briefly, a flash of something unreadable crossing his features. His lips twitched, but only for a split second. He straightened, and a subtle but deliberate tension coiled in his posture, like he was preparing to react. “Do I?” he asked, the words soft, but with an edge to them that wasn’t there before.

Nori tilted his head, his gaze still sharp. “I dunno,” he muttered, but it wasn’t a casual dismissal. His eyes lingered on Fili for another second longer, scanning him as though he was weighing something in his mind. “Maybe I’ve just seen you around, somewhere. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid today,” he added, his voice light, but there was no missing the subtle doubt in his tone.

Fili stiffened for a brief moment, but the flicker of tension passed almost as quickly as it appeared. He gave Nori a small, practiced smile, though there was something a little more guarded about it now. “Perhaps,” he said smoothly, as though nothing had happened, his eyes still glinting with that strange intensity. “But I do tend to keep to myself.”

The shift in the air wasn’t lost on Ori, but before he could say anything, Fili turned back toward him, that unsettling calmness returning to his features. “I’ll be seeing you soon, I think. Thanks for the tea,” he said, his voice back to its usual warm and smooth tone, like nothing had happened. He gave Nori a slight nod, but it was clear he was already dismissing him.

Ori didn’t respond right away. He was still a little too dazed from the encounter to fully process everything.

Nori, still watching Fili, didn’t immediately respond. He kept his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in quiet suspicion, but after a moment, he just shrugged and moved away, muttering something about needing to reorganize the back again.

Fili’s smile lingered for a second longer, his eyes briefly locking with Ori’s before he made his way toward the door, the briefest tension still hanging in the air. As the door closed behind him, the room seemed to exhale in relief, but both Ori and Nori felt that strange moment linger, like the air had thickened for just a heartbeat too long.

Ori watched Nori for a few moments after Fili left, still feeling that strange heaviness in the air. His gaze shifted back and forth between Nori and the door, his mind replaying the odd exchange. Something wasn’t right.

Finally, he couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He pushed away from the counter, walking over to Nori, who was busy shuffling around some paperwork as if nothing had happened.

“Alright,” Ori said, voice steady but laced with an underlying tension, “what the hell was that?”

Nori glanced up from the mess of papers he was pretending to organize, flashing a grin that looked far too easy, like he hadn’t a care in the world. “What was what?”

Ori narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, but still trying to keep his tone level. “That weird... moment with Fili. You were acting all strange, like hostile and weird.”

Nori straightened up and gave a casual shrug, as though he’d just been watching the clouds roll by. “Nah, I wasn’t strange. You’re just seeing things that aren't there,” he said with a lazy smirk, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You were looking at him like... you recognized him,” Ori pressed, eyebrows furrowed. “And it wasn’t just some ‘I know you from across the way’ kind of look. It was different. Like you were sizing him up or something.”

Nori shifted, tapping his fingers against the edge of a stack of papers, avoiding Ori’s eyes for a moment longer than usual. “I’m just observant, man. Nothing wrong with that.” His voice was playful, like he was brushing it all off, but there was a subtle tightness in the way his jaw set that Ori didn’t miss. “You know me, I get weird vibes from people sometimes.”

Ori didn’t buy it. He stepped in closer, eyes narrowing. “From someone named Fili?” The name sounded almost absurd on his lips, but the unease was still crawling at the back of his mind. The way Nori had reacted—it was off.

Nori gave a short laugh, the sound light but with an edge of something Ori couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, Ori, he's probably just some weird LARPer or something.” he said, as though the very idea of Ori's suspicion was ridiculous. He slapped Ori on the shoulder. “You’re overthinking it. He’s fine. Just some weird, regal-looking dude who likes his tea.”

But Ori didn’t move, his eyes still locked on Nori. “Nori, seriously. What is going on?”

Nori paused for a split second, his usual grin faltering for a breath before the playfulness returned. He exhaled through his nose and straightened, like he was shaking something off. “Nothing’s going on, Ori. You need to stop reading into everything so much. You're starting to sound like Dori.” His voice was teasing, but there was something about the way he said it—something a little too nonchalant.

Ori stayed still, watching Nori with a skeptical eye. He opened his mouth to say something more, but then, just as quickly, Nori smirked and tossed the stack of papers onto the counter with a flourish, turning toward the back of the shop. “Anyway, I’m gonna go fix up that inventory mess. You’ve got way too much time on your hands.”

Ori opened his mouth again, ready to press further, but his words stuck in his throat as he watched Nori walk away. The strange tension between them hung in the air like a cloud, but Nori didn’t seem to care. He just went back to his usual antics, walking toward the back, singing some off-key tune to himself.

And then Ori noticed something that made his stomach twist: Nori was actually cleaning up. Cleaning.

It was absurd. Nori never cleaned. Ever. Not even for Dwalin. 

Ori stood there for a moment, frozen. It wasn’t just that Nori was doing something so out of character—it was the fact that Nori was cleaning up the mess that Ori knew Nori had made. The papers had been scattered across the floor, not neatly organized, and there had been a mess of empty boxes. Nori never cared about that. He left it for someone else—usually Ori.

But now? He was picking everything up, stacking it, wiping down the counters... the same Nori who would dodge chores at any cost was suddenly on a cleaning spree? Ori’s mind raced with the realization. Why was Nori acting so strange? What the hell was going on?

He stood at the counter, his arms still folded, staring at the mess Nori was cleaning—no, tidying. Ori didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was overreacting. But the feeling in his gut told him something wasn’t right. Something was off.

And Nori was definitely hiding something.

But there was one thing that was certain: Fili had left an impression.

And now, for better or for worse, Ori couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Chapter Text

The tea shop was quiet—almost too quiet for Nori’s liking. There was no one left to serve, and the rhythmic clinking of teacups had given way to the hum of the dim overhead lights. He could feel the stillness pressing in around him, suffocating in the way only a small space could when it was devoid of life. It was nearing closing time, and he wasn’t quite ready for the peace to settle.

Nori leaned against the counter, lazily polishing a spoon while Dwalin hefted the heavy chairs onto the tables, his movements deliberate and efficient.

“You know,” Nori drawled, smirking as he watched Dwalin work, “you’re making me look bad. Could you be a little less… competent?”

Dwalin glanced over his shoulder, his expression stoic, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “If I didn’t pick up your slack, the place would fall apart.”

“I resent that,” Nori said, though he didn’t sound remotely offended. “I’m excellent at slacking.”

“Not something to be proud of.”

Nori shrugged, grinning. “Takes real skill to make it look this good.”

Dwalin huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he moved to the next table.

They lapsed into silence as the last of the evening’s tea trays were cleared away, the sound of Dwalin’s movements more deliberate than usual. Nori could tell Dwalin was in one of his quiet moods, the ones where he just silently worked beside Nori, his presence like a heavy weight that was both comforting and maddening in equal measure. Nori didn’t mind, though. Dwalin’s quietude was never unwelcome.

Nori had to admit, he loved, loved, the way that Dwalin flowed with him. They bounced off each other, feeding off of one another's energies. On nights like these, where his partner needed some quiet, some space, Nori was more than happy to give it to him. On other nights, where Nori just felt the need to rage and scream and break something, Dwalin played off of him, giving Nori whatever way he needed to work it out (though usually it ended up with both of them panting while laying together, their clothes abandoned somewhere in a frantic need for the perfect release of energy.)

And it worked. It worked perfectly for them. Sometimes, on nights like these, they didn't even need to talk about it. It just flowed. 

Just as Nori had begun to lose himself in the rhythm of the closing routine, the bell above the door jingled. His eyes snapped up immediately, instinctively.

A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the warm streetlight outside.

Fili.

Nori’s heart gave an unwelcome lurch, a sudden unease spiraling through him.

Dwalin, completely unfazed, looked up and greeted the man with a steady smile. “Evening.”

Fili’s eyes—icy blue and bright—moved from Dwalin to Nori with a look of pleasant recognition, though his gaze lingered on Nori just a little too long. “Evening. You’re still open?”

“Barely,” Nori muttered, his voice tight. He stood stiff behind the counter, his hands gripping the marbled counter-top tight enough his knuckles turned white.

Fili didn’t seem put off by Nori’s bluntness. “Just a cup of black tea, if you don’t mind.” His voice was smooth, too smooth. Like honey, thick and sweet, but with something beneath it—something sharper, not a threat, not at Nori, but still there all the same.

Nori turned away from him to prepare the tea, but not without feeling the weight of Fili’s eyes on him, a quiet pressure that made his skin prickle. He focused on the task, trying to ignore the tension tightening in his chest.

Dwalin, for his part, was as calm as always. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, studying the exchange with curiosity in his deep-set eyes. He didn’t seem to notice how Nori’s hands trembled slightly as he poured the hot water, or how Nori’s words were clipped, each one blunt, as if trying to shorten the exchange by whatever seconds he could cut away from the words he spoke.

“Is that all?” Nori asked, his voice more brittle than he intended.

“For now,” Fili said with a grin that was almost too innocent. He took the tea with one hand and placed a handful of coins on the counter with the other. Their fingers brushed, and Nori flinched—almost imperceptibly, but enough that Fili’s eyes flickered with amusement. 

Ice cold. His fingers were ice. cold.

They should not be that cold, even if he was walking outside without gloves.

“Thank you,” Fili said softly, his gaze still lingering on Nori’s face. It made Nori want to gag. He took a step back, clearly about to leave, but stopped at the door.

“Take care of yourselves,” Fili said, his voice unexpectedly warm. His smile was genuine, but the edge to his tone made Nori’s stomach twist.

When the door closed behind him, Nori exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He placed the tea set down on the counter with a little more force than necessary, the soft clink of ceramic ringing through the silence.

His posture fell, his shoulders caving in, his forearms coming up to rest on the counter as he bent over it to catch his breath.

Dwalin moved toward him, eyes narrowed. “What was that about?”

Nori turned away from him, burying his face between his arms, the counter, and his back, trying to mask the unease crawling under his skin. “Nothin'.”

Dwalin’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of concern. “That didn’t feel like nothing, Nori.”

Nori froze for a moment, his hands suddenly feeling too cold. “It’s nothing. Just… I don’t know.” He stood up, his posture going from curled inwards to sword straight in an instant, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by the tightness in his chest. He didn’t like feeling exposed like this, vulnerable in front of someone who wasn’t even asking for it. Because why would Dwalin want him bared like this, open for emotions to spill out of his chest like some tidal wave that would drown them both?

Dwalin didn’t move, just waited, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably.

“I just don’t like him,” Nori muttered, barely loud enough for Dwalin to hear. “He’s… off. Something about him. A lot of somethings about him.” He sighed, turning to look at Dwalin, his face a little more tired than usual. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

Dwalin reached out without a word, his hand coming to rest gently on Nori’s shoulder, the other on his hip, grounding him in a way that Nori hadn’t realized he needed.

“I don’t like him either,” Dwalin said quietly, the words simple but full of meaning.

Nori stared at him, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t name. “You don’t have to. But don’t ask me to explain it. I don’t know what it is either.”

Dwalin’s hand slid from Nori’s shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers curling through his hair, gently tugging him forward. The other hand on his hip tightened its grip gently, not to hurt him, the firm grip felt good, safe. There was a tenderness to it that Nori didn’t expect, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“You’re safe here,” Dwalin murmured, his forehead resting against Nori’s for a moment, a soft warmth spreading between them.

“I know,” Nori said quietly, his voice softer than usual. He let himself linger there for a beat longer than he probably should have, before he pulled back with a slight grin. “Guess I just need a little more convincing.”

Dwalin chuckled, but there was something different about the sound. A shift, almost imperceptible, but Nori could feel it in the way Dwalin held him—familiar, warm, steady.

Nori kissed him then, quick and simple, brushing his lips against Dwalin’s before pulling back with a grin. “It’s nothing. We’re fine.”

But as he moved to finish cleaning up, a dark thought lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him. Fili’s presence had unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. There was something about that man, something dangerous, and Nori couldn’t shake the feeling that it had more to do with his family than he was willing to confront.

And yet, all he could do was pretend he didn’t care. Pretend he didn’t know that there were things lurking in the world beyond his safe little tea shop.

For now, though, he would let Dwalin’s steady touch be enough.

Chapter Text

Ori adjusted the paper bag in his arms as he struggled to keep up with his brothers. The day was unseasonably warm, sunlight pouring over the cobblestone streets of Erebor as they navigated the bustling market district. Dori walked a few steps ahead, his polished shoes clicking with purpose. Nori trailed just behind, silent and brooding, which was a miracle considering Nori’s usual penchant for sarcastic commentary.

“Honestly, Ori, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long,” Dori said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice carried that unmistakable mix of scolding and affection. “You’ve been so scatterbrained lately. If I hadn’t reminded you, you’d have forgotten to pick up flour for the pastries!”

Ori flushed. “I remembered! You didn’t have to remind me.”

“Barely,” Dori sniffed, adjusting the hat he always wore on outings to shield himself from the sun. “Honestly, I’m doing all of the heavy lifting here. I’ve got the shop to run, pastries to perfect, and now I have to drag the two of you along like toddlers.”

“I’m literally carrying half the groceries,” Ori muttered under his breath.

“I told you, I didn’t even want to come,” Nori muttered from behind them. He walked with a slouched swagger, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, a silent protest to Dori’s every word.

“And yet, here you are,” Dori snapped, throwing a glare over his shoulder.

“You made me come!” Nori shot back; voice heavy with sarcasm. “God forbid I stay at home while you pester everyone in this godsforsaken marketplace.”

Ori stifled a laugh, earning a raised eyebrow from Dori. “Don’t encourage him,” Dori said sharply before turning his attention to a stand selling bundles of fresh herbs.

The trio reached the produce stand, and Dori immediately launched into negotiations with the vendor, gesturing animatedly at bundles of fresh mint. Ori let his eyes wander across the market, soaking in the vibrant displays of ripe fruit, jars of honey, and woven baskets. The market was a riot of color and sound, a scene he normally found comforting. It was a scene of ordinary life, yet it felt different today. His thoughts kept drifting—to icy-blue eyes, to an unusually sharp smile, to the piercing, unnatural blue of Fili’s gaze when they’d spoken.

It wasn’t like him to fixate on someone like this, Mahal knows that Ori has better things to focus on, that he has more respect for himself than to trip over some random guy, but there was something about Fili that lingered in his mind. He was handsome, that much was clear, but there was more to it than that. He seemed... abnormal, preternatural, somehow.

“Thinking about something?” Nori’s voice cut into his thoughts.

Ori startled and nearly dropped the bag. “What? No!”

Nori smirked. “You’ve got that look. The one where you’re not here.”

“Leave him alone, Nori,” Dori said without turning around. “He probably doesn’t even know what he’s thinking half the time.”

“I know exactly what I’m thinking,” Ori muttered, though it came out sharper than he’d intended.

Before Nori could press further, Dori straightened, a pleased smile spreading across his face. He had been successful in his bartering, the mint price reduced by three silver pieces. He passed over the money, turning to focus on the next item on the list. 

"Ori, can you see where the poppy seeds are sold? I want to try to perfect mother's poppy roll bread for the party."

Ori turned to look around, his eyes squinting as the sun assaulted his chocolate and honeyed eyes. His gaze landed on the shop, a dark brown stall with a red awning. 
To his surprise, a certain golden-haired man appeared next to the store as if out of nowhere. His heart stuttered a bit as the man turned around and smiled at him, then began to walk over.

Fili strode toward them through the crowd. He looked strangely composed despite the heat wave, his coat neatly tailored, his blond hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. His eyes, ever icy-blue and piercing, landed on their little group, and his mouth curved into a polite smile.

“Good morning,” Fili greeted, his voice smooth as ever. “Out enjoying the market?”

“Oh, we’re running errands,” Dori said, puffing up slightly as if Fili’s presence were an audience. “Stocking up for the shop. Big plans, you know! I’ve been invited to provide pastries and tea for Thranduil’s Midsummer party.”

Fili’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a subtle change in his posture—like a predator catching a new scent. It didn't go unnoticed by Ori, who's brow furrowed ever so slightly. Why did that of all things pique your interest?

“The Midsummer party? That’s quite the honor.” Fili's voice was low and clear, ever polite, but something darker lurked beneath it. Or Ori's mind was running wild, a consequence of a too active imagination. Ori was betting on the former.

“Isn’t it?” Dori beamed, clearly preening under the attention. “Of course, it’s no small task. Ori’s been helping me perfect the recipes, though he’s still got a lot to learn about punctuality and focus.”

Ori flushed again, but this time from frustration. “I’m literally standing right here.”

Dori ignored him, turning back to Fili. “And Nori, well... he’s mostly useless.”

“Thanks for that, Dori,” Nori said, his tone flat.

Fili chuckled lightly, his gaze flickering back to Ori. “I’m sure the pastries will be excellent. You must be quite skilled.”

Ori’s face heated under Fili’s attention. “I’m just helping. Dori’s the real expert.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Dori interjected. “Ori’s got potential. If only he weren’t so scatterbrained.”

Fili's polite smile deepened, and his icy-blue eyes held Ori’s gaze for just a moment too long. “I think focus comes with time,” Fili said, his tone easy. But there was something calculating behind his words, an edge that Ori couldn’t quite place. 

Fili's eyes quickly flicked back to Dori, not quite a dismissal of Ori but certainly not an invitation to the conversation. What is happening right now? "It sounds like you have got the makings of a talented baker, Mr. Dori. Thranduil’s parties are no small affair—high expectations all around. You must be proud to have been chosen."

"Oh, I am," Dori said, puffing up even more. "It’s about time my talents were recognized. The tea shop deserves its place among the best in Erebor. And honestly, with Ori stepping up and Nori... well, just being around for moral support, we might even exceed expectations."

Nori scoffed softly, the sound barely audible but sharp enough to draw Fili’s gaze.

"You seem less enthusiastic, Nori," Fili said lightly, his tone almost playful.

Nori gave a noncommittal shrug. "Not much of a party person."

"That’s surprising," Fili said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You strike me as someone who enjoys a good time."

“Only with the right people,” Nori replied coolly, his expression unreadable.

Ori’s gaze darted between them, sensing the undercurrent of tension. Fili’s demeanor remained polished and charming, but Ori couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a subtle game being played, one he didn’t quite understand.

Nori raised a brow, a subtle dare for Fili to continue this back and forth. To his disappointment, and simultaneously his gratitude, Fili’s attention shifted back to Dori. "Still, it sounds like an exciting opportunity. Thranduil’s estate has always been a place of grandeur. I imagine the preparation must be intense."

"Intense doesn’t even begin to cover it," Dori said with a dramatic sigh. "The menu has to be flawless, the presentation impeccable, and the flavors divine. Thankfully, I thrive under pressure."

Nori muttered something under his breath, but Dori ignored him.

"You seem to have everything well in hand," Fili said, his tone smoothly complimentary. "Though I can see why you’d want Ori and Nori’s help. Family support makes all the difference."

Ori blinked at Fili’s choice of words, something in them striking him as oddly personal. Why did you say something with such veiled intensity? Fili’s polite smile softened as he turned back to Ori. "And how do you find working alongside your brother? Does it feel like a lot of pressure?"

Ori hesitated, caught off guard by the direct question, by the focus shifting back to him so suddenly. "Uh, I mean, it’s not so bad. Dori can be... well... particular, but he’s good at what he does. I’m just trying not to mess anything up."

Pride tinged his voice as he complimented Dori's skills. For all Dori's traits and quirks that may not be Ori's favorite, Dori knows what he's doing when he's in his element.

"Nonsense," Dori cut in, clapping Ori on the shoulder. "You’re doing fine. And don’t let him fool you, Fili. He’s got a sharp mind when he decides to use it."

Fili chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "A sharp mind is a valuable thing. Don’t underestimate it, Ori."

Ori wasn’t sure how to respond, his face heating again under Fili’s gaze. Why does that sound like a warning? Am I being dramatic, overthinking this?

"Speaking of sharp minds," Fili said, shifting his attention back to Dori, "it’s no small feat to be running a business and preparing for such an event. You must have quite the network to pull it all together."

Dori beamed at the praise, but Nori’s jaw tightened. Ori noticed the subtle shift in his brother’s posture, the way his shoulders tensed as if bracing for something.

"We make do," Dori said modestly, though his pride was evident. "The shop’s reputation speaks for itself, and I’ve worked hard to build connections. It’s all about persistence and quality."

"Wise words," Fili said, his smile never wavering. Like a mask, or armor. "Well, I won’t keep you from your errands. It sounds like you have plenty to prepare for. I’ll be looking forward to sampling your work at the party."

"Ah, so you’ll be attending?" Dori asked, clearly delighted.

"Wouldn’t miss it," Fili replied, his tone light but his gaze flicking briefly to Ori before returning to Dori. "It should be a night to remember."

With a polite nod and a parting smile, Fili stepped away, disappearing back into the crowd as easily as he’d appeared.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Nori let out a low breath, his expression dark.

"What’s wrong with you?" Dori asked, frowning at Nori.

"Nothing," Nori said shortly, his tone clipped.

Ori frowned, glancing between his brothers. "You don’t like him, do you?"

Nori didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the spot where Fili had vanished. "Not particularly."

"Why not?" Ori pressed; his curiosity piqued.

Nori’s mouth tightened, but he shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Well, that’s ridiculous," Dori said, brushing past Nori’s comment. "He’s perfectly charming. If anything, he seems far more pleasant than you."

“Charming, sure,” Nori muttered before falling into a tense silence as they continued through the market, towards the poppy stall.

Dori huffed. “Honestly, Nori, you see red flags in everyone. It’s a wonder you have any friends at all.”

The conversation drifted into silence as they turned off the main road and into a narrow alley. The shift in atmosphere was immediate—the lively chatter of the market faded, replaced by the faint rustle of wind and the distant sound of footsteps.

Ori adjusted his grip on the groceries, the quiet making him more aware of every little sound.

“…another attack…”

“…they said she was drained, completely pale…”

“…creatures in the dark…”

Ori’s breath caught at the murmured words drifting from a shadowy doorway. He turned his head, trying to pinpoint the source, but the alley seemed empty.

“Did you hear that?” Ori whispered to Nori, who had stopped walking.

“I heard,” Nori said, his voice low. His eyes scanned the alley, sharp and focused in a way that made Ori’s stomach twist.

Dori, oblivious, continued walking ahead. “Honestly, the things people will gossip about. Ridiculous.”

But Ori couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his chest. The whispers about attacks, about creatures in the shadows, felt too vivid to be idle talk.

And then there was Fili—the way his demeanor had shifted ever so slightly when the Midsummer party was mentioned.

As they stepped back into the sunlight, Ori cast a glance back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see something lurking in the shadows.

There was nothing there.

Nothing he could see, anyway.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the tea shop, casting colorful patterns across the polished wooden floor. Ghostly colors of lavender, bluebells, the pale pink of roses from a soft fairy tale. It set the atmosphere, were it any usual day it would be calming, sleepy. A beautiful afternoon meant for catnapping under the warm sun. It was not any usual day, though.

The familiar hum of the kettle and the soft clink of cups were a comforting constant in the midst of a world once so comforting, and now so unsettling. But even here, in the heart of Erebor, a sense of unease had begun to settle like a thick fog. Threats dance behind buildings, warnings creeping under the night sky, danger stalking by the shadows. The world had been so calm, once. But now, rumors danced on the edge of one's hearing, whispers of dangers too terrifying to be fully understood by a mortal mind.

Ori stood behind the counter, carefully arranging a tray of pastries while Dori and Nori tended to the front of the shop. The quiet was broken only by the occasional clink of a spoon against a teacup or a soft murmur of conversation between regular customers. Ori glanced over at the window, watching the street slowly empty out as dusk approached. People had been more hurried lately, more wary.

Nobody stayed out past night anymore, and if they did, they weren't the sort of person one wanted to be friends with. 

A familiar voice broke his thoughts, and Ori turned to find Jorin, one of their regulars, seated by the fire, stirring his tea with a slow, deliberate motion. Jorin was a broad-shouldered man, his once-carefree demeanor now shadowed by something darker. He's older, his hair brushed against his back, his beard peppered with streaks of grey and white.

Ori had known him for years, always reliable for a laugh or a story, but lately, the light in his eyes had dimmed. 

“Oi, Ori,” Jorin called, his voice low, thick with a rumbling accent, not quite the jovial tone it used to be. “You might want to hear this.”

Ori hesitated but then crossed to where Jorin sat. His brow furrowed as he took a seat across from the man, trying to gauge his mood. Jorin looked at him over his mug, his eyes heavy with something Ori couldn’t quite place. Not fear... but not not fear either... anticipation, perhaps?

“I hate to bring this up to you, laddie, but you need to hear it... There's word on the street lately, Ori. Threats, rumors, and whispers of people going missing. People dyin'.” Jorin whispered, his voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid of being overheard.

Ori stiffened. “Deaths?” He had heard whispers, sure, he'd even heard them just last night on the walk home from the market, but he hadn’t put much stock in them—until now. Jorin isn't the type of man to bring up gossip carelessly, not unless there's some truth to them.

Jorin nodded gravely. “Three, in the last week alone. All sudden, all… strange. People found drained of their life, like someone sucked the very breath out of ‘em. Not a speck of blood coating the stones, nor their clothin'. Drained, I tell ya.”

Ori’s stomach tightened. “What do you mean, drained?” he asked, his voice trembling despite his best effort to sound calm. No need getting worked up over some words. You're smarter than that, Ori.

That's all it is right now, rumors and gossip, cobwebs of a threat that will disappear come the morning sun.

Jorin looked around, his eyes darting to Dori and Nori, who were engaged in quiet conversation with another customer. He leaned in closer to Ori. “I don’t know the details, but it’s been bad. Real bad. The council hasn’t said anythin' about it, but the word is out. People are scared, Ori.”

The weight of Jorin’s words settled heavily in the air between them, the usual warmth of the shop suddenly stifling. Even the sound of the other regulars went quiet, as if the whole shop had sucked in a breath

“What would do that? Some sort of creature?” Ori asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought had been gnawing at the back of his mind since his encounter with Fili, but he wouldn't dare say it aloud, not yet.

Jorin’s expression faltered, then hardened. “Whatever it is," He said, his voice tight, "Its makin' people lock their doors early. You should be careful, Ori. Nori too. He thinks he's a real tough guy, but he needs ta be careful.” He nodded toward the back, where Nori was leaning against the counter, talking in quiet tones with a woman from the bakery down the street.

Ori nodded, his thoughts racing, but he couldn’t help glancing at his brothers, who seemed oblivious to the conversation happening in the back of the shop. Nori’s casual demeanor always hid a lot of the worry that Ori himself felt, and Dori... well, Dori was always so focused on making things perfect. 

Nori noticed everything, everything, so Ori doesn't doubt for a second that Nori hasn't noticed the tension yet. Dori, though... he needs to make sure everything is okay, all the time. He wouldn't come to terms with it even if it was staring him in the face.

“I’ll be careful,” Ori said, though the words felt hollow. What did that even mean, when things were so uncertain? Why did it feel like a lie despite him meaning it with his heart?

Jorin leaned back in his chair, his eyes shadowed with something darker than the soft candlelight. “It’s not just the deaths, Ori. There’s been talk of things moving in the dark. Things that shouldn’t be. People are whispering about creatures prowling in the streets after nightfall. Something’s not right.”

Ori swallowed hard. "Creatures?" His mind flashed back to Fili’s intense gaze, the way the air had seemed to shift when they'd spoken. Was it just his imagination, or was Fili’s smile somehow too sharp, too calculating? He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting, watching, just beyond the edges of the world he thought he knew.

"That’s what people are sayin', creatures that look like just like you and I, human, but aren't." Jorin said quietly. "Be careful where you’re walkin' when the sun goes down, alright? They say a curfew’s comin’ soon."

Before Ori could respond, the door opened with a creak, and the bell chimed. Two men in dark uniforms entered, the kind Ori didn’t see very often. They were the town’s watch, the guards who kept Erebor safe from the unsavory elements. Their presence, however, was never a good sign.

The men scanned the room, their eyes sharp. One of them, a tall, older man with a scar running down his cheek, approached the counter.

“Good evening,” the man said in a tone that barely hid the tension beneath it, polite and kind, yet tense. “We’re here to notify the public that a curfew will be put in place starting tonight. We’re advising everyone to stay indoors after sundown. No one is to be out in the streets unless absolutely necessary.”

Dori, ever the one to put on a smile in the face of trouble, cleared his throat. “Curfew, you say? A bit drastic, don’t you think?”

The older guard’s gaze flickered to Dori. “This is a precautionary measure, sir. There have been... incidents. We’re just doing what we can to keep the peace.”

Ori’s heart pounded in his chest as the second guard—the younger of the two, with sharp features and a nervous energy—cast a glance at the customers, all of whom were listening intently now.

“It’s not just the deaths,” the younger guard added, his voice a little softer than his companion’s. “There’s been talk of something moving in the shadows. It’s best to be cautious.”

The older guard glared at the younger, smacking him in the back of the head firmly. The younger let out a peep and whispered something like "m'sorry.."

Dori’s smile faltered for a moment, his eyes going a bit darker. “Of course, of course. We’ll make sure our customers know. Thank you for the heads-up.”

The older guard gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering for a moment longer around the tea shop before he turned and ushered the younger one out of the door. The bell chimed again as they left, and the shop seemed to exhale collectively.

Jorin’s voice broke the silence first. “Told you it was gettin' bad,” he muttered.

Ori barely heard him. His mind was racing, processing the weight of the guards’ words, the tension in the air. A curfew. Creatures. Deaths. And then there was Fili. Was he connected to all of this?

Dori, ever the steady presence, turned to Ori and Nori. “Listen, you two. The council would have warned us if there was anything truly dangerous. Don’t let this nonsense get to you. People talk. They always talk.”

But even Dori couldn’t mask the unease in his eyes as he glanced toward the door.

Nori, who had been silent throughout the exchange, pushed himself off the counter. “Dori, I think that was our warning from the council." His eyes were dark, their normal honeyed glow dimmed to a more menacing, haunting stare. 

Ori glanced back at Jorin, who had grown quieter, his eyes distant. “Jorin... do you think... is it really vampires?”

Jorin’s eyes met Ori’s for a long moment before he finally shrugged. “Can’t say, lad. But something’s wrong, and we’d all be fools to pretend it’s not.”

Ori nodded, his throat tight. He couldn’t shake the feeling that some strange storm was coming. And it wouldn’t be long before Erebor would have to face whatever darkness haunted its doorstep.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp as Ori hurried down the cobbled streets, a wrapped egg sandwich in his hand and his sketchbook tucked securely under his arm. He was running later than usual, but skipping breakfast wasn’t an option. His art theory class demanded sharp focus, especially under his current instructor, and Ori had learned long ago that an empty stomach was a surefire way to kill his concentration and efficiency.

Erebor’s streets were bustling with the usual morning chaos, but Ori was too preoccupied to notice. His thoughts wandered, circling back to recent events: the unsettling stories about curfews and nighttime dangers, and the snippets of tension that seemed to ripple through the city.

And then there was Fili. Handsome, polite, mysterious Fili, who's entire character demanded more questions than answers.

Ori shook his head, trying to push the distraction away. He needed to focus on class. The lecture today promised to delve into Romanticism’s obsession with light and shadow—a topic that resonated with him a little too much lately.

As he rounded a corner, Ori’s foot caught on a loose cobblestone. He stumbled forward, the world spinning before his eyes. He thought he would fall onto the cobblestones and clamped his eyes shut in preparation. Instead of collapsing onto the ground, he found himself crashing into something solid and unyielding.

“Whoa there!” a mid-ranged, lilting voice, thick with a rolling accent, exclaimed. Ori found himself face-to-face with a man sporting a battered hat with ridiculous looking flaps, a grin as wide as the street, and eyes that sparkled with amusement. His hair was down to his back, a deep brown, and his matching handlebar mustache and goatee mimicked the shade. “That’s one way to say good morning.”

“I—I’m so sorry!” Ori stammered, pulling back quickly and adjusting his book satchel back over his shoulder. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“No harm done,” the man said, brushing off his jacket theatrically. “Though, if you’d aimed a bit higher, you might’ve knocked me hat clean off. That’d be a tragedy, wouldn’t it?”

Ori blinked, caught off guard by the man’s easy humor, and the strange comment about his hat. I... huh? “...I guess so.”

“Name’s Bofur,” the man said, extending a hand. “And you, lad?”

“Uh, Ori,” he said, hesitating before shaking the offered hand. “Nice to meet you?”

He looked the man up and down a bit, taking in his appearance. It was similar to what Nori wore when he didn't want to be seen, casual clothes in dark colors that were too scuffed for someone to not have come from a life of... well, not crime, but something not dangerous or violent. Strange...

“Nice to meet you,” Bofur echoed, his grin widening. “Though I’d argue it’s a bit early for takedowns. What’s in the bag, eh? Bricks?”

“Close, books,” Ori replied, his voice still a little shaky from the collision. “I’m on my way to class.”

“Art student?” Bofur asked, his gaze flicking to the sketchbook tucked under Ori’s arm.

“Yeah,” Ori said, surprised, but even more so, suspicious. “How’d you know?”

“Ah, you’ve got the look,” Bofur said knowingly. “Smudges on your fingers, that far-off, dreamy expression, sketchbook—dead giveaway.”

That doesn't give away shit... Ori nodded as though he agreed, though in his mind, he was far from an accordance of opinions. 

Ori smiled faintly, though his heart was racing as he pondered the strange, if not creepy, way that Bofur knew his major. “Well, thanks for the observation.”

Ori looked up as a second figure stepped into view from just behind Bofur. The man—if he could even be called that—was taller than Bofur, his posture hunched and his movements jerky, like a predator stalking prey. His skin was pale, his eyes a burning reddish-gold, and his mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a snarl. His unkempt black hair splotched with some small strands of grey fell in uneven strands around his face, and Ori noticed the glint of sharp teeth as the man muttered something in a guttural, unfamiliar language. A large scar trailed from the man's forehead to about an inch above his left eyebrow, all jagged edges and pale pink scar tissue.

 I'd bet anything that somebody gave that to you, and not on accident either...

“Ah, right on cue,” Bofur said lightly, though there was a sharpness to his tone now. “Ori, meet my brother, Bifur. He’s not much of a talker, but don’t let that put you off.”

Bifur stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air. Ori instinctively stepped back, his pulse quickening. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Bifur moved, like a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap. He didn't miss the way Bifur's eyes lit up as Ori stepped back, like he had just gotten some hidden signal from Ori's body language.

Ori didn't like it one bit.

“Alright, enough of that,” Bofur said sharply, placing a hand on Bifur’s chest and pushing him back. “Don’t scare the lad. He’s just tryin’ to get to class, for pity’s sake.”

Bifur growled low in his throat, his hands twitching as he signed something quickly. Ori didn’t understand the gestures, but the force behind the signs was clear: he wasn’t happy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bofur replied, rolling his eyes. “You’re hungry. Join the club. But Fili’ll have your head if you so much as look at this one funny, so knock that shite off.”

The mention of Fili’s name made Ori’s stomach flip. He took another cautious step back, his grip tightening on his book bag. “You know Fili?”

Bofur’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, he’s a close friend, practically family,” he said vaguely.

Ori hesitated, his curiosity warring with his sense of self-preservation. “Practically family?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Bofur shrugged, the gesture lighthearted but the tension in his shoulders betrayed the nonchalance. What's got you so tense, Bofur? “Family’s a bit of a... loose term with us,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “But yeah, you could say we’re close. Why do you ask?”

Ori chewed on his lip, his thoughts racing. Fili’s name brought some comfort—it meant Bofur and Bifur weren’t entirely unknowns, but it also tied them to the unsettling strangeness that Fili seemed to carry with him like a shadow.

Which left Ori... where? With two strangers tied to another stranger, all three bearing some sort of threatening... mystical.. unnatural air around them.

Be careful, Jorin's words echo in his head. I'll be careful. Don't trust someone (Bofur) just because of a warm smile or pretty words.

“Well,” Ori began cautiously, choosing his words carefully, “I’ve met Fili a couple of times. He’s... nice.”

Bofur chuckled, tipping his hat back slightly. “Nice, eh? That’s a polite way of putting it. The lad’s got a soft heart, but don’t let that fool you. He’s sharper than he looks.”

Ori narrowed his eyes slightly. “Sharper? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bofur’s grin widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, well, Fili’s one of those smart sorts, isn’t he? Keeps things... tidy, in check, where he can keep his eyes on 'm.”

“Right,” Ori said again, his skepticism creeping into his voice. He glanced at Bifur, who was still watching him intently, his posture tense and his eyes flicking between Ori and Bofur as though waiting for a signal.

Bofur caught the glance and sighed, turning to his brother. “Would you stop glaring at the lad? You’re gonna scare him off, and then where’ll we be? Dealin' with a livid Fili, that’s where.”

Bifur signed something sharp and curt, his movements almost aggressive.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bofur replied, his tone exasperated but his hand resting firmly on Bifur’s shoulder. “You’ve got opinions. Save ’em for later.”

Ori wasn’t convinced, but before he could press further, Bifur let out a sharp, huffing sound and stepped forward again. This time, Bofur shoved him back with a hand hard enough to make him stumble.

“Back off, you daft bugger. 've said it three fucking times,” Bofur snapped, his tone losing its usual humor. “You’re not helpin’ anyone with that attitude. Go cool your head before I properly lose my temper.”

Bifur glared at him, his lips pulling back to reveal those unnervingly sharp teeth. He muttered something harsh in his guttural tongue, his hands signing rapidly, and Bofur sighed heavily.

“Don’t make me regret draggin’ you out here,” Bofur said, his voice dropping, annoyance and exhaustion burning in his strange red-gold eyes. “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

Bifur hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes flicking to Ori one last time before he turned and stalked off, his movements still brimming with tension. Ori exhaled slowly, only realizing then how tightly he’d been holding his breath.

“Sorry about that,” Bofur said, his tone light again as he turned back to Ori. “He’s... not exactly a morning person. Or a people person.”

Ori nodded stiffly, though his mind was racing. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Ah, just gets hangry when he hasn't been fed,” Bofur said breezily. “Runs in the family, you know how it is.”

Ori wasn’t sure he believed that, but he decided not to push his luck. “Well, uh... Sorry for running into you, and thanks for stepping in, I guess...”

“Anytime, lad,” Bofur said, tipping his hat. “If you see Fili... well, if you wouldn't mind, don’t tell him I let this one out of the house, eh?" He teased, pointing a thumb towards the departing Bifur. His voice didn't have its previous lilt, now deeper and more serious. Why?

Ori nodded, shrugging his shoulders in what he meant to come across as nonchalance. From Bofur's answering smile, it worked. "Sure, whatever you need." 

Bofur grinned and nodded, then took a step backwards. "I gotta go, need ta catch up with my brother, make sure he doesn't get into any trouble. And, hey, watch your step, yeah? Not everyone you bump into is as friendly as me and Bifur here. Erebor’s not as safe as it used to be.”

Ori let out a small snort at first, Bofur's comment about Bifur being friendly sending a jolt of humor through him. But it quickly faded as curiosity flared again, but before he could ask what Bofur meant, the man waved cheerfully and sauntered off after his brother. As Bofur stalked away, his departing words echoed in Ori's head, pealing through his mind like warning bells.

'Not everyone you bump into is as friendly as me and Bifur here.'

'Erebor's not as safe as it used to be.'

What are you hiding, Bofur? What aren't you saying aloud? What are you, what the hell is Bifur? What is happening these days???

Left alone, Ori took a shaky breath and adjusted his bag. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time he’d see Bofur. His heart raced, but his mind raced faster. Fili, Bifur, Bofur, even Nori now—none of it made sense, but he was starting to realize there was a bigger picture here, and he’d barely scratched the surface.

He glanced down at the wrapped egg sandwich in his hand. His breakfast was probably cold by now, but his appetite was the least of his concerns. Shaking his head, he turned and continued toward the college building, his thoughts a whirlwind that he wasn't quite ready to be dragged into. 

Chapter Text

The day Ori met Bifur and Bofur faded into memory, leaving him caught in the usual rhythm of school, tea shop, and sleep. The days blurred together: a slow Thursday, a lazy Friday, a sleepy Saturday.

Despite the heat wave of recent days, each night brought colder and colder temperatures. It was unusual, Dori had muttered one night. This is the time in which it grows warm, where the spring that still clings to winter's chill shifts to appreciate the oncoming summer. Instead, it felt more and more like spring was slowly retracting further back into winter.

The days Ori spent working at the tea house were peaceful, relaxed and calm despite the recent changes in his life. The curfew has been easy to avoid as Ori had no desire to be outside at night anyways. But despite his every attempt, the warnings from Bofur kept replaying in his head.

'Not everyone you bump into is as friendly as me and Bifur here.'

'Erebor's not as safe as it used to be.'

The two messages, though cryptic, clearly carried a warning—one that hinted at a danger Ori could sense but couldn’t yet fully understand.

In addition, Bofur's mention of Fili brought up more questions, and Fili was the only one who could answer them.

Ori shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his pen tapping rhythmically against the pages of his sketchbook. The tea shop hummed with a low buzz of conversation, but the usual bustle was muted today. A few regulars lingered at their tables, sipping their drinks and leafing through papers. It was quiet, but not unusually so. The tea shop was always quiet these days.

His gaze flickered to the large glass jars lining the shelves behind the counter, each labeled with swirling, precise handwriting. His own handwriting, he was proud to admit. He had a talent or two for calligraphy, an art that went unnoticed by most but still one he himself appreciated.

He absently reached out and straightened one, the gesture more habit than necessity, as his eyes wandered to the display case. The rows of neatly arranged pastries sat untouched, their golden crusts glistening faintly under the soft lighting.  

The faint clink of a spoon against a ceramic cup pulled his attention briefly to a couple seated by the window. They were deep in conversation, their heads bowed close together, the woman’s hand resting lightly on the man’s wrist. Ori couldn’t hear their words over the faint hum of the shop, but the way they leaned toward one another made him smile faintly.

Happiness with another, however hard to come by or difficult to keep, was always something to be treasured.

His fingers resumed their rhythmic tapping against the sketchbook as his eyes swept the room again, taking in the cozy familiarity of the space. The faint aroma of steeping tea leaves and freshly baked bread mingled in the air, grounding him in the moment.  

From his corner, Ori glanced up at the sound of the door's bell jingling pleasantly through the quiet shop. The door swung open gently, letting in a gust of cool afternoon air. Fili strolled in, his movements fluid and unnervingly graceful as always.

Ori frowned, not sure if it was anticipation or intrigue bubbling up inside him. Probably both.

Fili scanned the room, his cold eyes landing on Ori almost immediately. A lopsided grin spread across his face, disarming and oddly cute in equal measure, the cold in his gaze melting away. Ori hated how that grin made his pulse skip.

“You’re here again,” Ori said as Fili approached the counter, his tone light but edged with suspicion, more accusing than he had meant it to be.

“What can I say?” Fili replied smoothly, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning in just enough to make Ori notice. “Your tea shop has a certain... allure.”

Ori raised an eyebrow and leaned forward over the counter, resting his forearms on it as well, mimicking Fili's posture. A small grin spread across his face in sync with his response. “Allure or convenience? We’re the only tea shop in the area.”

“Can’t it be both?” Fili leaned in, his grin sharpening. “After all, some places have... a way of drawing the right kind of company.”

Ori huffed a quiet laugh despite himself and set his pen down, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Alright, what’s it today? Another black tea? Or are you going to branch out and try something new?”

“Surprise me,” Fili said, his tone airy, though the way his gaze flicked around the room betrayed a deeper attention to detail than his casual demeanor let on.

Ori got up and moved to the counter, pulling down jars of tea leaves as Fili watched. He could feel the weight of that gaze, the way it lingered on him, and it made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“So,” Ori began, keeping his tone deliberately light, a deception of his thoughts and heartbeat, “I met some of your... family-friends yesterday.”

Fili’s relaxed posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, though he didn't move from his position bent over the counter. “Oh?” he said, his voice calm, but there was an edge of caution now.

“Yeah.” Ori poured the hot water into the teapot, glancing at Fili out of the corner of his eye. “Two of them. Bofur and Bifur, they said their names were.”

The faintest flicker of something crossed Fili’s face, gone before Ori could place it. “They can be... colorful company,” Fili said, his words measured.

“That’s one way to put it,” Ori replied, fixing what he hoped looked like a teasing smile on his face as he slid the teapot onto the counter between them. “Bifur, in particular, seemed... intense.”

Fili tilted his head slightly, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. “How so?”

Ori didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled a cup from the shelf and began pouring the tea, using the task to steady his nerves. “Let’s just say he wasn’t exactly subtle. The way he looked at me—like he was deciding if I was worth... something. It was unnerving.”

Fili’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze darkening. Ori's heartbeat skyrocketed at the look in his eyes.

“Bifur’s not great with... people,” Fili said after a pause, his tone almost diplomatic. “He means no harm.”

Ori arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by the answer. What are you covering for him?

“It really didn’t feel that way," Ori murmured, the vision of Bifur's snarling visage flashing through his mind. A shudder rippled through his body at the imagined sight, those red-gold eyes flashing in the dark. "I don't know, Fili. His eyes were hungry. And for whatever strange reason... It felt like I was his next meal."

Fili stilled, his eyes flashing with something Ori couldn't place, what with how short it lasted. But if he had to guess, it wasn't a happy emotion. It was a deadly one.

Choosing to move the conversation away from Bifur, and in an attempt to get the poor man out of whatever trouble Ori just got him into, Ori started talking again.

"And Bofur, while polite, wasn’t much better—he kept steering the conversation away from anything remotely personal. Like he didn’t want me asking too many questions.”

“Bofur’s protective,” Fili said, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his eyes, his posture loose but his voice ever so slightly firmer after the Bifur portion of the conversation. “It’s his nature. If he was evasive, it was probably for your sake.”

“Protective?” Ori echoed; his curiosity piqued. “Of who? Me, or you?" His tone was somewhat accusatory, a question and a demand all in one.

Fili’s gaze met Ori’s, his expression unreadable as he stood up to his full height, shifting away from the previously relaxed position on the counter. “Does it matter?”

Ori frowned, frustration bubbling up. “Maybe it does. I mean, they were... strange, Fili. Not just your typical awkward, but like— ‘rumors-around-the-city’ strange."

“Rumors,” Fili repeated, his voice quiet but his tone dangerous. A tone that Ori chose to ignore. “What rumors?”

Ori set the teapot down with a deliberate clink, turning to face Fili fully. "You know exactly what I’m talking about. The curfews. The attacks. The descriptions of pale skin, glowing eyes, sharp teeth...”

For the first time, Fili’s carefully constructed mask cracked, if only slightly. “Rumors are just that—rumors,” he said evenly. He crossed his arms and looked down at Ori, his head cocking to the side. Something gleamed in his eyes, something that made a shiver run down Ori's spine. 

“Sure,” Ori said, crossing his arms too, mimicking Fili's posture in an attempt to look as serious about this as he did. “But the thing about rumors is they usually start with something real.”

Fili chuckled at that, as though the very thought was ridiculous, his nose scrunching as he did so.

“And you think Bifur and Bofur are ‘something real’?” Fili asked, his tone light but his eyes narrowing.

Ori shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Stop worrying, Ori. Focus on getting the answers. What's the worst he could do? “I think you might be, too.”

Fili blinked, clearly taken aback by Ori's bluntness, or perhaps his recklessness at stating it so openly. “Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Ori said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not exactly the picture of normalcy, Fili. Tall, pale, abnormally graceful, those near glowing blue eyes—oh, and the way you walk into a room like you own the place? Pretty damn odd.”

A laugh burst from Fili, genuine and bright, though Ori caught the tension beneath it.  “I didn’t realize confidence was a crime.” 

“Not a crime,” Ori shot back, his smirk stiffening. “Just... suspicious.”

Their banter hung in the air, light and teasing on the surface but beneath the facade was a conversation built around something much darker. Ori could feel it—a subtle shift in Fili’s demeanor, his stance, his voice, like a predator weighing its options. What are you thinking of? What's running through your mind?

"Alright, Ori,” Fili said, his grin still firmly in place but his voice dipping lower. “What exactly are you trying to say, in plain speech?”

Ori hesitated, his fingers drumming against the counter. He wasn’t entirely sure himself. Fili was handsome and sometimes sweet, sure, but there was something... off about him. And Ori still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wading into dangerous waters.

But screw it all. Fili was the one who came in here and started screwing with Ori's life, the least he could get out of it were some well-deserved answers. Tell me the truth.

“Let’s just say,” Ori began carefully, “your family—and you—have a lot in common with some rumors. Especially the ones that mention creatures that run around at night, sucking blood and turning humans to husks.”

Fili didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back slightly, and for a moment, the only sound between them was the faint clink of the cup of tea as it cooled.

Fili's smile froze, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the fading sunlight outside. Slowly, his icy-blue eyes locked onto Ori’s with unsettling intensity. The corners of his mouth curved upward, the kind of smile that felt less like a gesture of warmth and more like a predator baring its teeth, his elongated canines glinting in the light. He leaned casually against the counter, but the tension radiating from him was anything but relaxed.

“You’ve got guts, Ori,” Fili said softly, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing against a blade. “But here’s the thing about guts—they’re what spill first when you don’t know when to stop asking questions.”

The air between them felt charged, and Ori’s pulse quickened as Fili’s gaze dipped briefly, tracing his face, his lips, before snapping back to his eyes. It was a fleeting, almost playful motion, but paired with the sharpness of his words, it felt like both an invitation and a warning. Is he flirting with me, or threatening me?

Fili tilted his head, his golden hair catching the dim light, his posture deliberate as he stepped closer—close enough that Ori could catch the faintest scent of something sharp and coppery and metallic lingering on him. “You’re smart. Clever, even. But Erebor’s a city where cleverness gets you noticed. And not everyone who notices will be as -what was it Dori called me, charming?- as me." His voice dropped to a whisper, the words brushing against Ori like a cool breeze before a storm.

How the fuck do you know about that? You weren't there when Dori said that.

The tension between them crackled like static, neither willing to back down.

Ori broke the silence first, his voice quieter but no less pointed. “Hypothetically, if the rumors were true...?” He let the sentence break off, the question tangible despite him not finishing it. Fili knew what he was asking, even if he didn't say it aloud.

Fili leaned in, his breath caressing Ori as he got closer, the grin on his face beyond deadly.

Ori's breath came in and out in a quiet pant, his heart racing, adrenaline spiking through his veins as Fili's gaze searched his, as the words caressed his senses like a knife against a throat. He straightened, the playful glint in his eyes fading to something far more dangerous. The blue in his eyes flashed, a vivid red-gold taking over the icy color and shining brightly for a heartbeat, maybe two, before disappearing. “If I were you,” Fili added, his tone deceptively light, “I’d stop worrying about the rumors and start watching the shadows. They don’t whisper, Ori—they bite.”

And just like that, he picked up his drink and tossed some coins on the counter before turning and stalking out of the tea shop. His words left Ori frozen in place, his chest tight, as the words hung in the air like a shadow stretching long into the night.

Chapter Text

The warm glow of the tea shop was a comforting cocoon, the air steeped in the soft aroma of chamomile and Earl Grey. Ori leaned against the counter, idly sketching designs for the shop’s next item on the menu. It had taken some time, but Dori was able to figure out how to make the poppy roll that their mother made in their childhood. 

Dori had wanted some stupidly cheesy name to be given to the roll, so now, Ori was struggling to find a way to write the "Poppy-Licious Roll" in a way that made it look serious, using the same swirling and swooping calligraphy that he had used for every other item on the menu. 

The worst part was that Ori knew he would have some customers come in and tauntingly overuse the name, trying to break Ori's on-the-clock focus, or customers who would make fun of it openly and bother Ori about where it came from. He didn't care so much about others' opinions, not really. The problem was when they complained about the name of items on the menu to Dori, the one who had come up with the name and had been so excited about it.

Which is usually why Ori leads them to Nori instead, telling them that Nori was the manager, who also owned the literal store itself and the business. Nori had no qualms telling them to go fuck off, all with the intent to protect Dori from the little things that could hurt their oldest brother.

Nori lounged across two chairs, his legs propped up on the table like he owned the place, scrolling on his phone with the soft smile and blush that wordlessly told Ori he was texting Dwalin.

“Feet off the table,” Ori muttered without looking up.

“Make me,” Nori shot back lazily, also not looking up. He instead lifted up a hand to flip off Ori while a satisfied smirk overtook his visage.

“You’re going to scuff the finish.” Ori murmured, shifting from where he lay on arms, ignoring Nori's crude gesture.

“Ohh noooo, not the precious finish!” Nori gasped dramatically, rolling his head against the back of his chair, his eyes fluttering shut in a mimicry of death as his hand clutched at his chest.

Ori sighed. “You’re insufferable.”

“God, you're so uptight,” Nori teased, tossing his phone onto the table and stretching his arms. "You'd be bored out of your mind without me.”

“That's beyond debatable,” Ori deadpanned, giving up on trying to finish the calligraphy and moving to drawing a teacup.

The door chimed, and Ori glanced up, expecting the usual late-night straggler looking for a pot of tea to soothe their nerves. Instead, a man ducked through the doorway, his sheer size making the room feel smaller. He was broad and imposing, with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone and then cracked for good measure. His right eye, dark and razor-sharp, roved the room with a predatory gleam, while a jagged scar carved its way down the left side of his face, stark against his skin. Where it slashed through his brow, his left eye was a milky, lifeless white—a chilling contrast, as though it stared out from another world entirely.

Ori frowned slightly, a shiver running down his spine as the man looked around the room, but quickly pasted on his customer-service smile. “Welcome to the Craft and Cup Cafe. Can I get you—”

“Bolg.” Nori’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Ori blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his brother’s tone. Gone was the teasing lilt; in its place was something sharp, wary, and laced with steel.

He glanced over at his brother, his heart picking up its pace as he took in Nori's face. His smile was gone, his pale blush had disappeared, replaced by a stern, unyielding intensity that carved harsh lines into his face.

The man—Bolg—smiled, though Ori saw it as more of a sneer. “Nori.” His voice was gravelly, low, like rocks grinding together. “Still slumming it, I see.”

Nori rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up a rival, like a cat watching a mouse come out of its little hole. His usual smirk was there, but it was different now—colder, more calculating. “Welcome to my humble establishment,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Or, should I say, Dori’s humble establishment. It's neutral, in case you forgot.”

“Neutral doesn’t mean safe,” Bolg growled, his gaze flickering to Ori for a moment. 

Ori stiffened under the scrutiny, his pencil halting mid-stroke with a faint screech. His chest tightened as Bolg's gaze settled on him, sharp and invasive, like icy fingers trailing down his spine. Don’t look at me like that. Actually, just don’t look at me, period. What the hell is your problem? 

The thought was sharp, but his stomach churned, his skin crawling under Bolg’s predatory stare. This guy feels wrong. Like the kind of wrong that belongs in a nightmare, not Dori's tea store. "Uh... Nori?"

“Quiet,” Nori said without looking at him.

Ori’s frown deepened. He opened his mouth to protest, but the way Nori’s hand rested oh-so-casually on the edge of the counter—close to the heavy ceramic teapot—made him hesitate.

Bolg’s attention returned to Nori. “Still playing at being untouchable, are we? You know better than most that you can’t hide from us.”

“Hide?” Nori laughed, a sharp, short, humorless sound. “You must have me confused with someone else. I. Don’t. Hide. I’m right here, pouring tea for the lovely townsfolk. A model citizen.” His grin widened, more a motion of baring teeth than humor or pleasure. “You should try it sometime. I hear it does wonders for your complexion.”

Bolg took a step closer, and Ori felt his breath hitch, felt a droplet of cold sweat trickle down his neck. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with an energy he couldn’t place.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Nori,” Bolg said, his voice low and dangerous. “But you know what happens when nerve runs out.” His gaze slid back to Ori, lingering just long enough, with just enough burning intensity behind it, to make his skin crawl. “Does he know, I wonder... what happens when someone like you runs out of options?”

Ori’s grip on his pencil tightened. “What is he talking about?”

“Shut up, Ori,” Nori snapped, his eyes never leaving Bolg’s.

Ori’s jaw snapped shut, though his mind raced. His brother was always flippant, always in control, but this? This was different.

“You think this shop protects you?” Bolg sneered, his voice thick with venom. “You think anything protects you? You can hide behind neutrality, behind these walls, behind your brothers, but it won’t matter. When the blood starts flowing, Nori, everyone you care about will be caught in the tide. And you? You’ll be nothing but a ghost of the man you pretend to be.” He leaned in slightly, his smile jagged and cruel. “You can’t run forever. Not from me. Not from them.”

Nori stepped forward, closing the gap between them in a single, unhurried stride. His smile remained, razor-sharp and defiant, but his eyes burned with something deadly. “You’re right. It is only a matter of time,” he said softly, his tone ice cold and lethal. “But until that day comes, you might want to remember who you’re dealing with.”

His voice dropped to a near-whisper, his words sharp enough to draw blood. “Because I don’t forget. And I don’t forgive.”

The room felt charged, the air heavy with unspoken threats. Ori sat frozen behind the counter, his mind racing. Blood starts flowing? What the hell is he talking about? His eyes flicked to Nori, then back to Bolg, the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was solving beginning to slot together.

Bolg’s smile widened as he straightened, his pale, milky eye glinting in the low light. “Maybe I’ll start with the little brother. Teach him what it means to bleed for family.”

The pencil slipped from Ori’s hand, clattering onto the counter. His heart slammed against his ribs, his thoughts spiraling. Bleed? Blood? What the hell is wrong with this guy— His breath caught as his eyes locked onto Bolg’s teeth. Sharp. Predatory. Glinting like the blade of a knife.

No.

It wasn’t possible. 

Correction, it shouldn't be possible.

His gaze darted to Nori, who stood as still as a coiled spring, his wild hair framing a face that was no longer his brother’s. This was someone else. Someone who knew exactly what Bolg was—and wasn’t surprised by it.

Ori’s stomach turned, his pulse thundering in his ears. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. But the proof was right in front of him. The way Bolg moved, the way Nori stood. The way they spoke to each other, like this was a dance they’d gone through before.

And those teeth.

Holy. Shit.

Ori’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the counter, his thoughts a blur of disbelief and fear. He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice seemed to have fled. He could only watch as his brother squared off against something that shouldn’t exist, his world unraveling around him.

Nori’s voice snapped through the haze like a whip. “You’ll keep your fangs out of him, Bolg,” he said, his tone sharp and dangerous. “I said it once, I'll say it now, don't make me say it thrice. This is neutral ground. Have you forgotten the rules?”

Bolg’s eyes flicked back to Nori, his sneer returning. “Rules? You think I care about your petty rules?”

“You should,” Nori said smoothly, his grin returning, but it was laced with steel. “Because the second you break them, this shop stops being neutral. And then you'll see if I stand up to what the whispers say I am, and we'll see whose blood flows.”

Bolg’s lip curled in a silent snarl, but he didn’t move closer. Ori could barely breathe as he watched the standoff, his heart racing as the tension mounted. He wanted to yell, to demand answers, but his throat was dry, his voice swallowed by fear.

Finally, Bolg held Nori’s gaze for a long, tense moment before letting out a low chuckle. “You’re lucky this is neutral ground, Nori. For now.”

With that, he turned and stalked out, the bell over the door chiming faintly in his wake.

The silence that followed was suffocating, Ori could almost feel it choking him.