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You thought you were in control. You normally are. It was supposed to be easy; your task is to remind your intended about the dinner he’s late to, and that’s easy! You expected the ‘court gathering’ to be a gathering of lords, not of their daughters.
A sea of dwarrowdams dressed to the nines surround Thorin as he sits on the dais. They take their time curtseying low to him (one especially low) and when she turns, you see her bosom nearly overflowing from her gown. You don’t notice your breathing become shallower, your eyes honing in on any reaction from Thorin.
Thorin still hasn’t noticed you. He waves his hand to stop their procession and descends from the dais. It’s like a silent cue from him for the dams to storm and surround him, batting their eyelashes and giggling. You can’t hear much, but you do hear one of them ask if he can show them his prowess at dancing. She goes so far as to touch the top of his hand.
You see red.
Whatever you thought about yourself is wrong as a monster you’ve never know to live inside of you roars to life, clawing viciously to the surface. You want to rip her hand off, you want to drag your intended back to your rooms, you want the only words he says to be “I’m yours, I’m only yours”, and most of all you want to keep him there where no one else can lay a finger on him.
It feels like acid, it feels like hot hate and envy oozing from every pore. It makes your stomach turn.
You don’t know how long you stand there staring in malice until you realize the dams have stopped cooing and giggling.
And now he sees you.
Everyone else also sees you.
Thorin sees your lips parted, your chest heaving shallow breaths, but what freezes him is the searing rage in your eyes. At him. He almost wants to look behind him and see if it’s directed at someone else, but only a fool would take their eyes off a. . . ‘a predator’ his mind finishes.
Without a word, you turn on your heel and storm out of the court chambers, gripping the door tightly and shutting it with all your might. Even the echoing slam isn’t enough. You race back to your chambers, wanting to pull your hair out, wanting to storm back into the court chambers and drag Thorin back with you.
You settle for pacing around your chambers like a caged animal, and then it stops you dead in your tracks.
Jealously.
You were jealous.
This is what jealously feels like.
The second you give the feeling its name, it writhes beneath your skin. You can’t believe you fell for its trap hook, line, and sinker. Like a fool.
‘A fool’ your brain mocks, and it hurts, it hurts so much it brings tears to your eyes.
And of course that’s the second the door opens and Thorin enters.
“What in Mahal’s name has gotten into you! Storming off like that to-,” Thorin stops cold at what he sees.
Your breath is shaking your chest, your eyes are wide and watery, and your hands are balled into fists. He’s never seen you like this. Not on the quest, not ever.
“Mizimith, are you well?” Not five minutes ago you were furious and now you’re shaking and distraught and—“Oh my darling. Are you Jealous?” It all fits; the sudden anger at the attention toward him and the fire in your eyes that singed him too.
You had only connected it yourself a minutes earlier and now that the green monster is below your heart’s surface again, you’re warring against shame. ‘He figured it out too. He’ll hate me’ your brain whispers. You turn away from him, from his analyzing gaze and the tears start to fall.
You’ve never been jealous. Never. You’ve never felt a burn like this and all the acrid aftertaste it leaves in your mouth, and by all the gods it’s shameful.
Your throat is so tight, all that comes out is a pathetic, “I’m sorry.” You don’t even think he understands what you said.
The thoughts come unbidden quickly as you wonder if this will be the reason he calls off your engagement. You’ll have to leave the mountain out of shame. Even Dale won’t be far enough! Mahal, you’ll have to move to the Shire!
Thorin’s hands rest on the backs of your arms for a second. It’s a prelude. It’s a balm for the burn. He weaves his finger between yours, gently pressing himself against your back with his nose resting on the back of your neck. He rests there a moment before bowing his head. “Oh my darling,” he breathes against your shoulder. “Come here.”
You turn in his arms and avoid his eyes, staring at his shoes, resting your forehead on his, wishing with every fiber of your being that the ground will swallow you whole.
“It’s fine to be jealous, my love. You have seen me jealous more times than I care to admit.”
It takes a minute for you to respond, but it’s been gnawing at you.
“I don’t get jealous.” Thorin scoffs but remains silent. “I don’t! I’m not one of those women who turn into monsters, but I just- I saw all those dams touching your arm and flashing their cleavage and trying to seduce you-,” you rant and the green monster stirs back to life until Thorin shushes you and it.
“They were making fools of themselves. They knew I was spoken for and still tried to play coy. Let me assure you, it did not work,” he whispers, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him. “I know what you need, dear heart. I am yours. I am yours alone. I wear your bead, I share your bed, and you share my heart. A dwarrow’s heart is not fickle like the wind. I love you and you alone.”
Somehow, he’s right. The monster retreats fully this time and you believe him absolutely. “I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you in front of the lord’s daughters.”
“My love, they are the ones who are embarrassed. Do I apologize to those I frighten with my jealousy?”
You smirk and tease, “Oh, you mean your victims?” and he smirks back.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of. I would be more worried if you were not protective of me. It’s endearing. It’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“I was worried you were going to call off our engagement.”
His laugh shocks you. It’s a full bellied laugh that makes him toss his head back. “I have faced fearsome monsters before. I think this green monster stands no chance, especially when it is on my side.”
The monster, back in it’s cave, hears these words and closes its eyes, finally slumbering once more. And you, in your lover’s arms, seal that promise with a kiss.