All glittering gold
Based on “Imagine cuddling with Thorin the night before the BotFA and making him promise that he will return to you (which he does)” from ImaginexHobbit
Note: I had to tinker with the timeline a bit to make this imagine work, but I really liked the idea, so I figured accuracy could take a little holiday.
A sequel to Pierced by Cupid
Thorin had returned to sit, brooding, on the throne while you lingered on the narrow walkway below the dais watching Balin, Dwalin, and Bilbo leave. When the trio had disappeared through the vast, arched doorway, you turned to him where he slumped, his eyes restless and constantly moving with his feverish thoughts.
“You’re not being reasonable, Thorin. How long will you test their loyalty?”
He glanced irritably at you before looking away over the cavernous chamber. “They owe me their loyalty.”
“And you owe them your trust, your patience,” you countered. “Have they not proved themselves time and time again, all of them?”
“You forget your place,” he warned, turning a dangerous gaze on you.
You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again, summoning all of your self-restraint to smother your simmering frustration, bite back the angry words that wanted to claw their way from your throat. “You are not the man you were,” you said finally, carefully. “You regard the ones who love you most with doubt and suspicion…you are consumed with the search for this accursed stone, and I fear for you, Thorin. I pity you.”
“You pity me?” He repeated your words incredulously, in a voice thick with contempt. “I am King under the Mountain. I have no need for the pity of a woodworker’s daughter.”
Anger flared in you again, threatened to burn what love remained between the two of you, frail and brittle as a fallen leaf, to ashes. “There was a time when you spoke of making a woodworker’s daughter your Queen,” you retorted, caring no more for self-restraint. “Or have you forgotten everything you said when you had me bare beneath you in Laketown?”
Even in his madness, Thorin looked stung, and still the words poured from your lips. “Was I only there to warm your bed?” you needled him. “Give you courage to face the dragon with my pretty words of love and faith?”
“Enough!” Thorin bellowed, rising to his feet with an almost convulsive movement, his glittering armor and the mad gleam in his eye making him larger, frightening. “You forget. Your. Place.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, and just as suddenly as it had flooded you, your fury drained away, leaving behind only a cold, empty regret that filled your eyes with tears.
“I have no place here,” you whispered, searching for a glimpse of the man you loved in the face of the capricious, grasping tyrant who stood before you and finding no such comfort. With a trembling exhale, you turned to begin the long walk to the doorway, leaving him glowering on the dais.
“Where are you going? I have not given you leave,” Thorin said indignantly, behind you.
Your footsteps were loud in the oppressive stillness.
“I am the King!” Petulance crept into his voice. “I am the King, and you will stay until I have finished speaking to you!”
Only the silence answered him, and your retreating form grew smaller.
“Go, then,” Thorin growled, his call echoing on the stone walls. “Go! But know this: if you walk through that door, do not presume to show me your face again.”
With that, you halted, standing frozen beneath the great stone arch before looking back over your shoulder to meet his demanding stare, far away across the chamber. His lips began to curl into a victorious smirk that quickly faded when, without a word, you turned and left the throne room.