"You wish Princess Arien to return to Rivendell?" Thror said quietly.

He only used 'Princess' because Glorfindel had used it, and he seemed to think it would be helpful to appear as if he knew her well.

"I do not think I can allow that," he went on. "She has become a great asset to our kingdom."

Arien almost snorted. Thror had no more interest in her, and no more inclination to be interested, than if she were a speck of dust on the wall. He fixed Glorfindel with a piercing gaze. The elf only returned it, and there seemed to be a strain between the two, like a line of smouldering fire drawn from eye to eye that might suddenly burst into flame.

Arien took the opportunity to survey her surroundings yet again. Thorin stood slightly behind her (shoulders tensed, hand on the hilt of his sword, face blank but eyes filled with a growing dread), Dis and Frerin stood beside the throne (both looking slightly confused, Dis holding Fili in her arms), Thrain and Freris were on the other side of it (silently marking Glorfindel's every move), and Thror sat on the throne (fingers gripping its carven edges, black and gold fur cloak spilling around him).

Glorfindel, Arien and Thorin were standing in front of it as if they were on trial.

Thror and Glorfindel still looked each other in the eye as if reading the other's mind, but it was Thror who first withdrew his gaze. He said

"This choice I give to Arien." He fixed her with a slow smile. "To return to Rivendell and be banished entirely from this kingdom, on pain of death, or to remain here and become a true part of my people." Thror's smile grew. "And be banished entirely from any elf kingdom, existing or otherwise, upon pain of death."

Arien froze.

The choice was simple, she realised.

Never see her friends, or her homeland, again.

Or never see Thorin.

She stared at him. Thror's smile turned lethal.

"Decide, Princess, or I will do it for you."

Arien looked at Glorfindel, then at Thorin.

He had to know. Thror had to know who and what she was, and what she had with Thorin. She didn't want to know how.

Thorin's throat bobbed as he watched her, but he made no move to sway her toward either choice. He just brushed a hand down her back, silent and steady, brave and unyielding. A reassuring touch, telling her he would give her the space she needed to make that choice herself.

Elves or dwarves.

Love or friendship.

Love or her people.

She looked at Thorin, silently watching her, trying to keep the devastation from his face.

Her rock. Her beacon. Her Prince.

"I do not have all day, Princess," Thror growled. "Make the decision."

She looked at Glorfindel. Thorin turned away. He thought she'd choose the elf, choose Rivendell and her friends over him. It was that that made Arien put a hand on his arm. He turned back to her. She raised her head and met Glorfindel's gaze. Her fingers tightened on Thorin's skin.

"I choose this," she whispered.

Thorin froze, staring at her. Glorfindel bowed his head, accepting her decision.

"I choose this," she said louder.

"Arien," Thorin began. "You can't..."

"I can," she told him. "And I will."

Thror's eyes were wide. He had not expected this. Had not expected her to choose Thorin. To choose love. But he mastered his surprise and anger.

"Then," he said, his voice shaking with rage. "By your own choice and sacrifice, you are a part of the kingdom of Erebor, and therefore its people, in spite of your heritage." Formal words, for a formal occasion. Thror's eyes narrowed. "As you appear to be royalty, I will allow your... closeness with my grandson, but you will never marry, you will never have children. One day, Thorin will wed someone else. Someone worthy. Any disloyalty or betrayal on your part I have the right to punish. It is so by order of the King."

A flash of anger went through her at those words.

"And by order of the King," Thror went on. "This elf," a wave of his hand at Glorfindel. "Is hereby banished from the Kingdom of Erebor."

Arien snarled, low and vicious.

"It is not by order of the King," she growled. "There is only one true king in this room." Thror whipped his head to her. "There always has been. And he is not sitting on the throne."

Thorin went still at the same time as Thror's lips peeled back from his teeth.

"There is also a queen," Arien went on. "And she has no throne, let alone a people. They have been lost to blood and darkness and ruin. But I will not be the princess of a broken, shattered kingdom any longer. I am a queen, and I am done with playing your games. So I may be a part of your people but you do not command me or my own, your Highness."

"Arien," Dis warned, the first thing she'd ever heard her say in front of her grandfather. Thorin seemed unable to speak. No one paid Dis any heed.

"What your grandson represents," Arien snarled. "Is something that you, no matter how hard you try, cannot crush; hope. Hope for a time that one day, they will have a king that they want to follow. A king that cares for them, not the amount of gold and riches he can gather. A king they will follow until their last breath."

"Arien," Thorin said quietly. "That's enough."

Only he could have made her be quiet, could have stopped the words from spilling from her mouth. There was no undoing what Thror had done, but...

"Get out," Thror said with lethal quiet. "I do not command you, and I am glad of it. Now get out. All of you."

He gestured between her, Thorin and Glorfindel.

She didn't need asking twice. Hurrying down the stone steps of the dais, followed by the others, Arien didn't look back once.

Thorin's hand slid around her own. He squeezed it gently. He seemed to say

Chin high, back straight, don't look back. We are not in disgrace. Do you understand?

She squeezed back.

Yes.

He brushed a thumb over her skin.

Good.

A smile.

My queen.