Thorin awoke in a bed that had once been his, but somehow no longer felt that way. There was something missing in the world, something vital. He arose from the depths of slumber, and it took him a long moment to sort out what had changed.

He might have thought that he was awakening in his bed in the Blue Mountains, still king of the people of Erebor, still Arien's friend and lover. Still happy. Full of hope. He might have believed it if he hadn't noticed the absence of that beautiful female body across from him, the lack of her warmth and comfort.

Arien was gone.

Reality opened wide and swallowed him whole.

He didn't move from the bed.

***

He knew a day had passed, knew the new day was drifting along because of the shifting light on the wall of the bedroom. He knew the dwarves of Ered Luin still carried on with their lives, unaffected by the death of a forgotten young queen, unaware that she'd ever existed and breathed and loved him. He hated the world for continuing on. If he never left this bed, this room, maybe he'd never have to continue on with it.

The memory of her face was already blurring. Had her eyes been more pine green, or sea green? He couldn't remember. And he'd never get the chance to find out.

Never get to see that smile. Never get to hear her laugh, or hear her say his name like it meant something special, something more than being King Under the Mountain could ever mean.

He had believed he could love Arien and not pay the price. How wrong he'd been.

There is always a price.

He didn't want to go out into a world where Arien didn't exist. So he watched the light shift and change, and let the world pass by without him.

***

Time passed again as Thorin did not move. He didn't care that his stomach rumbled, his mouth was parched from thirst. Arien was gone. Food and water would do nothing to change that.

'"If death tried to separate us... I would find you again. I don't care how many rules it would be breaking. If I had to fight the Valar themselves, I would find a way back to you."'

Empty words. He had no way of finding her, no way of bringing her back to him. She was lost, and his foolish words and promises did nothing to change that. She was lost. Despair crashed around him, a wave drawing him into the black depths of an undulating sea. He did not try to fight it.

He only moved when he remembered that they would bury her. That he should be there, because she had been his, and he had been hers, and he needed to see her one last time. But though he swung his legs over the bed frame, he did not move any further. He couldn't. He just sat there.

Until Fili and Kili entered the room.

"Uncle?" said Fili. "Do you know where Arien is? We want to play with her."

It felt like someone had torn his heart out, ripped it to shreds and replaced it. Thorin couldn't look at them. Couldn't look at them, because that gaping, yawning pit inside of him had already dragged him down. And there was no getting back out again. Not without Arien.

"You won't find her," he said dully.

"Why not, uncle?"

It was Kili who spoke, Thorin's younger nephew poking his head out from behind Fili, and the pure innocence of his question was what snapped any remaining tether Thorin had on himself.

"Because she is dead!" He roared the last word so loudly it burned in his throat. "She is dead, and I am left with my worthless life."

Fili and Kili stared at him, eyes wide in what he could only describe as fear, but the words had been a strange kind of relief.

He had not said it –– she is dead –– once since Arien had died. Had not even acknowledged it to himself. But she was dead. She was gone. And Thorin missed her.

But he had no right, none at all, to take it out on his nephews.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"We didn't know," whispered Fili.

Thorin bowed his head. "I suppose your mother decided not to tell you. But she is dead. She's gone." His voice broke as it became choked with tears. "She's never coming back."

Thorin was crying, tears sliding down his cheeks. But he didn't try to stop them.

Fili and Kili approached him, and he pulled them to him and held them tight. His tears, and theirs, falling silently.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Kili whispered.

Thorin swallowed down his sob. "Yes. Yes I did. Very much. More even than I love my home. And I miss her."

His nephews didn't speak, but he could have sworn their arms tightened around him. A hundred years –– he could have had a hundred years with his queen. Longer. And it was for those years that they could have had together, for the life and joy that had been stolen from her –– from him, that he murmured

"If you want, I could play with you. Since she..." He swallowed. "Since she can't."

"Thank you," Fili whispered. "Thank you, uncle."