#DiME: Sanâzyun

[court-jobi]

Better Angels

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 3,489

Ratings: Gen Audience

Warnings: none

A/N:  The grief -fresh in her dearheart's soulful eyes- tumbles around with Tessa's head with heartache of her own, and what follows is told through her POV.

Summary:  After their brief time apart, morning found Tessa finally rejoining the others in the makeshift infirmary on Erebor's groundfloor. By Mahal's Grace and every dwarves' fingers-crossed, Thorin Oakenshield II pulled through and is in recovery after his skiff on Ravenhill. The Mountain seemed even brighter on the inside, its history far beyond what she imagined. Tessa couldn't hold back her questions in her eagerness to see him again, and wanted to hear everything from his own lips. Thorin welcomed her familiar, doting company at his bedside, but also realized he has his guilt to reckon with before he can even consider taking the Throne as King. In his honesty to Tessa, he shares his bout with darkness that threatened to take his sanity and respect, and hopes this does not stain her view of him in return. Clearly she missed something big....

Read on AO3

It hit me the next morning when I woke– I never asked about the Throne Room! 

Every dwarf filing into the Halls was bustling with important things like keeping their King alive, so I never thought to stop someone and ask to see it. I was drained enough as it was, when I saw him… what a sight that must have been. Even after a wash down, I felt dirty as sin from ash and smoke and leftover dragon bile, topped with a mess of tears seeing him on the brink of life and death. 

My adrenaline tanked when my head hit the pillow, and though every square inch of this place needed a deep clean with a couple hundred Swiffer mops, I was way too exhausted to care about tidiness. In our huddle outside the hospital wing, there was a fire, the six of us non-injured Company members sleeping in shifts just like old times- that comfort meant the world to me after the days I spent away. 

In the morning I found myself raring to help, but wanted to go back and check in with everyone, first thing. When we all visited our friends and brothers again with breakfast in tow, I took my waiting place on the King’s bed while Dori checked on Fili first. 

Wrappings and heat warmers aside, Thorin sported color in his cheeks today, which was a fantastic sign. Sleep must have come easier with the roots Oin gave him. From the way he moved, his abdomen must be feeling better because he could scoot up to the headboard all on his own, making room for me to sit. 

Washing down my first bite, I shared my waking thoughts with him, 

“Well, hon, if we can get you out of this bed here soon, it’s time to get you back to your throne where you belong~. It’s all yours now, isn’t it!” 

There’s so much I wanted to catch up on; time flew as we'd spent the last few weeks away from each other in a whirlwind. Surely he'd had plenty of time to refamiliarize himself with his home before the battle. Our friends had been armed and prepared for it, judging by the state of everyone's armor. 

I really should've paced myself; Thorin only just woke up. But I couldn't bite back the questions now, there were so many. But I was most curious about him– what living meant, now that he'd made it through the night and could see his future more brightly,

“How does it feel? Take you right back? Only now, you're taking the best seat in the house," I remembered aloud.

…Thorin's expression fell altogether. The last thing I ever wanted to have happen because of something I said; I regretted asking- though I didn’t know why.

“-What?”

Then abruptly he just– cut away. Not looking at me at all, but rather his feet; sulking away like the sad sight of a guilty child. Even when I cocked my head to cue him to look up, he wouldn't.

In all these months, this was the first ounce of hesitation I’d ever seen in Thorin. The one time I’d ever dare call him feeble: 

"Thorin?"

"I-... They’ve not told you, have they."

"Told me what?"

Grief heaved across his face. You can tell by the way he struggled to breathe– the normal ebb of his chest didn’t lift in that steady, sure rise. 

In the gap of quiet, I stretched out, turning from my twisted seat off the side of the bed to prop up my legs alongside his. He wiped at his brow with a still-stiff hand in search of words, the right words. Whatever had happened proved hard for him to swallow, let alone speak.

"A grace that they didn’t." Thorin murmured under his breath before speaking up, "You weren't here to see it, when we arrived at the Door. To see me, what became of me inside.” To pacify my growing worry, Thorin laid his hand over mine.  “And to be true, I am glad for it."

Under his palm, I held it back to try and stop its tremor. "See you? In– what way?"

The confession barely passed his lips,

 "... I turned goldsick."

The longest fear he’d held: the one taunted to him by kings and trolls alike for months- refusing at every turn to anyone who would listen the very idea of succumbing to his grandfather’s fate –

...it came true anyway.

"Oh, Thorin," I only scooted closer- not away, never away. (And that, plainly, surprised him, if his brows freezing in place was any indication.) "What happened?"

Internal debate brought Thorin's eyes to close for a minute, but he shook his head at the end, 

"The things I said, I cannot take back.  I'd give nearly anything for the chance to scrub them away... How Bilbo can even look me in the eye is beyond me. It's inexcusable." 

The groove of his top lip twitched at some tortured memory,

"Once the dragon left, my heart turned toward the gold around me, and never looked away. This- damned lust settled in my chest… Had this grip on my mind and– what felt like my very soul. It was a dream, and not a dream, because I can remember every moment passed .. almost like a morning fog."

Thorin reasoned with the thought a moment, the followed up, 

"To answer you, I’ve not returned to that cursed room. How could I? How can I sit there, when the very sight of the gilded stone we used in our haste lies poured solid across the floors below?… It reflects everywhere. We’d never piece it up again if we tried for another sixty years."

His heavy brows sagged in their agony. I listened on until Thorin's large thumb stilled and held onto my hand like a lifeline,

"I was horrid, Tessa. You'd never recognize me."

How his heart made the claim as fact so surely, broke mine.

"Of course I would. You're still you, even if you're 'not yourself'."

"-But I was myself.” 

Thorin finally braved to look up: firm as ever, and brokenhearted,

“–Foul and greedy and sick," he said, "Even in the dark when I lay alone trying to sleep. My madness mixed about with the fallen who came before me; the curse passed through my lips as it would their own. I could taste those acrid words as they slipped from me– and I believed them. I'd–...I believed every word." 

I knew my pity must have been readable, because his guilt rose with each sin he confessed:

“I led us to war when it was not necessary. Peace may have been an option, had I but honored my word. Our allies presented joint arms and I refused. I set my brethren to count coins instead of hunt, I let men, women, children dig themselves out from Smaug’s wreckage and leant no help– all while I writhed in my wealth and excess.” Thorin’s words wavered with his head, “I set my own.. my own kin to anger against me. It is by Mahal’s Grace that I have them with me now.”

It clicked why no one told me. This seemed like a huge shift in Thorin’s character to have watched him suffer through. Seemed it was aptly named- a sickness. One he’s clearly sought forgiveness for, and they’ve very clearly wished for nothing more than to move on from. I could see it in how Balin prayed over his healing, how Kili kept asking about him, how everyone cared so much– even given how he’d allegedly treated them all.

The very sink of his shoulders pushing him down sent my chest into an ache. Prostrate as David before the Lord– or as much as he could manage in a makeshift bed.

"I am worthy of that throne no more.” Thorin braced his head as he had before, “Who would follow a slipshod king prone to such weakness?"

This was his truth as he knew it. I reached for Thorin’s other hand.

"Here, c’mere–” 

While he looked tense to receive anything resembling comfort in this moment when he’s already so exposed of the heart, Thorin surrendered it. 

Massive, steel-worn hands, cupped by thin, spread-wide fingers like mine… harmless by comparison. 

Holding them fast seemed second nature; with both the reverence as a king deserved, but also with the care of someone who oh-so deserved something soft for once in his life. No rings adorned his hands now. Before I would have thought this was necessary for hygiene and bandaging; though now I suspect it was a choice of unworthiness. I couldn’t stop myself; I kissed them both. 

I still can’t fathom having a royal title over my head like he does. Holding any kind of political office –or even some stuffy position on a board of trustees seems daunting enough to me. With royal expectations and generations' past leaving their pressures lying on my shoulders like a fur cloak, not to mention being held up by a bum leg that's keeping me trapped to a bed for the next few weeks? That handicap alone –however temporary– would be frustrating enough on its own. 

And to face the oliphaunt in the room, let no one forget that this room is chock full of people suffering from injuries from top to bottom. There was a war outside these walls. We fought a frickin’ war and won. 

Really, what could I say to give counsel to a mastermind behind that undertaking? 

But as I sat back up, the way this guy looked at me caught me in the moment. His eyes set to hear my words like I hung the stars myself. This reminds me of every time we’ve gotten a second alone: this is Thorin. This is the man - no. ‘It's dwarf, lass, and a proud one’- that has to sit with himself at the end of the day, and reason with the same questions as anyone else: 

‘Have I done my best’, ‘Was it enough’, ‘What can I do better tomorrow’. 

And yes, he has to think about those things for the greater good of his people, first… but I’m positive he worries over those things for his own peace of mind. Or else, why would he have brought his friends, his kin, his own flesh and blood along with him to the hardest challenge of his life? He needed them. Surely, even he wrestled with those wants when he’s completely alone. The ones that crop up in the quiet, from the haze of his pipe, 

–a calm, quiet, ‘I could really use a friend right now’.

Rubbing out the tension in his hands is my next move- a nervous gesture of busyness I tend to hide most of the time when I make some excuse to be around him. But it does serve a purpose of relief. Not much, but maybe enough for now.

I offered my hardest to relate, to ease that tension in his brow:

"We all have inner demons. Whether they were born there or worked their way in somehow. And sometimes, our better angels are just so quiet, it's hard to hear them over the noise."

Thorin cocked his head to understand the idea.

"But you listened, hon'," a pause to give a kiss to his tented knuckles, and again, "You listened to your angels in the end; they haven't left you. You came out of it. You chose to do that, yourself. And they all know that–” 

Thorin glanced to where I nodded: somewhere behind me, to the hall and Halls beyond. 

“There's no second thoughts from any of them, whether or not to follow you."  I assured him "–wasn’t any doubt from the start. Your Company was well-chosen. Knew every one of those concerns, always heard you out, and yes- maybe even considered that temptation about you. And yet, they still kept with you anyway, and from the looks of things- all your injuries, notwithstanding- every risk was worth it."

And these were no small injuries- to him, least of all. Scores of his own kind lost their lives in this fight.

My gut backpedaled to the point, 

"That's not to say I'm happy for what you went through! Please don't think that I'm grateful for that part; you've suffered enough." My fingers slipped to lace through his. "Hearing voices- ghosts, insomnia, what have you- that sounds like a form of torture I’d not wish on my worst enemy. Thorin, no one would want more of that for you... you don't deserve it."

To prove I was earnest, I took a few fingers to chip his chin up from where he locked onto my hands in wonderment. This part was important:

"But– you’re no less deserving of what’s rightfully yours just because you stumbled. That's being human– mortal, guilty to a fault. It can, and has, and will, happen again to even the highest among you.”

Thorin is listening– but that edge of doubt still bobbed his head back and forth, scoffing at the idea. Too hard on himself, this one.

“If it wasn’t you, might’ve been Fili next, wouldn’t it? By your thinking, this temptation would have been the 'Durin Family Blight of Erebor'.”

At this, Thorin’s sights flitted to his nephew’s bed, across the way. A spike of fear and steely readiness shook his bones, unseen. He hadn’t considered that. 

“You think… he would have done the same?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged a little lightly. “- and even if he did,” the fact remained, “Would you have turned away from his side because of how it changed him?”

A quick, sharp blurt, “Never.”

Of course, you wouldn't. I smirked through it. 

“And do you think I wouldn’t be telling him the same thing I’m telling you now? It’s no less true, no matter who in your family this applies to.”

This was funny territory, playing hypotheticals in reverse– to rework the past rather than guessing the future. The Company thrived on telling me visions of Erebor our whole way here; didn’t give a second thought to the life I’d left behind, and instead fed be images that I wasn't totally certain I believed at the time. Plus I’m still not sure where I stand on the whole ‘cursed gold’ situation myself. That sounds like the kind of thing from faerie tales. 

–Then again, here I am in Middle Earth… so I’ll be shutting up now.

“Point is, whatever happened when you first came here is no reason to abdicate your throne, Thorin.”

A little, thoughtful hum passed in the moment, though he didn’t look altogether convinced. 

Thorin's sights still flickered to Fili, thoughtfully as he pondered his nephew. 

I stopped him in his tracks, 

“His time will come, you said so yourself.” I blocked his view with a little lean, “But now’s not the time to step down. You’ve done nothing by step up and up and up. The moment you came back to your right self, you came out onto that balcony and asked them to follow you head first against an entire Orc legion, and lead the charge yourself." 

The imagery still thrilled me. Kili made it sound so glorious- majestic. In fact- given what he’d overcome, it meant even more now.

"--You are their King– the only one they'd ever accept after all this time. And the one they'd live and sing and die for, even now."

And then– that look came back. Like a narrative was swirling around my head like Tweedy-birds, Thorin looked me over like a man dazed.  

Y'know, to put my finger on it, he stared just the same as he did at every stop and rest we’d taken from the Rolling Hills to Dale. He’s mulling over things I’d said, trying to ‘get me’. I hoped he’d be remembering the good ones:

'It's coming, Blue Eyes. You've earned the rest that comes at the end of this- even if I have to beat it into submission. I've got little arms, but sheer Southern spite to back it up.-- Don't believe me? I'll do it!'

'Yknow I may not have a magic 8-ball in front of me, but I see a couch in your future. A couch, a bed of ridiculously-sized pillows, a hot bath, and all the mead you can drink. (No, Nori, I’m not a wizardess! NO, it's not real magic-It’s an expression!)'

'Home is coming; peace is coming- for you, and everyone else. Please, for the love of God, take it when the time comes.'

You've suffered enough.

You've suffered enough.

You've suffered enough.

Wait… 

Oh God, Thorin’s one blink away from crying. 

And I would too, if I wasn't careful. Sympathetic crier..

Was I that good at making folks emotional?? Didn’t take much around me, apparently. Balin, the Ri’s, Kili, even Bombur that one time I sang a flipping Hamilton song. (Then again, if you don’t choke up at ‘Burn’, do you even have a heart?)

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for the worst of things, Thorin…” I shook any heady mush away. “But seeing you now, I'd take every ounce of that dragon-sick memory from you if I could, if it'd only take that poor look off your face."

Thorin pardoned the sentiment with a brush to my hands entrapped in his. 

"N'yway, I think… Even at its worst?… It's nothing I wouldn't have loved you through."

The bleary haze sobered, Thorin flickered to life.

"Loved?" he asked. 

What could I say?

…well. Yes. “Love,” I decided. “Present tense.”

Not the finest confession, but we’d danced around the label so far and said everything but the three words to each other. 

I knew it, felt it, even if I’d not said it. 

And yet… I don’t quite know what I was expecting, but Thorin sure didn't melt into a full-on puddle at whatever I said in those imaginings. Not as he did now. Blue Eyes just centered back on my hand and sniffed his emotion back. I think I rendered him speechless, until he glanced up he chimed into his regular, deep timbre,

“Master Oin,”

I turned to see our lovely healer Oin in his element, with a massive tray harness coming up on my right. His vending case of herbalist goods was traded out to what he usually must work with in an infirmary, filled with all sorts of things; namely bandage rolls, compresses, and sacks of medicine pouches. Just in time for the King’s daily dose. 

“Aye, got yer breakfast in ye already, Thorin? Gonna have to keep you, ‘round, lassie,” Oin’s free hand batted at my shoulder and shook it, “Pulling teeth to get him to eat somethin’ down last night, it was...”

I gave Thorin a bit of a look, to which he muted an eye roll. 

“Call me childish all you like,” Thorin droned, “But my stomach was in knots, in both senses of the word.”

“And ye know what helps that along? Bit of this, bit of that– and a solid meal in you to settle in!” Oin’s curmudgeonly side kicked into high gear, pointing at just the sorts of things Thorin needed to get well. Of all his patients at the moment, seems the one that needed the most ‘patience’ indeed was the King himself. 

Dwalin teased me just earlier that I might need to keep on snack duty for the foreseeable future, just to make sure no one keels over. 

Gotta say, this wasn’t the most ideal timing, given we were most definitely interrupted, but I slid off the bed with a happy step, straightened the covers to let Oin have his space.

“I’ll leave you to it,” I cleared the way, and to Thorin, “And I’ll gladly check on you later with a bite of lunch, huh?”

“Please do,” Thorin answered at the ready. A touch softer than he just quipped back to Oin, but he returned to his usual self as Oin chattered along with the usual rounds of questions about every bit of his body and if it still hurt the same.

Thorin was a hard read most of the time– but never to me, and not about what we’d just talked about. There was no mistaking that soft look in his eye that promised more; he smiled back when I took his empty bowl with me.

I nodded to them both as I left, making an effort to keep a snarky smile back at his puppy-like expression that all but apologized for the intrusion out loud. Given his state of calm, I relished in the little signs he gave that he was feeling better in more ways than one.

I’m not a long-time friend of his by any stretch; our time together so far has been but a blink in the span of his life… but I’m so proud of him. And truthfully, I’d follow him anywhere.

[court-jobi]

Erebor is your Rome

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 3,028

Ratings: Gen Audience

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello Tumblr! Here's the first of my headcanons that finally took written form~ only 8 years in the making... no time like the present, right?? This one-shot is an intro to Tessa DeVon, her delightful bond with the Dwarf King, and a snapshot of their story in-the-making.

Summary: While Thorin Oakenshield sets to work bringing some semblance of order to rebuilding Erebor, he's not invincible. He gathers his wits a moment and takes a spell in his inner chambers -the door still-ajar - just the invitation for the Company's Unexpected Darling to come have a chat and offer one of her trademark pep talks; as best as a millennial can manage. After making her mark in Middle Earth after taking a Journey with them like no other, life under the Mountain is a learning curve for all.

New to Erebor, sure, but Tessa's full of wisdom in her own right.. and perhaps that's all Thorin needs.

Read on AO3

Just past the hour, Tessa entered the open door and paused at the tension seeping around her. Around the great table in the center rose the heated points of each of the visiting heads-of-house. Their words laced in Khuzdul bounced off the aged, carved walls up to the ceiling.

She cast an unspoken question with lifted, worried brows- just a quick once over to each of the dwarf lords (all of whom paid no attention to her arrival), once to their newly instated King (she noted, with a less than subtle appreciation of today’s choice of vest), then to Balin, to see if she should clear out.

Thorin muttered something in confidence to Balin over his left shoulder, then strode towards his study with a long, rough sigh. Then an announcement later, Balin shooed the others out of the chambers straight away.

Tessa flowed with the exiting movement, favoring the near side of the door to see everyone out, planning to leave last. Chin tipped up to acknowledge each as they passed, Tessa stayed at the threshold until her dear friend reached her side -only to be stopped by the arm when she turned to follow suit–

“Not you, dear,” Balin said, were it so obvious by his laugh, “You’re the one he needs right now.”

So here Tessa remained- the only soul left in the once chaotic room, per Balin’s excusal.

The order– didn’t apply to her?

Although Tessa wasn't sure if it actually didn’t pertain to her or if Balin was simply trying to meddle with the rules for Thorin’s sake, the woman remained in the doorway with her thoughts. Tossing away the time for second guessing, Tessa simply entered further: after Thorin.

Closing the heavy oaken door behind her, the empty King’s study felt smaller than it looked. Surely this was due to the stark quiet in here compared to the room she’d just left. The office sat nearly untouched in these past few decades, save for the workable space of the green-veined stone worktable- once home to Thror’s entire docket of business back in Erebor’s high Age. Its spread was filled with business again of another caliber- one that rests in his grandson’s hands: to bring to glory everything that had been dormant under the Mountain’s years of abandonment and decay.

Thorin sat. looking every bit as miffed as he looked when he left– not in the regal chair of the table’s head, but in a simple attendee’s seat, with barely any cushion to speak of. Sunken arms of the dwarf King propped upon open knees in the posture hardly fitting of someone of this station.

Tessa learned through observation early on; Thorin often pushed his chair sideways when taking an audience, to catch the sunlight rather than have his back to it. Its warmth and brightness was likely something he missed, but never confessed so. Though now, even at its afternoon peak, the streaks of shine gave no joy like they usually did.

A bare rap of knocking against the threshold’s grain made to alert him of someone’s presence. Thorin glanced at the hollow sound but didn’t speak. It registered when he looked up to her that Balin was right; Thorin sunk in relief again, letting down knowing his audience had finally left.

Reading a downcast face was Tessa’s innate specialty; so was the role she took as the token ‘mom friend’ in her university days. But breaching the topics behind such frustration as Thorin showed – especially regarding those of complex, ‘dwarven matters’– was not something she was familiar with. How could she, really; her experience with dwarves as an outsider was decidedly short, no matter how much they immersed her into their comings and goings. This would be her curse even should she stay for the next hundred years– she’d never know Middle Earth as well as her friends here; even now as she called it her home.

For his sanity, Tessa risked the walk. Resolved to be there to listen, if nothing else.

That softened feeling in her sought Thorin’s side, close to the desk… toeing the line close enough to the edge of the armrest– within his reach, if he wanted.

“Hey, you.” Tessa spoke life into the room by voice alone.

The dwarves’ King looked lost, studying the end of Tessa’s dress with focused effort.

“They are evenly split,” Thorin inferred the council’s ‘determination’. “After sixty years of poverty and loss, they cannot make a single, unanimous ‘aye’ for the life of me…”

So, the talks were not going well. This had to be discouraging. Considering the impromptu committee had planned to convene long before lunch– and it was now past noon...

“It’s a complete state of friction, no cooperation.” Thorin spoke his mind, “Have you been here all this time?”

“No,” Tessa chimed back pitifully, “Finished inventory in the Northwest Hall from yesterday. Just thought I’d check in, see how things were going.”

“You’ve caught us in a recess, then,” he sighed.

Tessa firmed her lips, listening.

“Nothing new, this.” He gestured to the plans before him- notes and scraps more than outlines and ledgers, “--the prospect of re-imagining Erebor, life within the mountain: this is a rare chance to start things over. A thing of purpose, of destiny. My grandfather kept such meetings close to the chest, and even closer like minds. I always thought more could be done, saw potential we never had the chance to build. Silly me, I opened the floor for our extended kin to ‘speak freely’. I never imagined such stubborn minds would greet us after so much time away.”

Non-stubborn dwarves?... That concept sounded nigh impossible. By definition, dwarves were hard-headed– even Tessa’s fairy tales depicted them that way.

“I’m no expert, but I’m not sure those two words can exist in the same sentence, hon.”

“I cannot argue that.” Thorin ceded. “But even so, this opportunity should lend itself perfectly to our kind, Tessa. To utilize talents of all kinds and trades… Would the noble houses not defer to each other? Ones who have worked in such conditions, who’ve accomplished projects of this scope? Have we become so set in our ways, scattered across the land of Men… We have carpenters here; smiths, masons- all at the ready- to understand even the-…” he spat and mumbled through a stiffened jaw.

At the arm of his seat, Tessa settled in to hear out his concerns. She flipped her palm upward in an offer. His stern eyes fluttered at the gesture, then softened at the sight, bound to accept it.

Falling into their habit of touch- the tender thing neither spoke of- Thorin’s giant thumb took its job to rub the top,

“I swear, whatever this Mountain’s so-called King imagined to be a uniting task, has made him a bloody fool.”

“Thorin-...”

Tessa stopped that negative-self talk in its tracks. A sweet smile graced Tessa’s lips as she said so, disagreeing with any talk that put Thorin in a bad light… even if such words came from his own mouth.

A dark memory turned to a reserved calm behind his eyes and his tone,

“Smithing in Ered Luin was tiring, backbreaking work… but what I might give to return to a job that was honest. Provided enough to meet needs. I can assure you, it didn't drive me to quarreling madness…” Thorin studied the softened fingers in his grasp.

This quiet moment from him: vulnerability at its finest. Thorin’s gaze fell back to the hands encasing his with a level breath,

“I know I should be patient,” even through temper, he could anticipate Tessa’s faithful answers, “but a room stuffed to the gills with dissent and conflict– nonstop– for half a day’s working hours, I cannot help but remember… this is not the life I envisioned for you.”

The release of his name left Tessa’s chest again, leaving no choice but to close the gap between his legs. Pure empathy brought her hand from his to clasp Thorin’s shoulder and bring the entire torso of the hero before her into her waiting embrace. Following the flow of her movements, Thorin found himself slumping to press his forehead into her stomach.

Unseen by his Council, his mind spun– past and present pressure warring. Now, he sought her for grounding with naught but a hand to her waist. If she could just numb him long enough to rest the growing throb in his temples…

With that gentle press of her hand onto the back of his head, perhaps she could.

“Well, Thorin,” Tessa lightened, “I didn’t really have a plan prior to my deciding to stay here. I had no vision to be crushed, so you’re hardly disappointing me.”

A chuff of warm air flared through a certain dwarf’s nose from his hiding spot.

“I mean, this is a huge step up from squirrel stew and the canvas sleeping mats.” she teased, the memories flickered in the mind like the lanterns along the walls. “Not that those things didn’t have their charm! But I can’t say a girl like me wouldn’t love the velvet getups and shiny bits that came with settling down in a place like this... You didn’t even need to do that much, Your Highly Majestic-ness. Consider me ‘right spoiled’~.”

Naturally, a displeased grunt masked his amused smirk. “You know my meaning, lass…”

Tessa chuckled. Grumpy dwarf. If she could lift his spirits first, then the head would follow.

“We have a saying where I’m from:” Tessa offered in this quiet moment, “-‘Rome wasn’t built in a day.’-”

Thorin hummed again, peppered with interest this time.

“I didn’t ever have a chance to go abroad to see it in person- much less see the city in its heyday; it sat clear on the far side of the world. The whole country is shaped like a boot, it’s a peninsula with water all around it. But it’s a place we all learned about in our studies.” Tessa set the scene as simply as she could manage in a few refrains, “Rome was the birthplace of arguably the greatest empire in my world’s history- host of all sorts of things; how we made multi-lane roads, waterworks, even how we perform life-saving surgeries. Things like music and sculptures too– gosh, so much art, you wouldn’t believe… If you looked back on it, models from the Roman Empire grew over time into the way we do things today.”

The draw of Thorin’s waves tempted Tessa’s fingers, but she didn't feel like crossing that line just yet- it’s a private one, and a very serious matter, Balin says.

“But I think it’s safe to say,” Tessa swayed a little in her step, “Given the scope of this place, this world, everything you’ve told me you remember about growing up here… What this mountain meant for the North all those years ago? Erebor is your Rome.”

… Forehead still pressed to her sternum, Thorin’s head cocked.

“You say Erebor was a marvel- is a marvel-” Tessa corrected herself, taking a few stray fingers atop the runs of silver through her King’s hair. “Anyone can say they can imagine something great, think they know how to tackle something huge, all by themselves– but the second they’d try and fail on the first go, they’d write it off. Call the challenge something that’s too far gone. For such a great place, there has to be a great vision; and I’d bet on anything that you have that vision.”

Tessa trailed off just as she mapped his waves. Something about Thorin not looking at her directly made her more brave.

It’s those eyes of his, she mused, makes my brain turn to mush. Maybe it’s better this way; he needs to hear this, and I’d never get the nerve to tell him staring at me with those baby blues.

“You can’t help but see the potential, because you remember it at its height. To know what Erebor was, but also what it needs to be, now. It’s a different time, different age now- just like you said. It only makes sense that it’s what’s freshest in your mind coming back home, tattered as it is right now. And in the interim, you’ve lived in such a variety of places, so you’ve been inspired to grow. Bringing in the things you know and make it even greater.”

This seemed to strike a cord. Thorin tilted his head fully, looking askance yet comfortable in his spot to think.

“Any city can be great, sure. You can rebuild Erebor just like any other king before you. That being said, I know something else for a fact, too.”

The edge of hair hiding Thorin’s eyes begged to be pushed back,

“Given the state we’re all in, there’s no doubt this place needs more than a fair share of elbow grease. But I’ll promise you this…There’s something more to be said of the man who refuses to give up on it. And even more–”

A tip of the chin up, Tessa turned Thorin’s jaw up.

“--building his mind and heart up in a healthy place while he works at what he’s after? That means more to me than anything else. More than how many studded halls or linens or comforts he can give, or how fast it goes up. That’ll all come back to the mountain in droves… I only have one you. So when you wanna call a recess, you call the recess.”

A contented sigh left him. While the sound proved enough that he seemed happier to have been consoled, Tessa missed the ghost of a smirk that accompanied it.

With another hand passing over the divide of his (unfairly beautiful) part, the Company’s resident darling pivoted,

“How are you sleeping?” Tessa asked.

“I’m exhausted.” the deep whisper answered.

“Did you eat today?”

A pause, “...Not as much as you might like to see.”

Tessa bit the urge to scold back. He had the decency to look guilty about the negligence, after all.

“Then there's a good place to start.” Thorin earned himself a little backscratch, “The body is a forge- it needs fuel to light it. A good supper can sustain it enough to carry light for hours, even well into the night if needed.”

Thorin nuzzled against her -a nod, more like. This position caused muffling of his usually crisp-cut words into her waistcoat.

“You could pass as a dwarrowdam with talk like that.”

“I’m picking up some new metaphors,” the pride fluttered in her voice. “Is it working?”

“You are helping my mood, and you’re endlessly amusing…” Thorin caressed her hip, unable to stave off the smile.

Tessa quirked her lip, perched atop his head. “The accent needs work.”

“Hah- I’ll say.”

An aire in her laugh, Tessa knelt to meet his eyes.

God, he looks tired, yet now he seemed not so miserable than at the start.

“You know, I really would have liked to have known you sooner…” Tessa leaned onto his lap- “To have watched you spend time as a king already, way before this whole getup…”

“Sweet as you are–” Thorin hushed the sentiment, not unkindly, “I was hardly a king of old during our people’s time in exile. I guarantee you, you’d have been sorely underwhelmed by the name of ‘Durin’…”

“You led in the ways that mattered.”

“Out of Balin’s mouth to yours..” Thorin gave a playful wrench under Tessa’s chin.

Tessa shook it off with a smile of her own. The Company formed to bolster Thorin Oakenshield was not something to be overlooked,

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. Providing a way of life? In so many cities, for as many as were dependent on you? You amaze me already; how easy you make it look. ‘N even when it’s hard, you’re not above calling those you trust to help you. You made sure to keep a reliable circle close.”

In her comfort, Tessa barely registered– she’d sunk into Thorin’s hand as he held her cheek, adoring her.

“These are all the marks of a truly good man, to me– not a fool in the slightest. With a mind like yours and a work ethic to back it up, that’s how I know you can do this.”

Finally– a prized crinkle graced beside the dwarf’s eye. What a well-won smile. The reward for all Tessa’s doting: easily her favorite sight in all of Middle Earth.

“At the same time,” she brought herself back to the present- not ogling him, mind you– “I know it’s easy for me to say, I’m on the outside. I know it’s harder in your position… and that's why I want to be here for you ok? With proper care, that patience you need will follow. And the ‘impasses you need like a hole in the head’ will fade away. Bit by bit, under your hand.”

Thorin tested the idea again: “ ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’.”

“Sure wasn’t,” Tessa promised. “Just brick by brick.”

Thorin set a kind look back, drawing Tessa in by her jaw to grant her brow bone a kiss and met her forehead.

The last time Tessa gave a glorified TED Talk to the financial minds in the newly renovated Treasury, Thorin had been awestruck to the point where he didn’t even hide his sidebar with Bilbo: ‘What a queen she’ll make, Master Baggins’ he’d said. This touch spoke just as much as that moment, weeks before.

And to be true, his mind was indeed more sound now thanks to her, like rain washed over a steaming batch of coals to a bearable temperature.

“Care to share any expert opinions on how this Rome was built?” Thorin murmured into the space between them. “Any trade secrets your world would not mind you parting?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly there 1800-something years ago to see it. But I’m pretty sure it all started with getting a decent meal in the Emperor’s stomach before lifting a finger on any ordinance.” Tessa rose to pull him up to height. “Even I find a snack does wonders before picking fights with assholes at the council table, that’s for sure~.”

[court-jobi]

A Scar and its Story

Pairing: Thorin x Tessa (Modern OC)

Words: 1,836

Ratings: Teen & Up

Warnings: (TW: for descriptions of face scarring, just in case)

Summary: She could only liken this feeling to a few things: and not many of those were things any soul here in Middle Earth could understand. Anyone who’s ever been in a car accident has trouble getting behind the wheel for the first few times, right? ‘Well, anyone except for Thorin if he knew how to drive. He’s not scared of anything.' This line of thinking got Tessa through watching each of her Dwarven friends heal. But the whiplash, the pains the mind and body remembers, and especially its scars… those seemed hard for her to forget-- even as she looks at Thorin's face and its new story to tell.

A/N: As if Thorin could ever be anything but beautiful in her eyes... Tessa still worries over the scar Thorin has- and what it reminds her of. Set after the events of 'Better Angels' if you've not yet checked it out! Not required, but fun to enjoy sequentially. Thank you for the likes and comments for my OC already! Tessa and Thorin send their love~

Read on AO3

Tessa really tries not to, but her eye drifts to the scar on Thorin’s forehead. 

Following Dwalin to the infirmary she'd gone pale and showed a worried eye in front of the healers that she couldn't hide in time. Based on how bloody it had been– seeing the King unconscious when she first gone to see him after the Battle- the worry from all sides was understandable. Everyone was concerned for him, chiefly his nephews. Though in her mind, the sight of all of her dearest friends in pain hurt Tessa for far longer than the few weeks for their war wounds to settle into scars.

It's hard not to remember that day; even as lovely as it was to be honest about her feelings for him... Things were still fragile, tender, and it was growing into something more each day. Thorin carried on so beautifully; regally, and in perfect stride once he could walk again.

And she’s never said a word on it; perhaps to her detriment. Maybe that's why it's still hard to speak of it.

The only time Thorin himself mentioned looking this way in recovery was when he assured her, 

'Dwarves wear their scars as leopards their spots. I was bound to earn some of my own, one day.' 

Thorin does say it like a thing of pride. When others hearken to it, their joshing praises gives him a devilish quirk of his now split brow, knowing it as a loud and proud claim ‘he won’.

…but that very fact is what flitters around– unsettled in her stomach. For Tessa? She knows it as a sign of just how close she was to losing him . Time and some emotional distance away from the Battle brought her to push those thoughts far from her mind for a while.

But that changed today.

"Have I misplaced soot on my face?" Thorin asks, bemused.

Thorin caught her staring and she was nearly too shy to admit it,

"Oh, no!" Tessa gently brushes his coat lapel back, along with his hair in a corralling gesture. "It's just--" 

Tessa stopped herself, and lied. 

"-- I'm just happy to see you."

To see you. To be seeing you, everyday. 

A month ago, that hope of seeing Thorin Oakenshield alive and well had been stamped to near-embers. 

"It's my joy to see you, too~" Thorin takes her hand to kiss it; yet she avoids looking while he does so. "... Though, I think that look in your eye is far from joyful." 

A guilty pang caused Tessa to force a smile onto her face, 

"Gosh.. I didn't mean to worry you."

In a moment, she turns self conscious which Thorin reads, too– he clue? She stopped walking. 

Thorin is seeking some sort of answer as he watches for her next words. The way he looks at her so intently– fishing for some reason why she’s hedging away from him when she’s done nothing but look for a way to stick by his side over the past weeks, relearning the Mountain together… 

Tessa knows this change of character must look odd to someone like him. She hated this feeling.

Thorin noticed her flit a glance to the hall behind him; with a tip of his head to block her view, he redirects in her line of sight. Right back to him.

"We have time, Sanâzyun.” Thorin eases with those happy high brows, “What troubles you?" 

Honesty it is … 

Steeling her nerve and pulling up all the calm she can offer, Tessa squared up to Thorin for closeness. Confident enough they weren’t going to have an audience around… she braved the chance and held onto his hand.

"Everyone sees this as a warning:” Tessa combed back Thorin’s part with a few fingers; only light enough for a quick touch, “-A less-than-gentle reminder, should anyone dare try to test a king so great as you. As they should, obviously . No matter who you ask, the sight of a new scar is the same; they see it as a badge of honor.”

Tessa swallowed her hidden truth, thick in her mouth. 

“But…I catch it in the light sometimes, too. And I'm afraid I don’t see it that way. All I can see is… well… how close I was to never–"

See you again – Tessa buries the thought, burns it. That’s certainly something she can't say out loud without crying. 

"--It's my saving grace," she recovers gently, "-whenever I look at you. I remember that shit-show of a day, and that, to see you with it now means we got to the other side. But it doesn’t really– I don’t know–” Tessa floundered, “I know that should be a good thing- is a good thing! I should just celebrate it with everyone else! Hindsight 'should' give us comfort, right?... 

Thorin glanced to their joined hands, then back up to Tessa with a look- between confusion and pity and that look of desperation when he tried to follow along with her rabbit trails.

Tessa could only liken this feeling to a few things: and not many of those were things anyone in Middle Earth could understand. Anyone who’s ever been in a car accident has trouble getting behind the wheel for the first few times, right? ‘Well, anyone except for Thorin if he knew how to drive. He’s not scared of anything,’ Tessa thought. 

Knowing the analogy would be fruitless, Tessa just shook her head, sighing her own insecurity away.

"After all the time y’all spent getting here, it was hard seeing you like that, after fighting. Close calls scare me, Thorin. Especially when it comes to you."

 " My… ” Thorin ponders this. “The mark– it pains you?

 Tessa’s lip quirks. Not necessarily, but what she does feel strikes a chord of longing.

 "Pain's a strong word.” Tessa confides, “--but, close enough." 

No one was in earshot, but still she glanced about for any prying eyes.

His face is deadly serious, likely feeling he missed something gravely important.

"I did not know you felt this way..."

"Because it's silly! And selfish– so of course, I never brought it up."

Thorin’s hand tightened on hers,

 "You are not selfish."

"I mean over voicing any fussing over it.” A hand refreshed her own part while she kept her pm interlocked with his, “I figured saying anything comes off as vain, which isn't my issue at all with it. Yours is the one opinion who matters, not mine.”

'Its not like you could ever be less beautiful to me…'

Despite her fighting it against the memories of a bleeding and gashed Thorin, mist flooded Tessa’s eyes– even through her light laugh. 

Thorin called her by name, “Look at me, please.”

She sniffs back and meets his eyes again. Squared up to her again, Thorin came to hold her hands in both of his.

“You know I don’t give a single care what I may look like…” The dwarf shared with low comfort in his voice, as he confided to her just the same as he would a dear friend, “Even if I were left completely marred after The Ice, I would do nothing but speak of it; and show my grateful heart to anyone who will hear, for my second chance to live . Truly live. To lead the dwarrow who saw me through the darkness I faced to a better life. And be happy I’m alive at all…”

But as he continued to reason with what she just told him, Thorin processed her different, caring point of view,

“You say you are glad enough for this, and– for that I’m touched, but please know...the scar I carry means more to my people than just a reminder of a foul fight. And even more to me.”

Thorin brushes her eyes of the emotion at bay, watching her settle into a look transfixed on him. 

"Not a day passes... that I don't thank Mahal for honoring my wish on Ravenhill."

Tessa couldn't trust her voice’s watery delivery, but had to ask…

"What wish was that?" 

"To live past the morning light. So that I may tell those I care for, the things I'd not said before..." 

"And what things are those?" 

And with the unspoken circling the air between them -under the staggered placement of blue-flaming lanterns of the upper thoroughfare they stood upon, Thorin cups Tessa’s cheek– and draws her into a hug speaking directly to her ear.

"That you are not selfish , Tessa. You've not the bone in your body. " 

In turn, Tessa squeezes into his arms, and sinks.

Away from Thorin's gaze in the nest of his hair, the most fanciful of thoughts screamed in Tessa's mind, begging to be let out. To sort them out, she simply closed her eyes. 

Perhaps it was the cheesiest, romantic thing she'd ever thought to say, but something told her the men of this world wouldn't mind. Middle Earth is a place of the greatest folklore, but surely they had their own children's stories, too. And perhaps they didn't glorify these small marks as the testaments of their greatness, but maybe to show just how much he means to her, Tessa can try her hardest to relate to Erebor's people– to tell of the pride she has in her King...

"Thorin?"

"Yes."

Tessa swallowed her nerve,

"You-- know you're the stuff of fairy tales, right? You have to know that."

Thorin remained quiet- maybe puzzled more than anything. Inside, the tremor in Tessa’s chest was only stilled by the fact her dwarf still held her close. His head had turned, perhaps waiting for her to explain.

So, still locked in Thorin’s arms, Tessa turned in and released her guts to him: wedged by that soft point next to his ear, careful of her volume.

"Balin said," Tessa had to smile, "the stories are already going around about you: 'only a matter of time before it's set to song', like all the famous living legends are. I know you'll probably hate me saying this... but I do agree with him.

"I grew up with fairy tales too, dozens upon dozens of them– I haven't even told you them all, yet... But I think yours is the greatest one I've ever heard.” 

At her words, Thorin’s paused the sway he'd set them in. Surprised, to the point of heartache.

Tessa smirked, and threw light into her voice before she could risk looking him in the eye:

“N'who gets to say they've seen their hero save the day with their own eyes?" Tessa buried a bit into his hair, " Much less get the greatest hugs they've ever had in their life from them…"

A huff of something sweet and shy passed Tessa’s sapphire-stitched shoulder, then she heard the King’s voice just as gentle turn to talk into her ear,

"Your victor, am I?"

A short, affirmative hum.

"The Mountain's.. or truly yours?"

The massive smith’s hand came to curl her waist into him; but Tessa answered fairly,

"I guess I do have to share you ..."

Thorin's answer, practically purred by her ear, " No, you don't ."

Tessa smiled… but one that mellowed when she felt his lips caress her temple, at the same part where he himself now bore a split in the skin,

"As it happens,” Thorin teased beside her, “-you are mine, as well ."

[court-jobi]

✨MASTERLIST ✨

Feel like jumping onboard to a high-stakes, cyber-synthwave hacker mystery in the stars? Or do you wanna cozy up and tuck into an adventure tale from the back of a trusty horse- with swords and magic on your side?... Just want to deep dive into headcanons from your favorite worlds?? I'm sure there's something for you here!

My plans currently sit within 4 main storylines in my favorite fandoms, though there will be one shots and headcanons welcome for any and all of these. I'm also not limited to the fanbases I'm currently writing for... There's plenty more I'd love to dabble in. Let's see where the writing adventure takes us, shall we?

Take a peek at my stories to come, or send me your burning questions about the fandoms below... I'm always up for a chat!

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Stay a while and read on, friends~

A Stroke of Luck: The Witcher AU

Art Credit: Pinterest

What if the Butcher of Blaviken had a stroke of good luck for once- or if fate can let him have it, twice? Let him catch his breath in the form of an un-problematic woman: one without decades of emotional baggage and mutagen-festered turmoil wrenching into his love life… A lass graced with charm and humour in droves... but with a soulful, caring spirit unlike any he'd ever met.

There's no magic to be seen in her- but instead a crafty skill set and sound mind has kept her alive, only with a gentle touch in a cruel world. He can hardly believe the reprieve he's found in this unsuspecting friend- an herbalist with a listening ear for a man who’s heard and seen it all. What if Geralt of Rivia just had something nice for once... and that made all the difference in the hellscape of monsters that is the life of a Witcher?

Wouldn’t that be a welcome change of pace for the body and mind and heart- to have something sweeter to look forward to at the end of a contract…

A/N: Enter Ken'elrena of Dun Dâre- or Kenna, as the kiddos call her. The nickname is much easier to slip off the tongue- Geralt’s especially. He’s finding he likes that name more and more each time they cross paths. And now? Well, now he's not so sure he ever wants to go separate ways from her for long…

ASoL: main story (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

ASoL: Character sheet | Kenna ~ Release TBD

ASoL: Character sheet | Geralt ~ Release TBD

Teaser One-shot: ~ Behind the Bar

Teaser one-shot: ~ Night Walks and Good Talks

ASoL: The Midland Years ~ Release TBD

Dropped in Middle Earth: Sanâzyun

Art Credit: 'The Hall of the Mountain King's JeiWo on DeviantArt

Sanâzyun: perfect love

That's what Thorin began calling this woman in secret- 8 months ago. She'd wrapped up bits of leftovers for the Company in a thoughtful move, calling them all to 'pack snacks and make tracks, gents!' From that day on, something warmed him deep inside his hardy chest when she snuck his treat into his jacket pocket with utmost care. Good thing their Agreement is still on, and she doesn't suspect a thing-- yet.

To Tessa, wizards were fabled as a bunch of kids going to a school to learn their magic or a mouse dressed in a blue, starry hat making brooms come to life~ not dinner guests by the name of Gandalf. She calls this whole turn of fate 'wizard shit'; but doesn't question it and tagged along the Company of dwarves for the ride. But perhaps there's more at work -and more within her- that is magical, and only just out of reach- or just out of key. Time will tell when the dust settles after the Battle of the Five Armies to find out what brought her here, and how the quest for home didn't end when the Company arrived to Erebor.

A/N: DiME: Sanâzyun is my take on a modern lass gets dropped into Middle Earth-- but there's no craving to go back to 2022 anytime soon! While figuring out this plot twist only ever heard of in the movies, Tessa DeVon makes sense of the new life she's making with her Dwarven found family and takes each day as it comes. The clash of cultures and learning curve is both jarring and laughable; because if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Plenty of feelings, fix-its, and lore-ridden fantasy in this expansion of the Hobbit Epilogue: the beloved Durins Live AU is in full swing here!

One-Shot: Erebor is your Rome

One-Shot: Better Angels

One-Shot: A Scar and its Story

One-Shot: Want for Nothing

DiME: Sanâzyun timeline~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: song list ~ Release TBD

Journal Entries: animals ~ Release TBD

Letters from the Shire (collection) ~ Release TBD

Story One-shots (Collection): ~ Release TBD

DiME: Sanâzyun character sheet: Tessa DeVon ~ Release TBD

Fili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Kili Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Rex: Heart of a Soldier

Art Credit: Pinterest

At the bustling center of our favorite galaxy far, far away lies Coruscant: the center of the Grand Army of the Republic's operations and home to the Jedi Temple alike, but also the start line of a greater danger than a mere galactic war between Republic and Separatist politics... The holonet brings even the most unlikely of allies together, but is also the perfect chance to be the playground of havoc and chaos if tampered by the wrong hands.

To stay a step ahead of the bad guys, a charming, tech-savvy lone wolf is called to action with a team of unlikely friends for an even more unlikely job: slice for the good guys. Until now, she's operated in a world of gray- this shift into army life is sure to test her ties and trust. Though maybe the 501st's star Captain can help her rise to the occasion... and perhaps he can learn more in turn about this big 'ole galaxy he's been exposed to. With enough encouragement, hope, and examination of the heart, Rex may even try his hand at imagining a life after the war.

A/N: This story's got it all: a beautiful, sassy, Angel-Eyes love story for our dear, darling Captain Rex (who deserves the world), a hacker race-to-the-finish saga with twists and turns across the galaxy, easter eggs for Star Wars fans young and old, and a platonic soulmate thread that spans long after the war is over.

Love Found the Captain (snippet)

Quit Flirting? Not a Chance. (one-shot)

Rex: HOAS (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD will be weekly installments!

HOAS Arc 2 | ((unnamed Book 2) ~ Release TBD

HOAS Arc 3 | ((unnamed Book 3)) ~ Release TBD

Rex: HOAS character sheet: Sawyer Lyubava ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Root ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Agent ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Bootstrap ~ Release TBD

R: HOAS character sheet: Query~ Release TBD

Tea Time (one-shot) ~ Release TBD

Who doesn't know how to make caf? (drabble) ~ Release TBD

501st Headcanons ~ Release TBD

HOAS Spicy Headcanons ~ Release TBD

Slicing for Nerf-Herders | resource guide

My Hero Academia: Triple Threat

One text from a former mentor led to a chain of emails...Then a four hour phone conference... Then an impromptu, three-way Zoom call between a language ambassador, an ex-hero turned teacher, and a quirk doctor who all agreed to some wild terms and set a plan in motion. Given the resources among the three, they posed an unlikely– but deadly– Triple Threat.

A/N: Three powerhouse women-- whether they believe themselves to be or not-- are teaming up for a triple threat force heading to Japan. Plenty of Marvel and DC content to bring this story to life, all in the current world of Kohei Horikoshi's My Hero Academia. The Hero Worlds of East and West collide; readers will find little bits and pieces from your heroes around the world in this fic! Plenty of Marvel and DC content help bring this story to life.

MHA: Triple Threat (multi-chapter) ~ Release TBD

Prologue ~ Release TBD