Chapter Text
"We must go to the mountain," Da said, inking a signature on a building permit he had been reading over.
Sigrid held his gaze, hands clasped before her, as she asked, "Is this to do with the unrest of late?"
He nodded, scrubbing a hand over his face, before looking at her again. "Aye. We must be seen as looking to remedy the situation, somehow."
Sigrid hummed a note of agreement, though otherwise remained silent.
The kingdom of Erebor was still something of a wonder to her, as much as it was an enigma. Though Crown Princess of Dale, Sigrid had hardly visited it. Given it had been under reconstruction since the Battle of All Armies, as Men deemed it, when matters needed to be discussed, the Dwarves would treat with her father alone. Either in the newly rebuilding Dale, where she was conveniently elsewhere during such times, or he would go to them with Bain at his side, leaving Sigrid to rule in his stead whilst they were away. To say she was curious, would have been an understatement.
Two years ago, one of the few exceptions had involved Erebor's first public royal wedding, since their mountain was reclaimed. The Crown Prince of Erebor had wed his childhood best friend, as Sigrid understood it. So, they were allowed entry, in the name of diplomacy, only to watch one of the Dwarves she vaguely remembered saving her life when she was a child, marry another Dwarf she did not recognize. Though knowing little of their race as a whole, both of them appeared incredibly happy.
Before a raucous celebration began, Crown Prince Fíli and his new husband Prince Consort Ori had greeted her, her siblings, and their father. Both were much kinder than how Sigrid had remembered their Da describing Thorin Oakenshield, which at the time had endeared her to the idea of further involving herself with Erebor, hoping perhaps they could all muck through diplomacy together easier than their Kings had done at one time. She had said as much, to which Fíli had sent a warm smile up at her, and his husband nodded, before the two bid them farewell to take to the floor for their first dance as a couple.
As she watched them engaging in a dance that she could only describe as wholly Dwarven, Sigrid had wondered at the beauty of seeing life after death, grateful that someone who had been selfless enough to protect her and her siblings, was able to live happier then. Following that moment in time, she had been allowed to see a small portion of what she understood to be a sprawling kingdom. From what she had witnessed, Erebor was truly a sight to behold.
The idea of re-entering it, with a chance to see more, did intrigue Sigrid. Even if the reason which brought her there was not one she wished existed.
Kíli was watching Fíli aim his crossbow, which had been specifically designed for him so that he could shoot more quickly, given the injuries his body had sustained from the Battle of the Five Armies. Closer range weapons had always been what Fíli gravitated towards, however, long range ones were something he could do as well. Archery hadn't been his primary choice, but that had become of little consequence, once it was a necessity that he be more familiar with such fighting styles. Fíli's body couldn't move as quickly as it once did.
Which, Kíli had only been too happy to help design new weaponry to add to Fíli's arsenal, as much as regale him on the finer points of his own preferred fighting style. It had given them something new to bond over, in the aftermath of the reclamation, when so much else in their lives had starkly changed. That still held true, fifteen years later.
Fíli shot at the target, the arrow just shy of the center. He groaned, but Kíli smiled.
"Better luck next time, Nadad," Kíli said, then expertly aimed, landing in the center of the target, as he always did.
"Show off," Fíli muttered, but there was no heat to it.
"I have to be good at something, now. Can't be seen as the spare everywhere," Kíli said, going to retrieve their arrows.
"You're not, Kí," Fíli called after him.
"Tell that to Erebor," he replied.
"Erebor's opinions are fickle, and often wrong."
"So says the Crown Prince. The scandal," Kíli replied, inflecting his tone with faux shock, as his brother gazed up at him.
Fíli had taken a moment to wheel his chair around, but once he had, there was a look of displeasure on his face.
"You're never the spare. Don't say that."
Kíli shrugged.
"What? It is but the truth, Fí. You -"
Fíli looked about to argue, but Ori's voice wafted over to them, stalling that conversation. In his arms was Ari, their first-born son, and the newest heir to the line of Durin.
"Someone was fussing for his Adad," Ori said, to which Fíli smiled. He turned his wheelchair around again, facing his husband and their child, as Ori walked closer to him.
Kíli watched this with a grateful heart, as much as a slight bit of longing. For what, he wasn't certain. However, it took root as he witnessed Fíli accepting their pebble into his arms, talking to him quietly.
A stark noise sounded, and Fíli said, "You certainly have a grip on you. Just like your Ada."
Ori shook his head, smiling.
Kíli coughed, feeling like the sweetness of the moment was clogging up his throat with sugar. It was a shame he didn't have anything to wash down that feeling. Perhaps, he could seek some ale and entertainment out, to banish the tooth-rotting scene from it and his mind.
"Oh!" Ori exclaimed, his eyes flicking to Kíli.
Kíli rolled his. "Remembered I'm here, have you?"
Ori nodded.
"I came to see Fíli, but also to relay that Thorin and Bilbo are looking for you."
Kíli frowned.
"Why?"
Ori shook his head in response.
"That's for them to tell you. It seemed urgent though, so I wouldn't keep them waiting."
Kíli nodded.
It seemed a drink would have to wait.