Better Angels

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....

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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.

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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.

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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~.”

Quit Flirting? Not a Chance.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Sawyer (Human!Slicer OC)

Words: 1,761

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: none

A/N: After a pinning ceremony and a brief speech about the proposed bill for Clones Rights, Rex and Sawyer steal a little moment before getting back to their worlds. Sawyer shows her less-than-subtle appreciation of her favorite Captain, much to the amusement of the General and Commander who are watching... This was the first scene I ever envisioned with my OC, Sawyer Lyubava-- so it's because of this scence that #Rexbava lives! 

Enjoy a taste of what's to come in Rex: Heart of a Soldier, coming soon to an A03 near you...

Summary:   Rex doesn't do this sort of thing often, but when he is called to give testimony about his life in the Grand Army of the Republic with the hope of more rights to be secured for him and his brothers after the war, he'd do just about anything to make that happen. The gesture alone is enough to get him to don the civilian outfits and deal with the formalities. It's a refreshing change of pace from the battlefront, after all. The 501st's contracted slicer may be pulled in ten different directions between senators offices and communications centers providing cyber support for the Republic... but she'd never miss a chance to see her Captain in dress whites.

Read on AO3

Rex knew he was in for an earful of her flirtatious banter. But today, he didn't really mind. 

Returning from Mokk IX was a mess of a job. And the return hadn’t been typical either; detouring to another brief rescue operation at the edge of Filordis’ trade border took up an additional week’s stay in hyperspace before the Company’s scheduled rendezvous to Coruscant, nevermind the presentation he had been preparing for on arrival. Everything had been topsy-turvy on the warfront and when the 501st and the 212th came back planetside, their reentry routine was disrupted, too. Today was a pinning and speech day per the request of the Pantoran Senator, Riyo Chuchi. 

Aware that the ceremony would act more for motive than recognition wasn’t lost on Rex. The accounts he and Cody both gave as representatives of their units before this senatorial committee were important for the support bill currently being drafted in the legislature floors of the Galactic Senate. Cody and Rex’s testimonies served as a prime look into the daily life of the war effort, and into the mens’ existence as Clones as well. While they fought the fight, Chuchi was making certain these men were provided for fiscally and contractually after the war.

On the whole, the assembly went well, and with enthusiastic reception. The gathering was vocally appreciative of the soldier’s time, and many were moved to sign off on Chuchi’s draft in their private conversations afterwards– according to the senator’s aide who saw them off to their exit point. She noted to thank the council’s referral source for her time and words of recommendation, and gave a personal thanks to Cody and Rex for their service. 

Dismissed from her presence, Cody gave Rex a knowing look and made a small comment about said referral source that brought thi function to their attention in the first place. More to the point, he asked if she happened to have blue hair and a navy dress on today. Rex confirmed, Sure does, Cody.

Though, he chose to ignore when Cody continued to mumble about how 'she couldn’t keep her eyes off him the whole time'; Shuddup, Cody.

And speak of the devil, here she was… Sawyer approached both men once they left the stage backdrop, just as the shuttles of guests were leaving for the Senate Complex. Senator Chuchi took Sawyer’s advice to get the officer’s testimonies after all, who was beyond glad to lend her services and schedule to make it happen. Her attentions were meant for them both to turn, but the saucy edge to her call -and those eyes– those were for Rex.

" Be still, my beating heart, gents ."

After the bantha-shit crazy week he had coming back to base, he earned this.

Cody smirked and nudged Rex’s arm in a tease when Sawyer got close enough, 

"Get a good look while you can, ma'am,” Cody broke character under her attention, “The armor's going back on the second we get back to base."

Rex shot his vod a half embarrassed look that begged to detach from him, but caught her appreciative stare at the change in uniform: dress whites fitting an officer in the Republic Army. 

These were typically devoted to Marshall Commanders for any one Legion, but in this Captain’s case, he was asked to don the colors to represent the 501st in official capacities alongside General Skywalker. His experience spoke for itself more than his assigned rank on flimsi did. Significance aside, the effect was palpable in looks as well- given the attention he garnered from all passersby at the event. Senators who’d only ever seen him under blue and white plating needed prompting from a common acquaintance to recognize him as ‘the’ Captain Rex General Skywalker spoke so often of. 

Sawyer of course didn’t need such a prompt for any of the men, having seen them under their helmets for days at a time… but this sight was a treat for her.

"Sir yes sir..." The spec's request turned to Obi Wan's second-in-command this time, at least having the decency to not sound like a begging dog, "May I borrow the good Captain for a minute, Commander?"

"All yours, Miss Lyubava."

Cody readily took his leave, leaving her in the mid-afternoon breeze of Coruscant's senatorial district with the Captain all to herself. 

The gold in Rex's eyes were particularly noticeable in this light.

" Helloooo , lady killer," she mumbled, now out of Cody's earshot.

Shameless. Rex tamed her back, "Miss Bava."

She smiled, loving the way her name carried off his lips- even if it was with a warning that she better mind herself. 

"Now this is a different look," Sawyer’s eyes roamed over the crisp shoulders and pleats, increasingly enamored with the pins. "These are all yours?"

"I'm afraid so,” Rex kept at near attention under her gaze, but followed her with his eyes. “It's been an eventful year of missions already. This time last cycle, there were only two."

“Sure has.” Sawyer sighed. “Y'know, it’s only been about four months since I came on, and there’s been, what- three full -what you’d call- campaign ‘initiatives’?”

“Fifteen battlefronts, all victories for the Republic defense. Dunno how they decide which ones get a medal- but they say a little recognition is good for Company morale.”

 Sawyer set to study each one; Rex could sense her excitement straight away. Goosed at the amount of regalia, he could only imagine the weight it must signify to an average civilian. The number had grown to seven, including today’s gift. Obviously, the reason he’d have earned so many accolades for war achievements was sad in its own way, but Sawyer still wanted to acknowledge them for the special tokens they were. After all, clones had very few things they could call their own.

“Wow.. Where do you keep all these? I’ve never seen them!”

“Eh, I leave ‘em in with the uniform until I need it.”

“Man, you should have these babies out somewhere– they’re beautiful.”

Rex reminisced on the history behind the ones he’d received, “I’m usually the one doling them out. I don’t think to look at mine that much.”

"How's it feel?" Sawyer asked.

Rex smirked out of habit, "Just another day in the Republic, ma'am." 

Ever the humble soldier. Sawyer rolled her eyes at his crisp answer, and nodded to the grandstage to prove a point.

"I meant looking like a whole damn meal up there."

Rex exhaled an embarrassed laugh, with a bit of a shake of his own, 

"Well, the– General says this whole getup is more... appropriate for these kinds of events."

Sawyer bit her tongue; nevermind, it did little to keep her from running her mouth.

"He got that right. You do look incredible ." 

Rex stopped breathing when she stepped up short of him, looked down, and brushed her index into the grooves of one of the ribboned medals, but he didn't have any urge to remove her for fear she'd never do it again. Even if he didn’t usually give them much thought, this careful attention was special, indeed.

"If anything I say can make Senator Chuchi's case stronger for the retirement bill, I suppose all this must be worth it.” 

Sawyer stepped close to Rex’s side, a hand running over one of the lower patches on the coat's arm. 

"I hope so too. Still, you deserve every bit of praise today. You really do."

Rex smiled. All teasing aside, she looked proud of him when he caught sight of her in the assembly.

“Well I can’t take all the credit. Cody spoke too, and the council office gave us prepared questions so we didn’t go in blind. We have you to thank for making that happen, by the way.”

Sawyer looked up to him again and brushed it off, 

“I’m just glad the timing worked out,” Sawyer crossed her arms and took in the sight of the sun briefly before returning her sunshades to their place on her head to push her hair back,   “Your voices are what they need to decide your future, more than anyone else’s. I told you before, the Republic couldn’t be in better hands, with you. You’re one of a kind.”

One of a kind … clones are anything but. Rex had to chuckle at her idioms. 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand you, Miss Bava. But that means a lot, coming from you.” 

Her encouragement stems from a sweet place, always has. The civ always struck that balance between spice and sweetness. Rex could never forget that- or the honest smile that creeps on her face when it’s just the two of them like this. 

"Alright men, let's head on back! Obi-Wan will be waiting for us on base," Anakin rejoined the small group from the landing pad and gestured with his shoulder for Rex to follow. "About time you earned that drink, buddy." 

"Yes, sir." Rex chimed back, bright and ready as ever. He appreciated Anakin’s priority of shore time for his men, glad the bit of reprieve wasn’t ending with the dispersal of the assembly.

Ahsoka caught a glimpse of the captain and the slicer both with a little smirk after Anakin strode off. It seemed the padawan’s master noticed her lag behind, and spotted Sawyer still hanging back finishing up with Rex.

" And quit flirting with my Captain, Lyubava !!"

Sawyer chortled at Skywalker's second call. Instead, she upped the ante– a hand slid up Rex’s arm and wilfully splayed a hand across his chest, below the regalia.

" Your Captain?" Sawyer cooed.

"M-maam!" 

Rex’s stuttering was adorable. Quit flirting? Now why would she do that?

Sawyer just giggled lowly while she and Rex just watched their General start off back to the shuttle, exasperated once again. 

“ Tch-- his Captain , he’s gotten too used to having you around, Rex. Must feel good to be in high command, I suppose.” Sawyer fussed at Anakin for the remark. She sighed out, brushing along Rex’s chest affectionately, “He is right though. You’re overdue for a nice outing. So, you boys enjoy yourselves. I’ll get prepped with Organa’s office, and I’ll see you later at the Guard’s Division, right?”

When she released him and started backing away in that high-heeled, sauntering step, Rex gave her a tight lipped nod of approval and an easy salute. 

“I’ll be there, ma’am.” 

And when his arm lowered, he added before heading off, 

“It was-- nice looking out and seeing you out there.”

Sawyer gave her easy smile to him again, twirling about to say, “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

The gorgeous prince, who became a gorgeous king ❤️❤️❤️

This is so pure. The joy on this man's face when food is involved~

You know what we don't talk about enough? Thorin's sandwich-serving skills