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In Exile

Chapter Text

"It's the only way, Thorin. We are the last of our bloodline, neither of us has a One and we need heirs," Dís says, her steel blue eyes looking straight into his, eyes that are the same colour as his.

"I don't know, namadith, I don't like the thought of using you like this, of you sacrificing yourself like this," he answers, pushing some strands of her dark hair behind her ears, hair that is almost of the same colour as his, just more tending towards a warm dark brown, not towards a cold jet black.

"It's not a sacrifice for me, it's really an honour to bear an heir for my King, nadadel," she counters, grabbing his hand, kissing its back.

Thorin thinks about her proposal.

It seeems wrong to him.

A dwarrowdam should not give her body to any dwarrow just out of a feeling of duty. The act was considered to be a symbol of romantic love, the love for a One.

Yet Dís has just suggested to do this in order to get with child and bear an heir to their bloodline.

On the other hand, a new life might give them new hope, might prove that their bloodline was strong enough to survive despite all those losses they had to endure: a home, a grandfather, a father, a mother, a brother...

Slowly, Thorin nods.

A radiant and infectious smile lights up his younger sisters face, showing off her dimples.

"I knew you would see sense! Thank you, nadadel, thank you!" she exclaims, taking his face between her hands, pulling him down and towards her while raising on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead.

Nothing has changed since their childhood.

She can still sweet-talk him into anything.

She still holds his heart.

"And... Have you already considered a suitable dwarrow?" he wants to know, reciprocating her smile, though it is not as radiant as hers, more reserved, still not sure if he has done right by agreeing to this madness.

But she doesn't want to marry out of duty.

And neither does he.

Dís bits her plump and cerise lower lip and shrugs. "Yes...".

She doesn't say anything else, so Thorin raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

Dís rolls her eyes as if he is the most stupid dwarf in all of Middle Earth.

"It's Dwalin!", she finally reveals and Thorin is speechless for a moment.

"Why him?" he eventually croaks.

Dís shrugs again. "Well, he is one of our most loyal friends and a great and brave warrior and somewhat handsome with his muscles and this hairstyle... Not to mention his warm, brown eyes..." she replies with a dreamy expression on her face and suddenly Thorin is not so sure whether Dís doesn't really have a One.


Chapter Text

He is working at the forge when she approaches him.

"Master Dwalin? Can I talk to you for a second?" she asks, gently touching his bare biceps; he never wears a tunic when smithing, just his apron.

Dwalin drops the hammer he is currently using to smith a horseshoe into the forge's fire.

"Don't scare me like this, lass!" he comments gruffly, yet turning towards her while saving the hammer at the same time.

He wasn't a smith, he was a warrior!

Yet since he had been taught the art of smithing like any other dwarrow at a very young age, he took every job he could get to provide for his brother and himself.

Dís smiles sweetly at him from beneath her thick, dark eyelashes.

"I'm sorry. It was not my intention", she answers.

Dwalin sighs, wiping off the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, ignoring the fact that she is still touching him, giving him that dimpled smile.

Dwalin feels butterflies in the pit of his stomach and his member starts hardening.

It's highly inappropriate.

She is his princess and his best friends little sister, yet Dwalin can't prevent his body from reacting to her, her figure, her beauty, her scent...

"It's alright, lass," he says, blushing. Well, he could always blame it on the heat of the forge.

"Master Dwalin, I have a proposal for you, a proposal that you probably don't want to turn down," she reveals and suddenly Dwalin feels his heart missing a beat.

She is going to propose to you, he thinks, going to ask you to marry her.

"Yes?" he whispers expectantly.

"Thorin and I, we need heirs. We are the last of our line and this fact weighs heavy on us. So I have decided to bear an heir for my brother and our line. However, a dwarrowdam cant't get with child without the help of a dwarrow," she explains, all the while looking at him with her brother's eyes.

Dwalin clears his throat. "And what is it that you want from me?" he inquires finally, his voice husky.

Dís takes a deep breath. "Well, I thought that maybe you can help me with that," she then blurts out, looking hopefully at him.

For a moment, Dwalin is speechless. This is not what he was expecting! He thought she would ask him to be her husband, her partner, but she has just proposed to use him and his body to get pregnant!

Furiously, he shakes his head. "No, Dís, I'm sorry, but that is not the way of our people. I can't help you," he answers, lowering his gaze and brushing off her hand from his biceps.

Dís looks taken aback.

"But... but...," she stutters and Dwalin shakes his head again.

"No, don't try to argue with me. Children are supposed to be the fruit of the love and passion between Ones, not a means to an end. So, no, I'm not helping you with this!" he repeats firmly.

Dís is furious, he can tell.

"Fine, then! I don't need your help, you big oaf! I'll find someone else to help me and satisfy my needs!", she spats at him but Dwalin just ignores her and her fit, resuming his task of making a horsehshoe.


Chapter Text

When Dwalin comes home to the little hut he and his brother occupy, he is still thinking about his encounter with Dís.

Maybe he shouldn't have denied her.

Maybe he should have been happy with what she was offering.

But if Dwalin is honest with himself, her proposal was like a stab to his heart.

He has loved Dís as long as he has known her and he has never doubted his intuition: she is his One!

However, Dís seems to think differently.

Today, Dwalin was really convinced that she would ask him to marry her but that has obviously not been on her mind.

She just wanted to use him like a fucking breeding stallion, after all they have been through... Seriously?

He loves her, that much he knows. And now, after his refusal to help her and her brother, she would most likely go to the next tavern and find someone who is eager enough to get between the princess's legs, some stranger that would probably knock her up, instead of him.

No, he can't stand the thought.

Dís has to be his, he should be the one to claim her body in that way, whether she loves him back or not!

"Hey, little brother, finally home from work? Why don't you get cleaned up and then we have dinner?", his brother greets him while stirring a big pot that is currently resting on their stove.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," Dwalin mumbles, going to their bathroom, pumping some fresh, clean water into a bowl, washing his face, his hands. Then he puts on a clean tunic, joining his brother in the kitchen.

"It's just a simple stew, made from vegetables and some beef but at least we have some leftovers of Dís's bread to go with it," Balin explains while filling Dwalins bowl.

He feels another stab to his heart, hearing her name.

"Dís proposed to me today!" he finally blurts out.

Balin loooks shocked.

" are going to get married?" he asks, spiling some stew on the table.

"No, because that is not what she wants! She proposed to me that I just should get her pregnant so that she and Thorin would have heirs to their bloodline," Dwalin reveals.

Balin sighs and shakes his head. "Oh, laddie, I'm sorry. How did you respond?" he wants to know.

Dwalin shrugs, digging into his dinner.

"I refused her, of course!" he answers truthfully.

Balin just stares at him for a moment. "Why would you do that?" he finally asks.

Dwalin shrugs again. "Because I thought she would make an honourable dwarf of me, not request this," he retorts.

"But she is the princess , you know, one day she will be Thorin's Queen. This really was a great opportunity for you," Balin argues.

Dwalin snorts.

"Yeah, well, but when listening to my heart her proposal, this proposal was an insult for me!", he shoots back, putting a spoonful of Balin's stew into hs mouth.


Chapter Text

Thorin has ambiguous feelings.

On the one hand, he is agry with one of his oldest and best friends for making Dís cry. On the other, he can absolutely understand Dwalin's reaction. The warrior is in love with Thorin's little sister.

Of course, a proposal like hers would hurt him and his feelings.

But Dís is right: they need heirs.

Although among dwarves marriage is only common if two soulmates meet since most dwarrows and dwarrowdams are rather married to their craft, it has not been uncommon for members of the royal family to get married in order to produce heirs: this has been the case with his grandfather.

So, if they wouldn't live in exile now, if the dragon didn't come, Thorin and probably his siblings would have been married for political reasons, for continuing the bloodline.

But since they no longer live in Erebor, after loosing their kingdom and their family, everything is different. Thorin doesn't have the heart to arrange a marriage for his little sister simply because he doesn't want to lose her as well. Furthermore, if Dís got married, her children would belong to her husbands bloodline, meaning that the direct line of Durin would end if Thorin didn't get married as well and produced an heir, something he has no desire to do for several reasons: life is hard and although they are not exactly poor, they are certainly not rich, needing to work to earn a living, and in addition, he is too preoccuied with finding his lost father and reclaiming their home and... he is not so sure that he is attracted to females.

No, Dís's idea has been the only logical way for them, though maybe she should have been more sensitive when proposing this to their friend... And Thorin tells her exactly that while holding his crying sister in his arms.

She looks up at him from under her long and thick eylashes, on which her tears are glistening like a vein of mithril in the stone or stars in the night sky.

"And how Thor? I don't want to marry him, I can't marry him! My children could not be your heirs, then, and I won't be your queen once you reclaim Erebor," she answers, sniffing.

Thorin runs a hand through her dark curls, smiling softly.

"No, I'm not talking about marriage but you could have at least offered him companionship, you could have ask him to live with us for the time being... He might have a soft spot for you but you probably made him feel like a breeding bull, hurt his pride. He is an accomplished warrior and our best friend, don't forget that, he deserves better treatment," Thorin reasons with the only dwarrowdam that will ever hold his heart.

Dís furrows her brow, biting her lower lip, obviously deep in thought.


Chapter Text

This night, Dwalin dreams of steel blue eyes and chocolate brown curls, creamy skin and cerise lips, ample breasts and childbearing hips.

When he wakes up, his nightshirt is drenched in sweat and his smallclothes in semen.

By Mahal, he wants her so bad!

Maybe it has been wrong to turn her offer down, as Balin has suggested; whereas Dwalin only felt insulted by it, Balin saw potential.

Maybe Dís would fall in love with him if he gave her what she desired, that was Balin's opinion.

Dwalin, however, is not so sure; he is convinced that she most likely will kick him to the curb once her belly is swelling with his child.

And he couldn't stand that, couldn't stand the fact that his son or daughter would live close to him, that he would see him or her everyday without being able to lay claim on the child because he would have no rights since the mother never married him.

But getting Dís with child would include her taking him to her bed, something he desires more than all the riches in the world. He would be her lover, at least until she got pregnant, maybe even still later if he was lucky since dwarves believe that the father's strength would be transferred to the child when he and the child's mother couple during pregnancy.

But after that?

Maybe she would approach him again if she and Thorin wanted a spare to the heir. Or if the child was a girl.

Yet this is not what Dwalin wants.

Yes, he wants to be Dís's lover but rather as a husband or life partner, not to be at stud.

So, what should he do?

He didn't want to lose her completely. Or Thorin.

Maybe Dís's proposal was even his idea and Dwalin has refused it. And Thorin was not only his best friend but also his king.

Theoretically, he has defied his king! Or, if this wasn't Thorin's idea, at least his princess.

Maybe he should have gone to Balin first, before refusing Dís and her offer. His brother always knows best.

And Balin has made his opinion clear.

Dwalin decides that he will seek her out in her little workshop before going to the forge, hoping he isn't too late, that she hasn't already displaced him in favour of another dwarrow, one who wasn't too pride to take her up on her offer.

If anyone got her with child, it should be him, not only because he loves her but also because he respects her.

And if the only reason why she chooses him is because they are friends and he is an accomplished warrior and she knows about the torch he carries for her, well then this must be enough for him.

And if he will never be the child's father but only his or her begetter, then so it will be like this.

Maybe. Because Dwalin still isn't sure if he will actually accept her proposal. Or that the offer still stands on her part.

At least he wants to talk to her, to make sure that she is not angry with him and that they are still friends, wants to explain to her why he turned her down yesterday.


Chapter Text

Dwalin can see the surprise and anger on Thorin's face when he stands in front of the royal siblings' shop door the next morning. Apparently, Thorin and Dís have just come downstairs from their small flat above their workshop to craft their jewellery because it's so early that the sky is still dark.

"What the fuck do you want?" Thorin asks gruffly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Dwalin scratches the back of his neck, something he always does when he is nervous.

"I... erm... I wanted... erm... is Dís here? I need to talk to her," he stammers.

"Tell the idiot that I don't want to talk to him," comes Dís's answer from inside the workshop.

Taken off guard, Dwalin can't hide the desparation in his eyes, so he lowers his gaze. "I just want to apologize to her for my behaviour and discuss with her the... proposal," he tells Thorin loud enough so that Dís can also hear him.

In an instant, she appears next to her brother and for a moment, Dwalin is taken aback by their similarity in appearance; the same dark hair, the same steelblue eyes, the same blue, fur-trimmed clothes... or not. Dís's hair is much longer and rather curly than wavy and she wears a simple dress, made from blue wool and a grey-beige fur vest whereas Thorin is wearing a blue tunic, dark grey suede breeches and a blue, woolen coat, lined with grey-beige fur.

"All right, so discuss it with me... Did your raisin-sized brain come up with more reasons why you don't want, oh, erm, pardon me, can't accept my offer?" she spat, narrowing her eyes.

Thorin obviously startles at her venomous words.

"Dís! Behave yourself, Dwalin is still kin, albeit distant kin," he reprimands his younger sister.

Dís snorts. "I know that he is kin, that he is a son of Durin - though his bloodline is somewhat watered-down. That's why I proposed to him to father my children... He is the best choice for me, for us, I already told you! Do you ever listen to anything I say?" Dís argues, her eyes flashing with anger.

Before Dís and Thorin can get into a fight, Dwalin clears his throat, which draws the siblings' attention immediately to him.

"And I want to tell you that me and my brother feel really honoured by your proposal... My reaction yesterday was only due to the shock that you have chosen me to sire the heirs to the throne of the legendary kingdom of Erebor! Yet there are a few conditions I would like to establish before I officially agree to this... arrangement," he reveals.

Dís crosses her arms in front of her chest, like her brother... Or not. The gesture accentuates her enormous bosom, enhancing the cleavage of her dress.

It is hard for Dwalin to remove his gaze from her breasts to look into her eyes instead.

But he manages. And clears his throat again.

"I can live with the thought that you don't think I'm worthy enough to be your husband. But I want to be more than just a breeding bull... I want you to acknwoledge me at least as your lover and companion for the time being... until you conceive your heir. And while I will never claim the child as my own so that he can be Thorin's heir, I want to play at least a small part in his upbringing," Dwalin makes his terms clear.

Dís frowns for a moment before smiling like a cat that's got the cream.

"I agree!" she answers offering him her hand which Dwalin takes before they seal their deal with a kiss.


Chapter Text

So, the next day, after work, Dwalin, son of Fundin, brother to Balin, takes his few belongings and moves in with Dís and her brother, the princess and king in exile, holding the contract concerning his arrangement with Dís, hastily written by Balin, in his hands.

Their flat is small, consisting only of two bedrooms, a living-kitchen area and a bath so it is clear from the beginning that Dwalin would share Dís's bedroom. And her bed.

Dwalin is no stranger to sex, having visited the taverns which offer female companionship for unmarried dwarrows in exchange for a few copper coins, making use of the services of the wenches, especially of dark haired Magga.

When he takes her from behind he can pretend that she is Dís, despite her being older and her eyes having the wrong colour. And if he brings her little presents, like cheap jewellery and candied, dried fruits in addition to the two copper coins he usually gives her, she also allows him to call her "Dís" in bed and agrees to some roleplay.

But that is in the past now.

He doesn't have to go to Magga anymore, at least for a while, because now he has the real thing, his One: Dís.

Dwalin almost can't believe his luck that night when she is lying beneath him, naked and beautiful, her luscious hair spread out on the pillow, while he covers her with his body after having cherished every inch of her creamy skin with his lips and hands.

She whimpers and bites her lower lip, her brow furrowed and her nails pressing into his shoulder blades, as he pushes inside of her until he is buried ball's deep in her hot and tight wetness.

He knows he is big, bigger than most dwarves, so he gives her time to adjust.

Then finally, she smiles up at him, nodding slightly, and Dwalin starts moving.

He wants to set a slow, gentle pace, but soon he loses himself in his lust and passion, thrusting harder, faster, deeper while Dís moves with him, moaning loudly.

"May I... may I come inside of you?" he pants when he is close.

Dís giggles breathlessly. "Of course... ah... would be difficult... ah... to get pregnant...oh... otherwise," she somehow manages to reply.

Oh, yes.

Dwalin forgot.

Dís is not giving herself to him because she loves him but because she wants to get with child.

Nevertheless, after another hard and deep thrust, even knocking against her cervix (which makes her gasp), Dwalin reaches his peak, spilling inside of her, while she shudders under him, her inner muscles clenching arrhythmycally around his cock, milking every last drop of his precious seed from him.

It takes a while until Dwalin comes down from his high.

That has been the most intense orgasm of his life, so intense that Dwalin almost blacked out from pleasure, his half-hard, twitching cock still buried deep in her body, connecting them in an intimate way.

But he is still on top of her and doesn't want to crush her with his weight, so he rolls off of her, reluctantly pulling out.

His breathing is still laboured, the rate of his heartbeat increased and his body covered in sweat.

However, he immediately reaches for Dís, pulling her close so that her head rests on his chest, her fingers playing with the thick dark curls growing there.

She sighs contently. "Wouldn't have guessed that getting with child is so... pleasurable!"

"Sure it is!" he answers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

They stay like this for a while and Dwalin has even been dosing off a bit, when she suddenly says that they should clean up.

Dwalin agrees.

As much as he likes the feeling of her in his arms, his cock feels too sticky with their mixed, dried bodily fluids to be comfortable.

So, with a sigh, he sits up, as does Dís, both of them kicking back the blankets.

And Dwalin freezes.

There is blood on the sheets and between Dís's legs and when he checks, even on his cock.

"I hurt you!" he blurts out.

Dís frowns, following his gaze.

Then she shrugs. "Don't worry, it's normal. I'm supposed to bleed during my first coupling!"

Saying that, she gets up from the bed, slipping into her dress and leaving the room.

Dwalin still feels paralysed.

Her first coupling.

He is her first lover.

If he had known, he would have tried to be more gentle, to be more careful.

But no, he took her, his princess, his One, almost as roughly as Magga, the whore.

That is unforgivable.


Chapter Text

When agreeing to their arrangement, Dwalin has never thought that something like this could happen.

Dís is cramping and bleeding while lying on their bed, losing her baby.

Thorin is holding her, supporting her because she has cried for her brother when the pain started, not him.

Yet she wanted Dwalin to stay too, so he stays.

Thorin is busy wiping the sweat from Dís's forehead, giving her the herbal tea Oin had let him prepare for her, a tea that should help her body to expel the dead child and ease her pain. At least Dwalin could be a little bit useful like this, although he feels bad for Dís; the concoction smells awful and then she has to drink this in addition to the torture she is going through.

But Oin has made it clear how important it is that she gets rid of the dead fetus before it will poison her blood.

It has all been so perfect.

After three months of trying, Dís conceived.

She told him first, one night, when they were in bed together, revelling in the afterglow of yet another passionate lovemaking.

Dwalin would never forget how she simply took his hand, placed it on her lower belly and gave him that dimpled smile of hers.

When he raised his eyebrows in question she nodded, saying, "Yes, I'm with child!"

That has been the happiest moment in Dwalin's life so far.

But then, suddenly, three days ago, Dís stopped feeling any movement within in her womb and started worrying.

Yesterday, she went to Oin and he confirmed it.

The child is dead. He (or she) has died in her womb after six months of pregnancy.

How could fate be so cruel!

"I can't do this, Thorin! I can't! It hurts so much!", she cries as another induced contraction starts.

"You can do this, Dís! You must!" Thorin answers as calmly as he can, yet Dwalin can hear the fear in his best friend's voice.

It's the same fear he feels.

Dís could die tonight.

And then it woud be his fault because he got her pregnant. Because it is his child that was to weak to live.

Dwalin tries not to look at the bloody sheets, at the mess between her spread legs.

"The head is crowning, lass. So push!" Oin commands in a neutral voice.

Dís obviously does as being told, sobbing and pressing Thorin's hand to the point of breaking, as it looks like, while her brother is whispering words of comfort to her.

And then, there is a squishing sound and with a heart-wrenching scream from its mother and a flush of blood and other fluids, the dead child of Dís, daughter of Freya, and Dwalin, son of Fundin, is born.

Oin frowns when inspecting the little, beautiful thing.

"It's a girl," he cooly anounces before wrapping the tiny body in a clean sheet, then hesitating.

"Do you want to hold her?" he asks Dís, who is crying and nodding.

"Yes," she answers, hoarsely.

Dwalin watches with tears in his eyes as his lover carefully takes the little dwarfling, who would never smith her own weapons and jewellery, into her arms, rocking her instantly on instinct though it is useless. The child is dead.

"Look how beautiful she is, Thor!", Dís whispers. Thorin only hums, crying silently.

Then Dís looks up at Dwalin, smiling in spite of the tears running down her cheeks. "What was your mother's name?" she wants to know.

Dwalin clears his throat. "Yrsi. Her name was Yrsi."

Dís nodds.

"Yrsi. That's her name then. I want to name our daughter Yrsi, Dwalin, after your mother!" she says in a tearful voice.

Dwalin can't prevent himself from sobbing.