I choked on air. "Husband?"

"Aye, lasseh, the letter yeh sent! Two days ago, have yeh no memory?"

I turned to face the Court. "Who sent a letter without my permission?"

All eyes turned to Dwalin, until he quietly nodded his admission. "Aye, it was me."

I stood and looked back at Dàin. "I am sorry that you have come all this way for nothing. But I never agreed to a marriage alliance, and I will not agree to one now. However, you are most welcome to stay for Dwalin's public apology and punishment. In fact, I highly encourage it."

Dwalin didn't say anything, just looked at the floor. The other Dwarves were staring at me, openmouthed.

I looked at Bifur and Bofur. "Take him to the dungeons." To Gloin, I said, "I want you to spread the word in Dale. There will be a punishment at the gate this afternoon, and people are strongly encouraged to watch."

The three mumbled hurried agreements and jumped up to fulfill their tasks.

I looked at Dwalin, meeting his steady, unrelenting gaze, and I shrugged. "A few hours in the dungeons will do anyone a world of good," I said quietly.

"It seems the tables have turned," Dwalin replied, just as quietly. "You never struck me as one that would seek revenge."

"This is not revenge, Dwalin," I whispered. "This is politics. And making decisions for me is not the best idea, especially something like this!" I took a deep breath, calming myself down.

"It's for the best," Dwalin hissed. "We need allies."

I looked at Bifur and Bofur, standing a respectful distance away, but clearly ready. "Take him," I said, backing a step.

They each laid a hand on one of Dwalin's arms, and Bifur said, "Come on, don't make it worse for yourself."

Dwalin reluctantly walked out of the dining hall with his guards, leaving me with the seven remaining members of the Council, and Dàin Ironfoot, and Thorin Cottonballs. I mean Stonehelm.

I took my seat once more and flashed them a tight-lipped smile. "If you haven't already eaten, you're welcome to join us."

"Well, we et breakfast, but that was a few hours ago, so I reckon we'll just join yeh. U-huh huh!" Dàin bellowed out a hearty laugh as he clomped over and sat down in Bifur's seat, on my left. Thorin sat down in Dwalin's seat, next to Larika.

"I'm Thorin," the would-have-been-king said to Larika in a soft tone. "What's your name?"

She gave him a shallow smile that didn't quite cover her expression of distress. "Larika," she answered, just as softly. I smiled a little and glanced at Dàin. Cue the smile to drop. He was biting into a chicken thigh with an appatite voracious enough to compete with a cow.

I sighed and closed my eyes, wishing I were somewhere else.

Legolas...

* * *

When we finally reached my bedroom once again, I gave a long, loud groan and dropped onto the bed. "That was humiliating!" I exclaimed, mostly to the ceiling and partially to Larika.

"I know," Larika answered sympathetically. "They should have at least told you before Thorin and his dad arrived."

"No they shouldn't, they should have never told them to come in the first place!" I practically wailed. "Marriage alliance, pfft! As if I'd agree to that!"

Larika sat down beside me and rubbed my arm sympathetically. "That does seem awfully sudden," she said quietly. "But...I don't know, Thorin seems nice enough. You can't expect arranged marriages to be perfect, and even regular marriages are prone to struggle."

I turned my head to look at her, and I smirked a little. "Do you like him? Thorin Stonehelm?"

Larika blushed and looked away. "He's nice, of course I like him."

I sat up, grinning now. "You know what I'm talking about! Do you like him? Like, like him?"

She just blushed some more.

"Oh come on!" I exclaimed, giggling a little. "You can tell me." I dropped my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I won't breathe a word to anyone."

Larika finally met my gaze, cracking a tiny grin. "Yeah...I like him."

Larika and Cottonballs...when would I hear wedding bells?

When I blinked and refocused, Larika wasn't in the dreamy state of infatuation I had expected her to be in. She was anxiously twiddling her fingers and biting her lip.

"Larika, what's wrong?"

She jumped a little and looked at me guiltily. "N-nothing, Your Majesty...I don't want to seem too hasty."

"No, Larika...I want you to tell me what's going on. You can tell me, as long as you're being respectful."

She nodded slowly, and reluctantly met my gaze. "I just...I feel like you're being awfully harsh on Lord Dwalin."

I took a deep breath and let it out before attempting to answer. "Yes...yes I am. But Larika...there's a lot going on here that you don't know about."

"Does it have anything to do with the scars on your back?" she asked in a soft, but daring tone.

I met her gaze, stunned, but also impressed. "That is a part of it," I answered honestly. "But only a part."

Larika dropped her eyes. "Oh...well...does Your Majesty need me to do anything else?"

I shook my head. "No, you are free to do whatever you like. I'll call for you if I need you."

She nodded and stood, dropped in a quick curtsey, then hurried out of my room.

I sighed, feeling like a monster. I was being harsh on Dwalin. This ran a lot deeper than the fact that he had tried to marry me off, or even than him beating me all those years ago. This was a power play, this was me establishing my dominance as Queen, and this was me proving to everyone—even myself—that I could stand up to anyone who dared to oppose me.

I couldn't back down. Not now.

* * *

I adjusted my burdensome crown one more time, then nodded for the guards to open the doors. The afternoon sunlight warmed my face as I stepped out of the mountain and onto Erebor's doorstep.

It would seem the entirety of Dale's population had stopped what they were doing to watch Dwalin's punishment. Men, women, and children gaped when I silently took my place at the front of the crowd. Larika found her place at my side, and my guards surrounded me. Precautionary, of course.

Not far away, Lord Dàin and Thorin Cottonhelm were already in place, awaiting the show with their arms crossed over their chests.

Dwalin was led out by a couple of guards, his hands and feet chained, followed by Bofur, who carried a whip. I knew such measures were entirely unneccesary, but as I'd come to realize, this was a power play.

Dwalin stopped to stand in front of the crowd, and in a deep voice, he said, "I am Dwalin, son of Fundin, and I made the grievous mistake of presuming to make a marriage alliance for Queen Amariel." He looked at me, his expression blank and unreadable. "I ask your forgiveness, Your Majesty."

I met his gaze for a moment, then looked to the guards. "Proceed."

They led him to the gate and unlocked Dwalin's manacles long enough for him to take his shirt off. Then they chained him to the gate, with his back facing us.

Bofur moved to stand behind Dwalin, uncoiling the whip. It was a braided leather bullwhip, with a cluster of frayed popper strings at the end to make it almost as loud as it was painful. Almost.

Bofur turned and gave me a doleful look. "How many lashes, Your Majesty?"

I didn't answer immediately, but after a moment of consideration, I answered, "Twenty."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Bofur reluctantly turned to face Dwalin, and he flicked the end of the whip back in preparation. Then he drew back his arm and brought the whip down across Dwalin's shoulders.

Crack!

Dwalin cringed against the gate, his hands tightening into fists as the red stripe welled up with blood.

"One," Bofur said quietly, readying the whip again.

Crack!

"Two."

Crack!

"Three."

I focused on keeping an expressionless mask over my emotions, which were a writhing knot of satisfied revenge, self-loathing, an abundance of fears, and an underlying knowledge that I was doing this for the right reasons.

Larika, however, had her hand pressed over her mouth, while tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Her shoulders shook with barely-restrained sobs, and I felt like a monster all over again.

Crack!

"Nine."

Crack!

Dwalin grunted in pain, his knees buckling a little bit. Blood trickled over his muscular back from multiple lashes criss-crossing his back.

"Ten." Bofur's voice wavered a bit.

Crack!

Bofur cleared his throat. "Eleven."

A hand clutched my elbow. I turned, and Larika's wide brown eyes stared back at me, shining with tears. "Please make him stop," she whispered weakly.

"Larika," I said in a warning tone, glancing pointedly at her hand holding onto my arm. I surprised myself, with how emotionless I sounded.

Larika's hand slipped off, and she drooped her head, squeezing her eyes shut and letting her tears fall to the dirt.

I watched her for a moment, wondering again what her connection was with Dwalin.

Crack!

Dwalin yelled some curse in Khudzûl, his tone laced with pain. Larika buried her face in her hands.

"Fourteen."

Crack!

Dwalin yelled again, a wordless exclamation.

"Fifteen."

I closed my eyes, just listening. To my right, Larika was sniffling softly, but throughout the crowd was a tense silence. My crown weighed a little heavier on my brow, and on my heart.

Crack!

Dwalin gave a pained groan.

"Sixteen."

I opened my eyes. Dwalin hung from his chains, leaning against the gate and gasping for breath. The blood spilling down his back had reached his belt, staining the leather and his trousers. He cringed visibly as the whip flew again.

Crack!

"Seventeen."

There was no cry this time, just a muffled groan of resignation. This was pointless. He'd had enough.

"Stop," I called in a clear, authoritative voice. I stepped forward and raised my hand to Bofur, signalling his job was complete. "That's enough."

Bofur nodded and bowed, then stepped back, coiling the whip. The guards unchained Dwalin from the gate, and as they opened it, he met my gaze with a pained, but otherwise neutral expression. I held it until they led him away. His knees buckled a couple of times, but otherwise he managed to walk on his own.

I turned and looked at the multitudes, and the multitudes stared back at me. What do you say when you'd just sentenced a brutally harsh punishment? And what do you do when your realm just witnessed you showing compassion the first time someone messes up?

Three lashes. Would it have been so hard for me to shut my eyes and wait for three more lashes? They must think I'm a huge pushover that crumbles to the first pleas of my handmaid...oh Eru what have I done!?

Without a word, I turned and walked into Erebor. Behind me, I heard Larika and my guards scrambling to catch up, but I didn't slow down, and I didn't look back.

The cold weight of my crown was giving me a headache, and never before had I despised my wretched birthright like I did right now. I was sorely out of my depth; I didn't know what I was doing and I was very poorly prepared for this role.

I didn't say anything until I was a couple of corridors away from the solitude of my own room. Then I snapped, "Guards, dismissed. Larika, with me."

A few seconds later, I shoved my bedroom door open and stormed inside. With as much disdain as I dared, I snatched the wretchedly heavy crown from my head and dropped it on my bed. With a shuddering sigh, I covered my face with my hands, trying not to think about what had just happened.

"Y-your Majesty?" Larika's vulnerable voice came from a short ways behind me.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Turning to face her, I said, "Yes, Larika?"

She sank to her knees, moisture pooling in her eyes. "Please let me go to him," she whispered, a tear slipping out.

I hesitated. A large part of me wanted to be cold. To tell her no and pretend to have something bigger and better to do, and let Dwalin suffer for awhile. Perhaps it was the mental backlash of letting him off with only seventeen lashes. But of course, Dwalin would see through it immediately, it may lead to resentment from Larika, and I would do nothing but pace anyway. So I reluctantly nodded.

"Alright. Wash your face, and let me dress in something a little more comfortable. Then we'll go see Dwalin."