A Sacrifice To Save You

Night of passion

Thorin went through that day in a haze. Sauron. The Nine. The world was hanging on a balance once again as Myra describe it but Thorin had difficulties wrap his head around it. This wasn't anything he had countered in his lifetime. First, when he was 24 years old, Smaug had attacked Erebor forcing the dwarves to flee from their home and go into exile. Then TA 2799 he joined with his younger brother, Frerin, his father and his grandfather in the Battle of Azanulbizar which cost so many lives of dwarves although they won the battle.

Thorin wished after the battle of five armies had ended, his fighting days were finally over and he could concentrate on rebuilding their kingdom and leave the fighting for future generations.

Slumping on his chair when he finally got back from sea of meetings, endless parchments that needed to be signed Thorin heaved a heavy sigh. Closing his eyes the dwarf king felt every muscle in his body aching like he had worked in the mines for weeks straight.

Luckily the maidens had put the fire in the fireplace only moments before he had entered his royal chambers, so Thorin could enjoy the warmth that was slowly seeping into the bedchamber. With a groan, he bent over to untie his boots before standing up and starting to unbuckle his belt so he could toss his regal robes off of him when there was a noise of door been opened and closed.

Slightly turning his head, Thorin gazed at the door of his bedchamber from the corner of his eye listening keenly. He knew who it was that was so bold of entering his chambers without knocking.

"I'm here love," he called gently.

Creak left the hinders as the heavy oak door was pushed opened and his fiery dragon queen stepped inside holding a small smile on her face. Thorin let his gaze roam over her slender yet curvy body as her hips swayed delicately from side to side as she walked. She was wearing a glorious, silvery grey royal satin gown made by the elves. It was a very unusual dress in dwarvish culture, but then again, Myra was a very unusual selection for dwarves of Erebor to be their queen.

The dress was held on her by crossed straps on her backside. The embellishment of the dress was detailed; it was backless, tassels with crystals going around her breasts and shoulders, lucid ruffle covering her chest, and the bodice had beautiful embroidery while the cathedral train followed her on the floor.

The dress did her great justice and Thorin felt his chest puff up with fierce pride.

Myra saw the change in his eyes causing her to smirk as she walked further in the bedchamber. The look Thorin was casting on her, made tingling sensation travel through her spine and her pupils dilated fully.

Past the point of caring, she was going to destroy him with the molten heat building inside her. The dragon in her felt a power flush through her very being, she'd felt rarely. She felt vital and strong, and more alive than she'd felt in months. And it was all Thorin's fault, from the telltale tremor in her hands to the nagging pulse of desire deep in her body's core. It was his fault for standing in the chamber looking like that – for the way he turned eyes like wet obsidian on her – for the way the corner of his mouth pulled up in that wry, half-smile when he was pretending not to notice the way the air prickled with electricity anytime they were in arm's reach of each other.

And now that they were alone in the royal chambers, she was going to devastate him with all the burning delicacies her body had to offer. Myra was going unleash the dragon in her tonight. She needed to be taken, devoured. She needed Thorin. Plain and simple.

The moment the door closed behind Myra, the air in the chambers heightened the sensation of heat rising from her skin. She knew Thorin had always seen the truth of the smoldering chemistry between them. It was too strong. But truth to be told, Myra didn't expect to have such strong feelings toward a dwarf. Sure, she had a relationship with Durin the Deathless but it wasn't anything like this she had with Thorin. It didn't come even close. Thorin's mere presence sent her into turmoil, the heat rising so strongly, so rapidly it scared her a little. Myra was a mess when it came to Thorin although, for outsiders, she looked fine, unaffected by him, but in her mind, she was utterly lost every time she ended up alone with the handsome king.