Bilbo was in the middle of preparing dinner and making sure Ori didn't get tangled in his yarn, again, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sighing in mild frustration, she wiped her hands on the warn apron she'd inherited from her mother and went to open the door.

"Lobelia," She started before she fully got to the door open, "I'm sure Dwalin will like whatever you make him. You don't-"

"Good evening Miss. Baggins!" The deep voice that greeted her certainly wasn't her cousin worrying over whether her True Home would appreciate her spiced cake if it didn't contain pumpkin, "I can assure you that Dwalin will happily consume anything your cousin makes."

"T'orin!" Ori's happy squeak was accompanied by the clomping of little feet that would never be as silent as a hobbit babe's. Something Bilbo wasn't sure if she was grateful for or not. The dwarfling raced past his still stunned mother and was swept into the dwarf king's arms. He happily snuggled into the broad chest and looked at his mother expectantly. Bilbo, despite her fluster, regained her manners and opened the door to allow the dwarf into her home.

"Please come in Thorin," She offered, accepting her kindness with a small nod, "Is something wrong?" A sliver of fear went through her that maybe there was still a danger to her or Ori. That was wiped from her mind when Thorin shook his head with a bright smile.

"All is well in the Mountain," Thorin assured her, "At least it was when I left. Though with my sister in charge, there may be fewer nobles to worry about." Bilbo chuckled as she thought about the formidable dwarrowdam she'd met during her time in the home of the dwarves and the tension in her chest eased as she realized everyone was safe.

"More time away then?" Bilbo asked as she bustled further into the room, taking his coat to hang as he slipped it off. Ori took over the hospitality from his mother by clinging to one of the dwarf's thick fingers and attempting to drag him to the large armchair in front of the fire.

"Not exactly," Thorin admitted as he willingly followed the youngster into the main room, "More of an official visit." Bilbo frowned a little at that, but the relaxed look on Thorin's face kept her calm.

"Well," Bilbo said, dusting her hands off, "Dinner is almost finished, and there's more than enough for another. Can the official dinner wait until after we eat?"

"It is not a pressing matter," Thorin assured her, "and there is no danger." A pinch of anxiety that Bilbo hadn't realized was constricting in her chest released, making it easier to breathe. With another soft smile in the dwarf's direction, Bilbo returned to the kitchen to finish her work on the roast. Every so often, she would peek back out to see Thorin sitting with Ori, exclaiming over the clumsy knitwork the toddler worked so hard on or telling him stories. The sight warmed her so much it hurt because she knew it was something they couldn't have.

"Wash up for dinner," She called out when she was just ready to set the cooling roast on the table. There was a quiet clatter from the den, and a quick glance revealed an empty room. If she listened carefully, she could hear the water splashing in the bathroom washbasin and the soft murmur of Thorin's voice as he spoke to Ori. Bilbo smiled to herself as she set the sliced portions of the roast on a serving platter and surrounded it with the crumbling potatoes, carrots, and onions that were cooked in the roasting pan with the meat. The delicious scents coming from the food made her stomach rumble, so she speared a small half of potato and blew on it to cool it quickly. A groan nearly made it out of her mouth as she chewed and the savory flavors exploded on her tongue. She wasn't expecting anything less from her cooking, but it was nice to confirm it before she served her creations to others.

By the time she carried the heavily laden serving tray into the dining room, Thorin was settling Ori into his high chair. Ori was babbling away in a mix of Westron and incomprehensible toddler babble, but Thorin was answering as if he could understand every word. The ease they had with each other brought a smile to Bilbo's face.

"It seems you two have a secret language," Bilbo teased as she set the massive platter down on the already heavily laden table. Roasted vegetables, mashed garlic parsnips, and crisp salads covered the surface of the table waiting to be served. Thorin looked mildly sheepish as he finished securing Ori into his highchair, the toddler looking less than pleased that he no longer had Thorin's full attention.

"Dwarves do," Thorin admitted, "It's called Khuzdul, but I don't recognize the dialect this little one is using. My nephews might though." The twinkle in his eyes told the hobbit that he was teasing and she glared at him playfully, earning a wide grin that was so rare to him.

"We'll have to test it if they come to visit," Bilbo said softly, "But for now let's eat." Dinner was a practice in silence, comfortable silence. The only words spoken were requests to pass a dish or small groans as a new flavor was introduced and by the time dessert was served, Ori was falling asleep into his pudding.

"I think this little one is ready for bed," Bilbo mused as she looked at the boy who was desperately doing his best to stay awake.

"Nooooo," Ori whined tiredly, "T'orin." He reached for the dwarf who, after a nod from Bilbo, plucked him out of his chair. He settled the dwarfling in his lap and managed to wipe off most of the chocolate lining his face before said face was buried in his tunic.

"He'll still be here in the morning love," Bilbo assured the grumpy child, doing her best to ignore the flutter her heart gave when Thorin gave her another beaming, and hope-filled smile.

"No," Ori grumbled again, but it was so soft it was clear that the lad was falling asleep in the arms of the dwarf king. Bilbo smiled when, not a second later, the toddler let out a snore that rivaled even the drunkest of hobbits. She gestured at Thorin to follow her with his adorable burden, and the trio made their way through the halls to the babe's bedroom. It took some work to loosen the toddler's grip on Thorin's tunic, but he was eventually settled beneath the covers. The adults made their way silently back to the den, where Bilbo settled Thorin into the plush chair that had unofficially become his during his time in The Shire and disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, she carried a mug for Thorin and a teacup for herself. Thorin accepted the mug with a soft word of thank and took a deep drink of the sumptuous mead within.

"So," Bilbo said as she took a delicate sip of her tea, "What official business brought you here this time?" Her voice was teasing and Thorin was so enamoured that he blurted out the first thing that rose in his mind.

"You," Thorin immediately closed his eyes and sighed at his own foolishness.

"Me," Bilbo raised an eyebrow in question. Thorin decided that bluntness would be best at that time.

"I want to marry you," Thorin told her softly, "If you would accept me."

"I can't live in the mountain Thorin." Bilbo's hand was shaking as she set her teacup down on the side table, the porcelain rattling slightly, "I need the sun and my gardens in a way my cousin doesn't."

"I understand that," Thorin assured her, "I want the same. I want to be the simple smith who returns to you at the end of the day. Who lives here without the worries of a kingdom."

"We can't Thorin," Bilbo looked pained once again, "It might be fine in the beginning, but eventually you would feel pulled by duty, and you would start to resent us for keeping you here. Ori doesn't deserve that, and neither do I."

"There may be a way," Thoring told her, trying to ignore the way her head shot up in interest, "Nothing has been made official yet. I didn't want to assume-"

"Tell me." Thorin nodded at Bilbo's demand and began speaking.

"My siblings approached me with a proposition days ago, a compromise. They reminded me of the Sun and Moon Kings from our history. A rare set of twins who shared the rule rather than let one be favored over the other. One ruled in the Summer and Fall, while the other ruled in the Winter and Spring."

"Dis and Frerin want to do the same." Bilbo's hands were still in her lap, this time playing with the soft fabric of her skirt to keep them busy.

"Splitting the year between all three of us would lighten the load for all," Thorin explained, "Making all of us better rulers and better wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, parents..." He trailed off, silently begging Bilbo to understand what he was saying.

"So you would be free to travel," Bilbo clarified.

"Most of the year could be spent here," Thorin shifted closer to the edge of the chair, nearly desperate to explain how the plan could work, "With you and Ori. I would have to return to the mountain for a few months a year to rule, but you would not be expected to attend with me if you didn't wish to. I would like to take Ori at some time to introduce him to dwarven culture as well as visit Dori and Nori, well maybe not Nori. Bad influence that one, but-" Thorin was cut off suddenly when Bilbo plopped herself unceremoniously into his lap, much like her cousin had done to his brother, and pressed her lips to his. Despite his surprise, Thorin instinctively kissed her back. For the first time. After a few moments, Bilbo pulled back with a wet, but brilliant smile.

"We'll have to work on getting Ori to call you Papa," she whispered. Thorin whooped in delight and jumped up with Bilbo in his arms to spin in happiness.

And so, the kingdom prospered until the rule of three kings and their spouses. None, but the council, were bothered by the announcement that the siblings would be splitting the responsibility of leading their people. The dwarrowdams, in particular, were thrilled when Dis announced that she would be a King alongside her brothers rather than be called a Queen. The trial yard was full of said females when one of the council was foolish enough to argue that Dis should be content with remaining with her children and to stay out of the realm of males. Said noble had an unusually high pitched scream as he ran from the female king's ax. None questioned Dis after that, and she ended up with an entirely female squad of bodyguards. Dis was a fierce and beloved king who refused to be cowed merely because of her sex. Fili and Kili were declared as the heirs to smooth out the argument against having a ruler that was not fully dwarf blood.

Frerin was a kind, but shrewd ruler who was favored for trials due to his ability to see lies. His wife, Thistle, was praised for her beauty, despite the lack of beard, and her ferocity when protecting what was hers. Her epic berating of an elf emissary that made the mistake of insulting the dwarves was made into songs for generations. As was her chasing of a noble's daughter who dared to touch the golden king inappropriately, her tremendous frying pan raised to strike with ease. Dwalin's wife, Lobelia, right behind her with her own pan.

Thorin was, as always, the king who saw his people through their darkest time. His people rejoiced when it was declared that he had found his One, the people crying in their happiness that their beloved ruler would finally be whole. Thorin spent his days in the Shire working in his smithy, repairing tools and speaking to his neighbors. His nights were spent with his family and after a few years, chasing after a tiny green-eyed girl with curly, coal-black hair who toddled around on feet larger than a dwarf's, but smaller than a hobbit's.