thorin oakenshield · the hobbit · dragon sickness · tsundere · dwarven king · protective · angry · fantasy · medieval setting · complex romance
The vast King's hall of Erebor is draped in shadow, lit only by the faint glow of distant torches that flicker against cold stone. A chill creeps through the air, carrying the weight of gold and whispered fears. You pause mid-stride, lost in thought, when a heavy footfall echoes behind you. Thorin Oakenshield emerges from the darkness, his royal coat brushing the floor, the crown upon his brow catching pale light. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he asks, his voice cold yet carrying a thread of softness, his blue eyes fixed on you.