“Grab my hand!” The blonde prince called out to me over the roar of Smaug as he extended his hand towards me.
Pulling Tilda with my other hand against her protests.
“Sigrid! That’s our home! We have to stay!” She whimpered.
“We have to go.” I said as softly as possible as I gripped his arm and hopped onto the boat just as our house started to give way; memories of my childhood and all I had known was now burning in a pile on the ground.
Bain was right behind us, landing a seat beside the floppy hatted dwarf.
“He shot him!” I overheard the black-haired prince yell as the elf from Mirkwood pushed our boat away from the dock and we started to float down the lake; passing the burning houses and screaming people trying to escape.
People I had known my entire life were now screaming and fighting each other to try and escape with their life.
It made me sick to my stomach, the scent of burning flesh and wondering how many friends I had lost. My home and city was now nothing more than a burning graveyard full of broken promises and greed for gold.
I should have been angry. It was the dwarves fault we were in this mess. But I wasn’t and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why.
I looked down with shock and realized I was still holding the prince’s hand.
Unlike the boys my age, his hand was bigger and rougher. It was calloused from years of mining and working I assumed. His skin scraped against mine. It didn’t hurt, it created a friction that did different things to my body. There were butterflies fluttering in my stomach for reasons I didn’t understand why.
The Prince looked down to see our hands still intertwined.
I gasped in embarrassment, pulling away. “I’m sorry-“ I whispered.
“Don’t be.” He said softly, his voice a low rumble, “You didn’t ask for this.”
In that moment as we drifted along the water, no home to return to, the broken screams and scent of charred flesh filling the air, sitting next to the blonde prince, I felt more comfort here than I did in any home.