A/N: Generally, I don't do notes at the beginning of stories, but I feel like I need to throw some info in here. As stated in the description, this soon to be behemoth is a sequel to my story Aftermath. It'll make a lot more sense if you read that one first before tackling this one, but I'm obviously not going to stop you from reading it. I actually think that is the only thing I wanted to say so on with the story!

Ties That Bind

The crown wasn't heavy. Kíli had picked it up enough times to know that. It was a solid chunk of metal and definitely had weight to it, but it wasn't heavy. Yet when his brother wore it, he acted like it was the mountain itself.

Five years had passed since the day Fíli had first put it on. Five years of prosperity for the dwarves of Erebor. Five years of trade and peace with the growing city of Dale. Five years of watching the brother he knew change into a king who was a stranger.

Despite his best efforts, the younger brother hadn't been able to hold onto the dwarf he had known. He tried. Every day he tried, but it never seemed to work. Sometimes there would be a glimmer there, like Fíli wanted to remember what they had been like before, but it was always gone in a blink of an eye. More and more, his brother focused only on what was around him and nothing else.

A low sigh left him and he leaned his arms against the stone balcony. He was running out of ideas. Fíli was a good, strong king and was doing wonders for Erebor. But he missed his brother. Was it selfish to wish that Thorin had taken the throne those years ago to spare Fíli of this? Probably, but he didn't care. He was the younger brother, everyone expected him to be selfish.

Kíli snorted. No, the people expected him to be a shining prince of Erebor and that was what he was. Fíli had appointed him and Dwalin in charge of the army and the safety of the mountain. Kíli took it seriously and trained constantly with the older dwarf, always improving himself and what he knew. Despite a few clashes with stray orc packs, there really hadn't been much action outside the mountain. More often than not, they were sent to Dale to help with the construction or escort the dwarven workers who were helping return that city to its former glory.

Looking up at the night sky, he stared at the moon. It was the same moon they had slept under for weeks as they had sought to reclaim their home and yet it looked so different from the Lonely Mountain. It was almost full now, completely pale and staring back at him. "Do you know why he's changed?" he asked quietly. "I mean, I understand that he has to change a bit, he is the king, but…why so much?"

He felt silly suddenly, talking to the moon when anyone could be in the room behind him. Running his hands through his hair, he stepped back and entered his study. He couldn't believe that he actually had a room like this. He didn't use it often since he didn't have much to do with the politics of running the mountain. There were training regiments and patrol schedules on it, but he knew what they said and reviewed them every week until he had them memorized.

Walking to the door, Kíli slipped out into the hallway, nodding at the guard that was passing by.

"Prince Kíli," he said, pausing slightly. "Is all well?"

Damn. It was the middle of the night. The only time the royals were up in the middle of the night was when something was wrong. Forcing himself to smile, he nodded. "Everything's fine," he assured the dwarf. "Just stretching my legs."

The guard didn't look convinced but he didn't say anything. He wasn't going to call one of the royals a liar.

Before he moved off on the rest of his patrol, Kíli said, "Have you seen my brother?"

"The king? I haven't seen him in an hour, but there is a light under his personal study's door."

Again, he thought sadly. "Thank you," he said quietly.

The guard nodded and moved off.

Kíli watched him leave before leaning back against the door. Fíli barely spent any of his time in his bedroom. If he did sleep, it was usually at his desk, hunched over whatever paperwork had been put in front of him.

Pushing off the door, Kíli quietly crept down the hall. Even though it was the middle of the night, he knew at least one other member of his family would be awake. If they heard him, he'd have to explain why he was up and they wouldn't accept the lie he had given the guard. His mother would give him the look until he broke under it, confessing everything he felt that was preventing sleep. His uncle wouldn't have to say or do anything; Kíli would just blurt out his thoughts as soon as he saw him. He really didn't want to see either of them so he moved silently past their doors.

Kíli shook his head when he saw the guard had been telling the truth and light was spilling from under Fíli's door. He rapped gently on it, loud enough to be heard, but not so much as to wake him if he was asleep. When no answer came, Kíli carefully opened the door wide enough to slip inside. "Ah, Fee," he muttered, seeing his brother was slumped on the desktop.

At least he had had the forethought to remove his crown. The hunk of metal was set before Fíli, the mithril insets gleaming in the firelight. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmenship that Kíli wanted to hurl across the room. Even without the weight of it, his brother was still frowning in his sleep.

Ducking into Fíli's bedroom, Kíli hauled a blanket off of the bed. He would rather put his brother to bed, but shifting him would only wake him and defeat the purpose. Carefully draping the blanket over his brother, he tried not to sigh. How sad was it that the king of Erebor could find no peaceful rest inside his own mountain?

"Kíli?" Fíli mumbled sleepily.

Damn. "Go back to sleep, Brother," he said quietly. "It's late."

Fíli shifted on the desk, making Kíli's heart sink. Had he woken him? His brother needed as much sleep as he could get and- A small sigh left Kíli when Fíli let out a deep breath and settled on the desk again.

Staying still until he was sure Fíli was asleep, Kíli stared at the crown before them. How could one thing change everything he had ever known? He had never expected this to be an end result, how could he when he had been so young and naïve? But it wasn't the crown so much as everything it represented. To him it was a hunk of metal that was stealing his brother, but to Fíli it was his kingship, the mountain, their people. Responsibilities piled on top of duties compounded by honour.

Walking around the room, he blew out the candles and lanterns lighting the space and studied his brother. "I would take this burden from you if I could," he said softly. "I fear I would fare no better than you, but even if it were only for a handful of days, I would still spare you of it. I would give you those days for you to be yourself and let you breathe without worry. Believe me, Brother, I wish for this every day."

When Fíli shifted, Kíli left as silently as he had entered. As much as he hated it, there was nothing he could do to help his brother. He would never stop giving his support, but it didn't seem like enough.

"Is he asleep?"

Jumping at the voice, Kíli turned to see his mother standing in her doorway. "For once he is," he said, moving over to her.

"Collapsed on his desk," she sighed.

"Aye." He wasn't surprised she knew where Fíli spent most of his nights. It didn't matter that he was eighty-three and Fíli eighty-eight. Dís still checked regularly on her sons. He knew because he had woken in the night to her tucking his blankets around him, brushing his hair back from his brow. Some might have found it insulting to have their mother checking on them like they were a child, but Kíli took comfort in it. Their family was tightly bound and that kind of attention only solidified that bond.

"And you, my dark prince?" she asked, her eyes shrewd. "What keeps you from your bed tonight?"

"Fíli," he said quietly, willing to admit that much. "He's changed."

"As have you," Dís pointed out. "When you two left Ered Luin to follow your uncle, you were young and looking to prove yourselves. Now you are older, aged by what you have seen and done, but still young and have gained honour from your efforts."

"We gained more than we set out to."

"Do you regret it?"

"No, of course not," Kíli said quickly. "I just…."

She cupped his cheek, smiling. "When you left, your dreams were of reclaiming the mountain and Thorin being crowned king."

"Aye…." It seemed so long ago but it had only been six years. It didn't even seem right for it to not have been decades ago. The scars on the mountain had been chiseled away, the mountain kingdom glorious once again, but the scars hadn't only been on Erebor and they didn't heal as well as the stone had. He hardly even remembered the days when he had dreamt of placing his uncle on the throne they had laboured so hard to reclaim. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago.

Dís sighed. "I never discouraged you or your brother from dreaming because I wanted you to enjoy being young. So few in our family found joy because of all that happened, but I wanted it for you. You were safe in the Blue Mountains and I wanted you to grow up the way my brothers and I should have. But I knew how harsh the world can be and I feared it would break those dreams when you stepped out of our halls."

Kíli kissed her palm and took her hand in both of his. "The world didn't break us, Mother," he said firmly, forcing himself to believe it as well. "It forged us into dwarves worthy of the honour given to us."

Panic filled him when her eyes quickly grew glassy. Her sons made Dís experience a gambit of emotions, but seldom did they make her cry. Whenever they did, it was usually because of something horrible.

"'Amad?" he asked quickly. "What is wrong?"

She shook her head. "Many say that with every day that passes you and your brother grow to be true Durin's Folk, more like your uncle, my father and grandfather. But that is not all that I see in you. Your father is there as well."

Kíli's eyes closed. He had grown up on stories of his mother's family, stories of his uncles and grandfather, of Erebor. But there hadn't been as many of his father. He barely remembered the dwarf, only vague memories and most of what he knew came from Fíli. When he had been young, the stories had been painful for his mother, a constant reminder of the husband she had lost so they had asked for more stories about Erebor. It hurt less than the new loss. Eventually she had opened up and talked about him, but Thorin had become the father figure in his life and still was.

"I wish you could have known him," she sighed, "because for all that you are a Longbeard, you are still your father's son. But I am grateful that you had Thorin to guide you."

"And you," he added. "We would have all been lost without you."

Something danced in her eyes. "Aye, although the thought of Thorin trying to raise the pair of you on his own is vastly amusing," she said slyly.

Kíli chuckled. "I don't think any of us would have survived that."

"Perhaps, but your uncle has quite the soft spot for you both. It's a shame he never had any of his own," she added softly.

He didn't comment on that, but he did wonder how different growing up would have been if he had had cousins. The trouble they would have caused would have been legendary, but to share his uncle with more than his brother and mother? It was a strange thought.

"Come sit with me, Kíli," she said, pulling him into the room. "It's been too long since we've talked."

He almost refused. There was too much on his mind for him to trust himself not to say anything. But then he thought of something they could talk about. "Why are you awake at this hour?"
"I am a mother. I always know when one of my sons is troubled."

Then she must not sleep much. Settling beside her on a short couch, he nearly started fidgeting. He had hoped to get more out of her than that because it took the conversation right back to where he didn't want it to be. He tensed when her hand squeezed his arm.

"You aren't good at hiding when you're troubled, Kíli," she said softly. "I've waited for you to come to me on your own, but you haven't."

He stared down at his hands before a harsh sigh left him. "I used to know Fíli better than I knew myself," he whispered, "but I feel like he's slipping away from me."

"Because he's king?"

"Because he's trying to do everything himself. I do what he asks of me, but he's keeping most of it to himself. I don't know if even Uncle or Balin are allowed to help."

Dís was quiet for a moment. "Your brother has always tried to solve his problems on his own," she agreed. "Asking for help or admitting he's wrong has never come easily to him. Or you for that matter, but you never had a problem asking for help from one another. Once you got your feet under you, it wasn't Fíli or Kíli. It was always Fíli and Kíli."

He knew that. It was why this separation hurt so much. They had always done everything together and, while he knew there could only be one king, that didn't mean that he had to do everything to ensure the mountain was running smoothly. "Does he think I can't handle more responsibilities?" Kíli whispered.

"I don't imagine he is thinking at all. You know Fíli trusts you, more than anyone else in Erebor."

"Does he?"

Strong fingers gripped his chin and jerked him around so he was looking at his mother. "You do not doubt family," she said sharply, giving him a shake. "You do not lose faith in them. When you start doubting their belief in you, you invite ruin and disaster into our home. Your brother loves and trusts you more than anyone else walking the face of Middle Earth, Kíli. Do not forget that."

He stared at her, wanting to look away, wanting to deny it. But he knew, deep in his heart, that she was telling the truth. No matter how different things were, the love between them could not be shattered or broken easily. It just wasn't as easy to see as it had once been. "I don't doubt him," he sighed, "but he makes it so damn hard to talk to him when he won't let anything out of his grasp."

"Fíli wasn't ready to rule when it was shoved into his lap, but he rose to the task as well as he could. He's still young, as are you, my dark prince, and there is still time for him to learn and change."

"If he changes anymore I will not know him."

Letting go of his chin, Dís' eyes closed and she let her forehead rest on his. "Change is not always bad, Kíli. It might seem that way at first, but with time you can always see a benefit to it."

He wasn't sure about that, but he knew better than to voice his doubts. "Would Father be proud of us?" he asked without thinking about it.

Dís pulled back from him, her blue eyes searching his. "Aye, Kíli," she murmured. "He would be so proud of you."

"Are you sure? We haven't always made the smartest of choices," he said dubiously.

Her lips curled up in a smile as she leaned back against the couch. "No, you haven't, but then from the stories I was told, Bírli didn't always do the same." A soft laugh left her. "I never wondered where your mischievous streak came from. I had heard enough about your father to know exactly who you inherited it from."

"I wish I could remember him," Kíli admitted, feeling ashamed that he could barely even remember his father's face.

"You do remember him, Kíli, you just don't realise that you do."

Wondering how in Durin's name that was even possible, Kíli shook his head. "I was barely six when he died. All I can remember is you crying and Fíli not letting me go. Uncle stayed with us the whole night and I didn't know what was going on."

Blue eyes shifted to him. "What do you remember about rabbits?"

Kíli blinked. "Rabbits? What does-" He stopped talking when Dís lifted a brow at him and thought about it. He had had a stuffed rabbit toy when he had been little, the abused toy going nearly everywhere with him. But there was another memory there. "Uncle would take us into the forests and catch them for us to see," he said slowly.

Dís shook her head. "No, Kíli. Thorin is quick but he has never been fast enough to catch one of the Blue Mountains' rabbits."

Gentle, Kíli. If you pet it too hard, you'll hurt it. Aye, like that. See? It likes you. Here, hold out your hands, son. You can try holding it. Kíli blinked again, but this time it was to keep his eyes clear. "Father…caught them?"

"It doesn't surprise me that you've gotten Bírli and Thorin mixed up in your head," she sighed. "My brother truly stepped in when I needed him most and gave you and Fíli the strong paternal presence you needed in your life. But because you were so young when it happened, your memories of your father are mixed in with those of your uncle."

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to do.

"No, don't be sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you more of him when you were still young. You might have had a better time remembering him if I had."

"Fíli told me some."

"Fíli was also a child. He had your father for longer, but he was still just a dwarfling when Birli died."

But it was more than he would have had if Fíli hadn't been there.

Dís let out a deep sigh before looking at him with a small smile. "Look at us. I wanted to talk to you and we wound up depressing us both."

Kíli's lips twitched. "Speaking with you is never depressing, 'Amad," he told her, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"You can't sweet talk me, Kíli," she told him sternly. "You aren't a child anymore and those puppy eyes you throw around do not work on me."

His smile grew further because they both knew that wasn't true. He had simply stopped doing it because he was an adult and he had learned that rationalizing with his mother was easier than anything else. But every now and then, when she was mad at him, he would pull out old tricks.

She muttered a curse under her breath and smacked his shoulder. "You are hopeless."

He chuckled, but it was cut off as a yawn suddenly struck him. Now he was tired? Now when he didn't want to leave his mother?

Dís laughed softly again and gave him a small push. "Lie down," she told him, tossing pillows aside so the entire length of the couch was free.

"I can leave you," he said, yawning again and almost missing the look that crossed her face. "Mother?"

"If you want to return to your room I won't stop you."

But she wanted him to stay. Was it because they had been talking about Father? Dís was a strong female, but even she had her weak spots and they had just been exposing one. Shifting back on the couch, he stretched out so his head was pillowed in her lap.

Her fingers ran over his hair, trailing over the braids worked into it. "Do you remember how you and Fíli used to crawl into bed with your father and me during storms?" she asked softly.

"I'd go to Fíli first," he said quietly, remembering. "We'd stay there as long as we could, but he'd eventually get scared too."

"I remember the first time you both came into the room. Fíli was carrying you as best as he could and he tossed you up onto the bed because you couldn't reach."

Kíli snorted at the image that conjured. Oh, he could imagine his brother throwing him around easily. If he wasn't bigger than him, he was sure Fíli would still try to do it.

"Bírli would always wind up with you and Fíli with me," she continued softly. "You always slept better when your father held you. Fíli could always get you to sleep, but you slept like the dead in your father's arms. Not even the thunder or lightning would wake you."

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine it. He knew from his uncle that Fíli had inherited their father's yellow hair, but also his features. There were traces of the Durin line there, but his brother looked like Bírli. He could almost remember all of it. He remembered the large bed and the soft blankets. The fireplace opposite the bed would cast shadows on the wall and his father would use them to tell stories to calm frightened dwarflings.

Little dwarves will always be safe here. I promised your mother I would never hurt her and the same goes for you, sons. Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm with you.

"Shh," Dís soothed when he made a low noise. "Shh, Kíli."

He pushed away the hurt that rose up in him at the rumbling voice he barely remembered. When Dís started humming softly, he focused on that instead, letting himself get caught up in the notes. He knew the song, both his mother and uncle had sung it to him countless times in his lifetime and it eased the ache inside him.

"How long?"

"Not long enough so keep your voice down. You know neither of them sleeps well when they worry about the other."

The voices lulled him out of the sleep he had fallen into, but Kíli kept his eyes shut. Why was his uncle here? Was it morning?

"What is it, Brother?" Dís asked quietly. "You do not seek me out in the middle of the night for nothing."

"Fíli."

Dis sighed and Kíli nearly frowned before he realised he was supposed to be sleeping. "You as well? What is bothering you about him?"

"You've seen how he's been acting lately. The kingship is getting to him."

Thorin's voice was low but Kíli still heard him. "What are you suggesting, Brother?" Dís asked.

"Fíli's strong but he's breaking under the pressure."

Kíli tensed slightly before realising he needed to keep breathing. Breaking? Fíli wasn't breaking!

"He won't admit it; he probably doesn't even see it."

"But you can."

Thorin sighed deeply. "I had hoped that it wasn't there, but it's been too long and it isn't going away."

"What do you suggest we do? We've tried to help him, but he's as bad as you when it comes to asking for help. Even when it's offered, he won't accept it."

Another deep sigh. "He isn't the only stubborn one in the family."

"True enough." Dís paused. "We can't do anything if he won't let us, Thorin. As much as I want to shake him until he sees reason, we can't."

"…You've heard it too then."

Kíli waited for his mother to confirm or at least comment on whatever it was, but both of the elder dwarves remained silent.

"Kíli," Thorin said firmly. "We know you're awake."

He only considered keeping up the charade for half a second before giving it up. Pushing himself out of his mother's lap, he looked at his uncle. He wanted to ask what they had just been talking about, but he knew they weren't going to say. If they'd known he was awake, they would have said it if they wanted him to know. He didn't like this secret being dangled in front of him, but he wasn't going to push right now. "How?" he asked instead.

Dís laughed even as Thorin chuckled. "You stopped snoring," she said.

A/N: In reading some of the reviews for Aftermath, I realised that I still had a lot I wanted to tell about my particular happy ending for Thorin, Fíli and Kíli. It just took a while for me to get the point where I felt like I could write about it. Now I'm here and will hopefully be able to stick with this. A couple things to mention:

Bírli is my lovely version of Fíli and Kíli's father and since there really isn't much known about him, he's a blank canvas waiting to be written about. I actually did a little ficlet about Bírli and Dís as I was writing this chapter because I needed to get a feel for him. I'm also of the general consensus that Fíli's looks come from that side of the family and that when Kíli tries to picture their father, for the most part it's just an older version of Fíli.

Eventually, this story will earn the M rating I'm giving it. There's going to be a romance plot between Fíli and an OC and a hell of a lot of drama and pain and suffering between now and the end. It's sad, but I never can plan out happy bits; it's always the drama that comes to me first and the happy stuff just shows up out of nowhere. Odd.

So hope you enjoyed the first chapter and are eager to see what trouble is on the horizon for the young king of Erebor and his family! And again, thank you so much for reading!