Thorin At The Height Of The Dragon Sickness Dressing Bilbo In The Finest Of Clothes And Jewls. That's

Thorin at the height of the dragon sickness dressing Bilbo in the finest of clothes and jewls. That's it, that's the prompt

yes.

"This is ridiculous..." Muttered Bilbo as he examined himself in a dusty, near broke mirror, running his fingers over the cold feel of Mithril that weighed his chest. He wasn't sure what to make of it, in all honesty; Thorin's 'token of friendship' had very well dazed him. In the truth of those words, he pondered if he'd misread Thorin's acts of kindness and that of possible affection to be more than friendship. He wasn't suited for a king after all, he was... well, a Baggins of Bag End! Nothing more to it; Yet Mithril stared back at him with a different story.

Bilbo slumped down to his bed, in the private chambers Thorin gave him, well---insisted he must have. He didn't recall anyone else in the company talking of their own room, now that he thought of it. He rubbed his weary eyes and sighed, tapping a foot repeatedly against the stone floor. Thorin was not himself, that had become clear, so did this gift of fondness come from a darker place, or had it truly been from the dwarf's heart? Bilbo smacked a hand to his face in unknowing frustration. Why did dwarves have to be so cryptic?

The knock of his door startled him up. "Ah---yes, come in!" He cleared his throat and grabbed for his over coat, fussing to get it on and praying to whatever sort of spirits roamed the halls that it was not Thorin for a multitude of reasons. He felt the heavy bulk of the Arkenstone move in his pocket that made him feel queasy.

Lucky him, it was Balin. "Sorry to bother you laddie." He said kindly, though his smile sunk down soon after as if he were to deliver unsavory news. "Thorin wishes to see you."

Bilbo's heart jumped to be at least twice as fast then; had he finally found out he had been keeping the Arkenstone? Was he being removed from the company? He did do his duty, technically speaking... or perhaps Thorin had another reason to get rid of him. Balin's smile was the only thing to console him that it wasn't something horrid. "Er, what did he say he wanted me for, exactly?"

"Oh, not sure." Balin shook his head. "Something about dressing you, is what I heard."

"Dressing?" Bilbo could barely speak the word aloud, as it came with far too many connotations for his liking. "As in literal?"

"Suppose that's between you and him."

Suddenly Bilbo felt his face grow unimaginably hot. With a pat on the back that could only be read as 'good luck', Balin left his side. A few careful steps in a new corner of Erebor he had yet to see, he eyed Thorin's figure from afar, and as his hand went to reached for support on a nearby shelf, a parade of coins and goods fell to the floor with a loud clank. Bilbo winced, waiting for the noise to fully die down; well, maybe he was about to be hired as a jester.

"Master Baggins." Thorin called to him, his voice riddled with command as if it could be faltered by no one.

"Yes, right, ah---" Bilbo stepped over the mess he'd caused and made his way over more awkwardly than he should've. "Here. And Bilbo is fine, no need for all the... 'Master' business. I'd like to think we're on familiar enough terms." He went to fiddle around with his pockets, but drew back at the feel of the Arkenstone. He really needed a proper hiding place if being this close to Thorin was going to be a regular occurrence.

Thorin turned a shoulder to acknowledge the presence of Nori and Bofur, who were likely tending to another odd job, standing (not so subtly) to watch before quickly pretending they weren't doing so at all. "Leave us." Was all he said to make the two dwarves scatter out.

"So," Bilbo started, patting at his sides, trying to make little eye contact. "Balin said you, er... wanted to dress... me." His heart picked up again.

With a silent nod Thorin lifted a hefty crown clad in solid gold from a table that held many treasures. The crown was embedded with shining dark blue gems, and out of it was the figure of a great raven. "If you are to be at a kings side," He stepped forward and held the crown high, placing it a-top the hobbit's head. "Then you should look the part."

"Thorin I---I can't wear this," Bilbo chuckled, holding to the crown that was a bit too large for him. "I'm not like you. I'm just... a hobbit. Far from dwarven royalty." He lifted his shoulders to shrug.

"You are more than you credit yourself to be." Said Thorin, as he then brought near an elegant robe much to his own, lined with fur and detailed embroidery. "Take off that odious coat the men of the Lake swayed you in; you need not wear its burden."

Bilbo had little excuses left to argue with that, though he did suppose he could use a decent change of clothing after rolling away from a displeased dragon. He slipped the weight off his arms, holding it to his chest as he grew in search for a place to keep it. He hastily placed it on an empty stool, and the aches of the Arkenstone tugged at him. He could be at ease if you gave it to him, maybe. His thoughts conflicted, till the sudden feel of Thorin's hands brushing against his shoulders turned his mind elsewhere; he guided his arms through the robe, and over Mithril it lay, drowning him in wonderus riches.

"You hold beauty unlike any other." Thorin's hand lifted Bilbo's chin, directing his eyes to look upon a golden mirror that reflected their figures. "It deserves to be treasured, to be kept from the wrong gaze. When you stand by me no one will treat you lower ever again; they will see us as one, and flock to our command."

There Bilbo saw them, a possibility, a future, and there he fell to Thorin's words. He watched the hobbit that stared back at him, the crown above his head that promised a life loved by all---a great kingdom, and someone to share its bliss with. He then did not yearn for the comforts of Bag End; what had he left there? Was he to deny an offer most could only dream of, to return to a lonely hole in the ground for the rest of his days? He found it hard to imagine going back to a life missing what he'd grown so used to over the course of their journey, and that of Thorin's touch he did not wish to see go most.

Bilbo let his eyes fall shut, leaning back to the warmth of Thorin that made his heart sure of itself. "Would you truly take me?"

At that, Thorin scaled down Bilbo's arm, taking hold of his hand with gentle ease, looking to him through the mirror. "I would have you in this life and all those after."