Thorin

You thought your marriage with Thorin was different. But miscarriage after miscarriage, your once happy marriage had become strained.

You were dressed in your nightgown, seated next to the fireplace, hearing nothing by the fire crackling. The bowl of soup that the brothers brought you has now gone cold.

Thorin entered your chambers that you isolated yourself in recently, shutting your door. “When was the last time you left this room?” He solemnly asked. “My Queen?”