(Trigger Warning: blood, character death)

If You Would Stay Beside Me

The deep, bleeding gash in her side stabbed with every limping step through the mud, the combined sting of dozens of other smaller, less serious wounds doubling the pain. She needed help, she needed treatment and quickly…

There was, however, a need greater and far more urgent than any injury burning through her veins like bright dragonfire. She would not stop. She would not rest until she found him.

Around her, Vikings and dragons lay scattered across the rain-soaked battlefield. Some moaned in agony, feverish words of home and loved ones among their last, clinging gasps. Others remained still, breathless and ashen with their eyes open and vacant, heedless of the stormy, bloodstained world.

Somewhere among this tangle of fallen warriors, he was waiting for her. In the battle's climax with a sore victory in reach of Berk's grasp, she had watched him fly head-on into enemy ranks, sword ablaze and head held high.

A proud, berserk rage had swelled in her at the sight, clouding her mind and sending her screaming into the weakening legions. Almost alive and sentient in her hands, the axe glinted with the cold, hard light of war, shrieking through the air as she hurled it.

At this point, a sudden sea of pain washed through her memories as a sword bit into her unprotected side during a rare moment of distraction. She remembered dropping the axe and splashing into the mud after it, unable to move or breathe. She remembered looking to the storm-blackened sky above, watching it roil and ripple as she prayed for the gods to sweep her away from this ugly reality.

No answer came. There was something more she had to do.

At last, turning over with one hand clutching the wound and the other clawing at the ground, she dragged herself a few inches, a few feet, and soon staggered miraculously upright. One boot before the other, she set out through the despairing wasteland in search of man and dragon, each movement another toll on the crumbling bell of her own life.

After listless ages, she halted.

Against a thick wooden post slumped a human figure, one she would recognize in any condition, even one so desolate as this. Beside him lay a mass of scaly black, one quivering, bat-like wing still stretching for the skies. Whether the dragon ever returned to be one with them again, she would never know.

The figure gave a weak, rattling cough that might have been a word and slid to its knees, huddling beside its wooden crutch.

She stumbled forward, choking on cries of utter agony.

He did not look up as she dropped sobbing and reaching before him. Then he fell into her, his lifeless weight dragging her down with him.

She held him, rocking in the throb of pain and disbelief at the sight of the wicked arrow shaft sprouting from his back. She could not understand this, could not comprehend it. The armor he wore had protected him from many an injury, saved him from a horrible demise before this dart finally found a weakness. There would be no more laughing in the arms of Luck as Death slunk away, tail between legs. That time was now ended.

With the slightest tilt of his head, he looked at her.

"Ast-t-trid…"

"I'm here, Hiccup."

"S…s-stay…"

A brief, peaceful smile played across his face before life and light left his eyes, dulling them to nothing more than hollow pools. His breath dwindled and features slackened in tandem with the dragging rise and fall of his chest…

She did not know how long she clung to him, weeping silently for all that had been lost this day, feeling the cold creep through his body like a fatal mist and sap the strength from her own.

The cutting, remorseless rain ceased to batter the couple and the world smeared about them. No more battle clash, no more dying whispers rising like ghosts from bodies. Bits of memories wandered through her diming mind, bringing with them a new warmth, the welcome presence of familiar smells and sounds, and finally a full scene.

They were in the Great Hall, just the two of them next to a crackling fire. His hands enveloped hers and she spoke to him in comforting, confident tones. Then, in a soft melody meant only for her, he ushered in the rest of their mortal existence. From that moment onward, through scorching sun and freezing cold, they faced the waves. Waves of dancing, waves of dreaming, of laughing, crying, living.

And now she understood. It was to end as it had begun: together. Only Valhalla awaited.

Quietly, though her breath was failing, she began to sing.

And I would keep you…from all h-harm…

Her head grew heavy upon her neck, tipping sideways against the wooden post as her eyelids drooped, but the coming sleep of the eternities would never take the loving smile from her lips.

If…if you…would s-s-stay…beside…