#what better way than to have her jump into an icy river to save Link's life?

[nayru-s-clay-tablet]

"Ooh that would actually be pretty clever of him. However, giving Link all the rupees he wants would make Link happy, and I don’t know if Ghirahim could go along with that, no matter what the ultimate result would be xD" It would make him happy INITIALLY, until the devaluation of the Rupees makes Ilia's Uncle ask for more to correspond to the devaluation, causing more devaluation as more enters the system, resulting in a cycle of misery. It's the perfect long-term evil plan for him. >:3c

lol very true! ...Now I'm just envisioning this comic after 20 chapters of mostly goofy adventure, suddenly turning into like a Depression-era drama, complete with bank runs like in It's a Wonderful Life... all the while Ghirahim sits cackling in the background like Mr. Potter...

And then before the third act, instead of Jimmy Stewart chewing him out, it'd be Link just going into Ghirahim's office, slicing his desk in half, and leaving 😂

It would be beautiful.

[snowfall-fanfictions]

Lost in the Woods- A Kristelsa fanfic

Ao3 link

FF.net link

A bit of a “What-if?” scenario I’ve had stuck in my head for a while now. Enjoy!

Rated T for minor violence and swearing

Elsa ran faster than she ever thought she could. The events of the past few hours seemed to come from a terrifying nightmare. Now all of Arendelle knew exactly what she was: a monster. Tears began to cloud her vision as she kept running through the forest, away from the fjord, away from everything she knew. Monsters didn’t deserve to live among normal people... 

As she ventured through the forest, Elsa came to a quick stop at a clearing. It was quite picturesque: covered in a blanket of snow, void of all trees, and a thin winding river that snaked from one edge of the treeline to the other. Elsa would have thoroughly enjoyed the scenery if she wasn’t here on her own forced exile. She sulked over and sat upon a large rock just by the water’s edge as she embraced herself. What were her options now? Hide in the mountains for the rest of her life? Disguise herself and live amongst the local population? Take her own life? She didn’t know. All she did know was that returning to Arendelle was never an option, for its sake and for Anna’s sake.

...Anna… 

The thought of her sister being alone again tore through her heart like an icy spear. After all these years, she hated how she had to isolate herself from her own family. But it was for the best, so that she would never hurt her sister ever again. The idea stung worse than the cold around her. Anna, she thought, tears streaming down her eyes, I- I’m sorry…

As she was wallowing in her own sadness, Elsa’s heart skipped a beat when she heard footsteps in the snow. Wolves? Soldiers coming to arrest her? She wasn’t certain. She leaped off of the rock and raised her ungloved hand. “S-stay back!” She shouted weakly, “I can and will hurt you!” The sounds grew louder as she tensed up. Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, ready to accept her fate. Just then, a  gruff masculine voice called out to her.

“Hey! What are you doing up here alone?”

Elsa slowly opened her eyes to assess where the voice came from. In front of her, just across the river, a large man wearing a thick leather coat sat in a large brown sled pulled by a lone reindeer. His face was covered by a large cloth caked in snow, except for his large brown eyes, which were narrowed onto Elsa. He held a large rusty lantern in his hand, thrusted forward to Elsa’s position. 

“Well? Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna answer me?” He asked. Elsa quickly wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I-I’m fine,” she choked, “Don’t worry about me.”

The mystery man hopped out of the sled and waded through the snow towards Elsa. He said nothing as he crossed the small stream and carefully studied her. “You… don’t look like you belong here,” he said hesitantly, “where are you from? Are you hurt?” “You could say that…” Elsa replied, holding back tears, “Look, I just want to be alone right now so-”

“You won’t last long out here,” the man interrupted, taking large steps towards her, “Look, the city isn’t too far from here let me-”

“NO!” Elsa began to back away from the man. Tears began to form in her eyes again. “I can’t go back there.”

“So you’d rather deal with the wolves?”

“Arendelle is safer without me! I can’t go back!”

“And why exactly is Arendelle safer with you gone?”

Elsa opened her mouth retort when she noticed the man’s reindeer perk up. The man quickly pivoted and held his lantern up high, scanning the tree line. A howl broke the silence between them.

“Get in the sled,” he commanded.

“What?” 

“Don’t argue, just get in!” the man grabbed Elsa’s ungloved hand and bolted towards the sled. He threw her in the passenger seat as he gripped the reins. “Move it, Sven!” he shouted. With no hesitation, the reindeer bolted away. 

Looking behind at the forest whizzing past, Elsa let out a small gasp. Five wolves started chasing them, their gray fur almost blending in with the snow. One of the beasts rushed up to the side of the sled and snapped its jaws at the blond. Elsa raised her hands to shield her face as she felt a surge of magic blast from her palm. Ice covered the wolf’s face as it tumbled away with a whimper. 

Looking off to her right, the man was having his own troubles. He struggled as he tried to reach for his lantern as he was holding a wolf back with his hand. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the lantern's handle, he swung it violently at the wolf. She heard a loud THUNK as the wolf fell with a yelp.

“Do you have a plan to get us out of this?” Elsa asked nervously.

“There should be a road around here,” the man said as he gripped the reins, “They tend to stay away from the… Dammit!”

Looking ahead, Elsa’s eyes widened at the sight before her. A massive gap, almost 30 feet wide, sat between them and the next stretch of land. The man pulled back on the reins, bringing the sled to a complete stop.

Elsa’s heart sank at the situation. I’m going to die, she thought as her body began to shake violently. She shut her eyes, ready to accept her fate to the wolves, when she heard what seemed to be shattering glass followed by a series of animalistic whines and yelps. As she cautiously opened her eyes, she saw the man beside her, mouth agape and eyes wide like dinner plates. Elsa looked around her and was mortified at the sight. Large jagged ice spikes jutted from the ground, each looking gnarled and sharp. Turning around, she saw one of the few remaining wolves impaled through several pikes, its blood coating each icy spear that ran through it. Elsa’s body began to shake furiously at the sight. Time felt like it had stopped as she cradled herself in her arms again. It wasn’t until the man decided to speak that Elsa came back from her panic.

“That…”

“I know,” Elsa choked.

“WAS INCREDIBLE!”

“Wait, what?” Elsa snapped her head to stare at the man, giving him a confused look. 

The man quickly jumped off of the sled and ran towards a nearby spire. He removed one of his gloves and ran his bare hand up and down the icy spear. “You have ice magic? How?”

The young queen was taken aback by the man’s question. “Well, I, uh, was b-born with magic.” She stammered, unsure of the man’s intentions, “It’s more of a curse than anything…”

“Well that ‘curse’ of yours just saved our lives!”

Elsa began to protest, but abruptly stopped. In a way the man was right. If her powers hadn’t flared, the three of them would have been wolf food. It made her feel slightly better about herself. The man continued to gush over the newly formed ice. 

“If I could control ice like that, it’d make my job a hell of a lot easier. You see, I’m an ice harvester and-”

“Weren’t you listening?!” She snapped, “It’s a curse! I can’t control it, all it does is hurt people…”

“It didn’t hurt me, though. And Sven is scratch free, too.”

The two of them turned to the reindeer, who had his tongue stuck to one of the jagged spears. The man dashed over to his animal companion and yanked it free of the ice.

“Look, I can take you as far away as the North Mountain. There’s a village nearby if you need anything. It’s the least we can do to thank you for saving our lives, right Sven?” The man bent down near the reindeer’s head

“SuRe tHiNg!” The man replied in a goofy tone, as if he was speaking for the reindeer. Elsa let her jaw go slightly agape at the sight. A part of her found it quite amusing. The other part was terrified beyond words.

“Uh… t-thank you.” she finally said after a moment of silence. The man walked over to Elsa and extended his hand.

“The name’s Kristoff,” he said warmly. Elsa gingerly clasped her gloved hand in his massive palm giving him a warm smile.

“Elsa… and thank you.”

With that, Kristoff and Elsa slowly walked back to the sled. All the while, Elsa’s thoughts raced inside her head. All her life she felt like everyone would turn on her when they found out the truth. She always thought people would rally to burn her at the stake for witchcraft or something like that. Now there was someone not only accepting of her powers, but also excited by them! She eased the tension in her body as she hoisted herself back into Kristoff’s sled (with his help, the gentleman that he was.) With a quick snap of the reins, Sven turned and bolted through the snow, carefully as to avoid the jagged ice that now surrounded them, as they made their way to the North Mountain.

[thranduil-is-my-king]

Not Letting You Go

Fandom: The Hobbit  Ship(s): Thorinduil ~ Kiliel (on the side) Rating: General Warnings: Implied Blood, Dying (Almost), Feels Tags: Soulmate AU, Everyone Lives AU, Angst, Angsty Angst, Fluff, Warm Thranduil, Sassy Bilbo, Or Just Bilbo Being Bilbo, Friendly Gandalf, Dain Takes a Chill Pill and a Breath, Thranduil Loves Tauriel Like a Daughter (pass it on), Reckless Legolas (kind of), Tired Legolas, Thranduil Really Is a Good Dad and King, Concerned Bard, Bardlings, Balin Is So Done With Dwalin, Thorin and Thranduil Are Stubborn Fools In Love

Summary: Soulmate AU where after meeting your soulmate, your lives are linked/Soulmate AU where the closer you are to finding out who your soulmate is, the easier it is to talk to them telepathically. Thorin is wounded badly at the end of BotFA and Thranduil had always secretly known who his soulmate was, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t, lose another loved one. Word Count: 4107 Written for: @elvenshield (I know you love Thorinduil so here this is even if you didn’t ask for it.) A/N: I don’t know where this came from but... I made it. And I honestly love this so much. There could be a sequel, maybe more because I want to go farther into this. I really hope all of you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Translations:

Amrâlimê - My Love

Meleth nîn - My Love

^^ Translations are at the bottom as well!

Key:

These sentences are messages sent telepathically when said alone. (Italicized)

These sentences are messages received telepathically when alone. (Italicized and Bolded)

“Ah!” Thranduil cried out, doubling over as a terrible pain originates from his abdomen, one hand flying to the area to put pressure. But there was no wound or blood. Not on him anyway. As soon as he realizes what was occurring, Thranduil’s blood ran cold and he immediately took off, following his instincts towards his soulmate. As he was running, he focused on the fading link to his soulmate. Don’t die. I can’t lose you too. Hold on for me.

Don’t die. I can’t lose you too. Hold on for me. Thorin gasps at the words in his head, relaxing at the beautiful voice. He coughs once before he starts fighting like hell to stay alive, curling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth. He thinks about sending a message, an affirmative, that he was fighting but he decided it would be better to save his energy. “...not going anywhere, Thorin, you’re going to live,” Bilbo tells him, inspecting the wound and putting pressure on it. “I would take back my words and my deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me. I was too blind to see. I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril,” Thorin tells Bilbo, gasping for breath between every few words before he starts choking on his own breath from pain. He squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing from the pain and the fear that he might not be able to hold on for his soulmate to get to him. At least to see him once more before he dies.

You will not die now! I am not ready to die which means you can’t die either! You can feel me, our link, I know you can. Hold onto me, Thorin Oakenshield. Hold on to us. Thranduil feels his chest seize up more and more as he runs but he keeps going, going as far as quickening his pace. Quickening his pace seemed almost impossible as he was already pretty much a blur as he ran past to the people he passed. Everyone he passed looked on as he ran past them, their faces giving a confused expression at the urgency of the Elvenking. “What do you think has him in such a hurry,” a bystander asked, staring off in the direction the elf went. “For him to be runnin’ that fast, it’d have to be his soulmate. Or his son,” Bard answered before he took off after Thranduil. Thranduil was his friend and he wanted to make sure he was alright, as well as whomever it was that may have been hurt. Unbeknownst to him, his children also chased after him as well.

“...far more than any Baggins deserves,” Bilbo tells Thorin, smiling softly, and sadly, at him. Thorin gives a small smile back, tears coming to his eyes as he feels it getting harder and harder to breathe. You will not die now! I am not ready to die which means you can’t die either! You can feel me, our link, I know you can. Hold onto me, Thorin Oakenshield. Hold on to us. Despite the words in his head, Thorin decided to at least say goodbye to at least one of the... probably quite a few of people, he had severely wronged. “Farewell, Master Burglar. Go back to your books and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place,” Thorin tells Bilbo, choking back tears as his eyes start to darken. Thorin grits his teeth and focuses all of his attention on the link between himself and his soulmate. Thranduil... I can’t... I’m sorry for- for everything, my love...

Thranduil... I can’t... I’m sorry for- for everything, my love... “No... No, no, no. No!” Thranduil runs faster despite his body aching; from his long run and the quickly diminishing link between the two kings. You will hold on, Thorin! You will wait until I get there! Please! Just- Just hold on! Thranduil jumps off the edge of the land and onto the frozen river before getting to Thorin, grabbing his hand. Thorin’s head turns toward Thranduil, smiling a little before letting out a sigh, a breath of relief at seeing Thranduil one last time. One last time before his chest falls, and doesn’t rise again. A deep pain hits Thranduil in the chest and he cries out with the pain, tears falling down his face. Despite the pain and the weakening of the light in him, he gathers the remaining power, closes his eyes, and starts whispering elvish phrases. Gripping Thorin’s hand with one hand, the other on top of the wound in Thorin’s abdomen, he continues whispering the phrases for a minute... two minutes... Right before he feels the last bit of his light fade away, he hears a gasp and knows it’s Thorin as he feels his chest rise. Opening his eyes, panting from the use of so much of his power after so long, Thranduil looks down and meets beautiful blue-green eyes with his own icy blue. The sight makes new tears fall down his face, these from happiness and relief. Thranduil wraps his arms around the dwarven king and pulls him to his chest, burying his face in the thick, black hair. “Now that I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go again,” Thranduil murmurs into Thorin’s hair, quiet enough for only Thorin to hear. “Do you understand me?” Thorin sighs and finally wraps his arms around the elf, holding him tightly. “I do, amrâlimê. I’m so sorry. Sorry for everything,” Thorin replies, feeling the tears in his eyes finally fall. Thorin’s heart falls as Thranduil pulls back some but it stops completely when the elf places a hand on his face before kissing him deeply. After a few moments, Thranduil pulls back and says, “I know, and I am too.” Thorin smiles happily before he kisses Thranduil this time, cradling the elf’s face with his hands, the kiss lasting longer than the one before. Long enough for a certain hobbit to make it known as he clears his throat, smiling at them shyly when the pull away to look at him. “Firstly, I knew it and Gloin owes me twenty coin. Secondly, the two of you are way too adorable together. Thirdly, you two have a bit of an audience so I wouldn’t start making out just yet...” Bilbo tells them, smiling softly and nodding behind them. When Thorin and Thranduil turn around, they start blushing as they realize they do have an audience. Behind them was Bard, his children, the Company, Legolas who was leaning on Tauriel and looking exhausted, her arm around his waist to hold him up, and one that Thorin didn’t expect to see. “Fíli! You’re alive?!” Thorin got up, wincing as he walked quickly to his eldest nephew before engulfing him into his arms. “How? How are you alive? You couldn’t have survived your injuries...” “He’s alive the same way I’m alive,” Kíli answers, stepping forward towards his uncle. Thranduil stood up and walked towards his son, going around Kíli, respectively. “I was stabbed, much like Fíli and you, Uncle, and I almost died. But then,” he turned around and motioned towards the elf prince who looked like he was going to collapse any second, “Prince Legolas saved Fíli and myself just in time.” Thorin looked up at Legolas, his eyes wide as he stared at the elf for a few moments. “You saved them? Both of them?” Legolas gave a small smile and nodded, “Yes.” “They did not deserve to die so young and leave their loved ones. And... I wanted to make up for the wrongs I have done against your company, King Thorin. I apologize for everyth-“ Legolas explains before being cut off by Thorin. Thranduil smiles at his son, unnoticed, happy at how his son has grown and what he had done. “Stop. Your apology is accepted and I am in debt to you for saving my nephews.” “It is all I could do for you saving my life when your company was fleeing in the barrels,” Legolas says, watching as Thorin becomes confused. “Tauriel told me what you did. That orc would have killed me if it wouldn’t have been for your actions, King Thorin. Thank you,” Legolas explains, bowing his head. Thranduil’s head snaps down to look at Thorin, a gasp escaping his lips. “You... You saved him?” “Yes, of course,” Thorin answers. He expects to be asked why he did such a thing when that same elf had threatened to kill him a few hours prior to him saving his life but the question never comes. Instead, an odd silence comes before Thranduil rushes forward and kneels to bring Thorin into his arms, holding him tightly. Thorin smiles and hugs the elf back just as tight. “Thank you, meleth nîn. Thank you,” Thranduil tells him, pulling back to look Thorin in the eye. “Eh, it was no big deal,” Thorin teases, laughing as Thranduil just smacks him upside the head, rolling his eyes as he stands up to walk away, muttering something about ‘ugh, dwarves.’ The group of dwarves, men, elves, and hobbit laugh at the the most unlikely pair who just happen to be soulmates. Bilbo stands up and walks towards the company, holding his hand out. “Pay up, Gloin.” Gloin sputters before grumbling as he grabs his little pouch of coins. “Really, Bilbo? That’s what comes to your mind right now?” “Yes, yes it is. Now, gimme.” Gloin grumbles some more as he gets the money he owes out and places it in Bilbo’s hand. Bard is the one to ask, “What did the two of you bet on?” “I bet that Thranduil and Thorin were soulmates while Gloin didn’t believe me,” Bilbo answered, smirking as he put the coins in one of his pocket. The group laughs again at the unexpectedness of this hobbit. “How did you know anyway?” Thranduil looked at Bilbo, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “He’s Bilbo Baggins, that’s how. He’s a very clever Hobbit, King Thranduil. You’ll learn not to underestimate him or someone else will be escaping from your dungeons,” Balin answers for Bilbo, smirking at the end. All it takes his one look at Thranduil’s glare at the white-haired dwarf for the group to start laughing again, Legolas and Tauriel included. While it takes a minute, Thranduil ends up smiling along with them. “Nah, I think that one was a one-time thing. Unless you imprison someone else who shouldn’t be imprisoned...” Bilbo says, eyeing Thranduil. “Alright, alright, I know I was wrong and I apologize. I shouldn’t have done what I did,” Thranduil admits genuinely, looking at everyone. “Apology accepted,” is Thorin’s reply, everyone nodding in agreement, though it took a few extra moments for a few stubborn dwarves to nod. A silence falls over the group as they just try to take in the fact that they were all alive. Tilda is the one to break the silence by tugging on Bard’s jacket and when he looks down at her, asks, “Da... What now?” “Well... We check on our people and then...” Bard starts before Thorin finishes with, “Then, together, we rebuild and become stronger than ever.” “You will still need to rest though, Thorin. I saved your life, and your body, but you still went through becoming extremely close to death. This goes for the princes as well,” Thranduil says to Thorin before turning a gaze that only a father could give towards his son. “And my own reckless prince.” “Hey! I saved their lives!” Legolas rebuked in a slightly whiny way that children did when faced with The Dad Look™. “Yes, you did. You saved their lives, both of them. It’s hard enough with saving just one person, let alone two,” Thranduil tells his son, walking over to him. He looks at him for a moment before speaking quietly, “You could have died, ion nîn. Or lost so much of your light that you couldn’t have come back from it. I can’t lose you, ‘las.” “I know, Ada. But I knew that I could do it,” Legolas tells him, looking remorseful before smiling at his father. “I’ve always shone brighter than others.” Thranduil huffs a laugh before he moves forward, hugging Legolas tight to him. Legolas startles for a split second, hugging his father back just as tight as tears pool in his eyes, a couple falling. It had been so long since his father had been this... warm towards anyone, including his own son. The group that was there smiled as the father and son hugged, happy that they were together again. Bard took Bain and Sigrid into his arms, Tilda hugging all three of them with her arms. They would have probably stood there a lot longer if a call for Thorin had not happened. The group looked up and saw Dain, smiling at all of them. Well, the dwarves anyway. “Glad to see you’re alright, cousins!” “We are glad to see that you are alive as well, Dain,” Thorin calls back, watching as Dain makes his way down to them. “Oh... This might not go down well.” Thranduil snorts, “You think?” The group chuckles, concealing their humor as Dain nears them. Dwalin and Balin go as far to move towards Dain to put themselves between Thorin and Thranduil. Not that they think that Dain would try anything if he knew what was good for him but they did it anyway just in case. The silence was deafening before Dain spoke, “Ahh... There’s something going on that you think I won’t like, isn’t there?” Bofur snickers, tilting his head to the side as he muttered, “You could say that.” His comment got him a smack to the arm by Gloin. “Alright, out with it,” Dain tells them, looking at Thorin in particular with a slight squint of his eyes. “Uhh... Good news is, I have found my soulmate,” Thorin begins, bracing himself for the yelling that is to come after telling the ‘bad news’. “And, um, the ‘bad news’ is, uh, that, you know...” Thranduil sighs and steps forwards before telling Dain, “I’m his soulmate.” Thorin winces and the entire group waits for either some shouting or to catch Dain from him fainting. This goes on for a full minute, then two before Dain takes a deep breath. “You all are probably waiting for me to shout or attack or faint but... None of that is going to happen,” Dain tells them, surprisingly, and dangerously, calm. Dwalin’s eyes widen as he looks at Dain, “You’re not?! But- But you’re Dain!” “Nice one, brother. That’s probably not helping,” Balin sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, it didn’t. And I’m not going to shout or do any of those sorts of things, even though I am fighting with every bit of myself not to, because... No one chooses their soulmate; they’re supposed to be together for a reason. And if Thorin and the pointy-eared princess over there,” Thranduil rolls his eyes at that comment, “are soulmates... Then that reason better be a damned good one. But you,” Dain points at Thranduil, walking closer to him until he had to bend his neck pretty far to look Thranduil in the eye, “Better not hurt him in any way or you will have the entire dwarven race after you and there’s no place that you can hide. Do we understand each other?” “Completely understood, Lord Dain,” Thranduil agrees, nodding as he was actually concerned about Dain’s threat. “Good, good,” Dain smiles, more like grimaces, as he steps away and looks at Thorin. He stares at him before moving forward to hug Thorin, grinning as he pats him on the back. “You did it, my boy! You bloody did it! You claimed your mountain back!” Thorin laughs, hugging Dain back as he grins just as big. The rest of the dwarves crowd around the two, laughing and hugging each other in gladness. The Men and Elves that were there grinned and laughed with them, hugging the ones they loved and cared about. In the midst of all the happiness, Thranduil asks Legolas if he could stand, which he could. Looking at Tauriel, Thranduil caught eyes with her and took her off to the side to talk. “My lord,” Tauriel bows her head in respect, completely professional. “Not when it’s just us anymore, Tauriel. There was a time when we were practically family, and... I’ve pretty much ruined it with my anger and coldness. I had no right to hurt you in that way and be so very cold to you. You did not deserve that just as I don’t deserve your forgiveness and-“ Thranduil tells her, a sad look coming into his face. “No, my l- Thranduil. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose your wife and you did all you could to just stay alive. To continue ruling your people. Yes, you have made flaws during that time and, yes, you had no right to do what you did to me, or anyone, but... I know that you will be able to make it right and be a much better king for it,” Tauriel tells him, looking at him closely. Taking a risk, she takes one of his hands into hers before continuing, “I do forgive you, Thranduil. I was angry and upset for the longest time, mainly in recent events but I’m not anymore, I promise you. And...” “And...,” Thranduil prompts, smiling softly at how responsible and good of a person Tauriel has become. “And... If I am not overstepping, I would like it to possibly go back to the way it was. Us, being practically family. You helped through the darkest times and, I don’t want to completely lose that,” Tauriel tells him, trying desperately not to look down. Though she does exactly that after Thranduil just looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face. “I apologize, my lord. I shouldn’t ha- Oh!” Thranduil pulled Tauriel into a hug, holding her tightly before kissing the top of her head like he did so many times, so many years ago. It takes a moment before he feels Tauriel smile into his shoulder and hug him back. “Of course we can go back to the way it was. Especially since you are welcome anytime you come back to the kingdom.” Tauriel gasps and pulls back as she looks at Thranduil in shock. “What? I am not banished anymore?” “I will take care of that as soon as I get back to the ‘wood. I couldn’t possibly banish the daughter that I never had but always wanted,” Thranduil tells her, smiling softly. Tauriel grins and hugs Thranduil tightly in relief and appreciation and love. Thranduil chuckles, holding Tauriel just as tight before she pulls back again with a confused expression on her face. “Wait... You said I was not banished anymore, yes,” Tauriel asks, watching as Thranduil nodded in agreement. “You said I was welcome anytime I came back to the kingdom. Wouldn’t I be staying in the kingdom then?” “If you would like, yes. But I do not see any reason for you to stay away from your soulmate unless you had to,” Thranduil tells her, smiling smugly. Tauriel sputtered as she tried to ask what he was talking about but Thranduil continued before she could get actual, comprehensive words. “Wait, stop before you hurt yourself. I am not blind, Tauriel. I can tell that the younger prince of Erebor is your soulmate. You two seem to make a good pair, despite his race,” Thranduil teases, smirking. “You deserve happiness, Tauriel. And he is someone who will bring you complete and utter happiness. When the two of you decide to become betrothed, you already have my approval and Thorin’s. He may be stubborn but he wouldn’t deny his youngest nephew and his savior happiness.” Tauriel looks at him in shock and excitement, her mouth open wide before she, did the second time, wraps her arms around Thranduil, laughing happily, thanking him over and over again. Thranduil laughs with her as even he could not be unaffected by her happiness. Tauriel looks up at him, smiling as she says, “You deserve happiness too, Thranduil. And I know that you will find it with Thorin.” “Thank you, Tauriel. Now, I think it would be best if we go back before they realize we’re gone,” Thranduil tells her, smiling back. “I agree,” Tauriel says but stops both of them from walking off first. “Wait a minute. What... What about Legolas? I was never interested in him that way but I know that he was and I don’t want to hurt him.” “I do not believe he really was interested in you romantically. I think he thought he was when he really just wanted his soulmate. And he might’ve thought you were that person because of how close you were and how similar you are to each other,” Thranduil explains, looking over at his son who was smiling at the craziness of excited dwarves. “He will be okay, Tauriel. Trust me.” “Always have and always will. Now, let’s go back over there,” Tauriel tells him and starts off towards the happy group with Thranduil in tow. She manages to get to Kíli and kisses him on top of the head. Thranduil’s attention is drawn from the scene as Gandalf walks up next to him though he manages to hear Dain’s complaint of “You too, laddie?!” “It’s about time you and Thorin realized the bond between the two of you,” Gandalf tells him, looking at the group of dwarves. “Of all the things that you could’ve said at this moment, that was not one of the ones I thought you would have said,” Thranduil admits, looking at the gray wizard. “What did you think I would have said,” Gandalf inquires, finally meeting Thranduil’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ‘It’s good to see you happier and less cold.’ Or ‘You did the right thing.’” “Yes, well... We’ve known each other a long time, King Thranduil. I’m disappointed that you think that I wouldn’t say that I’ve known and been waiting for you and Thorin to get together. I am Gandalf,” Gandalf replies, chuckling at himself. Thranduil laughs along with him, “I should have known better, yes? You really aren’t the person to be that formal unless you had to be,” Thranduil tells the wizard, laughing harder at Gandalf’s reaction to that, which was such an amazingly Gandalf stare. It takes him a moment to sober up before he looks at Gandalf seriously. “Now, Mithrandir, I said quite a few things awhi-“ “What on earth are you talking about? I didn’t hear a thing,” Gandalf interrupts, giving a side eye and lopsided smile to Thranduil. He really smiles and starts laughing after he tells Thranduil that “all of that Dorwinion wine is going to your head, you’re hearing things now.” Thranduil rolls his eyes but still smiles at the kindness of Gandalf, “Oh hush. You’re the one that’s always smoking out of that pipe.” “Well smoking out of a pipe doesn’t give us hangovers the next day, now do they, Thranduil?” Bilbo walks up to them, smiling smugly at the Elvenking. “No, but-“ “Nope. No ‘but’s,” Bibo tells him, shaking his head. Thranduil chuckles at the brave hobbit, surprised at how calm he was talking to him. “You are an odd hobbit, Master Baggins. A brave, courageous, clever, heroic hobbit.” “Why thank you, King Thranduil,” Bilbo tells the elf, bowing a little in respect. “You better believe that’s not all that our Master Burglar is. He is every bit of that and more,” Thorin says, walking up behind Bilbo and placing his arm over Bilbo’s shoulders. “He’s saved the Company’s lives more times than you can count.” “I believe it.” Thranduil nods, looking down on the little hobbit. “Now, why exactly are we still standing on this frozen river when we could be somewhere warmer than this area,” Gandalf asks the group who had stopped talking and looked at Bilbo with happiness and appreciation. And with that, that happier than before group of Dwarves, Men, Elves, Wizard, and Hobbit made their way off of the frozen river and towards their people to talk more. Some talked about random things, some about moments they experienced in the battle that had just occurred. And some... Some just enjoyed being with the people they loved and held onto for dear life.

Translations:

Amrâlimê - My Love

Meleth nîn - My Love

^^ Translations are at the top too!

Key:

These sentences are messages sent telepathically when said alone. (Italicized)

These sentences are messages received telepathically when alone. (Italicized and Bolded)

A/N: Well, that’s it for this for now. I really hope all of you who read this enjoyed it. Let me know what y’all liked about this fic and maybe some ideas for the future? Also, I realized while editing and posting that Thorin and Thranduil called each other ‘My love’ in both of their languages which I, for one, think is so adorable. 

Tags: @me-lexi20, @bluemoon102, @erebor-kingdom, @thearkenstone-ck, @

[seagreen-meets-grey]

Left Behind

When it’s the zombie apocalypse, one scratch can be your downfall - especially when you’re so close to the safe zone.

(Hiccstrid angst, modern AU. Goes with this song.)

[read on ao3]

„Astrid, watch out!”

She whirls around just in time to see the long, dirty fingernails and the black teeth come at her. In a reflex gained only by the need to survive in this post-apocalyptic world that is literally crawling with undead, slowly decaying monsters, she jumps back and swings her axe. The sharp blade already covered in blood and other, less liquid substances slices the arm aiming for her off neatly.

The creature stumbles slightly and shrieks, only thrown off-kilter for a short second, not long enough for Astrid to have time to retreat. Another clawed arm lunges at her and she ducks, barely avoiding the blow. She forcefully kicks at its shin and it falls, and Astrid brings her axe down into its skull. The ugly cracking sound has become music to Astrid’s ears.

But she doesn’t relish in her victory, because there are more of them. She looks over at Hiccup and her stomach drops when she sees him wrestling one. It tries to sink its teeth into his neck like a vampire, jaw open wide, teeth bared – but Hiccup is faster. He stabs his dagger into its throat, dark blood splattering on his jacket and face. Hiccup jabs at it again, twisting the dagger in the wound, until the beast falls to the ground.

A loud clatter behind them announces the next pack. They managed to tear down a fence, approaching their prey rapidly with inhuman cries and flailing limbs. The prey, however, tries to stay calm. Hiccup’s eyes are scanning the vicinity, looking for a way out of the backyard they have inconveniently retreated into when the first pack noticed them.

Astrid attempts counting them, but more and more round the corner, following the sounds of the battle and the promise of live bodies to infect or tear apart. She swears, taking stance and readying her axe, considering pulling out her gun. But she’s low on ammunition and wants to save the last bullets for emergencies.

“Over there!” Hiccup shouts and points to a garbage container in front of a chain-link fence in the corner of the yard. In the haste of the battle Astrid hasn’t seen it before.

She sprints over to Hiccup, frantically trying to climb the container. If they make it up there, they can pull themselves up the rest of the fence and jump down on the other side.

A few old wooden planks are sticking out of the container, and Astrid uses one to hold onto while pulling herself up on the ledge. The first zombie makes a grab at her and she swings her axe at it, fending it off for a short moment.

She grabs Hiccup’s hand and helps him up while another one lunges for his foot. He kicks out, hitting it in the head and sending it flying to the ground. He loses no time and starts climbing the fence, Astrid right on his track. A dozen beasts at least are already on the site, trying everything to get to the two humans so close to escaping them.

One of them gets a hold on her jeans, ripping out a piece of fabric. Astrid jumps and feels a sharp pain shoot through her shin. She doesn’t dwell on it and follows Hiccup down to the ground. They take off running, wasting no time in getting away from these things. Only when the shrieks and cries fade into the distance do they slow down, finally making halt at the bank of a river.

Hiccups collapses and lies down on the ground, panting hard. Astrid bends over, hands on her knees, equally out of breath. After several minutes of catching her breath, she flops down next to Hiccup.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, sitting up. “I’m okay. How about y– Astrid, your leg!” He points at the shin where one of the zombies tore off part of her jeans. There’s a long gash, blood running down from it into her shoe. Astrid’s breath catches in her throat at the sight.

“It- it’s just a scratch,” she says in an attempt to sound nonchalant, but her shaking voice betrays her.

“A scratch? Astrid, this–“

“There were planks with rusty nails in it,” she interrupts him, “I must have scratched my leg when we climbed up the fence.”

“While a bunch of zombies were reaching out their claws for you!”

“Hiccup, I’m fine!” She glares at him and takes off her backpack, rummaging through it in search for her tissues and some gauze. While Hiccup frowns at her wordlessly, she dabs at the wound with a tissue, hissing at the contact.

“Here, let me,” Hiccup offers, voice softer than before. She lets him take the tissue. He gently puts her shin in his lap and delicately cleans the blood off her leg. Her skin tingles where his fingers brush over it. She looks at him, watches his face scrunch up in concentration, takes in the way his lips press together. When the wound is mostly clean, he takes the gauze and bandages the leg, frown slightly deepening when she winces. He gingerly strokes over it, making sure it’s tight enough.

“Thanks,” Astrid whispers and takes his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers.

He looks at her with a worried expression. “And you’re sure it was a nail?” When Astrid meets his eyes that are full of apprehension and concern, she nods.

“I’m sure.” The concern doesn’t leave his face as he takes her in for another minute, thoughtful.

“Okay,” he says then. “Can you stand? We should better keep going.” He stands and helps her up, steadying her when she wobbles slightly. With the adrenaline gone, she can feel the sting of the wound under the bandage. She takes a cautious step and winces only slightly when her leg takes her weight. She walks a few feet, experimenting with the balance on either foot.

“I’m good, let’s go.” She doesn’t wait for him to object as she puts her backpack on, straps the axe to it and marches off, and soon enough, he’s walking beside her, occasionally throwing an observing glance her way. Astrid ignores it and takes in the periphery instead.

It’s quite a beautiful October morning. Wafts of mist are hanging over the river and the fields surrounding it. Small puffs of air are dancing in front of their mouths. The rising sun puts everything in a fiery glow, including Hiccup’s auburn hair. It looks like he has a burning halo around his head. She smiles. It’s beautiful.

They walk for hours. Hiccup keeps asking her if her leg is really okay, and every time she rolls her eyes and assures him that she’s fine. It doesn’t keep him from repeating his question every fifteen minutes.

Around noon, when the fog on the horizon fully clears, the skyline of a huge city appears in the distance. Astrid hears Hiccup sigh in relief, and she feels exactly the same. They have been on the way here for months now, ever since a hoard of zombies has run over and taken their whole village. Because of dumb, stupid luck Hiccup and Astrid haven’t been there when it happened, being engaged elsewhere – namely, the small cove in the forest, where they may or may not have been making out for hours on end. When they came back, the sight awaiting them still haunts her nightmares. People were lying dead on the ground, men, women, children. Gnashing wounds were covering their bodies, some insides turned outside. It made Astrid sick to the stomach.

On their desperate search for survivors, they soon stumbled upon the body of a huge man, thick red beard soaked in his own blood. Hiccup just stood there, frozen, unable to take his eyes off his father. It was then that half the village found them, infected wounds still bleeding. Astrid took the gun out of the dead hands of Stoick the Vast, shaking Hiccup out of his shocked state. They barely escaped. And now they’re here.

The city of Berk is one of the only safe havens left in this world. On their journey, they met several groups of people who all were on their way there, but since then, they have never met any of them again. Hiccup and Astrid avoid thinking too much about it.

“Finally,” Astrid sighs, relief flooding her chest. They are almost there.

“You’re limping.” Hiccup’s voice is unusually icy.

“I told you, I’m fine. Stop worrying!”

“You’re fucking limping!” he yells, a look in his eyes she can’t quite decipher. “And stop telling me that you’re okay, because you’re clearly not!”

Astrid stops walking, surprised by his sudden outburst. “What is your problem? I told you that I feel fine. It’s not far anymore, and as soon as we’re there, I can get this looked at.” She gestures at her injury.

“That’s too late!” he shouts, waving his hands through the air. “If that wasn’t a nail, you can’t wait another day!”

“Would you please calm down?” she hisses. “You’ll attract every zombie in the vicinity if you keep yelling like that!”

“No, I will not calm down!” He starts pacing, kicking at grass and twigs, fists clenched at his sides. Astrid has never seen him like this. She walks over to him and takes his hands in hers, but he yanks them away and continues pacing.

“Hiccup–“ she starts, but he interrupts her with a strangled cry and takes a few steps away from her, hands buried in his hair.

“Show me your leg.”

“What?”

“I said show me your leg!” He grabs her arm in a tight fist, shaking it. She winces back, shocked about his behavior. He doesn’t wait for her to do something and crouches down, loosening the bandage. He gasps.

The skin around the wound is as red as a heavy sunburn, the edges yellowing.

“Astrid, this isn’t nothing!”

“It’s just a rash, Hiccup!”

“Oh come on, Astrid, you and I both know it’s not supposed to look like that!”

She ignores him, bends down and re-tightens the bandage while he clenches and unclenches his fists. She sends him a glare, daring him to yell again.

He takes a few deep breaths. “Let’s just keep going,” he says, quieter. When he looks at her, there is a strange rage there, now slowly overshadowed by something like concern and guilt for his outburst. Astrid frowns and follows him when he continues on the way to the borders of Berk.

He stays silent for a long while. Astrid notices the constant creases on his forehead, the way his fists clench now and then, and the occasional kick at a pebble. She tries talking to him a couple times, but he always gives her curt, angry answers, and she gives up trying to get to him, at least until they make stop for a night’s rest.

It’s already getting dark outside and the fog silently crawls back around their feet, dampening the grass until their shoes are soaked and their noses cold with the sun gone. They reach a lone, abandoned house in-between a few fields, walls covered in vines, a few windows still intact, front door hanging on its hinges. A quick check assures them that the house is empty, and they decide to spend the night here and keep going in the morning. It’s always much more dangerous at night. There are zombies who only come out and are strongest and most dangerous when darkness has fallen.

They find the living room, but the couch is propped up on its side against another door. Astrid doesn’t want to know what’s behind there. The windows aren’t broken, though, so they grab what’s left of pillows and couch blankets and make a bed on the floor.

“Astrid…” Hiccup tentatively starts, eyes cast down while he unfolds a blanket.

When Astrid looks up, the room suddenly spins, and she scrunches her eyelids together in order to make the dizziness go away.

He’s there in an instant.

“Hey… Astrid, what’s wrong?”

She wipes her forehead, suddenly drenched in sweat. “It’s burning hot in here. Did you turn on the radiator?”

Hiccup frowns at her concerned. “The radiator isn’t working, Astrid. It’s freezing cold in here.”

She stares at him, trying to make out if he’s messing with her. Judging from the look in his eyes, he’s not. She gulps.

“Let me see it,” he says, gently this time. She flinches back when he raises a hand to remove her bandage, bending her leg away from him.

“I already told you, it’s just a rash from a scratch.” He doesn’t buy it. But she doesn’t want to look at it, doesn’t want their fear to come true – the fear that has been lurking in the corners of her mind all day.

“Please, Astrid.” The aggressive tone from earlier is gone, replaced by worry. He slowly reaches towards her, touching the knee close to her injury, and she lets him. She doesn’t look when he removes the bandage. He’s silent for a while. She’s not sure she wants to know why.

“How… How is it?” she asks when he doesn’t say anything for several minutes.

“Worse.” His voice is barely a hoarse whisper, and she can’t take it anymore and looks at it.

The rash has spread, yellow edges a stark contrast to the red parts. She swallows.

“You know what this means,” he says quietly. “This could be–“

“It’s not,” she interjects with a firm voice. “It’s not a… It’s not. It. Is. Not. It’s not… It’s… It’s not… No…” Her voice trails off and she buries her head in Hiccup’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. She doesn’t know who’s shaking, if it’s her or Hiccup, or maybe both. Maybe it’s the ground below, the world falling out from under them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while. “For acting like a jerk the whole day. I don’t know why I lashed out at you like that.”

She brings her own arms around him and hugs him back.

“It’s just…” he continues, voice cracking, “we’re so close. I can’t… I can’t bear the thought of losing you now.”

“You won’t,” she says decidedly and takes his chin in her hand, guiding it towards her. “I won’t let you.”

He just stares at her gravely for a few moments. Then he takes her face in his hands and softly brings down his lips on hers. She leans into the kiss and places her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat sync with hers. They stay like that for a while, hanging onto each other, lips moving more desperately after every time they break apart to breathe. Hiccup brings his forehead to hers, his hands moving down from her face to her shoulders, her arms, and then her hands. Fingers intertwining, he pulls her even closer, until they lie back on the pillows. Astrid puts her head on his shoulder and breathes in his scent. He smells like pines, zombies, and Hiccup.

“Maybe it’s blood poisoning.”

Hiccup manages a dry chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but please, oh please, let it be blood poisoning. I mean, it would be bad, but I could carry you the rest of the way to the city and then they could amputate your leg, if they must.”

Astrid swats at him, earning herself a laugh, real this time. She can’t help but smile and wonder why it’s so easy for Hiccup to take a bit of her fear away by simply… well, being himself. And the fear is unspoken, looming over them like the fog over the landscape, sinking deeper and deeper into their bones.

For the first time in her life, Astrid doesn’t know what to do. Either she might die of blood poisoning or turn into a monster over night. And she can’t do anything about it, except maybe take her axe and chop off her leg, but then she’d bleed to death. She has no other option than get in a few hours of sleep and limp to the saving city as fast as possible. She curls into Hiccup and thinks of nothing else but him. Him and her, Hiccup and Astrid. Survivors of the apocalypse who have come so far already, the start of their new life together so near.

“I love you,” she whispers in the dying light, the meaning of her words reflected in his eyes when he gazes at her softly.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, “so much.” There are dark circles around his eyes, exhaustion visible on every inch of his face. Times like these past months will do that to you.

He pulls the blankets over them, shivering from the cold, and although Astrid still feels like the room is on fire, she snuggles closer, placing a kiss on the hand holding her own.

They both know that the next morning is uncertain. But it is not just fear and desperation that makes them cling to each other like a lifeline. It is also devotion, commitment, a promise.

No matter what, there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid.

 With the dawn of day rises the notion of horror. It comes with the first speck of light on the horizon and lays over the fields and the river nearby like a thick curtain, filling the air with dreadful foreboding.

There is no sound nearby, no fish, no water snakes, no drinking animals disrupting the surface of the water. Not a single bird can be heard singing its tune through the line of trees on the riverside; it’s almost like the world is dead to this place.

There’s something haunting about the silence, growing with every passing minute.

A few rabbits scamper closer, sniffing the air. Their bodies freeze, the ears stand up, noses twitching. When a cold breeze drifts along from the direction of the abandoned house in front of them, the rabbits turn around and flee.

The atmosphere is frigid, devoid of any notion of hope and life, despite the two people sleeping in the midst of it all, unknowingly creating the source of the horrid tension.

Astrid wakes in cold sweat, back stiff from the night on the floor. Her leg looks terrible, the gash inflamed and purulent. The sight blurs her vision and spins the room in a few circles, the subsequent dizziness making her sick to her stomach. She’s trembling and wonders how much time she has left until she turns.

Her head feels like lead. She feels her forehead and finds it hot and drenched in sweat, but at the same time she feels cold, so cold. She shuffles closer to Hiccup.

He’s trembling as well, his whole body shaking. His back is to her and he’s curled up into a ball. She puts a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes.

“Hiccup. Wake up.”

He doesn’t react. She tries again, speaking louder this time, squeezing harder. A strangled sound escapes his throat. He’s… whimpering.

“Hiccup? Hey, Hiccup.”

He jolts up with a start.

“Hiccup…?”

When he slowly turns around, a hand colder than ice grips her heart. He’s white as linen, his bloodshot eyes are black, any traces of his emerald green irises gone. His gaze focuses on her and a deep growl makes her hair stand on end.

“Are… are you okay?” Astrid’s voice quivers, full of dread.

A violent shudder rattles through him, his face scrunches up as he cries out in pain.

“Hiccup, this is not funny!”

His cry turns into a gruesome roar, inhuman, animalistic, frightening. Limbs wincing and jerking, he shakes his head as if he’s fighting something invisible, something trying to invade his head. Astrid’s stomach clenches in fear.

“Hiccup, no!” she shrieks, scrambling back on her hands when he suddenly makes a move towards her. “Stop it! Snap out of it!” This can’t be happening. No, no, no…

His jerky movements continue back and forth for a while and Astrid is frozen to the ground, completely unable to move while she watches her partner, her best friend, the love of her life go through the last stages of a terrible transformation.

She can only sit there and watch him lose the battle against the fungus taking over his brain.

He snarls at her, so utterly alien to the person he from this moment on is no more, and lunges. Astrid screams and kicks at him, but he possesses a new strength now that even she can’t hold up against.

“Hiccup, no, stop!” she continues shouting hysterically.

He keeps advancing, keeps shrieking. It’s cruel to watch and her heart shatters while she’s trying to fight him off. But he’s stronger.

Her hand moves out of its own accord. She grabs the gun. Points. And, with trembling hands, eyelids scrunched together that stars appear, pulls the trigger.

The shot pierces through her ears. Everything happens in slow motion.

She opens her eyes. Hiccup falls. Hits the ground. Blood pours out of the hole in his forehead. It soaks the wooden floor.

The gun slips out of Astrid’s shaking fingers. She can’t breathe. The pain in her chest spreads, fills every vein, every muscle, every nerve.

Her eyes are wide, hands pressed on her mouth – but the cries that grow in her lungs come through, nevertheless.

She starts to sob and quiver uncontrollably while what just happened, what she just did, catches up to her.

He’s gone. Hiccup’s dead. She, Astrid, killed him. Shot him. Ended his life.

There’s a part of her that tells her she had no choice, that he was already gone, that she had to do it, that it was self-defense.

But this part gets drowned out by solid horror.

Her sobs turn dry after what feels like hours and she crawls over to where he lies. She shakes him and calls his name repeatedly in a desperate attempt to wake him, bring him back to life. But he stays still. Black, unfamiliar, glassy eyes stare into nothingness.

“Hiccup…” she whispers hoarsely, her own voice strange to her ear. She sniffs, pulls at her hair, presses her fingernails into her hand until they draw blood, anything to distract her from the hollow feeling in her chest.

She goes numb. Sits there. Waits for the silence to envelop, to bury her. She’s dead anyway. She’s lost everything – her home, her friends, her family, and now Hiccup. She wants her own injury, whether zombie scratch or blood poisoning, to take her, too. Why should she continue to live and breathe if the only reason she made it this far just died at her own hands? From his father’s gun, none the less?

Astrid doesn’t know how long she sits there without moving, staring at the body in front of her, until she hears them.

She doesn’t know who them is. She can barely register the door opening, figures entering, as her world spins and spins and bursts and shatters and breaks apart, two words repeating over and over in her mind.

Hiccup’s gone.

 It’s a starry night. The moon is almost full, less than a quarter left to complete the perfect picture.

The music is loud even outside the barn. Astrid breathes in the mild air of the early summer night while the twins’ big birthday party inside goes on without her.

“It’s awfully stuffy in there, isn’t it,” a voice startles her from behind. When she turns around, she finds herself staring into emerald green eyes, the light of the moon dancing in his irises.

She hums in agreement and smiles when Hiccup leans back on the barn’s wall next to her. His hands are in the pockets of his light hoodie and his hair is slightly disheveled. Her heart skips a beat when he smiles at her lopsidedly.

They just stand there and look at the sky for a while. It’s nice in his presence, and Astrid doesn’t know why she’s taken so long to realize that.

When the music changes to a song from the eighties or nineties, he holds out his hand. A spark shoots up her arm like electricity when she takes it and lets him pull her closer.

The song is fast and groovy. They twirl around, giggle when they step on each other’s toes, lose themselves in the rhythm.

When the song ends, they don’t let go of each other yet. The butterflies in Astrid’s body keep dancing. She closes her eyes when he leans in, feels her knees become jelly when their lips touch. The sensation explodes in her chest, makes her feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. She has to grab his arms to prevent her legs from giving in as she melts into him.

Right then, right there, standing on her tip-toes to reach Hiccup’s lips, she forgets. There are no monsters out there, there’s no virus, no life-threatening post-apocalyptic world. Right then, right there, it’s only them.

When he breaks the kiss, something changes. His smile fades, his eyes go dead, his face implodes.

The world around them falls apart.

Blood seeps out the gaping hole in his head. It’s on her hands, it’s on the ground, it’s running like a river.

The music is gone, replaced by an ear-piercing scream. Astrid can’t tell where or who it comes from. It’s everywhere. It rips out her lungs first, then her heart, before it turns into white noise.

Hiccup’s gaze is empty. His body crumbles. He disappears before her eyes.

Everything around her goes dark.

And Hiccup’s gone.

 It was his leg.

The left one, below the knee.

One of the infected they fought the day before must have gotten to it. He hadn’t even noticed. Because if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her. Because she knows him too well. Knew him.

It explains his uncharacteristically aggressive behavior through the day and why he was feeling so cold at night. He’s usually a warm cuddler. Was.

When she thinks about him, the past tense only adds salt to the wound – not the one on her shin, that one has healed. She was right. It was blood poisoning.

A group of scouts from Berk found them. They were making their regular check for survivors trying to reach the city. The outskirts of Berk are crawling with zombies, they say.

Astrid doesn’t remember much of it. One of them addressed her, cautiously, one hand on the holster strapped to his belt. When she didn’t respond, more of them appeared behind him, taking stance.

They saw Hiccup. Astrid remembers yelling at them and lifting her axe when a woman with broad shoulders and a formidable dagger in her hand came forward.

She remembers daring anyone to touch Hiccup or come even one step closer.

Somehow, she ended up in their car. It was an old pickup truck.

She wouldn’t leave without Hiccup.

They showed her to a doctor once they entered Berk. He treated her leg, telling her she came not a moment too soon. She scoffed bitterly. The doctor gave her medicine, but she didn’t touch any of it.

She was given a room in an overcrowded house where she shared the little personal space she still had with a dozen other refugees who just came to the city.

Berk has a cemetery not far from the city borders where they bury the ones who died from the infection. The regular cemetery is on the other side of the city since people here don’t want their loved ones so close to the virus, although the bodies inhabiting it are long dead.

They buried Hiccup there. Astrid comes to visit his grave every day. He even has his own little gravestone with his name on it.

For the first three days, Astrid didn’t talk, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. People left her alone when she glared at them. She didn’t have a reason to fight, or rather nothing worth fighting for. Until they called her into the doctor’s office and gave her one, turning her whole world upside down once more.

Now she’s sitting on the ground in front of his grave where she just planted new flowers, the first ones since winter ended.

The weather is unusually warm for March in Berk. She feels the sun warm her back as she tells Hiccup about her day.

There hasn’t been a day she hasn’t come here. Sometimes, she just sits in silence, sometimes she cries. Sometimes she imagines what he’d say. In her mind, she can clearly hear the emotions in his voice and see him wave his arms around while talking.

“You know, for a dead guy you’re very talkative,” she says after she finished her story about the kitchen counter in her new apartment and knows exactly what he’d answer. She smiles and fingers the ring she’s been wearing on a necklace around her head ever since she found it in Hiccup’s backpack a few months ago. It’s simple and silver, with “H+A” carved in on the inside. She doesn’t know where he got it, and neither does she know if it was supposed to be a birthday present, an engagement ring, or maybe just something he wanted to keep for himself. And she never will know the truth.

She absentmindedly strokes her growing belly, face lighting up when she feels a strong kick.

“I think she likes talking to you.”

She must get it from her mother, Hiccup says in her mind and she frowns. Not her best impersonation of him. She misses actually talking with him. She misses the way he speaks with his eyes and his hands. Misses his smile, his voice, his laugh. His stubbornness and determination. His ideas. His light touches, and the ones which set her skin on fire.

They always tried to avoid sleeping together, but when they just fought off dozens of zombies and came out unscathed, it was hard not to appreciate everything the other could give them when every new day was uncertain, in contrast to their feelings for each other.

She misses him so much that it constantly hurts. Some nights, it’s eating away at her from the inside, like it’s a virus on its own. But then the baby – their daughter – reminds her that she hasn’t lost him for good. She decided to name her Zephyr, like the west wind – the wind Hiccup and she followed on their journey to Berk, to a new life, a new hope. Now Hiccup’s gone, but her hope rekindled when they told her she was pregnant. Ultimately, the lack of protection methods in the post-apocalyptic world ended up being a good thing. This little human being is the only thing she has left of Hiccup apart from the ring and it fills the hole inside her that appeared there when she put one in his head. When he was taken, first by the virus, then by Astrid herself.

She tries to avoid thinking about it, but it haunts her in her nightmares. The people of Berk say he probably slept through most of it, but that doesn’t keep the bad dreams away. Sometimes she wakes up with a start and, still caught in the grasp of her dream, she hears a voice. His voice. “Astrid,” he says, nothing more. After that, she lies awake for hours, rarely drifting back asleep before dawn.

She still has the gun. It lies hidden under the floorboards in her bedroom. A few times, she has taken it out, looked at it, weighed it in her hand. It gave her a strange feeling containing a mix of power and guilt, flooding her chest until it became unbearable and she put the damn thing away.

No matter what she does, she can’t change what happened. Thinking too much about possible what-ifs is a toxic notion that’s neither healthy for her nor the baby. She wants to keep Hiccup in her memory the way he truly was, not the twisted, monstrous version he had become that awful, fateful day. Astrid likes to believe he was still in there somewhere, suppressed by the infection.

In the end, though, it’s easier said than done. Although he is still right, she thinks as she feels the baby inside her move, that mo matter what, no matter how, there will always be a Hiccup and Astrid, even if not in the way they always thought it would be – the sorrow will still be there with her forever.

Because Hiccup’s gone.

[mae-gi-writes]

Who Told You It Was Okay To Stop Fighting? (YoungK & OC) Oneshot

Summary: Twenty-year old Brian Kang has nowhere to run to, no one to turn to when his world collapses. He stands at a bridge, knuckles tight on the metal handrails as he thinks of what might happen if he jumps and erases his existence from his world. But a surprising encounter with a stranger changes his mind and pushes him to try again one more time, one day at a time. 

"People are so focused on what's already past and what's to come that they don't appreciate the present." 

It’s cold.

Thirteen degrees celsius, with a thirteen percent chance of slight drizzle. Clouds hang low in the sky, barely giving the moon any space to breathe. Not that it matters, becaus I feel the same way. Like the moon, I mean.

It’s suffocating and dark, a grey monotone of color that has slithered into my wounds before I got the chance to dab in some ointment.

But that’s okay because I accept my fate.

I know what’s coming for me, the ending isn’t a pretty one if that’s what you’re wondering.

The wind bites at my skin as I slowly climb my way up onto the railing, looking over the river that separates my country into two. The lights are scattered across the city like a million of stars dancing through a galaxy of possibilities that unfortunately aren’t given to me through choice.

It is not a good night. Too cold and too windy. Easy to fall off with one wrong move, one wrong step. If the coldness of the water doesn’t kill me, the impact of the fall will. I don’t know which one I prefer, to be honest. The alternatives don’t seem very appealing and I wish that I have enough courage to back out before it’s too late, to take a step back before I know what kind of mistake I’m going to be doing.

But I’m a coward, and cowards always back out of things.

They like the easy way out and today, this is the easy way out for me. Jumping, that is.

I want to stand up and spread my arms wide, but I don’t. Instead, I look down at the impending darkness and wonder what lies behind those murky waters. Are there monsters ready to chomp onto one of my limbs? Is there a black abyss to suck my body in only to spit it out on the other side?

God only knows.

But tonight I’ll know. Tonight,I”ll figure out the puzzle that is the unknown dark matter that is waiting for me.

I just won’t live long enough to tell the tale.

“What are you doing?”

The unfamiliar soprano almost makes me topple over to the other side. Flustered, my arms scramble for purchase before they catch onto one of the metal bars, ears ringing with alarm.

Slowly, as though I’m a deer caught by a car’s headlights, I look down and almost scream out loud at the girl leaning against the railing beside me.

Her arms are supporting her as she nestles her face onto them, gaze flitting dow to the omniscient darkness before her eyes locked onto mine.

Her brown orbs are dark and intense, intimidating.

They make me flinch.

“What are you doing?” she repeats slowly as though she’s talking to a kid, and her somehow condescending tone makes me snap.

She’s a stranger and doesn’t even know me. I let people trample all over my ego, I’ve been holding the bucket of insults full in my arms for a while and that small comment is enough to make it overflow.

“None of your business.” I say.

“Geez, no need to bitch. I was just curious.” she shrugs, unseemingly bothered by the fact that I’ve just snapped at her, “So, what’s your plan? To jump?”

She hit the right spot.

For a moment, I hold my breath and hear the bustling traffic noise that sounds a little too loud and uncomfortable for my liking. I could lie, I could say that o, I’m just here to admire the view.

But I’m tired of lying. Tired of beating myself up for others and cleaning up after their mess.

“Yes.” I look at her straight in the eye “want to help?”

She sighs before raking a hand through her hair, a gesture that girls do whenever they’re slightly frustrated about something, “See, the thing is, I was told to save you.”

“What?” I frown.

“I’m from your past and your future,” she smiles but her teeth glint with a dangerous light, “I’m your subconscious.”

“Heck no,” I’m horrified. That is definitely not something --someone-- I would conjure up by myself, “if my subconscious was human, she’d definitely not resemble you.”

But it’s then that I focus on her features. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale skin that reflects the moon’s light, thin lips that stretch wide into a smile, she definitely isn’t my type. But I have to admit that she does have her charm despite the oddity of her face.

“Fine, don’t believe me. Being your type isn’t in my job description anyway.”

I just throw her a pointed look that shows I’m weirded out.

“Anyway, don’t jump.” She continues, “and I’m saying that not because I give a slight inkling of shit about you, but because I’ll lose my job if you do.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask her.  

“No.”

“Take any drugs?”

“No,” she scowls, and I can’t help but feel amused by the way her features shift her expression. She looks terrifying, “Even if I was, I wouldn’t care about a stranger standing on the edge of the railing.”

“You’re doing that now.”  

“That’s because you’re my responsibility,” the anger pulsates through her voice, “Brian Kang.”

How does she know my name?

She rolls her eyes, “Do you need more evidence?”

“Maybe.” Is she a psychopath? Maybe she just wants my money so that she can run away with it with her lover, have some kind of romantic road trip or something. Or maybe she’s just really desperate to-- “--make someone’s life better because she thinks she’s a saint.” her voice bursts through my thoughts, finishing up the sentence as though I’m saying them myself. One of her eyebrows quirk up when a smug smile makes its way onto her lips.

I stare at her, “How did--”

“--you do that?” she finishes. I glare before I say, “You don’t know--”

“--what I’ve been through and what I am. I’m not your toy nor your puppet, and you can’t just go around playing barbie doll and ken with me.” she finishes suavely as though I’ve implanted my thoughts into her brain, and that freaks me out just the slightest.

Crossing her arms and looking up at me with an expression mirroring content, she continues, “Do you want me to continue? Or is that proof enough?”

“Okay,” I try finding a comfortable position so that I can settle myself onto the railing, knuckles holding on tight to those metal bars when another gust of wind makes me shudder. But I try to ignore the icy coldness biting at every inch of exposed skin at my knuckle, and instead focus on the girl before me.

“Say you’re actually a figment of my imagination, my subconscious, whatever,” I can hear myself speaking and it’s almost as if I still don’t believe her. Up until two seconds ago, I didn’t. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to save you,” She replies instantly without missing a beat.

That causes something in my throat to clog up tight. Emotion.

I press my lips together, “You can’t.”

I thought she’d make a fuss, or scream, or shout at me until I see reason. Any other human being would grab me by the shoulders and shake me senseless until it would get ingrained in my head. But she’s not human and she’s definitely not real, therefore she can’t touch me.

But it’s nothing like that. She shifts a little, rocks from one foot to the other. And then asks the most surprising thing:

“Why?”

I blink, “Why do I want to die?”

She nods.

Because it’s an escape. Because I’m a coward and I want to get away from everything and everyone. Because in the end people just keep using me and using me like a post-it note they can just throw away. I’m useful but only for a short period of time, I’m an option when there are no options left.

And because in the end no one really cares.

In the end, I’m all alone.

I don’t say all that, but I’m pretty sure my thoughts speak louder than my words ever will. I see her expression soften into one of pure sympathy, and although I hate it when people look at me as if I’m just another poor dog on the street without any master, her eyes offer some kind of comfort and understanding, an understanding that I am an equal of everyone else and that she’s sorry to see me suffer for something that I’m not responsible of doing or saying.

In her eyes I see that she understands what it feels like to be knocked out just because you’re the weakest, kindest link in a chain.

“I’m sorry,” is what finally falls from her mouth.

I chuckle, but it’s dry, half-hearted. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry that the world was so harsh and unforgiving to you, that you now look at friends like they’re a potential threat and that you think of yourself as the last option that doesn’t seem to be worth anyone’s time.”

“I’m sorry too,” my gaze is glued on the blinking city lights and the permanent black ink that is the scenery beyond me, but inside my mind is roaring and my heart is drowning with choked up emotion as I think back to all those times I’ve been let down and ditched by people, every time I’ve been stabbed in the back without so much of an apology, every time I fell for people’s malicious intentions in hopes of salvaging the thought that people can still be the best versions of themselves.

But everyone has a limit, and I think I’ve reached mine sooner than I’ve expected.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

My head turns slowly. I look down at her, at the bright hope in her eyes and the way her face lights up with an expression that resembles faith. Faith in…

Me?

“You don’t have to put such high expectations on people, because that’s exactly what kills you in the end.” she continues hurriedly as though she fears I might jump at any second now, “You don’t have to put so much faith in others, nor do you have to trust anyone but yourself. But that’s kind of a saddening existence, isn’t it? To be alive only to be alone. That’s not why we live.”

Her eyes slide away from mine before she gazes out the scenery, “I’m not telling you to live a lonely life. I’m just telling you that you should be conscious of who you trust and who you decide to trust with all your heart. But that too doesn’t work sometimes. Sometimes, the ones that we trust the most are the ones that wish the worst for us. You’re going to be stabbed in the back again and again after this. Continuing to live means that you’ll suffer the consequences of pain. Human beings are cruel and will do anything to get what they want. So I know how it feels, to be the only option when people run out of them.”

And suddenly, her brown orbs are staring right into mine, deep and dark and serious. It’s a stormy wave of emotion crashing to the shore and I almost flinch back on impulse. But there’s something in her eyes that reel me in, that make me want to look even when I know I’ll probably regret it.

“But if you jump, you admit that you’re nothing, that your life is worth nothing.”

The words fail me. I want to speak but seems like I can’t.

I open my mouth only to close it again.

She continues, “What about your parents? Did they raise you right to throw this life away? What about your family? Are you going to be the problem that breaks them apart? What about the friends that genuinely care? Do you want to see them fight and take the blame for this choice of yours that you’re not even sure is the right one? Because let me tell you, it’s not the right choice. Running away wasn’t not a choice to begin with.”

“I’m not running--”

“But you are. You’re running away from a healthy life while others are struggling to live. Are you really going to sacrifice this just because you’re not strong enough to put people in their place? Are you really going to make everyone’s life a living hell just to satisfy your own wants and needs?”

Her hands suddenly enclose my own. They’re warm and tangible and here. They’re a blessing from the cold, they feel real enough for me to grip onto them with a tighter grasp. She searches my face with a desperation I haven’t seen cross anyone’s eyes yet, and another wave of emotion hits me in the gut, so hard that I have to force the tears at the back of my eyes.

“You’re here. You’re real,” she insists as her grip tightens, “Who told you it was okay to stop fighting?”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood at the edge of my mouth.

Why is she fighting so hard to keep me alive?

“Look, let’s make a deal.” she says, “Try to live for one more day. One more, one day at a time. What do you say?”

I want to shake my head, “I can’t--”

“You can, Brian,” she says gently, “You can. You just don’t want to try.”

“I’ve tried enough!” My tone rises with frustration and anger, tears prickling the corner of my eyes, “I’ve tried again and again and again and yet it never feels like it’s enough!”

“Try,” she pleads, “try one more time. One more. Please.”

I don’t want to say yes because I don’t want to promise something I don’t believe in. But she grips my hand harder if that’s possible, and I’m obliged to look into her eyes. Brown jewels shining into my own, they’re urging me to try, giving me a strength that I’ve lost in this endless battle.

I don’t know who she is, or what she wants from me. I don’t even know if she’s real or if she’s just a passing stranger that decided to take my life into the responsibility of her own hands.

But she’s trying so hard, and something in her expression causes a surge of faith to leap in me.

It’s burning my chest but it’s not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it feels warm and cozy, just like I’ve settled on a futon next to a fireplace.

And so I say yes.

“One more time,” she repeats like a mantra, “Try one more time.”

I nod.

I’ve never seen her again, but I did try. More than once.

And started living as I should.

Author’s Note: Because YoungK is slowly killing me inside and wrecking my bias list. Have you guys listened to Day6's newest song "I Loved You"? If you haven't, you're missing out on the most important, heart wrecking song in your life. Please go and listen, it's a masterpiece T.T 

Here's another small oneshot inspired by a quote I found recently on Tumblr. People focus too much on the past and the future, only to miss out on the present. So here is the result of pondering and senseless writing in my notebook. I actually freehandwrote this before typing it out and I found that it helps me a lot more than just typing. There's something purely authentic and free about writing on paper that makes it a lot easier for my thoughts to flow. 

I hope you guys like it!<3 <3