Draugr

Ten

Ten.

Lying on the bed beside Hiccup, Astrid spent the night staring at the man she loved, listening to him breathe. It was the little things that she missed: the tickle of his warm breath on her neck as he nuzzled her, the possessive wrap of an arm around her after they had made love, the scratch of his scruff in the morning, his scent filling her nostrils as she woke. She could hear and see but the other senses, those that gave depth and meaning were absent. But her memory of him kept her warm and protective as she watched him sleep and worried about the threat to him that Heather and Dagur posed.

And there was no one she could tell who would believe her.

In the small hours, when Hiccup was snoring softly, she walked up to the studio and peered at his work over the last days since her death. He had been a man possessed, sculpting as if his life depended on it-and now Stormfly wasn't alone, for an entire herd of hand-sized dragons kept her company. Her constant companion was a perfectly moulded Night Fury, painted in black with the lightest of grey highlights, his emerald green eyes mirroring those of his creator. A Monstrous Nightmare, Zippleback, Gronckle, Rumblehorn, Razorwhip, Triple Stryke, Snow Wraith, Skrill, Flightmare, Terrible Terror, Night Terror, Scauldron, Hotburple, Deathsong and Thunderdrum were all perfectly formed, glazed and ranged on the shelves above Astrid's Stormfly and her Night Fury companion. There were also more vases with draconic motifs or shaped in wilting, sad shapes and mournful colours and the bust of Astrid was complete. And two models of Toothless-alert and bright and asleep-were waiting to be glazed.

She stared at the work and sighed. Hiccup was so talented, so creative and so stubborn that he never gave up on a project once he had started. It was clear that the idea of a suite of dragons had come to him once he had seen her clumsy effort and he had executed it brilliantly, immersing himself in his work to avoid the pain of her absence. Or maybe the act of creation helped him by balancing out the destruction that had taken her from him.

She couldn't let Heather and her brother use him to help them because she knew Dagur would kill Hiccup once the ransom was paid. So she walked silently down to the bedroom, walking in without paying attention and laying down again.

"I do love you," she murmured softly. "And I will do anything...risk anything...to protect you. If only I knew how..."

oOo

There was one last thing she could try as she walked back to the bedroom, seeing him restless and dreaming, one last crazy way she could try to comfort him...though she had no clue how she could do this.

He'll sense you-and others can as well: animals, the dying, those in comas, maybe some in that nether world between sleep and awake, some spiritualists...

"Astrid..." he moaned. "No...it should have been me..."

Her heart broke at those words. The pain and guilt in his words broke her heart as she concentrated on not phasing through the bed, leaning close to him so their lips were almost touching, her hands on the side of his head.

I won't let you blame yourself. I won't let you suffer for what Heather and her brother did to us.

"Hiccup," she said softly, exerting all her concentration. "Listen to me. I know you can hear me, somehow. I know it won't be conscious but maybe in your dream, you can see me once again. I'm with you, babe. I'll always be with you. And I trust you. I know you are strong enough to go on. To become the brilliant famous sculptor I always knew you would be. To use my legacy to help others and build those dreams we never had a chance to do together."

The furrow in his brow smoothed and his lips tilted slightly into a smile.

"Milady..." he murmured.