Why are we so obsessed with cutting skin, when the real things in our lives can't get in?

She stepped out of the car, the January air stabbing her skin like daggers made of ice.

Marching to the same drum, every single beat's gone, I can feel the dark days coming. Another generation fighting for attention, can't you see I'm tired of running?

Her crimson hair contrasted violently with the thin ice pooled on the pathways in patches, grit scattered haphazardly here and there, attempting to find a way to fight the winter.

There's a house in the forest where her days are forgotten.

She climbed the ruins carefully; this had to be the last thing she would do right. When she reached the top she sighed contentedly. The vastness of the loch stretched for miles and she was happy that she would live her last moments somewhere so beautiful.

By the lake, she dropped her dreams; now they've sunk to the bottom.

The ancient rocks of the castle turret were unstable beneath her feet as she neared the edge. Her bright blue eyes were wide and shining; she was refusing to let the tears win today. Not today.

Beauty Queen, it's only skin deep. It's only thin sheets. There's no audience.

Her toe tickled the place where land became sky and she hesitated for a second before she breathed deeply and closed her eyes slowly, taking in the last light she would ever see.

Oh Beauty Queen, something's telling me.

Three.

That you were never meant to be.

Two.

Trapped in time.

One.

"Hey! What're you doing? Are you crazy? You'll fall!"

A young man's voice broke the silence like a gunshot and out of instinct, she whipped around, stepping back from the ledge. He was standing on the bridge below, the one part of the castle that was still stable. These ruins were beautiful and she'd always felt connected to them somehow; she was determined that they would be the place of her death too.

Letting her dry humour take over, she spoke.

"That was kind of the idea."

He stepped forward so she could see him more clearly. His auburn hair swept across his forehead with the cold winds of winter and his jacket was made of thick brown leather. She also noticed a prosthetic leg. A green scarf was wrapped about his neck and it made her wish she'd worn something warmer as she stood above him in a navy chiffon dress which whirled and fluttered with the wind. It wasn't her fault she wanted something glamorous to die in, like those girls in the movies. They'd find her body and think better of her in death than she ever was in life.

The young man looked up at her with a stare so intent she was almost startled. Then, slowly, cautiously, he started to climb the ruined walls, up to where she stood on the turret above him, a feat that was proving difficult due to his missing leg.

"What're you doing?" she asked. "You're insane. You'll fall."

"No I won't," he said stubbornly; he'd reached halfway. "You won't let me." She wished she could say that he was lying.

He reached the top; she held out a hand to help him up which he took immediately.

"Why did you do that?"

Her voice was a whisper barely heard above the wind howling like a ghoul in what used to be the keep of the castle. The man shrugged, his leather jacket squeaking very slightly about the shoulders.

"I didn't have a choice. You looked ridiculously cold and I couldn't let you fall. That wouldn't be right; I'd never forgive myself." Her brow furrowed and he elaborated, licking his chapped lips. "I wouldn't just stand there and watch you die. You've got so much left to live for -" She snorted at that and sat, cross legged, on the age old stones. He sat with her.

"My mother hates me," she said gently yet with so much venom he couldn't doubt what she said for a second, "She's forced me into an engagement I didn't have a say in and I know that however many towers I climb, however fast I run, I'll never be free of it all. That's why I," she broke halfway through her sentence, "I thought the only way out was death. I'd never have to speak to them, face up to them, ever again. I'd be free," she whispered wistfully, glancing upwards at a pair of eagles that were flying overhead, circling and swooping in complete sync.

"I felt like that," he murmured to her. "A couple of years ago. My father, he had such high hopes for me. Wanted me to join the army, just like he did. I tried to protest but he sent me off just after I finished school, telling me I'd disgraced the family name. So I went to fight; I guess that you can tell how well that turned out," he gestured at his leg. "Anyway, he listened to me after that. Realised I was his only son, that kind of thing. I was welcomed back and he told me how much I really meant to him."

"Why're you telling me all this?"

He leant forward, his hand mere centimetres from hers.

"Because you've got to realise that you have to fight to get through this. No matter how shit everything's been, it's going to get better; I promise you that. I thought there was no escaping the ideas and expectations my father had given to me, no way I could prove they weren't realistic. It took him a while but he understood. And that's what it's going to be like with your mum. Deep down, she loves you; I know she doesn't realise how hard marriage is and she doesn't know that you can't cope with it. She will come to terms with that and she will tell you how much you mean to her."

"You believe that?"

Hesitantly, he placed his hand over hers.

"I do."

She allowed herself a tiny smile and she looked up at him, her eyes open and bright.

"What's your name?"

"Henry, but everyone calls me Hiccup."

"Why?" At least she wasn't laughing, he thought. Anything to keep her distracted.

"Everyone at my school thought I was just like this Viking legend," he said, his gaze becoming unfocused but he was still very aware of his hand holding hers. "He tamed and befriended dragons instead of killing them. Everyone thought he was crazy and he was disowned by his own father. Only when he came back and fought for their cause did they realise how much they needed him. He lost a leg in the battle though," he smiled to himself, "so that's why they nicknamed me after him. Hiccup."

"I was named after a Scottish princess," she whispered to herself, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. "She fought for her freedom and unleashed a curse which she had to put right before the second sunrise and she succeeded. I've always felt oddly connected to her."

"What's your name?" He asked the question almost as a murmur but she heard it well enough. She looked into his eyes and replied.

"Merida."

Merida.

Gods, what a beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.

"That's a lot better than Hiccup." She smiled down at her hands resting in her lap and he wondered how in hell he managed to get into this situation, on the top of an extremely unstable castle turret in mid ruin with a girl who was about to commit suicide just minutes earlier. He didn't think he'd ever been in a more odd situation. "Come on. Let's get down. It's cold up here and you look completely freezing." Holding out a hand for her to take, he stood. She accepted cautiously and, together, they climbed back down, her dress fluttering slightly in the wind.

"Thank you."

Her voice was a whisper and he very nearly didn't catch it. But he did and he turned to her.

"What for?" She took a breath and left her head hanging.

"For saving me. I'd have jumped if you hadn't told me I was crazy. It made me realise just, just how serious it was."

"Hey," he smiled gently, "it was nothing." He stole another glance at her and he breathed deeply. "I don't suppose you -" Her head snapped round to hear his next words and he gulped. "I don't suppose you, uh, want to maybe, get a coffee? With me? It doesn't have to be coffee, I mean you might prefer tea and that's great too. Tea's nice. So's coffee. I guess what I mean is that it doesn't matter if you prefer toffee. Coffee I mean. Or tea. Because -"

"Yes," she laughed. "Yes, I'd like to get a coffee with you. Or a tea. It doesn't matter which." A grin split his face and watching his eyes light up she smiled to herself.

There's a house in the forest where her days are forgotten,

By the lake she dropped her dreams,

Now they've sunk to the bottom.

A/N Song lyrics used were 'Beauty Queen' by Foxes. Go and listen if you feel like having an angsty backing track while reading this one shot.