I've Come to Kill You (Elsa x Hans)

Kingdom of Isolation

Hans and Elsa broke apart, their romantic moment dissolving into mutual anguish. The soldiers at the door stared on, their swords and chainmail glistening with melted snow. One of the soldiers stepped forward cautiously, eyeing Hans. But the prince's eyes were still trapped in Elsa's, where they remained until the soldier raised his sword.  

"Prince Hans, if you may? We came here with direct orders to--"

All of a sudden, Elsa spun toward them, lifting her hand and spreading thin fingers outward. A crystalline blast seemed to appear from her very palm. It struck the questioning soldier before he could react, and sent him crashing through the door. He rolled down the stairs where his fallen comrades lay. His body ceased movement at the bottom of the flight. The silence was deafening.The other soldier, shaking in his boots, took flight before Elsa could raise her hand again.

As soon as the room was free of threats, Elsa's eyes widened. Her lip trembled. The graceful swan fell to her knees, and her gown piled up around her like the sheets of an unmade bed. 

"Hans?" The prince was already beside her. He rested a gloved hand on one of her shoulders, though he too was shocked by the turbulence of her powers.  "He isn't dead, is he?" Elsa's voice was faint, a bare whisper against the howling of the wind.

"Let's get you to bed, Elsa. As one of my brothers used to say--" Hans' voice wavered. "There's no use crying over spilled milk." 

Hans helped Elsa to her feet. His emerald eyes widened as he inspected her face. There were new lines there, around her eyes and at the corners of her lips. There was a deep shadow inumbrating her face, a shadow that only grief could cause. He was seeing a different side of her, a vulnerable side, one that didn't want others to die at her hands.

About half way up the stairs, as Hans expected, Elsa shrugged off his helpful arm. She proceeded up the steps on her own, though she was visibly shaken. With arms crossed, she lead him into a beautiful bedroom, one crafted from her wildest fantasies.

Huge velvet curtains surrounded the canopy bed, and a plethora of pillows were strewn across its sheets. Though the walls were made solely of ice, the bed itself was like a furnance, emanating warmth in its colors and fabrics. Lanterns were strung up wherever space allowed. They were glittering from wires and lines, fueled by some elusive magic Hans couldn't begin to understand.

Hans approached the window with his arms behind his back. The tapping of his heels echoed throughout the chamber, clear and sharp. He could see a sweeping panorama before the palace, an endless sea of snow and ice. It was almost as if he had taken a painting from home, back in the Southern Isles, and had plastered it up here, on Elsa's wall.

"Hans?"

He cocked his head in her direction. To his genuine surprise, Elsa had, once again, undergone a transformation. This time, her hair was free from its braid. It spilled down her shoulders and back, an endless waterfall of immaculate white. 

"Do you think you could ever love me the way you did Anna on the night of my coronation?" It came out in a flurry of words, but the broken queen needed an answer. She stared him down with azure eyes, reverting, for an instant, to her dominant nature.

Hans' lips became a line. He walked toward her slowly, and once more his hands found the subtle slope of her shoulders. 

"I assure you, Elsa of Arendelle, that I will try."