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

Frozen Heart - Part 3

The sky was thick with dark, gray clouds, an augur to the coming storm. Elsa crept onto the deck, using stacks of barrels and weaponry to her advantage. She lurked behind them, and peered in between the cracks, watching as her captors crowded around Hans. They were all laughing, and their voices still slurred from the kegs of beer they had most likely indulged in.

Elsa forced herself to focus. A few more steps, and she would be close enough to touch Hans, to whisper his name and to receive his soft response.

"Well, looky here." One of the men had been watching her, likely since her escape. In an instant, she was surrounded, her back facing Hans. She had only caught a glimpse of the Isles' prince, but from the white shade that haunted his locks, and from the ghastly pallor of his skin, she knew something was terribly wrong. She stood up.

"You saw what I did to the ocean back there," Her tone was dry, her stance steadfast, unyielding. "And you'll release us, if you don't want a similar fate."

The men exchanged glances, as if they were all involved in a silent conversation. And then, one of the men began to laugh. His laughter soon spread like a virulent plague, and in only a few moments, the air was filled with the bellowing of sailors.

Elsa clenched her fists. She saw only mockery in their eyes. They weren't threatened by the slope of her shoulders, or how the sea breezes played with her hair. But they didn't need to be. Her appearance, as gentle as a fae, proved to be her deadliest weapon. To be underestimated, she realized, was even more powerful than the ice on her fingertips.

She closed her eyes and imagined something, something she had conjured up in childhood.

Elsa paced through a garden, with gods and goddesses all around. Her feet pressed gently against the cobblestone path, and she stopped every once and a while to sniff red roses, which had been planted in bundles by some mysterious landscaper. The air was thick, the ambience foggy. She ceased movement at the end of the path, and turned around. The deities were gone, replaced by statues. She could still see the ripples in their clothing, and the expressions in their eyes. Their lips were poised, as if a word or phrase was hovering at the tips of their tongues.

The frozen queen opened her eyes, but the statues remained. Before her, mounted on the deck, were pirates made of ice.

"Elsa." Hans' voice was softer now, less confident. He had been so vibrant when they had departed from Arendelle, but now, he was just as she had seen him on the frost-bitten ocean.

"Hans?" Her lower lip began to tremble, as it always did when she grew sad. She ran both hands along his arms, and onto his broad shoulders. The muscular strength he had possessed on the previous day was gone. "Are you dying?"

He tilted his head upward, so that his emerald eyes could meet hers. "I don't know, Elsa. I feel so--cold."

"We have to get you back to Arendelle." Elsa said, her voice urgent. To her dismay, Hans only smiled.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Elsa. Something's not right."

She gripped his clothes, and dragged him across the wooden boards until he was nestled between a few barrels and sacks of grain. Then, she fetched a blanket from below deck, and spread it across his ailing frame.

Her voice wavered, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "We'll make it back to port."

"You might," Hans replied, the honesty in his voice disturbing. Elsa knelt down, and wrapped her arms around him, the gesture less romantic than comforting. As she gripped onto him, she gripped onto a chance.

"A chance is all we need," She repeated.