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

The Wedding

"I don't look like me anymore."

Thousands of diamonds covered Elsa's gleaming, lace-sleeved gown. She turned to examine herself, poking and prodding at the veil that shadowed her perfect updo. Her eyes were lined with silver and sparkles, bringing out their vibrant color. All in all, she looked like a fairy tale princess, like the ones who called upon white knights to save them, and the ones that lived in lavish castles among hundreds of guests.

"You look perfect, my dear," The tailor lingered behind Elsa, watching the ethereal queen as she examined herself in the mirror. "You're the definition of elegance. Even if you wore a burlap sack, Prince Hans would still marry you."

"You're right," Elsa turned away from the mirror, though now she was faced with a more difficult task. Snow was floating by the window as she spoke, and she knew that Arendelle would descend into an arctic horror once again, if she didn't make an important decision. "But I don't think I can marry Hans." Tears threatened to smudge meticulously countoured makeup, and to suppress them, Elsa bowed her head.

"Deary, what's the matter?" The seamstress took Elsa's hands in hers, and stared up at her. Crow's feet returned to the corners of her eyes, and her ever-present smile finally fled. "You're scared, Elsa. And fear is the enemy of us all."

"Fear." 

Suddenly, it all made sense. Since her sister had fallen, and nearly died, something in her had changed. She became so hesitant, so afraid to use her own abilities. Ice crept from her fingers and onto the walls before every test. When her sister knocked, icicles formed on the ceiling. It was fear that kept her in Arendelle, and it was fear that would force her to leave.

Elsa glanced up again. Snow was no longer falling. The sun's rays kissed the curtains and washed over the floor.

"You've done it, deary, but don't celebrate yet. I hear the bells a'ringing. It's time!" 

With a fleet of servants carrying the train of her gown, Elsa descended the stairs, and strode through a maze of halls. She would enter through the front doors, where a crowd would be waiting, with Hans at its heart.

Sure enough, the crowd was present. The hall was decorated with countless snowflakes, and a plethora of gifts from countries distant and lands adjacent. Elsa waved the servants away, and pushed on unacommpanied. She dreamed of the waltz as the orchestra played, and her heart danced to the ringing of golden bells.

"You look beautiful."

His voice never failed to bring her back. And he was handsome as ever. The buttons on his uniform were polished white, and his reddish hair was slicked back. A steel sword hung from his belt, a tribute to his naval conquests. 

The priest's speech was a blur, and both the King and Queen repeated the words "I do." Hans pulled her close, and kissed her with a passion he had never shown before. The crowd roared its approval, and together the new monarchs of Arendelle fled the wedding hall.

Elsa struggled to keep up with Hans as he pulled her along. Her dress was heavier than she had expected, and her cries for him to lessen his pace were wholly unheeded. Hans found the room in only a few moments. Inside, a few knights awaited, though they faced the wall. Hans picked Elsa up as if she were a feather, and tossed her onto the bed.

"Hans--" Her gown was ripped away. It fell upon the floor in pieces, in mere shades of its once- grandiose self. Underneath, she wore only a pale blue slip and stockings, which were attached by a small buckle.

"Hans!" He undid her slip, and forced himself upon her. She said nothing, but she could feel the dreaded cold returning to her fingers, threatening to escape. "Hans, I'll kill you if you don't stop! Our marriage is consummated. That's all we need, right?" Something crossed her mind, a nightmarish thought. Had he ever loved her? Had his goal been the throne all along?

In that very moment, she decided.