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

The Second Attack

"I feel uneasy, leaving our children behind." Elsa followed Hans through the snowy woods, ducking beneath branches and stepping over patches of thick brush. Hans hacked desperately at the foliage, but much of it was too thorny and abrasive to be cleared.

"Don't worry about them. We're almost there." With the moon and stars as their only guides, the two monarchs persisted. Eventually, they arrived at a somber clearing. Silhouetted pine trees bowed down from every angle, as if worshipping the spot. "Light, please." Elsa raised the lantern, but Hans shook his head. "Give me the light, Elsa. Oh, and turn around." After a slight, questioning smile, Elsa turned. She listened to the voices of the woods: the rushing of the wind as it swirled past the trees, the hooting owls and the cunning foxes. 

"Alright!" Most would consider Hans' call an interruption of the forest's serenity, but to Elsa, it was the most tranquil sound she had ever heard. She spun around, and beamed at the sheer effort Hans had put into the scene. He had set up a table, and a circle of flickering candles around it. There were two blankets, two glasses, and a letter tied with a little red bow.

"Happy Anniversary, Hans." She slipped into the seat  across from him. A faint, smoky smell wafted up from every candle, but Elsa disregarded it. 

He raised his glass. "A toast. To new beginnings." Their glasses clinked, and both Elsa and Hans took a sip of the pungent liquid. 

After a moment of silent, Hans spoke. "I have something else to show you. Come on." 

On the shore, just outside the clearing, was a single boat. Elsa peered into the mist for a destination, but it was impossible to discern even a distorted outline in the thick haze. She placed one foot into the boat, and then another. Ever since she and Hans had tried to venture to the Southern Isles, the ocean made her jittery and agitated. 

A long-abandonded shack rested on the island, its tiled roof nearly in ruins. Elsa glanced at Hans for any signs of farce, but his eyes were dead set on the island, his teeth gritted in exertion. His muscles flexed with every row of the paddle. It was undeniable, just how handsome he was.

The rowboat bumped ashore quite softly. Hans helped Elsa onto the rocks. He opened the door to the shack, and although the building's exterior was anything but welcoming, the inside was fit for a queen.

Elsa stepped over the doorframe, and looked around. The floor was a menagerie of soft things, from recently-stuffed pillows to mattresses that had seen better days. New velvet curtains hung from every window, smiting the cold that seeped through cracked glass.

Hans came up behind her, and began to massage her shoulders. "Don't worry about Eira, Elsa. I know she's your favorite, but trust me. She's in good hands." 

Elsa looked back at him, chuckling softly. "Parents don't have favorites, Hans." He fixed her with a spurious look of disbelief. She punched him, lightly, before he wrestled her to the ground.

By looking up at Hans, she was able to see him in a different light. He was aging well, but lines and shadows still haunted his pale face. He never spoke about his childhood, and she never asked him to, but she knew those unspeakable years were the main cause of his imperfections.

Hans wrapped a tuft of her hair around his forefinger. Then, he kissed her, rough and passionately. For a moment, she was reminded of the days they'd spent in the mountains.

Hans lifted the queen effortlessly, and pressed her against the wall. As she kissed him, Elsa realized that, for the first time in a long time, she was alone with Hans. She didn't have to fret over the children, who often weaved between her legs. No guards, servants, or even assailants could interrupt her here.

"I smell smoke." Hans placed Elsa on her feet, and went outside to investigate. She sighed deeply, and, after a few seconds of muttered curses, followed him outside. Sure enough, the smoke she'd smelled earlier hadn't been from the candles. A black plume stretched into the sky, deadly and magnificent. 

"Elsa, we have to return to the castle. If the fire was out, the smoke would be white." He held Elsa's hand, his eyes begging her to refrain from panic. With hearts beating fast, they returned to Arendelle.

                                                         ❅ ❄ ❆

The city was up in flames. Yellowish fire licked countless buildings, and villagers were scattered every which way. As Hans and Elsa headed for the courtyard, they passed sobbing mothers, and children who would never again see the light of day.

"The courtyard!" A blast of ice ruptured the gates, and formed a pathway to the castle doors. Elsa charged ahead of Hans, her face white as a ghost's. She rounded the first blackened corner, and spotted Eira. The little girl toddled toward her mother as fast as she could.

"EIRA!" Elsa reached out, but Eira was too far away. The toddler stumbled, and fell. Suddenly, her hair was aflame, and her face was frozen in surprise. Plumes of smoke rose around her, like the wings of vultures caressing the bones of their delicate prey. 

A man grabbed Elsa from behind, and thrust her up against the wall. Though the crackling fire and collapsing floors could mask the sound of an orchestra, Elsa's scream pierced through. It didn't take long for Hans to find her. He grabbed the cloaked man by his arms, and bashed his head against the wall until his skull split. With his two sons trailing behind, he cradled Elsa in his arms, and took the melting path to the outskirts of Arendelle.

Hans collapsed onto the ground, and Elsa fell beside him. They were silent, all of them. They would remain so for a while.