"Mmmfm, Hans, wait,oh!" Anna squealed.
"Yes, that's a good girl" the King of Arendelle purred softly before nibbling at his little queen's earlobe. Anna's arms clutched wildly at his chest as Hans mercilessly continued to thrust into her.
"Hans-hans, be gentle, please" she was interrupted as Hans grabbed her arms and pinned them roughly over her head. He buried his face into her freckled shoulder, sinking his teeth into the sweet flesh, all the while keeping up his maddening pace.
Anna's arms strained against his vice-like grip and Hans began to sense her growing discomfort, his blood boiling in delight.
"You used to tell me you liked it rough, my darling, have times changed?" he smirked as she whimpered.
When Anna didn't respond, he caught her nipple in his mouth, slowly twirled it with his tongue before biting down hard on it. His mind dully acknowledged her screams of pain but he barreled on.
He withdrew his lips from Anna's chest and smashed his lips against hers. Her screams and pleas were getting louder, and Hans was getting tired and impatient with her.
He forced his tongue between her resisting lips and growled as his royal seed spilled into her. He kept going till every drop was spent and finally sat up over her.
Anna's hair was tangled and disheveled, bruises littered her arms and chest. She avoided his faux-concerned face and chocked back a sob, cupping her mouth with her hand in sheer horror.
"Anna, please, must you be like this each time? You know that the country is demanding an heir. It's been five years and it's only natural that I comply" Hans cooed, brushing her bangs out of her ears.
Anna swatted his arm away, rage burning in her once-sweet blue eyes. "Goodnight", she whispered, voice heavy, worming her way to the other side of the bed. She covered herself entirely by the thick duvet and didn't stir again.
"Sleeping before getting yourself cleaned? Suit yourself" Hans shrugged and without a backward glance, walked straight to the bathroom.
The shower was cool and calming, just what he needed. He sighed and recalled his first year of marriage to Anna, when he was patient and kind when he made love to her. It bored him to no end but he was willing to do whatever it took. But then somewhere in between his mask slipped and his wife saw his true colours. By that time, she was too far gone, and she had no way of escaping. It had all worked out so smoothly for him, even the courtiers and other noblemen were too afraid to speak out.
He sometimes fascinated himself with the thought of Anna fighting against his body before he slit her throat into a pretty red necklace, a stark but beautiful contrast to her pale, flushed skin. In his minds eye, her hands would fall limp, her eyes wide and forever locked into a glassy stare, trained on his face with nowhere else to look. Not even at that filthy ice harvester she meddled around with when she thought Hans was busy. The mere thought of the mountain man (Christopher, was it?) set his teeth on edge. Yet, he allowed them to meet on occasion, he didn't want Anna to throw a tantrum in front of the court like the baby she was.
He absently flexed his arms and watched the water slide down the blue snowflake that was branded permanently into his forearm, like a tattoo. He hadn't been able to get rid of it, nothing seemed to work, so he just accepted the accursed sigh as a reminder of what he'd done to get to where he was now. Something she left behind when she left this world.
"Your sister is DEAD, because of you!"
"What? No... no..."
The queen tilted her head in confusion and denial, her skin drained and pale, her eyes wide and bright blue, not unlike her sister's. She shuffled backwards unsteadily and fell to her knees in agony. Hans looked up as the air around them stilled, freezing the snow and leaving the flakes suspended in mid air.
This was what grief looked like.
Hans crept up quietly behind her, unsheathing his sword. He stared at her quaking figure, her white-blonde braid, her sparkling cape, her slim neck...
He took off his bloodied gloves and threw them beside the growing pool of her blood. Such an odd sight, dark, tainted blood seeping across the pristine icy floor...
Hans sighed and dropped his sword, and made his way back to the library, where he found a suddenly healed and confused Anna, and a talking snowman...
She rushed into his arms and cried tears of joy, the curse had been lifted! Hand pried her away gently and explained what had happened. What needed to be done. What ultimately took away the curse of the winter...
Deja vu. Same wide eyes, same wracking sobs, and Hans ignored the burn in his heart as the princess sobbed on his shoulder.
He felt a sharp, icy sting in his arm and shook his head vigorously. He wrapped a towel around his waist and shut off the water, his mouth pressed in a hard line. He turned and met his own eyes in the mirror. The snowflake on his arm was shining a bright, pulsing blue.