Hello lovelies!
Here is the first chapter of a story that has been bouncing around in my head lately. It is a Hans x Elsa fic, but WAIT don't let that deter you! Yes, I know Hans is an evil, conniving, scheming little bastard, but hopefully this story will earn him a special, and unique, place in your heart.
Plus, he's like super handsome.
Just some quick notes about this story (and then I'll never put an Author's Note at the beginning of a chapter again, I promise)
-First, again, Hans is an evil, conniving, scheming little bastard. Most Helsa fics, many of which I love, water down Hans so that he easily becomes sweet and likeable. I won't. This is where the title comes from (a line from Frozen Heart) - there is equal parts love and genuine hate in this story. Hans starts out as the same really bad dude.
-Because there is both hate and love, this story will explore darker themes and sometimes become angsty. Not super scary stuff or anything, but know that it won't always be sunshine and rainbows. However, fluff is my guilty pleasure, so there will definitely be some pleasing parts as well.
-Lastly, as you will notice, I like to take certain liberties with stories such as Frozen. I use my creative license to enhance upon the culture, language, beliefs, traditions, etc. of the characters. I like to take the basic premise and inject it full of new layers and believability. For example, I'll include Norwegian influences in culture and language , since Arendelle is modeled after a Norwegian kingdom. I also enjoy fleshing out minor characters, creating new ones, and enriching background stories. However, all of my liberties are carefully chosen as to not trample on canon. You guys will see :)
Enjoy!
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If you believed the Arendellian legends, Arendelle Castle was built by King Gøran, the first king to unite the fjord's scattering of villages and hamlets into a new kingdom. The architectural plans were said to have come to him in a dream, instructing him to harvest blocks of ancient eclogite from beneath the crystal waters of the Flåten Sea and build upon the rocky edge of the fjord. Gøran's fear that neighboring warlords would seize his castle and depose him was so great that he ordered the walls built higher and thicker than any previous royal fortress known to man. His beautiful wife, refusing to live in a dreary, stony castle, added a feminine touch to the military fortress and ordered the eclogite whitewashed, stained glass installed in the windows, gleaming teal slate paneled over the roofs of the watchtowers and keep, gardens planted in every available patch of dirt, and the interior decorated as lavishly as any pleasure palace.
Growing up, Elsa endured many tedious history lessons on Arendelle Castle's prevailing fortitude, as befitted a young princess. She'd read the dusty tomes that chronicled the invasion of the southern Skoje barbarians, a thousand years ago. The fierce, stinking warriors had attacked the strong walls mounted upon great, wild boars with silver-capped tusks, yet Arendelle Castle never fell to their forces. During the Great Snowstorm of the Years of White, entire mountains and countless villages were destroyed by neverending gales of ice shards, but Arendelle Castle stood proud and unscathed. Even in the darkest years known to the kingdom during the Harvest Failure, when plague and famine bled the villages dry of life and the starving peasants revolted against their king and stormed the castle with pitchforks and flaming torches, Arendelle Castle stood mighty and unrelenting, protecting the royal family within its depths.
But now, as Elsa sat hunched behind overturned furniture in the barricaded Great Hall with her countrymen, Arendelle Castle was falling.
Elsa swallowed thickly, the taste of defeat and hopelessness bitter on her tongue. Certainly, she'd never thought it would end like this. She never considered that she'd be the one to let a three-thousand year-old dynasty fall, victim to a nameless army that attacked in the night with no warning. She never could have foreseen herself and the royal court cowering behind the ornate dining table they once feasted upon, the night sky illuminated out the window by distant war-razed Arendellian villages smoldering with flames.
She couldn't have predicted the horrible, wrenching feeling in her stomach triggered as she witnessed the terror in her young nephew's brown eyes.
"It's okay, Viktor," Elsa whispered, pulling the three-year-old into an embrace in a rare display of affection. Her nose buried in his mop of blonde hair that was so much like Kristoff's, and she clutched him tightly with her pale arms as he quaked with fear. "No one is going to hurt you." she assured him, not knowing if she meant the words to console Viktor or herself.
Outside, distant screams and the heavy, echoing footfalls of leather boots defied her weak promises of safety. "Where's Mama and Papa, Auntie Elsa?" Viktor asked fretfully, his fat lower lip in danger of wobbling uncontrollably.
Elsa didn't know where Anna and Kristoff were, but she prayed they were safe. They'd gone to walk the gardens after dinner, while Elsa was more than happy to stay behind with their young son, entertaining him by freezing sweetened milk into ice-cream for dessert and giving Anna and Kristoff a break from parenting the mischievous toddler. "They're fine Viktor," she said, clasping his hands in her own as she spoke to him, desperately wishing her words would ring true. "I'm sure they're fine."
She longed to knew who their attackers were - the soldiers wore no identifying insignia or crest, but their armour was shining, expensive, and new instead of the tanned hides of barbarian tribes or rebellious uprisings. She shuddered to think that lumbering, clumsy, pregnant Anna was helpless in the gardens when these killers invaded. Kristoff was with her of course, but despite his strength and eternal love for his wife, he was utterly useless with any weapon that wasn't an ice-pick, and she strongly doubted that he'd brought an ice-pick on a lovely summer garden stroll. Elsa squeezed her nephew's fingers nervously as doubt clawed at her belly.
"Majesty," a voice murmured behind her. Elsa turned to see the Captain of the Queen's Guard, Oskell. His bushy brown eyebrows were knitted over a worried expression, but his hands held his sword firmly, without shaking. Elsa wished she could have the same composure in the face of this chaos.
"Yes?" she asked, hoping her voice did not sound as small and squeaky as it felt.
"They have made it past the throne room. They will be upon us soon." He pointed to the Great Hall's towering French doors, barricaded by what statues and furniture they could pile in front of it. "These doors were made to keep out uninvited ballroom guests, not an army. They will not hold."
"Oh." Elsa said quietly, her heart dropping. Sure enough, the sound of vile curses and clashing swords had grown significantly closer.
"Your Majesty," Oskell pressed.
"What?"
Oskell wet his lips awkwardly, knowing the Queen did not want to hear what he had to say. "I would advise you to be willing to...fight...when those doors collapse." He looked pointedly at Elsa's hands. Elsa's lips hardened into a line at his words, and she dropped Viktor's fingers quickly, noting the familiar tingle building in her palms.
"Captain," Elsa murmured so that the rest of the room wouldn't witness her weakness. "You know I-I can't."
Although the queen had been able to rein in her powers significantly during the past three years by opening herself up to the love and acceptance of her people and growing family, the horror of what she'd done after her coronation still haunted her. She'd promised to never again use her powers to hurt other people, instead making use of them for conjuring indoor skiing arenas and other nonsensical fun. But she couldn't add more people to the list of those she'd managed to hurt with her powers. Who knew what would happen if she unleashed her powers with a flood of emotion, purely for the sake of violence?
There was a part of Elsa, no matter how hard she tried to dissuade it, that still saw herself as the monster that her parents feared she'd become.
"My Queen," Oskell said respectfully, although the words were insistent and sharply bitten out. "You are the last hope of these people."
Elsa looked beyond the captain at the stretch of pale, terrified faces all looking to her. Royal guards, noble lords and ladies, and servants alike were all crammed into the Great Hall to await their impending, quickly advancing fate. There was Lady Higginridge, her plump face quivering as she cowered beneath an overturned armchair. Hiding behind the grandfather clock were the cook's twin daughters, grappling with each other for a chance to hold on to their shared stuffed teddy bear, tears leaking down the sides of their cheeks. To her right, her faithful servants Kai and Gerda seemed to be partaking in a last-minute declaration of love, Gerda smiling sadly with wet eyelashes as she laid her head on Kai's chest, momentarily safe in his embrace as they entwined their fingers.
Elsa's heart almost split in two.
"Captain," she whispered raggedly. "I don't have enough control to do what you ask." As if to prove her point, frost began to halo around her slippered feet, slowly spreading across the marble tile as her heart pounded against her thin chest. "I could really hurt someone, or plunge us into another winter."
"I'm scared, Auntie!" Viktor declared, his voice muffled as he latched himself around her legs and buried his head against the silver silk of her gown.
Oskell looked down at the small prince, a heavy sigh on his lips. "I can't make you use your powers, Your Grace." he conceded after a second. "And I, along with the rest of my guard, will lay down our lives to protect you and those within this hall." His eyes bored into Elsa's fiercely. "But I served under your father and my father served under his, and they would want you to use your powers if it meant protecting Arendelle." He turned before she could react to his words, organizing what remained of the Queen's Guard into a defensive line that any fool could see would not be able to defend against an army, despite the unwavering loyalty and passion of its soldiers.
Elsa looked up at the Great Hall's walls, every available space below the roof covered with the portraits of her departed ancestors. The kings and queens that stared down at her from their gilded frames had held this castle for thousands of years through the darkest times known to the kingdom. Throughout her life, and especially since the death of her parents, Elsa had been known to stand in front of the portraits and ask them for advice, looking for clues as to what to do in their facial expressions and body language. Elsa gazed up at them now, their serious faces looking particularly more severe in the dark, murky shadows darkening their eyes and hiding the smile wrinkles that she knew graced the faces of her parents and grandparents in life.
"I'm sorry Mama...Papa," Elsa whispered, the words catching in her throat. "I'm sorry I failed."
But the portraits did not respond, of course. They stared back coldly, proud fur capes tucked around their shoulders and chins nobly raised. Their delicately-painted hands were clenched tightly around the ceremonial royal scepter and symbolic golden orb, knuckles seemingly white as though they were doing all they could from beyond the grave to keep the royal family's grasp on the throne. The flickering flame of the Great Hall's torches cast a sinister light on their faces, making their brows frown and their eyes flash cruelly.
Elsa tore her eyes away from the solemn faces of her ancestors, shame burning at her soul. She'd never join them their on the wall, encircled by her own jeweled frame. Her descendents would never look upon the portrait of Queen Elsa of Arendelle, Lady of the Mountain and Protector of the Valley, Beloved Ice Sorceress and the First of Her Name. Her grandchildren would not visit the Great Hall in the middle of the night by candlelight to plead with her painting with desperate eyes, hoping for wisdom and guidance in times of need.
No, because Queen Elsa of Arendelle, Lady of the Mountain and Protector of the Valley, Beloved Ice Sorceress and the First of Her Name was a failure. A rotten failure - crouched under furniture in a barricaded room, awaiting her approaching enemy like a lamb for the butcher.
It was not long before a deafening crash sounded throughout the hall. The people within the room jerked at the sound, but the high-pitched trill of ladies' shrieks was lost amongst the continued crashing. The great wooden doors of the Great Hall shuddered violently, and Elsa felt her heart sink.
She took a deep breath as the ornamental doors bowed out again, reaching up to adjust her silver tiara. If she was to lose her throne, she'd damn well look like a queen while doing it. "Stay here, Viktor," she instructed, peeling the boy's sticky arms from her lower body. "I have to go talk to whoever is behind those doors, okay?"
Viktor seemed minutely calmed by the notion of speaking rather than fighting and reluctantly nodded. Elsa leaned down to quickly peck a kiss on his smooth forehead. Frost gently skimmed the skin touched by her lips, and Elsa looked down at her body, the tingle of her power growing. Ice crept along the floor in angry tendrils underfoot, and her fingers were numb with a building reserve of icy power fighting to be released.
The battering ram pounded the doors again, and Elsa felt the reverberations of the impact wrack her bones.
"Your Majesty!" Captain Oskell protested as she began to step forward towards the splintering doors. "We cannot protect you if you do not stay behind us!"
Elsa set her jaw firmly, clenching and flexing her chilled fingers. "I have to do this, Captain." she said firmly, although there was a slight tremor in her voice. "I have to try and save these people diplomatically."
Oskell nodded once; he had learned long ago that once his queen set her mind to something, he was powerless to stop her. He barked orders directing two guards to Elsa's sides. They crouched into a fighter's stance, swords brandished bravely.
Then they waited.
An eerie, hushed calm settled over the Great Hall, interrupted only by the steady bashing of their attackers' battering ram, the creaking of armor as the guards nervously shifted, and the persistent sniveling of Lady Higginridge. Elsa chewed her lip in anticipation, running her hands down her gown to smooth the slightly wrinkled satin to present the queenliest possible image.
Counting could be easily heard on the other side of the door, and on the count of three, the battering ram finally plied through the door. With a terrible crack, the wood snapped and splintered, eliciting cries of fear from those huddled inside.
Elsa steeled herself physically and mentally as the first of the enemy soldiers entered the Great Hall. Their weapons were drawn, and Elsa felt sick as she realized they were covered with the blood of her innocent subjects.
"Who sent you?" she asked, directing the question to the first man to step forward. He was an ugly brute with a puckered scar running diagonally from one temple, over his eyebrow, nose, and lips, to the other side of his jaw.
"Are you Queen Elsa of Arendelle?" The man asked, squinting at her. He was dressed in the same nondescript armor as the other invaders, except for a golden five-point star on his pauldron that signified he was the leader here.
"Yes." she replied tersely, pinching her lips together in a line. Did the crown on her head or the ice creeping from her feet not convey the message?
"Thought she'd be taller," the leader said after a silent second, pulling laughs from his soldiers behind him. "Curvier, at least, considering all those rumors of her goddess-like beauty. I like my goddesses with a little more meat on their bones." His lecherous glare roamed over her body as he spoke.
Elsa bristled under his crude gaze, refusing to acknowledge his comments "What is it you want?" she bit out.
"Your head on a platter for one thing," the man said, curling his lip as he spoke the spiteful words. "But we're to take you alive, unfortunately. Orders are orders." He shrugged, his black eyes hard. "You'll get what's comin' to you one day, mark my words."
Elsa scowled, noting the guards by her side tightening their grip on their sword hilts at the enemy's aggressive threats. "What did I do to you to make you hate me so?"
He raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "What did you do?" he asked outstandingly. "You ruined my life. You ruined all our lives. Three years ago we were good people with families and honest jobs. I was a shipbuilder. Godrik here," he pointed to the burly soldiers to his right, "was a silk trader. Tyrian was a pastry baker." He narrowed his eyes. "But when you cut trade agreements with Weselton, you put hundreds of Weseltinians out of jobs, and doomed thousands more to starvation."
Elsa went to speak, but was cut off as she opened her mouth.
"Weselton is a tiny island duchy." the man spat, "It cannot grow the food it needs to support its population. We need grain from Arendelle to keep our people fed." His hand curled around his sword handle, a deep breath rattling painfully from his chest. "I watched my son die, weakened by sickness from the rotted food he risked eating to avoid starvation."
A dead silence settled over the hall as Elsa's subjects stared at their tender hearted queen with open mouths, shocked to hear the monstrous effect of her decisions.
Elsa felt a cold panic take hold of her body. When she'd given the order to close Arendellian ports to Weseltinian merchants, she'd done it to get revenge on the Duke of Weselton for hiring thugs to assassinate her. She hadn't even considered the ramifications of that decision on the Weseltinian people. Knowing that innocent citizens had suffered because of her rash decision sickened her, and with a sharp pang she realized that such a small choice had probably hurt more people than when she accidentally froze the summer.
"You are the Weseltinian army?" Elsa asked thickly, now noticing the look of pure hate in the soldiers' eyes.
The scarred man laughed. "No." he said, advancing closer. Elsa's bodyguards jumped into action at the movement, maneuvering themselves in front of her with their weapons drawn. "Our spineless Duke hides himself away in his palace, stockpiling food for his own tables, like a beaten dog that quietly accepts his punishment. We are those who seek revenge."
Elsa swallowed as the renegade army moved steadily closer, tension between the two forces growing stronger. "I won't let you hurt anymore of my people." she declared, raising her hands in front of her protectively.
"We do not care about your people," the leader hissed. "We just want you in chains."
"Your Majesty," Captain Oskell growled, "give me permission to cut down these rats."
The rebellion leader snarled, bringing his sword crashing toward Oskell. The Captain of the Queen's Guard blocked the swing and parried it quickly, the song of swordplay ringing throughout the Great Hall's lofty vaulted ceilings. To Oskell's side jumped his loyal soldiers, attacking Godrik and Tyrian with fierce blows.
Yet, although bravery shrouded their actions, Elsa could see the number of invaders on the other side of the decimated doors and knew this battle would become a match of sheer numbers - one that the Queen's Guard had no hope of winning.
"Stop!" she ordered, her voice lost amongst the clanging steel. "Stop! It's not worth it, Captain!"
But the queen's words fell on ears deafened by bloodlust and rage. The fighting continued as more guards moved to block Elsa from the swirling blades of their enemies. A scream tore through the room as one of the Queen's Guard fell to the floor, clutching at the place where Godrik's sword impaled his belly. Blood leaked through to pool on the expensive rug below his body, gurgling sounds emitting from his throat. Before the light of life had left the guard's eyes, Godrik yanked the blade back and turned his assault to another guard.
"Stop…" Elsa repeated dumbly, not able to tear her eyes away from the body of the man who just died to protect her. "Stop!" she said more forcefully, her words still ignored. "Stop, stop, stop!"
With her last word her hands flew in front of her, almost by their own accord. Ice shot from her fingertips to the floor, a familiar rush of adrenaline accompanying the magic. The ice formed dangerous shards between the fighting soldiers, forcing them apart for fear of impalement. Elsa sagged under the weight of her emotions, trying to hold back the surge of power that ached to be released in its wake.
"No one else will die for me." she whispered, grasping the sparking fingers of one hand with her other. The outburst of ice had startled her - she'd meant only to gesture towards the men, not to lose control. Frozen tendrils crackled under her feet rapidly, stretching to every corner of the Great Hall as Elsa slowly counted to ten in her head, to calm herself. "That was a fight you could not win, Captain."
The scarred man stepped around the body of Elsa's guard, his sword still drawn and dotted with a spray of fresh, red blood. "Give yourself up, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, and no one else will die."
Elsa shook her head, rage building in her heart. "You will leave," she said coldly, her voice as emotionless as it had been at her coronation. She straightened her back and thrust back her shoulders proudly."You will return to Weselton and never step foot on Arendellian soil again, do you hear me?"
The soldiers laughed at her commands and leapt towards her, clutching her pale forearms in their hands and trying to drag her back through the door. Elsa screamed, kicked, and fought, trapped in their vice-like grips.
"Auntie Elsa!"
Elsa's head shot up as she heard Viktor's horrified cry, and she quickly met his chocolate colored gaze. There was such fear and love in his eyes as he stretched out his tiny arms toward her, that Elsa could no longer keep control. She surrendered herself to the flood of emotion, letting go. Shards of ice flew wickedly from her hands, piercing through leather armor with enough force to knock the invaders down and force the breath from their bodies. Men screamed as they were thrown clear across the room.
"Now, now Elsa," a deep voice purred from the doorway, "Is that any way to treat guests?"
Elsa raised her hands again in defense and spun towards the source. Her own breath hitched in her throat, eyes wide with shock. "Y-You!" she stammered angrily, her chest heaving under her rumpled bodice as she viewed the figure waltzing into the Great Hall.
"Did you really think that my brothers would lock me up in a prison cell?" asked Prince Hans of the Southern Isles devilishly. "They're my brothers, Elsa. Surely you of all people know that sibling bonds run deeper than that."
He was dressed in his typical finery, with his trademark white leather jacket layered over a shirt of green silk. A silver cravat was tucked around his neck, and black breeches were tucked into tall, oily black boots. A leather-sheathed dagger hung from his hip, but any armor or sword was nowhere in sight. His auburn hair and sideburns were neatly styled, but a dusting of darker stubble covered his jawline and chin. He looked older and more rugged, the bones more well-defined in his face and his epauletted shoulders broader. His eyes, however, had the same deceptive gleam dancing within their depths.
"Did you order this attack?" Elsa asked poisonously, but she needn't have bothered asking the question, for the invaders had all bowed deeply as he entered, the way one would to a king.
"I've become startlingly popular over these last few years, Elsa." Hans said as he noticed her surprised reaction to the display of obedience. He slipped off his right glove as he spoke. "Who knew gathering an army was so easy? More than a few people share my disdain for the royal family of Arendelle, it would seem."
"You won't get away with this." Elsa said softly. Frost sparkled at her fingertips as a clear warning.
"Do you think your powers will stop me?" Hans asked, his voice equally soft and dangerous, the playful tones gone. He stepped very close to her, his breath ghosting down upon her face. "I think you'll soon find yourself less inclined to use that...witchcraft on me." He stepped back a pace and tuned towards the doors. "Bring her in, boys."
Two of his soldiers entered the hall, dragging a woman between them. Her head hung low, red hair hanging in front of her face, but the pregnant belly identified her as Anna.
"Anna!" Elsa sobbed out, relieved to find her sister alive but dismayed to find her in the clutches of these brutes. Although her sister looked scared, Elsa noticed that Anna's fair skin was not bruised.
Hans reached for Anna, burying his gloveless hand in her hair and clenching his fingers, wrenching her head back. His hold was firm, but Anna did not cry out in discomfort, dropping to her knees on the blood-stained rug as Hans pulled her down before him subserviently. "Elsa, don't -" Anna began, but was hushed by the cool sensation of a blade on her throat.
"Hush Anna," Hans said in mock comfort, stroking her hair with one hand and holding his unsheathed dagger against her with the other. "I wouldn't want to cut that pretty neck of yours."
"Don't you dare hurt her!" Elsa snarled, stalking towards Hans angrily.
"I don't want to hurt dear Anna," Hans said, looking down at the girl he was once engaged to. "In another world, in another story, she could have been my wife. That could have been my child that grows in her womb."
Anna spit at his feet, disgusted by his words. Her hands folded over her belly protectively. "Don't flatter yourself with 'could haves'." she seethed.
"Mama!" Viktor called from across the Great Hall, running from his hiding place behind an armchair towards Anna. He was caught around the waist by Kai, who restrained the small boy easily, despite all his squirming. "Mama!"
"It's okay, darling!" Anna called back, wincing as Hans' hold on her hair tightened. "Mama is fine! You stay over there, where you're safe. Stay with Kai and Gerda!" A tear slipped down her face with the words as she watched her young son struggle for her.
"Two?" Hans asked incredulously, leaning down to whisper by her ear. "My my, sweet Anna, you have been busy." He laughed as she tried to shy away from his presence, pressing the knife against her skin again with enough pressure to pull the skin taut without breaking it.
"Hans, I am warning you -" Elsa spat, wanting nothing more at that moment than to throw her lingering scraps of control to the wind and send an icicle hurling directly through his heart. Common sense stopped her, for even if she could build up the courage to actually kill Hans with her powers, there was no doubt that Anna, herself, and all within the castle would easily fall victim to his horde of Weseltinians thirsty for Arendellian blood.
"No, I am warning you." Hans said, his voice serious now. "I'm going to chain you, Elsa. I'm going to take your castle, and your kingdom, and your throne...and you're going to let me do it, or something very bad is going to happen to your little sister and her rather pathetic replacement husband."
Anna squeaked involuntarily at his mention of Kristoff, her eyes wide with fear. Elsa wrung her hands, meeting her sister's gaze. "Elsa, no-" Anna gasped, as she saw the wavering look on Elsa's face. Her protest was cut off by a hoarse groan as Hans' dagger pressed harder against her fragile skin. It wouldn't be long before the sharp blade pierced and finally drew blood.
Elsa's own eyes burned with tears of rage, but she knew she couldn't let poor Anna suffer anymore. She bit her lip nervously, a blush of shame creeping up her face at the humiliation of letting Arendelle's dynasty crumble in front of so many people. "You won't hurt anyone else?" she asked quietly. "If I do as you ask, you'll let Anna, Kristoff, Viktor, the Captain, and all these people go?"
Anna struggled, but Hans' barely noticed, a triumphant look already forming on his face. "I give you my word."
"Your word isn't worth a damn to me." Elsa snapped. "But it's all I have."
Wordlessly, she held her arms up in front of her in submission, trying to ignore the gossiping mumbles of her court behind her. The scarred man stepped forward, chains laden in his thick arms, trailing noisily on the stone floor. His yellow teeth curved into a taunting smile as he roughly grabbed her hands.
Elsa looked over the disgusting man's shoulder at Hans. He had released his grip on her sister and was now staring at her, an almost dazed look on his face as though he couldn't believe he was finally getting what he'd waited for so long. She made eye contact with his emerald orbs, trying her best to convey with only a look that she was trusting him. She was doing as he asked and only begged that he'd do the same and release her people. Hans met her gaze, nodding his head slightly as if he understood her silent communication.
"Wait." Hans ordered as the soldier began to fix the cold chains around her thin wrists. He held up his hand and beckoned his soldier to release Elsa. For a second, Elsa's heart quickened with hope.
"Your crown." Hans said, giving her a charming grin as he held out a waiting hand.
Elsa's nostrils flared at his audacity - he wanted her degradation symbolic as well as public. Her shaky hands rose to the delicate, sapphire-studded filigree tiara perched in her blonde mane. She slowly pulled it from her hair, giving it a longing look. As the combs of the crown pulled free, her carefully tucked curls tumbled down her back. Her thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the largest blue jewel, the reflection of a very sad girl staring back at her from the indigo depths. It was the same tiara she'd worn as a child, given to her by her father on the day she was christened as the Crown Princess of Arendelle. She preferred it over the ornamental, heavy gold crown that her ancestors had worn, but now it was being taken away.
She sighed and looked up at Hans. He was looking at her strangely, as though she was another person that he didn't recognize with loose hair and no crown. She gave the ornamental headpiece one last glance before placing it in Hans' gloved hand, her eyes trailing on the floor.
Again, the scar-faced soldier chained her hands together in front of her, the metal cold and unforgiving on her skin. As he secured the metal binds, Elsa spitefully let a little power seep from her hands, icing his skin.
"Ouch!" The man snarled, leaping back a step. "The bitch froze me!" He shook his hand in the air, trying to rid himself of the burning cold sensation.
"Sorry," Elsa said with faux shyness. "Sometimes I can't control it very well."
The man's odorous breath washed over her as he leaned in close again to unnecessarily tighten the chains and loop them around her waist so she couldn't raise her arms.
"Don't forget the caps, Ivar." Hans quietly instructed the scarred man, whose name was apparently Ivar. Elsa noticed that Hans was no longer looking at her, in fact, it seemed that he was purposefully avoiding her gaze. Was it shame that now graced his handsome features, or was he just distracted by his own ambitious thoughts racing through his head?
Ivar procured two very familiar metal clamp-like caps that Elsa had been adorned with three years ago when she'd woken up in the dungeon after the falling chandelier in her ice palace had knocked her unconscious. She ground her teeth in frustration as Ivar harshly snapped them over her hands, feeling them constrict the flow of magic. She looked down at the floor again in despair - she truly was a disgraced queen now.
"We're to toss her in the dungeon, yeah?" Ivar asked Prince Hans, jerking Elsa around by her chains.
Hans gave a short, brief nod, and then turned on his heel away from the former Queen of Arendelle and her snivelling sister before his own frozen heart could be touched.
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I hope you guys liked it! Please leave a review and tell me all your thoughts! All of 'em! Don't be shy!
(Oh, by the way, right now this fic is rated T. Eventually it will be moved up to M as sexy times begin to roll, but that's later. For now I want to expand my reader base since M stories are not easily found. HOWEVER, if reading about sexy times makes you feel uncomfortable, no problem, I'll mark the beginning and the end of all the dirty bits with a bold-faced symbol so you can continue to enjoy the story without becoming offended!)
Everly yours,
SingingInTheGarden