Elsa couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Nothing could save her.
Hans was on top of her- Trapping her to the cell's bed. Her arms hung limp by her sides. He was angry. It was Hans, but it also wasn't. This was not the Protector. No. This was 'happa Hans' the Destroyer. The man who let his crew be eaten alive, burned to death, all so he could launch a surprise attack.
His body stench of blood and death made her retch. The smell hit her as he came closer and closer. His face was bleached through, his skull visible.
"I take what I want, you worthless whore," He snarled. She felt his ghost hands grab her cheeks. His licked her face wetly.
"No. No…. I'm not… I'm not a whore."
He laughed at her childishness.
"You sell your body, whore..."
"I have to. It's all I have! I'm not a whore!" She felt the hollowness of her words.
He laughed at her naïveté, "If you were stronger, more like me, you would have won this."
She could feel him positioning himself between her legs.
"No, no, no, no, no, please, Hans, stop, I beg of you, pleaaaase…." She felt her panic increasing as he came closer and closer. Her worst fears were realized. Hans wouldn't have mercy, not this time. He wouldn't stop, and she couldn't stop him.
No ice, no crown, and no guard. Illyana was right; she was just a whore.
"Oh Elsa, if only someone loved you…"
The pain was-
Elsa bolted up in bed, gasping. She was sweating- hard. Gasping for air, she found her arms across her chest. Her heart was beating so fast- too fast to be considered anything but a constant hum as her body caught up with her mind.
No. NO!
….no.
Hans was silent. Of course.
She fought back the tears. But it was pointless. Covering her mouth, she sobbed. The ex-queen sat up, clutching the sheets about her knees in terror.
It was all just a nightmare, a terrible, horrifying, disgusting nightmare. The more she reflected on the logic of it, the less realistic it seemed. Obviously Hans did not have a see-through face.
She turned to check the accuracy of this statement, but found him unmoving, face turned from hers.
Fine.
There wasn't a chorus of Black Spot pirates chanting along to him raping her in the dungeon; that part could wait 'til morning to prove, because she could barely manage to stand up straight, let alone walk.
But still… it had felt so real.
Elsa let herself cry. This was not the gentle sorrow she had felt before in her life. No, this was ugly, primal. No hope. None.
It was terribly ironic. She used to feel so powerful. In control. Free. But people like her were never truly free.
Hans had all the power. And he would never give it up. Finally, she figured she could breathe normally. The racking sobs subsided and she took several deep cleansing breaths, praying it would get her back to sleep.
Once her whimpers subsided, Hans suddenly rose silently. Almost detached, Elsa watched him in the moonlight.
Hans was not much different now than when he had fallen asleep a few hours ago, except, perhaps, a bit more tired. He stared blankly ahead, as if he did not hear her.
After a few seconds, Elsa wondered if he was sleepwalking.
"…is everything alright?"
He didn't sound angry. Tired? Yes. But it was like talking to Hans without his filter in.
She nodded. He didn't see her. His arm, as if by its own volition, snuck out and touched her shoulder, "Everything is okay. You're safe now."
She laughed bitterly, "I'll… go back to sleep."
"I had the servants bring up your clothes," He said, "All of them. If you want to slip into something to sleep in, I understand."
"Sir-"
"Elsa, it's okay."
She almost believed him, and for that, she felt stupid. After all, she knew he had something big planned for the Spring dance. And Hans always won. And she always lost.
Nevertheless, the dark-haired woman slipped into a comfortable robe before settling back down for the night. She felt his hand against her back. Strange. He wasn't pushing her away, or holding her, just... touching her.
And she couldn't understand why.