Uploaded this long ago on reddit, but decided it should at last be together with the first chapter in the story.
Warning for rather graphic character death.
As quickly as it had bellowed forth from the muskets, the foul smoke that hung heavy in the courtyard air dissipated, allowing the early morning light to illuminate the soldiers' bloody work.
The queen had fallen first, evidently, lying motionless on her side in the grass, a quickly widening red stain surrounding her prone form.
Her sister had followed quickly, spread across Elsa's body, their blood mingling together in the dust.
The firearms were lowered slowly, the last puffs of black smoke still wafting from the barrels.
Just as a macabre sense of grim finality began to lower itself onto the now quiet garden, the eyes of the soldiers were drawn towards the corpses of their victims. Or supposed corpses, for Princess Anna, ever so slightly, but still quite noticeably, was stirring.
Her would-be-executioners watched in horror as she shifted position laboriously, struggling to put an arm around her quite dead sister's neck. Soft, quiet sobs drifted hauntingly across the courtyard, carried on the chilly winter winds.
The men stood in silence as they watched the final child of the House of Arendelle painfully struggle towards death.
Even the captain was at loss for words, he only stood with the rest, his musket hanging limply.
As Anna managed to snuggle up to the body of the dead queen, still weeping quietly, one of the soldiers, a fusilier, started forward.
No one called after him.
He reached Anna in seconds, gently slipping the toe of his boot under her side, which expanded and retracted laboriously with each breath, and quickly flipped her over onto her back.
The moment he turned her, he stared into great teal eyes, overflowing with pain and anguish and pleading. Her little button nose flared with each breath, her plump cheeks flushed bright red. One of the musket balls had struck her in the stomach, just below her rib cage, another in her left shoulder, and a final one in her right thigh.
None were immediately fatal, merely painful, very painful.
The soldier nudged the body of Elsa away with his foot, eliciting a moan of protest from Anna, who was too far-gone to speak. She opened her lips, breathing heavily, attempting to talk. She couldn't. The damage was too great, and it took all of her fleeting life force merely to inhale the crisp January air.
The soldier placed one boot on either side of the princess, fighting his hardest to maintain the stone, emotionless expression he wore on his face.
Anna tried to speak one more time, and now she managed to mouth a word or two. To the soldier it sounded-or rather looked-like; "please".
So many different things she could be begging for, and the soldier wanted to think of none of them. So he drove his bayonet deep into the redhead's body, directly below her sternum, a spurt of crimson exploding from the newly formed wound.
Anna couldn't scream. She was far too weak. All that came was a sharp gasp of pain, as her blue eyes went wide, and she convulsed violently in the dirt.
The soldier winced. The blow had not been deep enough, nor placed correctly.
How imposing he must look to the poor girl, his grey coat blowing in the wind, and his shako blotting out the sun, the menacing firearm aimed towards her with lethal intent.
Silent tears flowed down her face and melted into the dust as he drew his bayonet back once more, for the final stroke.
With a grunt of effort, he sank the steel into the Princess' chest with a sickening crunch, as bone splintered against the hard metal and muscle tore against the sharp edge.
This time, the cruel blade found its awful mark, piercing the princess' heart.
Anna coughed. And then she was gone. Her eyes still stared at the fusilier, but the princess did not.
As the sun ascended ever higher into the heavens, the monarchy of Arendelle perished forever.
"Long live the Republic!"