Author's Note: Prompt was Olaf dying.
Some People Are Worth Melting
At the knock the footman opened the door to reveal two guards and an odd, apparently mobile clump of snow. The footman started, but made no comment beyond his confused expression as he stepped aside. One of the guards nudged the thing with the tip of his boot and it flopped inside and onto the red carpet with a wet splash. The man pulled a face but retained a professional tone when he said, "Your Majesty, we found this…snowman in the cellar, hiding amongst the frozen meats. It can speak, and claims to have been created by the queen."
King Hans turned away from the window, intrigued. The last time he had encountered a being made of ice and snow, born of the late queen's magic, he had nearly been decapitated by it. Though he had made sure to return the favor before, now he could easily see that this construct was far less dangerous. The warm summer air, so wonderfully sweet after such a violent winter, had nearly wrecked it already, and whatever facial features had been there before it was discovered were slowly merging into a drooping mass that left puddles on the floor.
Hans waved his hand and the three men left him alone in his study with the creature. The doors, as they always did, automatically locked behind them.
He watched, amused, as the little snowman swung one of its stick arms up to its face, as though to cover a gasp, but its head had sunk several inches into its body, so the stick covered its wide eyes instead. "You!" said the snowman. "You're the guy I saw on the ice, when, when…" Hans wasn't sure if the snowman's rate of melting had suddenly picked up or if it was crying; either way, the thought brought a smile curling across his face.
"…you weren't her true love," the snowman added. Something about the way he said it made it the worst accusation of all.
Hans glanced out the window. In the courtyard, the afternoon sun sent deep shadows crawling through the grass and across the trees, the rows upon rows of flowers an explosion of color amidst a sea of green. All manner of blooms adorned the gardens, filling the air with their rich scents as they twisted and merged into something both unique and fragrant. In the center of it all stood his pride and joy, both a reminder of his power and a lesson to others to respect it, her arms flung out in desperation, just a moment too late, her failure captured for all of eternity.
Elsa's body, meanwhile, much like her ill effects, had long since decayed. Or so he thought. Evidently he still had some cleaning up to do.
"No," Hans said, as he picked up the steaming tea kettle on the desk, "I wasn't her true love at all."
Terror grew in the snowman's eyes as he advanced, but it had nowhere to run. Hans had made sure of that.