─────── ;; ♚ ;; The prince had s n a p p e d.
His eyes were not fixated on the Queen, nor did they focus on the fear in her expression. The minute that fire escaped his palms, he jumped a bit, taking a step back as his eyes widened. N-No. I thought I could control it—after all these years—
He was through with controlling the flames.
The fire that bound him, the heat that ran through his veins—-he welcomed it freely now. There was nothing Hans could do to stop his uprising anger— and not at the Queen, but fury towards his own self. Fury that circled back to the prince, the anger and frustration of being an heir, of being an extra—it was his fuel.
He wanted to be significant. Hans did not want to be the thirteenth prince, he wanted to be a k i n g.
Hans’ dark emeralds flickered to Elsa’s, but her azure eyes were wide in shock. Her cry filled the air as her gaze was torn from his hands, and instead she leapt from his ball of flame. It was only then that their eyes fully met, and for a second Hans felt fear.
Fear that he couldn’t control the flames anymore.
Fear that this was his breakthrough—and that it would not end peacefully.
“Els—” The auburn prince tried to explain when a shard of ice was tossed at him, and instinctively he fell. He rolled underneath it, then stepped back onto his feet as the ice crashed behind him. His trepidation and fear disappeared, replaced by the determination once more. Anger screamed through him, demanding for the Queen to be dead, and by his own flaming hands.
”Your majesty, I was born with flame. But, tell me, which element fails to succeed in the end, fire or ice?”
The fire on his palms became brighter, stronger, larger by the second. It turned to a dark red, filled with complete and utter fury as Hans lashed out. The two scorches from his hands met together to create an outburst of flame, though he did not direct it at Elsa. Rather it collided with the icy floors around her, the ice failing to hold under the heat. And the fires traveled, continuing to burn through her great castle as it swarmed up the walls, leaving only hints of white in it’s path.
He didn’t aim for killing the Queen immediately, this was far too victorious. The pleasure that coursed through Hans each time her powers faltered from his own flames—it was too amusing, too wickedly great to end so soon. No fear of Hans’ was existent, all worries cast away as he smiled deviously.
he wanted Elsa to f e a r him.