Hey all, sorry for the lack of update recently, I don't really have an excuse other than lack of inspiration, but I'm writing again so yay! ANYWAY These little fics are basically Kristoff's inner monologue throughout both the film and after about all those things that make Anna.. well.. Anna. Enjoy!

Hair

Kristoff had always loved Anna's hair. When he had first seen her, all those years ago, unconscious in her mother's arms, the vibrant colour had intrigued him right away; it reminded him of the low flames of a campfire, often his only source of heat while harvesting among the highest peaks of the mountains.

Then, face to face with her in Oaken's trading post her hair all wound up into an intricate formal bun, his hands had itched to untie the ribbons and let it fall around her shoulders. In his mind, the fancy up do hadn't suited her at all. At the time, he had thought himself mad for thinking it, he didn't know the girl, and yet his fingers still ached to touch the delicate strands. After she had burst into the barn demanding his help, he couldn't help but thinking to himself that the braids suited her much better.

He could barely stand to dwell on that small time when Anna's hair wasn't beautiful at all. The bleached limp strands that had spread so quickly across her head had terrified him. He no longer fantasised about touching it, as he had so often during their adventure. It looked so brittle that he thought it might snap off, and he supposed, considering her condition, it very well could have.

Then, with her hair back to its flame coloured luster, Kristoff found himself looking for any excuse to touch it again, to brush a lose strand behind her ear. He spent evenings curled by the fire unwinding and re braiding her hair lazily. It became a habit for the two of them, when she was excitable or stressed the way his deft fingers moved through her hair calmed her, and vice versa, after a particularly tough week in the mountains it helped him relax. In the middle of the night when she was awakened by his fitful thrashing and desperate pleas for her life, or he by her quiet sobs and whispered cries for her parents, it lulled them both into a more peaceful rest.

Now, in married life, Princess Anna's ladies maids know not to do her hair as they ready her for the day, for they have been made fully aware that that job is reserved for her husband only.