Anna speaks the most when she's not saying anything.
When she's asleep, her breath tickles his ear and in it, Kristoff swears he can hear her dreams. She talks when her shoulders tighten in fear and her fingers twitch as if they're still cold and he knows exactly which nightmare she's having. He wraps his arms around her, kisses her temple, and when her face smooths out and her hands unclench, Anna sighs and he knows she's saying thank you.
She speaks when she squeezes his knee reassuringly beneath the table packed with nobles and dignitaries and never leaves him alone during a party. "I know you're uncomfortable," her touch says. "Thank you for being here anyway." (And if the way her hand teases near certain places, well...he knows she's telling him she'll make it up to him later.)
She says 'I love you' in a thousand ways without ever opening her mouth.
She says it in the way she presses both palms flat against his chest when she kisses him, standing on her tiptoes and looking up - up, up, up - like she's trying to reach the moon. Her kisses are the sweetest then, almost delicate, and Kristoff's stomach flutters as she lights him up inside like fireflies.
She says 'I love you' in the way she sighs and burrows herself deeper into his side in the mornings, or lets him spend the night sleeping on a haypile in the barn when his heart yearns for the mountains. She says it in the way she likes to run her fingers through his hair- that one lock,
right behind the ears, absentmindedly playing with it for hours in front of the fire.
Anna says it in the way she holds Elsa on her bad days, when her sister's as brittle and pale as ice; the way she gently rubs circles on the back of Elsa's hand with her thumb, grips tight, and doesn't let go. The way Anna's eyelids flicker with sadness but her lips tighten in determination and the air around her vibrates with a fierce kind of love. "It's okay," Anna's kiss means, when she brings their hands up to her lips, "I'm here, you're not alone. I'll protect you."
She speaks volumes in the way her eyes twinkle or the corners of her mouth pull in excitement when adventure beckons. A quirk of her eyebrow might mean thirty different questions, ten different emotions (mischievous, interested, amused, skeptical), a dozen different ideas, or if she lifts it just so, that Kristoff really needs to stop talking.
Kristoff knows which of Anna's smiles is likely to coax a dessert from the chef or a grin from Elsa when she's working. He knows what the smug smirk means when she leans back and puts her feet up on his new sleigh.
And as time goes on, she slowly learns she doesn't have to fill the silence with words anymore because there's a lot less she's nervous about.
He sees it in the way Anna's brow furrows in concentration when Elsa teaches her about ruling, and they stand hunched over maps and documents for hours pointing, discussing, and shuffling pages.
He sees the confident way she takes charge when Elsa's traveling and puts visitors at ease when they come to the castle.
She might be able to talk a hundred miles a minute, but Anna fills up their lives the most when she's not saying anything at all.
He sees it in the blind love and adoration that shines in Elsa's eyes and he feels it with everything in his bones.
It doesn't matter if Anna's not saying anything, Kristoff loves all the different ways she speaks.
Suddenly a finger is poking his face.
"Hey," Anna says. "Hey, you."
"Hmm?"
"What's going on in there, you've been staring into space like an idiot for five minutes."
Kristoff smiles.
He might like her the most any way he can get her.