Hero
Part One
I was there when the rain tapped away down your face;
You were a miracle, I was just holding your space.
Kristoff is a hero. He rebels against it, the calling in his blood. He ensures he's off-putting and grumpy and he smells bad. He's rude and intimidating. She sees only a man who knows the mountains, a guide for her journey. She doesn't know he's a hero yet. So he tries to sound selfish and crude. She barely notices. She's got to find her sister. She doesn't have time to worry about manners and boundaries and men who talk to reindeer.
By the time they reach the castle the hero takes over. He knocks down Kristoff's walls like they are nothing more than paper in the wind. He catches himself smiling and laughing and sharing memories. The hero notices the curve of her lips and the pink in her cheeks. The hero reaches for her with open arms and soft smiles. Kristoff's nervous resistance slips. Anna laughs and stumbles and slides into his heart.
He catches Elsa's anger. He sees her turn, her hand out in defense. The ice races across the glistening room, aimed to Anna's heart. The hero rises, feet pounding against the slippery floor. He hears the cry echoing off the walls. His name is called. His heart skips and the hero is silent. Anna's behind him, her arms struggling to hold his weight. A light chuckle wipes the worry lines from her forehead. The chill in his chest is not so easily dismissed. She doesn't understand his gasp for breath as his lungs freeze and they face off against the Olaf-monster.
In the blink of an eye they're falling, the air whirring through his ears. He comes to in ice, his body shivering in the snow. The hero struggles against Kristoff's survival. Anna's worried chatter distracts him from the lead in his limbs. Her hand is warm against the bump on his head. The hero reassures her, despite her strange look.
She brushes the snow from his blonde hair, her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Your hair…"
"I just fell off a cliff! You should see your hair." The bravado is punctuated by a sharp shiver.
"It's turning white." She lifts her hand to her own streaked hair. Her brow furrows again. He tries to think of anything to smooth away her fears.
"Don't worry about me." He knows his hands are cold on her cheek, his finger running over her steadily blushing cheek.