"So let me get this straight," the man said, and Anna rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. She hastily covered this up by ducking her head and faking a dramatic sneeze into her hand - probably best not to appear too sassy right then, in her hour of need.

He didn't say bless you. She resented that.

The sun hung low in the sky in a very late-afternoon-like way, and it made her uneasy. She clung to her remaining patience and took a deep breath. "I already told you everything," she said, straining to keep her tone even, to refrain from bouncing on her toes. She could practically feel the time drain away with every tick of her heart. "I really, really, really need help."

The man cocked an eyebrow. He was taller than she would've liked, much too tall to level eyes with, and so broad in the shoulders that his shadow fell over her like a blanket. This made it a bit difficult for her to appear tough and intimidating. Behind him, a shabby delivery truck ran idle with the words Arendelle Ice Supply painted across the side in faded block letters. The same words marked the front of his shirt pocket in tiny embroidered script. He stood with his arms crossed and his feet planted, and met her gaze with something vaguely condescending in his expression. "Let me just get this straight," he repeated, and Anna forced a cough, suppressing the low groan that welled in the back of her throat. "Your limo driver cancelled on you. You can't drive a car. You can't figure out how to use a phone. So you want me to give you a ride to this, ah, Saxophone Hotel-"

"Saxifrage," she corrected him, irritably.

"-which is all the way across town-"

"Only a few dozen blocks..."

"-so you can be on time for some frilly party-"

"The debutante ball, yes."

"-and meet up with your boyfriend-"

"Fiancé."

"-and live happily ever after?"

"More or less, yeah." Her eyes strayed past his shoulder to the city hall clock tower, which loomed just within sight behind the bakery. It was a quarter past three. She wrenched her focus back to the delivery man, her heart sputtering, and forced a wide smile. "Sooo? Whattaya say?"

He considered her with a deadpan face. A split second passed. "No."

"What?!"

He was already turning his back on her, and she scurried after him, bunching up the front of her gown in her fists as she hopped down off the curb. "Oh c'mon, I could really use a hand here!"

"I'm on the clock, kid." The delivery man lumbered around towards the back of the truck, and Anna tagged along, hovering over his shoulder like a fretful bird as he pried open the dented double doors. There was a gust of chilly air and Anna found herself shivering as she peered into the large box-like room and saw walls lined with frost. A huge block of ice took up almost the entire space, shimmering dully in the late summer sun. Anna watched with acute fascination as the man drew a small metal pick from his belt and began to expertly chip away at the ice. He spoke as he did so. "I don't have time to give strange girls free rides to flashy downtown parties. Besides..." He threw her a skeptical sideways glance. "This doesn't exactly strike me as an emergency situation."

"It is too an emergency!" Anna insisted, her breath pluming out like a cloud from the chill. She drew herself up to her fullest height, even going so far as to stand on her tiptoes. It didn't make much of a difference. "And it's not a party," she added, crossing her arms indignantly. "It's a ball."

This clearly did little to help her case. The man leaned towards the ice and continued to tap at it, whistling as he did so. Anna sighed, but stood her ground. She wasn't about to give up yet. "Look, Christopher-"

"Kristoff," he said flatly.

"Kristoff. I've got nowhere else to turn, y'know? I'm begging you. I'm desperate. I'm literally on my knees here."

He spared her another sideways glance. "You're not on your knees."

"Okay, you got me there." She waved her hand dismissively. "So this dress is too nice to beg in. But I'm serious about the desperate part. I'm basically a damsel in distress!" He continued to concentrate on the ice block, showing no signs of sympathy - clearly not the hero type. Or a fan of fairy tales. She hesitated, tapping her chin and chewing her lip, thinking fast. "Besides, uh... who said anything about a free ride? I'll pay you."

The doors closed with a rattling clang and Kristoff walked away again, but she was determined to stick right at his heels. "If you have money, why don't you just call a cab?" he asked over his shoulder, twirling the pick in his hand as he made his way back to the front of the truck. "I mean, that's an obvious solution, isn't it?"

Anna blew irritably out the corner of her mouth, and her bangs lifted with it. Of course it was obvious; she had considered it long before she'd chosen to approach him - a random ice delivery man - in the centre of the city square. However, she had no real desire to admit that she had no idea how to hail a taxi. She'd never done it before. She wasn't even sure how to attempt it. From what she had observed in the past, those things seemed to just appear in front of people right when they needed them. No rhyme, no reason. It puzzled her. She racked her brains for a more normal, less embarrassing excuse. "Cabs can be dangerous, y'know?" she said casually, gesturing to herself. "I could get robbed, dressed like this. I just feel really uncomfortable riding with strangers."

"I'm a stranger!" Kristoff said incredulously.

"Hey, I thought we were making a connection!" Anna exclaimed. She plucked a bit of frost off his shoulder and swiped it away between her fingers. "We're a couple of chums, you and I. Real pals, y'know? Practically inseparable."

"Oh sure." He snorted and unclipped his toolbelt, tossing it through the open window of the passenger seat and raising an eyebrow. "We've known each other how long? Almost ten whole minutes?"

"Ten golden minutes," Anna said, batting her eyelashes as she forced a saccharine smile. She threw yet another nervous glance at the clock tower. "Look, I know it's inconvenient and weird, but could you please just be the good friend I know you can be and find it in your heart to help a poor old - GAH!"

She staggered backwards and nearly fell into the street, and was only saved from being hit by a large milk truck due to Kristoff's reflexes. He nonchalantly reached out, grabbed her by the collar of her dress, and yanked her out of the way right at the last second. He might as well have been moving a rag doll. She didn't have time to process the moment, or even feel grateful for being saved - or annoyed for having her dress wrinkled. Her heart thundered in her ears and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had almost been crushed beneath four sets of wheels. There was something far more frightening standing less than a foot away, peering through the window of Kristoff's truck. She was almost tempted to flee back into the street.

"What is that?" she exclaimed, cowering behind Kristoff's shoulder with wide eyes. The window was rolled down halfway, and over the rim of the glass hung a massive face of thick fur and sharp teeth. It watched her keenly with glinting hazel eyes. It was bound to eat her alive, she was certain of it. It was some kind of monster.

Kristoff glanced down his shoulder and stared at Anna like he'd never seen anything quite like her before. "Do you know you almost died just now?"

"Uh-huh, okay, sure, but what is that?!" She was clutching his arm so tightly she was surprised he didn't wince.

He continued to watch her bemusedly. The confusion was evident in his tone. "That's my business partner."

"No, no, no." She risked a closer peek at the animal, doubtful. "That is a bear."

"No," he said, prying her fingers from around his forearm and speaking slowly, as if to a child, "that is my business partner." He kept one hand set firmly against the small of her back, holding her steady when she instinctively tried to shrink back towards the moving traffic. "His name is Sven."

"Sven," she repeated breathlessly.

"Yeah. He's a dog. And he's my best friend."

"Ah. A dog. Great." She was shaking so hard her knees knocked together beneath her gown. "And why don't you have, oh I don't know, a human business partner?"

Kristoff shrugged. "Dogs are better than people."

"Oh." A fluttery sort of half-laugh escaped her throat, and she took a shaky step forward, gathering the courage to fully examine the creature's face. She had never seen a dog in real life before, and she never imagined they could get so big. Sven met her gaze with placid, cheerful eyes. He practically radiated docility and friendliness. She reached out slowly, hesitantly, and felt a curious surge of delight when the dog leaned forward and sniffed eagerly at her hand. It made her laugh. Just like that, her anxiety magically melted away as she eased her hand against the dog's cheek. "Huh. What kind of dog is he, exactly?"

"All different kinds," Kristoff said, standing close beside her as she scratched at the dog's head and face, and there was such a shift in his tone that she raised her head and looked up. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile. "Mostly Norwegian Elkhound, I think," he continued, "and probably some Alaskan Malamute. I don't know what makes him so big - I guess there's some kind of mountain dog in there somewhere."

She didn't know what any of this meant, but she was glad Kristoff was talking to her in a more genial way. It boosted her chances to get that ride. But for a moment, with her fingers sweeping through Sven's bushy fur, she actually forgot about the party she was due for, and the handwritten speech in her purse, and the promise she had made to Hans that morning; I won't be late this time, I swear. She rubbed her knuckles against a spot behind Sven's ears and giggled when one of his back legs thumped against the seat. "I'd like to have a dog someday," she said thoughtfully.

"I found him when I was a kid," Kristoff told her, reaching out to scratch at the spot above Sven's eyes. "He was just a puppy. I mean, his eyes were barely even open. He was hiding in this sort of crevice up in the mountains and I tried luring him out with all different kinds of food, y'know, smoked jerkey and canned ham and stuff like that. But nothing really did the trick until I held out some carrot sticks. He really liked carrot sticks. Isn't that right, buddy?" He said this last part in an affectionate tone that seemed to be directed at the dog, as if he was actually talking to it. Sven, who was clearly pleased to have two sets of hands giving him scratches at the same time, grinned dopily as if in response to these words. Anna couldn't help but feel amazed by their connection. She was a people person; she had no idea that it was possible to find a sense of companionship in an animal.

"You like vegetables huh, you big weirdo," Kristoff was saying, chuckling as he scratched behind Sven's floppy ears. He leaned forward and briefly touched their foreheads together. "You were just a little fuzzball back then, weren't you? All the way up there in the snow? We were in the same boat, huh?" He chuckled. "You were all alone, too."

Anna looked away from the dog and back up at Kristoff, her smile faltering a little. "Too?"

Her hand bumped Kristoff's through the thick tangles of Sven's fur, and Kristoff pulled away so fast she didn't even realise it was gone until he had already trudged halfway around the truck. She exhaled, stunned, and hastily bound after him, catching up just as he was making his way to the driver's side. Before he could even reach for the handle, she threw herself in front of the door, pressing herself flat against the truck and splaying her arms out to block him. "Wait! What'd I do?"

His warm and amicable demeanour had gone. It was like it hadn't even happened. His smile might never have existed. His expression wasn't necessarily cold, or hard, or even unfriendly - it was just indifferent, like before. Impervious. Neutral. Closed off. Bored. This wasn't the guy from thirty seconds ago who had laughed with his dog and shared childhood memories. This was the guy Anna met twenty minutes ago, who had a no-nonsense attitude and no interest in the people around him. He was just a surly delivery man. He crossed his arms and looked at her like an employee would appraise a particularly bothersome customer. "You didn't do anything," he said impassively, with an air of impatience. "This was fun and all, but I've still got a job to do."

"But..." Anna stared up at him, wide-eyed, futilely hopeful. "I still need your help." Sven must've moved over to the opposite window, because she could feel him sniffing at her braids, tickling her. She might have laughed if not for the situation. "I said I'd pay you, remember?"

Now it was Kristoff's turn to roll his eyes. Unlike her, he didn't even have the courtesy to hide it. "I'm not sure you've noticed, but this isn't a taxi." He uncrossed his arms and reached out, unthreateningly, to clamp a hand on either of her shoulders and lift her straight off her feet with ease. She let out an involuntary squeal - "Gah!" - as he turned on his heel and set her effortlessly back onto the curb, removing her from his path to the driver's side door. This entire act was so quick and smooth it could have been a dance. "This is a delivery truck," he said brusquely, "and I've got work to do." He turned back to his truck with no second glance.

Anna was left standing on the sidewalk, gawking and stammering incoherently as Kristoff climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him. He had been her last chance, and she blew it. She was all out of ways to bribe or convince him. No quips, no deals, no arguments. She had nothing left to offer. She had nothing. "So you're actually gonna leave me like this?" she said finally. Bitterly. "You're really putting me in a tough spot, you know."

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed, looking up from the ring of keys in his hand. "You wanna hear about tough spots? I sell ice for a living. In 1956. Do you have any idea what kind of business I get? How many people still keep iceboxes these days? No one. Seriously. I have eleven customers in this whole city and they're all so old they'll probably keel over by next week." He jammed a key into the ignition and the truck roared to life. Thick plumes of blue-ish smoke sputtered out of the tailpipe. "Trust me, I've got my own problems."

Anna hurried forward, gripping the top of the door's open window with both hands and speaking to him with all the earnest she could muster. "I-I don't have an icebox, but I'll buy ice from you every day. Twice a day, even. For the rest of my life. Just do me this one favour. Please." Her eyes stung, threatening tears, and she hastily blinked them back. "I don't have anywhere else to turn."

He met her gaze steadily and said nothing. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she saw his eyes soften. Just a little. Then he sighed and looked away. "Stand back, okay?"

Defeat sunk dully into her chest. She took a step back, pouting, and wondered what she was going to do. Her last hope had officially backfired. Maybe she could walk over to town hall and ask to use a phone, and then she could call Hans. He'd be disappointed in her for sure, but he could help. Or maybe she might be able to ask for a map and head to the hotel by foot. This would make her late, so very late, but at least she'd get there on her own. And Hans would still be disappointed, wouldn't he? There was nothing to be done. The idea was enough to form a lump in her throat. And yet, as her thoughts ran wild with substandard ideas and undesirable scenarios, Kristoff's truck still hadn't moved. It rumbled and puffed, completely stationary, and a flicker of hope sparked dimly inside Anna's chest. She watched him silently, unsure what to expect.

"Hold out your arm," Kristoff told her, in a tone like an exaggerated sigh.

"What?" She eyed him curiously, but seconds passed and he still didn't elaborate so she went ahead and did as she was told. Her hand hung limply in the air. "Why am I-?"

"Higher." Was that the faintest trace of a smirk on his face?

Anna huffed irritably and straightened her arm, lifting it up as high as it could go and propping her other hand against her hip. "What exactly is this supposed to accomplish?"

In response, he brought his thumb and forefinger up to his mouth and blew, hard. The resulting whistle rang out so loudly it pierced her eardrums and echoed sharply down the street. She blinked, slightly impressed, but even more confused than she already was. "What-?"

Like magic, a black and yellow-checkered taxi cab pulled up right behind the truck. Anna gaped, amazed, before turning back to look at Kristoff to find he was already pulling away. She was left standing there in the afternoon sun with her right arm still raised. The cab driver eyed her expectantly.

"Where to, ma'am?"

"Um..." Anna glanced back down the road, watching the back of Kristoff's truck shrink into the distance and disappear around a corner. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. Or thank him. Or yell at him. She briefly wondered if she would ever see him again, and it made her stomach feel strangely hollow. She didn't like it. She was determined to shake the feeling off. She straightened her gown, adjusted her fringe, and fixed a bright smile to her face as she traipsed up to the cab driver, who had a shiny red scalp and tired eyes. "The Saxifrage, please," she said, clambering into the backseat and pulling the hem of her gown in after her. "On 113th and Forrade Street. And step on it, please." She'd always wanted to say that to a cab driver. She brushed idly at the goosebumps on her arms and did her best to forget the events of the last hour. Things were finally going according to plan.

The city passed outside her window in a series of flashes and lights, and she sat with her hands pressed against the glass and her mouth wide open the entire time. The sheer size of the buildings was astonishing. The amount of people that bustled and weaved through them was unbelievable. People were everywhere; fussing with their neckties and running up stone steps and waiting at crosswalks. Entering shops and leaving with handfuls of glossy shopping bags and white styrofoam cups. Bakery bread. Plastic-wrapped suits. Ice cream cones. They walked in pairs, in groups, individually, with dogs at the ends of leashes and babies buckled into strollers. They sat on park benches and ate on restaurant patios. They chatted, they laughed, they hollered at each other. There was constant communication. They were always interacting. In a place like this, it was impossible to be alone.

For someone like Anna, the idea was thrilling.

By the time the taxi reached Forrade Street, she had managed to push Kristoff and his dog away from the front of her mind. She eagerly replaced them with daydreams of the Saxifrage ballroom. Vivid images of the decorations, the dinner, the dresses, the dancing, the look on Hans' face when she showed up on time... She envisioned it all so clearly. Hans was probably already waiting to greet her at the doorway, all tall and fair. He would tell her how beautiful she looked and kiss her hand. Or maybe she could make a grand entrance. She would sweep in while Hans was busy boasting about her to the other guests, and then he would turn around and see her standing there in her shiny green dress, and he would excuse himself from the crowd. He would approach her, brush her hair back behind her ear, press a kiss to her cheek, make her blush. Bring her a drink that wasn't too bitter and introduce her to all of his friends. Play idly with the ribbons in her hair. They'd eat chocolates beneath the glow of the fairy lights and whisper silly jokes to each other, and when the time came she would join the other girls on stage and be introduced as a real debutante. It was practically like being crowned princess. There would be even more dancing and laughter, and then everyone would gather outside for fizzy drinks and fondue beneath a moonlit sky. The night would end in a dreamy fairy tale haze. Classic romance.

All these thoughts made her smile so hard her cheeks hurt.

"Should be right up here," the cab driver called over his shoulder, and her giddiness spilled out so much she bounced a little it her seat. Her eyes dropped from the extravagant line of skyscrapers outside her window to gaze adoringly at the diamond on her finger. It glinted up at her cheerfully. For the hundredth time that week, she admired the way the stone glittered and flashed with every movement of her wrist, the way it winked in the sun. It reminded her of Hans' eyes. Her heart felt like a vat of melted chocolate and it made her head spin in a delightful sort of way. This is really it, she thought. This is what real happiness is. After a long empty childhood of loneliness and confusion, she would finally be living the way she always did in her dreams. A simple but lavish life filled with ballrooms and banquets, taxi cabs and skyscrapers, fondue and flowers, a fiancé that treated her like royalty and a whole future in front of her. In a few months there would be a wedding, more chocolate, more dancing, and then a house and babies and maybe even some dogs. The possibilities were limitless. She wasn't afraid of any of them. She was dazzled by it all. She had waited her whole life for this. For the first time in forever, she finally found a world in which she might actually, truly belong.

And yet, something nagged prominently at the very back of her mind. Something new. It chewed through her excitement and gave her that hollow feeling, the same one she'd felt when that ice truck had driven away. It was a thought she couldn't quite manage to shake away, no matter how crammed her head was with parties and wedding gowns and chubby red-haired babies. It was persistent. It was like a voice that rose over everything else, spoken by a surly delivery man who, for just a second, had seemed just as lost in this world as she had always pretended not to be. It repeated in a circle over and over within her mind, like an echo.

You were all alone, too.

The taxi pulled into the hotel's portico and let her out right near the entrance. She thanked the driver twice, tossed a fistful of money at him, and sprinted down the walkway with vigor, gripping her clutch in one hand and the front of her gown in the other. In spite of her concerns about being horribly late she was actually a bit early, but she was far from the first to arrive. A sea of bodies obscured the hotel's front doors, all dressed in evening gowns and pinstriped suits and placid smiles, all lingering outside to chat. She bobbed and weaved through the crowd, her heart racing, her ears ringing with the thick buzz of mingled chatter, grateful she chose to wear flats instead of heels as she promptly hopped up the front steps. Two men in black tailcoats held the doors open as people spilled inside, and Anna nodded to them shyly before facing the room in front of her and having her breath completely stolen.

It was the largest room she'd ever been in. The ceiling was dizzyingly high and formed a wide round dome over her head, painted black as night and sprinkled with diamond-like stars. An enormous crystal chandelier hung stoically from its center. Anna descended the stairs slowly, determined to get a good look at everything. She had given up trying to keep her jaw in place. The white marble floor was like snow beneath her feet, the scarlet curtains perfectly complemented every chaise and chair, and the afternoon light filtered warmly through the towering arched windows, which offered a stunning view of the mountains beyond. It was all so grand. So elegant. It overwhelmed her.

A space near the center of the foyer had been cleared for a buffet table. Anna made a beeline for it. She was greeted with countless trays of crackers and cheeses, baskets of fruit, crystal bowls of rainbow drinks, steaming pots of fondue and jam and smoked meat. In the center of it all stood a magnificent chocolate fountain. She grappled with the urge to dunk her entire face into it. Eventually, she settled for a chunk of skewered pineapple.

This was going to be the best night.

"Anna?"

She turned around, her cheeks bulging and a bit of chocolate dotting her upper lip. "Mmpf?"

It was Hans. He stood a few feet away, positively dashing in a white suit and gloves. Her heart swelled up like a balloon. She tossed a handful of empty skewers aside and rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck and laughing into his ear. "I was almost late!" she told him enthusiastically, pulling back to look at him with delight. "It was a wild ride, believe me, but I got it figured out and now I'm here!"

She may have been imagining it, but she thought his smile seemed a bit fixed. "Darling," he said quietly, throwing a sideways glance at the guests around them, "why didn't you take the limo?"

There was a stringy piece of pineapple stuck between her teeth. She pried at it idly with her tongue. "It never showed up. I figured it wasn't coming, so I just-"

"It was coming," he told her, gently prying her hands from around his neck and snagging a napkin off the table. He began to dab lightly at the chocolate on her upper lip. "The driver called me ages ago, he got caught in the traffic. He waited outside for you for nearly twenty minutes. If you'd gone with him, you could have been here on time."

"But..." She mumbled awkwardly around the napkin. "I am on time. The ball doesn't start till four."

"Oh Anna. We discussed this." He seemed satisfied with the state of her face and tossed the napkin aside. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. My company's sponsoring the ball. I have an obligation to be here before everyone else, and, as my future wife, you do too."

"Oh." Her heart deflated like a balloon. "I didn't mean... ah..." She trailed off, dropping her gaze. "I'm sorry." Her cheeks felt hot. Her stomach twisted. She suddenly regret eating so much chocolate. "I didn't mean to let you down."

Hans' eyes softened a bit, and he sighed, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the buffet table. "I know you didn't," he told her, and this time he offered her a smile with a bit more warmth. "Come on. Let's go join the others."

A circular stage and makeshift archway had been set up on the left side of the of the hotel's lobby. Hans steered Anna through the uniform rows of white wicker chairs, which several people were already starting to settle into, and guided her to a curtained area at the back of the stage, where a dozen other well-dressed women stood chattering excitedly. More future debutantes. They scrambled around the small space in a frantic jumble, fussing with their hair and adjusting their gowns and fidgeting with jewelry. Anna eagerly joined them. She spent the next half hour in a nervous flutter, allowing herself to be passed through the hands of several makeup artists, who apparently weren't thrilled with her choice of sparkly lip gloss. Her face was wiped clean and redone in five minutes. When it was time to line up, Anna giddily took her place with the other junior debutantes, tugging at the gold pendant around her neck. Most of the other young women didn't acknowledge her, as usual. But one of the friendlier ones, a tall dark-haired girl named Gerda, quietly passed her a handkerchief with a kind smile. "When no one's looking, wipe off that rouge. It's a crime to mask freckles like those."

The ceremony commenced. Names were called out in the voice of the hotel's owner, Mr. Wessel, and when Anna's came she might have fainted if it weren't for Hans holding her arm. He lead her up the steps and out into the spotlight, and she was named a debutante in front of an applauding crowd. She clutched her bouquet of lilies - she had requested sunflowers, but Hans had insisted lilies suited her - and did her best not to cry out of sheer joy during her speech. Her effort wasn't entirely successful. The silver powder around her eyelids smudged a bit, but she didn't mind. The dancing was about to start.

Hans had warmed to her considerably since the start of the ceremony, and they danced for hours. He was just like before. He held her close enough to make her blush, and he whispered silly observation into her ear, like how Mr. Wessel's mustache looked like a malnourished hamster. She giggled into his shoulder and sighed, breathing in the scents of silk and cologne and feeling absolutely content. If her spirits lifted any higher, she'd be flying.

When he pulled away to twirl her, she practically was.

Later she danced with some of the other debutante's dates, and a few attending businessmen, and Mr. Wessel, whose dance moves were so jerky and erratic he reminded her of a plucked turkey. She always ended up back in Hans' arms though, and that's where she liked to be. She chatted with Gerda and some of the other less aggressive debutantes, and she stifled the snorts in her laugh just like Hans advised her to do. She made several return trips to the food buffet when nobody was paying attention. She sipped sparkly drinks the waiters offered her from their small trays until her head felt fuzzy and she had to stop. She rested on a chaise with Hans at her side and listened to him converse with a couple of businessmen. The night grew late and cozy. Her legs ached from dancing, her heart pounded with delight, and she had never felt so serene. This was how every night was going to feel from now on, she realised. This was the beginning of the rest of her life. She hummed softly to the music that the other guests still danced to, and kicked off her shoes, propping her feet up on the plush ottoman nearby. She nuzzled into Hans' shoulder and let herself drift into a light doze.

She dreamt about dogs, and milk trucks, and a small girl with braided white hair.