DISCLAIMER: All of the places and characters in this story belong to Disney and are inspired by the work of Hans Christian Andersen. No profit is being made from this story. It only serves to (hopefully) entertain.

Rated M for language, some sensuality, violence, and the following trigger warning: sexual assault.

Remember the Monsters?

Kristoff and Anna stood side-by-side behind the colossal oak doors of the palace, dressed in their formal attire and patiently waiting for the announcement to be made. As exciting as this day was for Arendelle, they both just wanted to get the ordeal over with.

"I'm going to fall on my face and make a fool out of myself in front of everyone," Anna mumbled.

"Nonsense. If anyone's going to make a fool of themselves, it's me."

"Why's that?"

"I've got more to prove," answered Kristoff with a shrug. "You're the princess; everyone already adores you. I'm the new guy. I'm sure I'll say or do something stupid."

"All we have to do is walk around the square, say hello, and shake a few hands. Then we can go have dinner."

"I've never been good at pleasantries," Kristoff murmured.

Anna smiled softly. "You nervous?"

"No. Maybe a little."

"You'll be fine. It's only-"

Anna was interrupted by the booming voice of the royal guard on the opposite side of the door, addressing the crowd in a regal shout.

"Announcing the newly engaged Princess Anna of Arendelle and Kristoff Bjorgman!"

The doors in front of them opened slowly, revealing the cheering crowd gathered in the square. Anna slipped her hand into Kristoff's.

"We only have to walk around once. Just once."

"I know."

"Remember to smile."

"I'll try."

"Just be nice if anyone addresses you."

"I'll do my best."

"And remember I love you."

"I love you, too."

Kristoff gave Anna's hand an affectionate squeeze as they stepped outside and slowly made their way down the steps. He tried to remember not to slouch and to keep his head high, but not so high that he'd look like a pompous ass. Every once in a while he'd glance at Anna who would give him a reassuring smile and nod, letting him know that everything was fine.

And to his surprise, everything was fine. As he and Anna walked through the crowd that had gathered to offer them congratulations and best wishes, everyone gave him genuine smiles. He'd anticipated some sneers and confused looks – Why is the princess marrying a harvester? - but everyone seemed delighted to meet him.

"Congratulations!"

"What a lovely pair the two of you make!"

"My Lady... Sir... it's an honor!"

That's another thing he wasn't used to yet: being called Sir. Sir. It was so formal and... well, not suited to his gruff self in the slightest. Sirs were knights, noblemen, heroes, and true royals, not mountain men, but everyone who shook his hand addressed him as such. Strange as it was, Kristoff made a mental wager that this was one of the smaller things he'd have to grow accustomed to upon marrying into royalty.

And so was, perhaps, spontaneous hugging.

Anna had told him many people would want to shake his hand or even place their hands on his shoulders while offering warm tidings and maybe even some words of wisdom, but he could not recall her telling him what to do if someone came out of nowhere and threw their arms around him. He and Anna were halfway around the square when a young woman pushed her way though the crowd, appearing as if she was about to start sobbing at any second, and jumped into their path. She wrapped Kristoff in a tight embrace.

"It's you!" she cried. "It's you! It's you!"

"Er..."

Kristoff glanced toward Anna. Her blues eyes were narrowed in confusion and the faintest gleam of jealousy. He could deduce from her reaction that this, in fact, was not a normal occurrence at one of these events. If that didn't give such an impression, the crowd certainly did; the assembly of chatty, gleeful people in the square had fallen eerily quiet. Shock fueled with curiosity and anticipation hung in the air.

"I don't know," he mouthed silently to Anna, whose glare demanded answers.

"I can't believe it's you!" the girl embracing him said. "It's you!"

"Um... hello," Kristoff said tentatively.

The young woman glanced up at him with hazel eyes bathing in happy tears, refusing to release her hold on him.

"Oh," she breathed, eyes widening in shame. "I apologize, Sir. You don't remember who am, do you?"

Kristoff opened his mouth to say that no, he did not remember who this random girl was, until he took another look at those tearful eyes. He remembered seeing them once before, only then they were filled with tears of horror instead of joy, on a night he'd hoped to forget...

Five Years Earlier

The streets of Arendelle were placid and quiet as Kristoff packed up his stand for the evening. For a young lad of seventeen getting started in the business, he wasn't doing too badly for himself, in his opinion. Most of the time, he earned just enough money to buy carrots for Sven and food for himself, and on the days when he didn't, sharing carrots with his best friend sufficed. Every once in a blue moon he was able to treat himself to a beer at one of the pubs. He wasn't living the high life, but he wasn't about to complain. He enjoyed both his work and his solitude, and that was all that mattered.

"Alright, buddy," he said to Sven, hooking him up to the sled. "Let's get dinner."

Their path was dimly lit by the glow of fireplaces and oil lamps pouring out of windows. There wasn't a soul in sight, and that's the way Kristoff liked it. After a day of greeting customers, the last thing he wanted to do was have to stop and make small talk with someone. He just wanted to get to the bakery, purchase some bread that would be discounted at such a late hour, and find a place to sleep.

The sled couldn't fit down the narrow path the bakery was on – especially when, to Kristoff's dismay, there were three other people there – so he stopped Sven at the end of the way and walked down the slightly sloped road. The young woman in the path appeared to be locking up one of the shops for the evening while the two men talked with her. Kristoff caught a bit of their conversation as he walked passed them, and he was grateful to hear they were too preoccupied with arguing to even offer him a second glance.

"But your father always let's us!" one of the men whined.

"I'm sorry, but my father isn't feeling well and he left me in charge of the shop this evening," the young woman said. "He told me to lock up at seven o'clock, sharp. No exceptions."

"Oh, come on!" complained the second man.

"I'm sorry, but those were the boss's orders. We'll be opening tomorrow morning at nine. Please feel free to stop in then. Good evening to you both."

The shopkeeper's daughter offered them both a cordial nod before disappearing down the narrow alley between the shop and its next door neighbor, presumably a shortcut home for her. Kristoff rolled his eyes as the two men cursed in the middle of the street. Couldn't they read? The sign on the shop door clearly said closing time was at seven; he'd seen it himself as he'd walked by. The young woman had been courteous enough and there had been no reason for them to give her a hard time. This was yet another prime example of why Kristoff hated people: they were selfish and rude, the whole lot of them.

He reached the bakery and inhaled the subtle, lingering scent of bread and biscuits, and his stomached grumbled with hunger. It had been a very long day. Kristoff reached for the door handle, and that's when he heard it: the muffled, barely-audible sound of struggle.

Kristoff looked over his shoulder. The men were long gone, and there was no one else on the road. Perhaps it was coming from within one of the shops?

"Help!" came a sudden scream. It sounded like it was coming from the alley.

"What the-?" Kristoff muttered.

He walked toward the alley apprehensively; big, clumsy, and awkward as he was, he had a tendency to be more of a nuisance than a blessing when the need for assistance arose, even when out on the ice. Nonetheless, there was no one else around, so he felt it was his responsibility to at least see if there was anything he could do to help.

When Kristoff rounded the corner, he was instantly horrified by the sight before him. He found the two men who were causing a scene out on the road; Kristoff had figured they'd cut their losses and gone home, but there they were in the alley with the shopkeeper's daughter. One of them had a hand clamped tightly across her mouth, while the other was lifting up her dress.

Kristoff had never lain with a woman before, but he knew without a doubt this wasn't how it was supposed to be. From what he understood, it was a private thing, a special thing, not something done out in the open by force. The man wasn't supposed to have a friend with him, especially not one with a knife danging in his free arm, and he sure as hell knew the woman wasn't supposed to be terrified, crying, and very obviously trying to shout for help against a hand which made her efforts next to useless.

Why would anyone even think of treating another human being in such a fashion, much less actually act upon it?

"Arrogant little wench," the man at her skirts snarled. "Better think twice before speaking to us in such a manner next time."

"If there is a next time," laughed his friend. "Hurry up. I don't want to wait too long."

"Hey!" Kristoff shouted without thinking twice. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Fuck off. This doesn't concern you."

"Leave her be!"

"Why? You want a go? We'll let you have a turn after we're through."

The girl wailed loudly against the man's hand. Supressed as it was, it violently pierced the air.

"I'm not joking," Kristoff threatened. "Let her go, now."

"Or what?"

Kristoff punched the man who'd been lifting up her dress square in the jaw. He stumbled backwards in surprise, clutching his face and feeling around for wounds. Kristoff was equally shocked; he didn't even realize he'd walked over to the scene.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Kristoff hit him again. And again. He hit him until tears swarmed the man's eyes and blood gushed from his nose. When the other man lunged forward to his friend's aid, Kristoff hit him, too, knocking the knife out of his hand before kneeing him in the stomach. He clutched his abdomen as if he were about to vomit, grimacing in pain.

"Don't you ever come near this woman or her father's shop again," Kristoff thundered, "and If I ever catch word of you doing so, believe me, you'll get a hell of a lot worse than this."

He thought heard one of the young woman's attackers mumble something along the lines of it's not worth it as they ran off, albeit weakly. The one who'd been holding her left his knife, which Kristoff took for safekeeping, just in case. He turned to the woman, who was now on the ground, cowered against the brick wall. Her entire body quaked as she stared wide-eyed at him, silent tears rolling down her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked. When she did not respond, he took a few steps closer. She gasped and hugged the wall more closely. "Hey," he continued gently, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

He knelt down before her, and upon closer inspection he noticed she was about his age, maybe a year or two younger. A wry look crossed his face when he saw the upper sleeve of her dress soaked in blood; the one with the knife had gotten her. She shook violently as she continued to cry, some ash blond falling into her face after coming loose from her braid. Kristoff used the knife to cut some of the extra fabric from his sash.

"Here. For the wound," he explained, gesturing toward her arm. "May I?"

When she apprehensively nodded, Kristoff carefully wrapped the sash around her arm, mumbling a hasty apology when she winced upon the contact.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. "Can you tell me you name?"

"S-Sofie," she choked out.

"Hello, Sofie. I'm Kristoff. I can take you home. Would that be alright?" She nodded again. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you to my sled, so don't be alarmed."

Sofie did not object, so Kristoff scooped her up. She was surprisingly light, but that could have been a trick of the senses seeing as he was so used to hauling giant blocks of ice. He walked as quickly as he could back to his sled and Sven. The reindeer huffed in appreciation when Kristoff rounded the corner at the end of the road. Kristoff softly placed Sofie in his sled and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Which way is home?" he asked, hopping in beside her.

Sofie pointed toward the small hill nearby where a cluster of homes resided. She was still shaking, too traumatized to speak. Kristoff was surprised she was even able to tell him her name.

"Sofie... those men were monsters," he said as comfortingly as he could. "They're gone for good. They're not going to hurt you again, okay? I promise." He grasped the reins. "To the hill, Sven. Go!"

Sven galloped in the direction of Sofie's home, hooves beating steadily against the ground. Kristoff kept his eyes on where they were going, but every once in a while he glanced at Sofie. He wasn't accustomed to having a lady in his sled, but he'd thought about it a few times, wished for it even, but he'd never wanted it to be like this.

When they reached the road on the hill, Sofie tugged at his arm, and Kristoff quickly stopped the sled. She hopped out without a word and ran for the first home on the left, dress and hair billowing behind her. Kristoff didn't take his eyes off her until he saw her disappear safely behind the door.

"C'mon buddy," Kristoff said to Sven. His stomach grumbled and he thought longingly of the bakery that he knew was closed at this point, but he didn't regret skipping out on it tonight; he'd grab something in the morning. "Let's go find a place to sleep."

The crowd was still silent, eagerly awaiting some sort of answer as to why a nameless girl had abruptly jumped into the arms of the future Prince Consort.

"Do you remember the monsters?" she asked, a faint blush tinting her ivory face.

"Yes," Kristoff said. "Yes, I do. It's Sofie, isn't it?"

Sofie nodded, then gasped when she realized she was still hugging him. She backed away quickly, cheeks reddening even more.

"My apologies, Kristoff. I mean, Sir," she amended. "I've just always hoped I'd find you. I... I never properly thanked you for that night when you... well... thank you. Thank you so much... for everything."

"It's quite alright." Kristoff didn't feel like any sort of hero; he'd simply done what he assumed any sensible, respectable man would do in such circumstances.

They both glanced at Anna when she very audibly cleared her throat. Though her look had softened, her features were still etched with curiosity.

"My lady... please forgive my intrusion," Sofie said, bowing her head slightly and curtseying. "I apologize for interrupting your celebration in such a manner. I meant no harm or disrespect. Your fiancé went out of his way to help me once, and I never got the opportunity to express my gratitude. He... he saved my life."

Anna glanced at Kristoff, who gave a humble shrug. He half-expected Anna to implore for more information, and he was grateful when she didn't. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand.

"He saved me, too," Anna said. His heart fluttered and he felt a faint crimson begin to seep into his cheeks.

"You've found a good man, Princess," Sofie said sincerely. "Please accept my sincerest congratulations on your betrothal. I wish you both the best."

"Thank you," Kristoff said. "And how are you, Sofie?"

"I'm very well, thank you," she gushed. She gestured to a man standing at the edge of the crowd, cradling an infant while staring gobsmacked at Sofie. "Over there is my husband, Joseff, and Mikael, my son."

"And the... the monsters," he continued. "Did they...?"

Sofie smiled and shook her head.

"I never saw them again."

"Good."

"Sofie," Anna interjected. "Please join us for dinner."

"What?" both Kristoff and Sofie exclaimed in unison.

"I insist," she said. "Kristoff and I still have to make our rounds, but please, fetch your family and meet us at the entrance to the castle. We'd love to have you."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Of course!"

"O-okay," Sofie stammered, excited smile spreading across her face. With one last appreciative nod to Kristoff, she ran back to her husband.

"I don't know what happened," Anna said so only he could hear, "and I'm not going to ask, but that young woman seemed indebted to you. You saved her life?"

"I'm not a hero, if that's what you're suggesting," Kristoff said with a shrug. "I only did what I thought was right."

"You're a wonderful man, and I'm so lucky," Anna concluded, throwing her arms around him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Princess."

Hand-in-hand, they resumed their celebratory walk around the square.

Author's Note: The title of this story was borrowed from the series finale of "Dexter." Admittedly, it was a not-so-satisfying ending to one of my favorite shows, but my goodness, what a mysteriously wonderful episode title.

Thanks for reading! :)