Crossposted from Archive Of Our Own, where my username is remi. I wrote this shortly after seeing the movie, because I couldn't get the Elsa/Kristoff pairing out of my head. I thought that it only made sense for him to become obsessed with her, so I wrote this short scene to tide me over when I couldn't find a lot of the pairing online.
"He Hesitated"
His head ached from knocking against the cliff, and he could see spots of blood on his thick mitten as it came away from his head. He wasn't sure if his dizziness was from connecting with the rock or from the sudden fall down the cliff into the snowdrifts below, but either way it was a cause of worry. That distracted him enough that it took him a second to notice the sudden change in Anna's streaked hair. "It's turning white!"
"White?" Anna scoffed, tugging her braid out to see, "it's..." Her eyes widened. "...What?"
"It's because she struck you, isn't it?" Kristoff realized, remembering Anna's crumpled form on the gleaming floor of her sister's flawless ice palace.
She looked at her braid in shock before looking up at him with big, frightened eyes. "Does it look bad?"
Kristoff didn't mean to hesitate, but suddenly it wasn't Anna's face he was looking at. Their faces were similar enough that they could almost be twins, and the white in her braid only sharpened the resemblance. But it was the naked fear in her expression that sent his mind racing back to that impossible, perfect palace and the woman inside.
As soon as Anna's minute was up, Kristoff had followed the eager Olaf into the palace, unable to resist the shine of the ice, the gentle curves and intimidating spires and the unearthly glow that lit it from within. A lifetime of practice walking on slippery ice enabled him to keep his footing on the unnaturally smooth floor, though every step was taken with care. Not because he thought he'd fall, but because he was afraid that his large, clumsy feet might scuff the luminous snowflake design that reached out all corners of the room.
There was another staircase, another perfect, elegant staircase rising further up into the shining towers. He was almost afraid to touch the thin, delicate-looking handrail, but just like with the stairs outside, as soon as he placed his hand on it he could feel that it was far stronger than it looked. This was no normal ice; even if the inhumanly graceful architecture hadn't been enough to say. The cold that bit through his mitten was at first more intense than any ice he'd touched before, but almost immediately it seemed to warm enough to keep from harming him. It didn't melt, though. He wondered if it ever would. The ice was so clean, so heart-achingly clear to look at. He'd never seen the like in all his life. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the delicate construction, or the detailed frost-petal designs etched into the walls. If the Queen had really created this, what else could she do? How long had it taken her to create this marvel, how much time did she spend expertly carving - or growing - this strange, beautiful castle on the mountaintop?
He could hear voices coming from above him and followed them up the curving staircase, assuming it to be Anna and her sister, impatient to meet the woman who did all this in spite of his earlier reservations. He could recognize Anna's tone, though he couldn't make out the words; she sounded optimistic and hopeful. The unfamiliar voice, however, sounded upset, and as he climbed the volume of the conversation rose until the other voice shouted angrily, and both she and Anna fell ominously silent.
Kristoff knew instinctively something was wrong then. Almost at the top already, he ran the last few feet taking the stairs two at a time, erupting into another large, empty room. He didn't have time to take in anything though, because just as he reached the top of the staircase he saw Anna fall to her knees, clutching her chest in pain. "Anna!" he cried out, running and sliding over the ice until he reached her side. "Are you okay?" He put one arm around her, and she leaned on him as she got to her feet. "I'm okay," she told him breathlessly before turning away. "I'm fine."
Kristoff raised his eyes to where she was looking, and felt his heart clench. As soon as he laid eyes on her he knew who she was. Not just because of the family resemblance, but because she belonged. In that instant he wondered if she built the palace or if the palace built her, because he couldn't imagine one without the other. This woman belonged in these gleaming rooms, and the rooms needed her in them to shine the way they did now.
She was as flawless as the palace she had created, ice crystals sparkling in her white-blonde hair and an impossible gown of ice clinging to her gentle curves, a sheer, sparkling cape of frost draped over her shoulder. But her expression didn't fit; it was one of terror, her frightened eyes wide in her pale face, looking uncertainly between him and her injured sister. She must have done something to Anna, but it hadn't been intentional. Kristoff could see that easily in her face and posture.
So distracted by the Queen and her unearthly beauty in this strange faerie palace, and by his concern for the seemingly injured Anna at his side, at first he didn't even notice what the two were saying. But he noticed when the ice around him changed. As Ana tried to argue with her sister, the ice grew dark in shooting spikes and flaws began appearing in the crystal-clear walls, mirroring the Queen's anxiety. The walls groaned and creaked as they deformed, and suddenly the palace didn't feel as safe and welcoming as it had moments before. "Anna, I think we should go," Kristoff said, looking around at the shifting dark in the ice. Anna argued as he pulled her away, but the Queen shrank away, curling in on herself and flinging her hands out. A small blizzard erupted from her fingertips, billowing in a dark cloud on the floor as a massive form rose from it; a towering golem of snow, to eject them from the suddenly ominous, shuddering palace. The last Kristoff saw of the Queen was from over the golem's shoulder, as she fled through a pair of glassy, snowflake-etched doors, hunched and afraid with her ethereal frost cloak swirling behind her.
Kristoff realized suddenly that he'd been silent for just a second too long, standing stunned by the memory of they fey Queen in her beautiful, terrifying castle. "No," he said honestly, looking at the lock of gleaming white in Anna's braid and thinking of the Queen's shining, sparkling hair. Of course Anna was still beautiful, and nothing would change that. Until they had entered the ice palace Kristoff could have said with complete honesty that Anna was the single most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and he supposed she still was. It was hard to imagine the Queen as a living, breathing human woman like Anna. Even her fear didn't seem human; she seemed more like a cornered animal, lashing out when she felt attacked and helpless. Anna was warm and lively and perfectly flawed, and her fear was as human as she was.
"You hesitated," the snowman at their feet interjected helpfully.
"No, I didn't!" Kristoff lied loudly. He had hesitated, but not because it looked bad. No, it didn't look bad at all. It was because for a second, when he saw the Queen in his mind's eye while looking at Anna, she had been more beautiful than he could have imagined. He changed the subject quickly, because Anna needed help and he had to take her to his friends while they still had time. And if he wanted to stop thinking about the faerie woman in the shining castle on the cliff, well, Anna's safety was more important than the strange sorrow he felt walking away from the North Mountain and its frightened, dangerous Queen.