Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Frozen universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to this universe. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.
o000o
Kristoff didn't sleep. He couldn't, and it wasn't for the normal reasons. It wasn't too cold. Sven wasn't snoring. There were no creatures in the woods around them making too much noise. If anything, it was too quiet. He couldn't stop his mind from racing.
What was he doing kissing the princess? Who did he think he was? He was no prince. He was an iceman, and that wasn't going to change just because she'd made up a stupid title for him.
He was out of place in her world. Living in the palace for a week had taught him that. He was bred and built for the mountains, not living inside stone walls. He was alive when he plowed his way through the snow or carved ice out of a lake. He loved waking up with aching muscles and still pushing through another long day of work. That was who he was. He couldn't give that up. He wouldn't.
And Anna...
She deserved someone who didn't knock trays at the dinner table and knew three languages. She deserved someone who understood the pressures of royal life and the manners and customs of nobility. She deserved someone who could live inside of a glorified box and not feel suffocated. She deserved someone different, someone better, someone not him, and that thought stabbed him.
The idea of not being with her gave him pain as sharp and real. It made him dizzy. It was like she was lodged in his chest, right next to his heart, and to remover her would surely kill him. On the other hand, the idea of being stuck in the palace for the rest of his life, tied down with duties and ceremonies, made him panic. He couldn't imagine a life outside of being an iceman, but he couldn't be without Anna.
What in the hell was he supposed to do?
She'll leave you, you know. She'll find someone better suited or Elsa will for her and you will be out. One half of him hissed.
She wants you. She needs you. Don't give that up. Don't throw that away. You need her, too. The Sven half answered.
He was arguing with himself.
She was literally driving him crazy.
He lay back against the furry stomach of his best friend, rising and falling with Sven's deep breaths, and stared at the tent until his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. By the time he drifted off into a fitful sleep, the fire was nothing but embers.
o000o
He kicked the tent to wake her. He didn't trust himself to look inside. What if she were so adorable while she slept that he couldn't bear to wake her? What if he was so transfixed by her that he crawled into the tent and just held her? Then they'd never get to tonight stopping point before sunset and that just wouldn't do. He kicked it again. Nothing, so again. Once more – with feeling.
"Anna. You need to get up. It is time to go."
She groaned inside the canvas walls.
"It's almost sunrise."
The rest of the camp was packed back into his sleigh and all that was left was his tent. It was time to remedy that. He bent over and yanked one of the corner pegs out of the ground, then the middle peg on the same side. When he pulled the final corner peg out from the side, the tent angled sharply to the side.
"You've got about ten seconds before this tent collapses on you."
"Hold on. I'm up. I'm up." Her voice was froggy.
She emerged with a rustle of fabric and a groan. Her hair was a tangled nest around her face and the skin on her cheek was creased with marks from his bedroll. The dress from yesterday was crumpled. She looked so young as she pushed her hair back and blinked sleep filled eyes at him. That damn protective instinct surged into overdrive at the sight of her. Why did she have to look like a helpless baby owl when she woke up? Why couldn't she look like something more disgusting – like a slug?
"The sky isn't even awake. Why are we?" She hugged her arms around her middle with a shiver that he ignored.
"The sun will be up soon. We need to get moving if we are going to make it to the next rest point by dusk." He flattened the tent and pulled out the polls. "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"
"I love mornings. I just don't count any time before the sun rises as 'morning'. But this is good. Sunrises are beautiful. I've seen like ten and each one was great." She yawned and stretched. "Can I help you?"
She sure went from half asleep to fully awake in a hurry. There was no in between with her. All in or all out – and from the way she looked at him he knew she was all in where he was concerned. That made his palms sweat.
"I've got this." He rolled the tent back into a nice parcel. "Why don't you go check on Sven and get in the sled. I'll be over in a minute." He needed a moment to regroup without her looking so bafflingly adorable a few feet away.
"Okay. Can do!" He watched her retreat for a few seconds before tearing his attention back to striking the tent.
After he was done, he took three deep breaths and counted to ten, but he knew there was nothing he could do to prepare himself for Anna.
o000o
She brushed her hair for half an hour and counted each stroke.
"One hundred fifty, one hundred fifty one, one hundred fifty two…."
He could not remember the last time he brushed his hair.
"Three hundred eleven, three hundred twelve, three hundred thirteen…"
She sang the numbers now. It could have been obnoxious, but he liked the way her voice sounded.
"Four hundred ninety eight, four hundred ninety nine, five hundred!"
She plopped the brush on her lap and ran her fingers through her locks.
"Sometimes I wish I could wear my hair short like a boy." She twisted the ends of her hair between her fingers. "I almost did it once when I was thirteen, but my mother wouldn't have liked it. She was very particular."
"I like your hair the way it is." To be honest, he would like her if she was bald, but that didn't mean he wanted her to be, or that she needed to know that.
"You do?" Her eyes lit up.
"Yeah. It suits you." The way she reacted made him think she had never gotten a compliment before. Maybe she hadn't.
"I like your hair, too."
"Well – thanks." Come to think of it – he hadn't really gotten that many compliments either.
"It's really – blonde."
"Always has been."
"Mine too. Well not blonde like yours, blonde like mine. My hair looks like my dad's did. Well, kind of anyway. Do you look like your dad?" She busily plated her hair into two long braids while she talked, and missed the look of uncertainty that swept over his face.
"Uh…" He scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "I don't really remember my dad."
"Why not?"
"Because – uh - I never met him."
A beat.
"You mean like never never?"
"No. No, I guess not."
"You guess not or you know not?"
"Know not."
"Oh."
Another beat and Kristoff should have felt more defensive, but with Anna it was different. The aloof unavailability he expected was replaced sincere concern. It was like his problems became her problems just by him saying a few words. He'd never felt that before from a human, ever, and it made him uncomfortable.
"Why?" She asked.
He could tell her the truth, but his stomach twisted at the memories.
Maybe he'd just keep it simple.
"I'm an orphan." He was surprised how easily that came out and he tried to remember the last time he'd said those words out loud. He couldn't. Maybe he never had. "At least until the trolls took me and Sven in."
"So you never knew either of your real parents?" Her eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them.
"Nope."
"Ever?"
"Never."
"Wow." She looks at the hairbrush in her lap. "This was my mama's." She lifted the brush for his inspection. "I guess I am an orphan too, except different."
"Your parents wanted you. Mine – not so much." He wasn't bitter, just honest. "That's the difference."
She put the brush down again and turned towards him. She grabbed his forearm in her hand. Her fingers barely reached around the top, but its presence begged him to look at her. He obliged. She looked into his eyes with a conviction so deep that he felt her sincerity all the way down to his toes.
"If you were my baby," Her voice was a solemn vow. "I'd never give you up for anything in the whole entire world."
Her words didn't change the past. They didn't fix the hunger or fear or loneliness that plagued his childhood. They didn't erase the slurs or the exclusion he'd experienced due to no fault of his own. They didn't even really make a whole lot of sense. However, in that moment, somewhere deep inside of him, a wound he'd carried alone for far too long hurt just a little less.
o000o
"Do you know the names of all of these mountains?"
"Yes."
"Prove it."
He did.
o000o
Anna fell asleep with her head on his shoulder after lunch.
He pulled back on the reins, slowing Sven to an easy walk, and did his best to avoid the larger potholes. The way Sven pulled at his restraints let Kristoff know he wasn't thrilled about the new pace. Normally Kristoff wouldn't be either. They liked to go quickly, but for Anna he would go slowly. He would go as slow as she needed.
o000o
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-four." He shifted on his hard wooden seat.
"That seems right. I thought you might be older, maybe because you are so tall, but twenty-four sounds right because you are very grown up."
"Okay. Thanks?"
"No. It is a good thing! I like that you are mature – and tall, you know, because I am too. Mature that is – not tall. Because I am not tall. Anyway, I think it makes us a nice fit."
A nice fit, the twenty-four year old iceman and the something-or-other princess.
Wait a second.
How old was Anna?
It hadn't mattered when they met, or when he was saving her life, or when he was living in the castle, or the twenty billion times he had fantasized about her. In fact it hadn't really mattered until right now, but now it mattered quite a lot.
He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
"How - uh - mature are you?"
"Eighteen." She sat up stick straight. "Well, not actually, not yet, but I almost am. Kinda. My birthday is in eight months."
You could have knocked Kristoff over with a feather.
Anna was seventeen years old.
No. She was barely seventeen, which meant that a few short months ago she was only sixteen years old. Granted when he was sixteen, he was saving to buy his first sled, was well into his ice harvester career, but his version of sixteen and her version of sixteen were starkly different. She'd barely seen a human being or been outside of the castle walls. She was so young, so trusting, and he felt rumbly inside.
"Seventeen." He said it out loud, trying to wrap his mind around it. "Wow. Seven- that is just really something, isn't it? I remember seventeen. Seventeen." He whistled low under his breath.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Because you keep saying my age. It is freaking me out." She scrunched her freckled nose and scowled.
"Sorry. I just didn't realize you were that -" He couldn't say 'young'. "- seventeen."
"How old did you think I was?"
"I don't know. Older?" Not seventeen.
"Is my age a problem or something?"
"No!" Yes. Maybe. Probably. Yes. "It just wasn't what I was expecting. That's all."
Anna was nothing like he had ever expected ever. So why should her age be anything less than surprising?
"That makes you seven years older than I am. Seven is a nice number, don't you think?"
No. He didn't. Numbers weren't nice. They were cruel and they made him feel like he was taking advantage of her even more so than he did before. Or she was taking advantage of him. Or something.
Seventeen.
Damn it all to hell.
He needed to change the subject before his brain exploded, so he lunged for the first thing that popped into his head.
"Hey – how about that guessing game?"
o000o
He unpacked the camp and she got kindling for the fire just like the night before. It could have been domestic except for the fact that he was surer than ever that bringing her was a big mistake.
He knew that seven years (actually closer to eight) was not an impossible gap, it was just that she was a young seventeen and he was an old twenty-four. Her inability to sense his uncertainty at the subject of their age difference showed that. She was just a not-quite-an-adult hungry to experience all the world had to offer and that included Kristoff.
No wonder she agreed to marry perfect strangers.
Why oh why had he opened his dumb mouth and asked how old she was?
She hummed to herself as she flitted around their campsite, but he remained stoic. He was so deep in thought that it startled him when she plopped down next to him on the log by the fire.
"I brought some books." She held a volume in each hand.
Her skirts brushed his thigh. He froze between the need to move and the want to stay.
"Books?" What was she talking about?
"Yeah. Just a few of my favorites. I thought maybe you might want to read one for fun." She handed him one of the books and he took it dumbly.
"This is… nice." He opened to the middle and thumbed through the pages before snapping the cover shut. "But I think I'm good. I've got to get dinner ready." He stood and handed her back the book.
"Oh. Okay. Then I'll just read out loud to you then."
"Yeah. Sure." He couldn't get in much else because she'd already jumped into her reading.
She read poetry. He half listened. He'd never had much use for poetry, but if it kept her occupied that was fine by him. The cadence of her voice rose and fell along the phrases in hypnotic rhythm as he pulled together their simple meal. While a good deal of the vocabulary was over his head, he had to admit that the tone of her voice took was soothing. Just the idea of her being close was soothing, like she eased an ache he hadn't known he had.
That did not make his dilemma any simpler.
Their fare was finished before she was so he sat opposite her and watched her through the flames. The light from the fire made her braids flash red. It cast deep shadows over her soft face that made her look angular, older, and he appreciated that. She made the reading look effortless as she breezed through stanza after stanza. He stared at her mouth and watched how those soft lips formed word after word. He watched her tongue slip between her teeth and curl around the sounds of each letter. He remembered just how those lips and that tongue felt against his.
He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed when she stopped and looked up at him.
"Should I keep going?" Her eyes glinted bright in the fire.
Yes, because he wasn't done reliving every moment where she had been pressed up against him. No, because he really needed to think of any and everything except what she tasted like.
"Dinner is ready." Neither because he wasn't ready to deal with his feelings.
He stood and went over to hand her the tin containing her meal before retreating back to his side of the fire. He ignored her flash of disappointment at his distance.
"You're really good at that." He started conversation before she could point out his remoteness. "The reading thing, that is. It was nice."
Instead of addressing his aloofness, Anna moved over to sit right next to him without missing a beat. Kristoff felt a headache brewing behind his eyes.
"Thanks. I used to read out loud almost every day to Elsa through the door since, you know, she wouldn't talk to me. That book is one of my favorites."
"That would do it then." He looked at his plate, the fire, the darkness beyond – anything but her face.
"Yeah. I always hoped Elsa liked it too. I still haven't asked her yet. I will have to do that when we get back to Arendelle. She'll be out of her room by then, don't you think? Of course she will be. She will have to be. She is queen after all!" Anna didn't breathe. "What do you think?"
"About the book?" Kristoff noticed how she kept edging closer to him on their log seat. Each little scoot made his heart skip a beat.
"No. About Elsa." Anna chewed her bottom lip. "Do you think she'll be out of her room by the time we get back?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't she be?" Potentially lethal ice magic leapt to mind, but that wasn't what she needed to hear right now.
"Of course. Yeah. Right. You are so right." She nibbled on the edge of a biscuit.
They fell into silence then. It was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It just was. Kristoff was thankful for it. It made it marginally easier to forget that she was a breath away from him all willing, eager, and so very young.
o000o
He needed distance.
That was the only thing he had decided in all of his agonizing over Anna. He just needed space to process everything. That was why he had decided to go on this trip in the first place, but then she tagged along and now he was stuck with her. He couldn't very well leave the princess in the middle of the woods, could he? So that meant he would have to create some sort of distance while she was constantly in his personal space.
No kissing. No grabbing her hand. No arm around her shoulder. No touching her in any capacity until he figured out exactly what course of action needed to be taken.
That was just how it had to be.
Dinner was over and he was going to say goodnight to her without getting caught up in everything like he did the night before. He couldn't. He owed it to both of them to be strong enough to say 'no' for now.
She looked at him, a few feet away, with an expectant face.
"I'm going to sleep now." He walked over to where Sven lay by the fire and settled down against his friend.
Anna's expression flickered.
"I get the tent?" She tested the water.
"Yes." The water was cold.
"Alone?"
The question shot straight to his groin.
He shoved his floppy hat over his eyes to keep from looking at her. He knew he was finished if he did.
"Alone." Tension you could cut with a knife.
He wanted to look so badly. He wanted to see how his reticence stunned her. He wanted to make sure this was all worth it, because it sure didn't feel worth it.
"Okay then – um – goodnight?" She gave him one last chance to change his mind.
He wouldn't.
He couldn't.
He was doing this all to keep her safe, wasn't he?
"Goodnight." He didn't move. He didn't dare.
She's seventeen. She's seventeen. She's seventeen. She's seventeen… he thought into the blackness as he listened to her pad over to the tent and climb inside.
The more he thought it though, the less sure he was that it really mattered.
She's a princess. A voice hissed in the dark, and he knew that no matter how many times he thought that - it would always matter a great deal.
o000o
A/N: First, thanks to all of the reviewers. I appreciate you taking the time to leave your thoughts more than you know.
Second, I put Kristoff a little older in this fiction than Disney had him for two reasons. Reason one was from the research I did about Ice Harvesters, there was no way he could have been six or seven as they depicted him in the movie and been out learning the ice trade. Apprenticeships in that didn't start until boys were closer to nine or ten because they simply lacked the physical strength and endurance to be anything but dangerous. Reason two was to add a little drama with Anna being significantly younger than he was without it being creepy.
So don't get your panties in a bunch. This is fanfiction. I really shouldn't spend so much time thinking about avoiding anachronisms. Disney sure doesn't.
I posted a heads up about this chapter going live on my fanfiction twitter. If you want to know when updates are coming before they are here, go ahead and follow me: ravenswrite
