For anon on tumblr, who wanted Kristoff treating Elsa like a big sister.


"Ow!"

"Stay still, Kristoff," Elsa says, sounding wholly unsympathetic as she continues to wipe at the deep scratch on his left arm.

Behind her, Anna flashes him a sympathetic grin, still poking gingerly at her freshly-bandaged forehead. Kristoff scowls; it's not fair she got to go first. "I thought I was," he mumbles, and then decides to chance a look up, "Are you…mad?"

Elsa pauses, staring at the cloth in her hand like it's a particularly difficult chess puzzle. "No," she says, before pressing down just a tad too hard onto his wound. He makes a sound that is decidedly not a manly bellow. "There, now we can wrap this up."

Kristoff groans, sure that this has to be punishment. It's not his fault that Anna had wanted to go on a three-person sled ride, okay; it's not his fault that wolves decide to attack literally every time they go anywhere; and it's certainly not his fault that Elsa—

Elsa, he realizes suddenly, is still wearing her riding gloves.

"I just wonder," she says now, the picture of regal serenity, "If His Royal Highness, Prince Consort of Arendelle, Ice Master and Deliverer—"

Anna does a celebratory kind of wiggle—official titles!—but Kristoff just grimaces, because this sentence can't be going anywhere good.

"I wonder," Elsa says, gripping his arm even tighter now, "If during the events of today His Royal Highness ever thought about how audacious and utterly stupid—"

"I was trying to be protective and stuff!"

"You threw me," Elsa says flatly, shooting him a withering look. "You literally picked me up, and threw me off the sled."

"Anna made me."

"Did not!"

"No one asked either of you to fight wolves for me," Elsa says, voice sharp now. The temperature in the room abruptly takes a dip, and he watches as her hands shake, just once. She still hasn't taken the gloves off.

Kristoff sees Anna bite her lip, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. It's definitely not his place.

"No one asked you to push me out of the way of that arrow last week," he says anyway.

Ringing silence.

"Or," he says, hurriedly andnot at all high pitched, nope—"No one asked you to do that thing when Anna fell off the roof of the palace—"

"Yeah!" Anna says, catching on, "When you jumped after me and like, flew? With your magic?"

"Or—"

"That's not the same!" Elsa's eyes flash and for a second Kristoff thinks that her gloves might be icing over—then the rigid line of her shoulders seems to snap in half, and she slumps down. "That's not the same," she repeats, dropping her head into her hands. "I'm the one who—"

"It is the same," Anna says, quiet now. She scoots sideways, so that her shoulder can touch Elsa's, so she can brace Elsa up. "Do you think we like it when you scar for us?"

Elsa doesn't respond. Kristoff watches the frost on the walls grow and recede with each breath she takes, and then clears his throat. "Actually—I wouldn't mind having you catch Anna like that again—that was just awesome."

Anna shoots him a scandalized look, but Elsa laughs—a shaky thing, but it's there. "You two," she says, rubbing her forehead, "You two are the mosttiresome people in all of Arendelle."

"Well," he says, leaning over so he can reach Elsa's hand, "Yeah, probably."

He starts taking her gloves off; finger by finger, left then right. She doesn't stop him.