A/N Here is Chapter 9 only a bit late. I've missed writing for this story. I hope you all like this although I feel like it's not as good as it could be. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter... this one has a bit of Kristanna fluff if you can call it that. Anyway, onto where we left off:


When Hans arrived at his fiances room, his pace and breath were quickened. The hallways were practically empty as he passed every step, knowing should there be any witnesses around, it would be better to look concerned given the matter of importance that dragged him away from vengeance on the bloody ice cutter who'd taken what was rightfully his to have. And yet despite the urgency and the show he put on, it was almost difficult to keep it up through the winding hallways and stairs as his feelings were anything but genuine. However, there was the smallest bit of worry buried in the darkest recesses of his twisted little mind that said she was actually dying and they knew he was somehow the cause of it. Hans left a mental note to care later. Nobody would take a woman's word over his; especially a broken little girl like Anna.

The captain of the guard had practically been in hysterics when coming down to the cell where horrible screams emanated. After the rather unfortunate news that Anna was dying, a series of horrifically beautiful fantasies ran through his head. She could've cracked her head on the floor. She could've eaten the chocolate the night before and succumbed to it. She could've choked on her own breath with how clumsy she was. But the captain dismissed those possibilities when asked to elaborate. He'd said she'd slit her wrist and was bleeding out.

It wasn't exactly what the prince had had it mind, but it would do. After all, a moment of psychological weakness was a dream case to pass to the greedy and male-dominant council. If he was able to pass off Anna's emotional well being as a way to excuse her from a trail, he could pass this attempt as a reason to simply give him the title of ruler and leave her as his little delusional wife. If she wasn't fit to rule a kingdom, then they'd have no choice but to settle for the next best option.

As he reached the end of the long hallway where the princesses room was, the density of servants and few remaining dignitaries thickened. While the former queen's eternal winter had passed through, most of the dignitaries left without another word and some without their own cargo and personal things. There were mumbles of sadness and a few of the housekeepers were crying even though there was yet to be any pronunciation of death. It seemed while Hans held the loyalty of these peasants, Anna seemed to hold their hearts in this brief moment. He pushed his way through the crowds and into the princess's bed chambers.

The mauveine curtains were open, the sunlight of a fresh day spilling in through the large gable in a manner Hans had never seen. It seemed that Anna's depression was matching the darkness of her room these days. The furniture was pretty and untouched by anything including the light. Her winter cape was messily tossed over a comfortable looking chair, and a fire was burning strongly in the room despite the weather already being warm at this time of year. In the room already where two servants, one Hans recognized as Kai and the other he'd only occasionally seen about. She was dabbing a handkerchief to her wrinkled eyes as the head servant attempted to comfort her. The palace physician was sitting on the side of the bed, her eyes trained on the princess as she dipped a cloth into a basin and dabbed it along her arm. A scarlet red cut in her wrist was blooming with watery blood.

Hans held back a smile for the sake of his facade. There were witnesses in this room, and he couldn't afford to look happy in the midst of a depressing atmosphere. As far as they all knew their relationship was still burning and for lack of a better word passionate, and Hans intended to keep it that way, satisfaction or not. His gloved fingers ran absentmindedly along his opposite wrist, delicately brushing the faint scars of his own troubles. It was satisfying in the moment to see such a vibrant spirit brought down by her own helplessness, a reflection of himself only less than five years prior to the entire fiasco that had occurred in the kingdom of Arendelle. He'd been in bed from injuries like that once, and felt a slight pang of jealousy. His fiancee in her time of need was surrounded by her entire staff who was practically mourning her even when the situation was anything but dire as the captain of the guard made it out to be. When he'd been found six hours after collapsing nobody thought to stay beside him or even heal him. Not the servants, not the palace doctor, not his parents and most certainly not his brothers. It didn't feel fair that Anna was receiving the attention she'd said she never had received before. He also knew the unlikelihood of the princess dying from a cutting. There wasn't enough blood leaving and in the clean environment of the palace infection was about as distant as the moon. The iceman however, he felt had a significantly higher chance of death considering he had an uncountable amount of bodily wounds in a very dirty dungeon. But then again, he was only a commoner.

His death would make Anna's life all the easier to snuff out. But the prince if anything was a man of his word despite how unlikely it may have seemed. He would give the ice cutter his chance. Regardless of the choice he made, Hans knew he would be out of their lives be it by his hand or someone else's. So long as he was gone, Anna and Arendelle would be his to keep. And should he choose to stay behind in the smouldering wreckage, there would most certainly be more punishments where that came from.

"Is she alright?" He pushed his voice from where it rested in his throat. The servants looked at him with tiny, glazed eyes.

"Her majesty is a bit pale. She lost a lot of blood." The physician said from her position on her knees at the royal's bedside.

Hans strolled forward as urgently as he could pretend to be. "How serious is it?"

"Your majesty, I won't lie, her majesty is lucky to still be with us. Had poor Gerda not found her when she had there's no telling how much closer to her sister she'd be."

It was close. It was also a close call. However false his concern for his fiance was, there was a tiny fear in the back of his head that had Anna died before their wedding he wouldn't inherit the title of king. If there was one thing he'd had to go back on it was the lie that he and Anna had said their vows on her deathbed. Anna had managed to call his bluff that time, but thankfully nobody else listened beyond that one accusation as Hans had chosen to interrupt her next words by stating the wedding would be held in three weeks time. By then, she was too busy competing with the crowd's cheers and applause. But willing or not, the princess would marry him. While it was now a matter of convenience, Hans had an inkling one day she would grow to love him.

One day, but most likely not today.

"She will be alright, though?" He concluded with a bit of hope.

"Of course, given she's nurtured and fed. I'm quite certain Gerda can see to that." The palace physician cast a nod towards Gerda.

"You said that the wound was self inflicted." Hans inquired.

"While it seems that way, I cannot be sure." She shook her head slowly. "In all my years as a physician I've only dealt with sickness and the occasional open wound. The angle of the injury and lack of a second presence suggests that the princess did indeed harm herself."

"But the question of why still remains." The prince crossed his arms. A chilling silence passed through the room as everyone refused to offer a suggestion to the powerful man's question.

"For that, I'm afraid you'll need to ask the patient. I understand that you want answers, Prince Hans but until diagnosed with a clean bill of health, Princess Anna needs to recover." She wrung the cloth into a second basin, the cloudy red liquid trickling into the pale bowl. The wound was beginning to scab over, the skin glistening from applied moisture and flushed pink from pressure.

Hans bit his lip and cast a glance towards one of the windows, the sparkling view of the fjord obstructed by only the faded reflection of himself. The harbor was quiet today, as it most likely had been for the duration of the dead queen's life. Only a few giant ships sat by the stone docks, bobbing silently in the mid morning current. His ship was set to leave in less than an hour.

There was no question to it, really. Today was perhaps the ideal day to sail from harbor if he so chose to. Hans also had a schedule to keep. His brothers were expecting his arrival back any day now and by his count he was actually late to return. Not that they would miss him and vice versa of course but as before there was a certain giddiness in his shrunken heart akin to a child by the warmth of a hearth on Christmas morning. Gloating came to mind. And although Anna and Arendelle wasn't his yet, there was a satisfying feeling that she and it would be in less than two weeks. He couldn't risk staying if it meant a chance of Anna finding a loophole to end their relationship within the allotted time. No; the sooner this wedding happened, the better.

He sighed, and pressed a gloved hand to his brow, massaging it. "I suppose it will just have to wait until I return. Until then," He turned to Kai and Gerda. "I want you both to make sure she stays in her place. Make sure she gets better. Should anything happen to her whilst I'm gone consider your employment here null and void."

Gerda looked hurt by the stern threat while Kai sighed slightly, jaded at the attitude of the prince that he'd grown accustomed to. "Yes, your highness." They answered in unison.

"Now," He crossed his arms. "Physician, should you be complete with your healing, would it be to much trouble to request a moment alone with my bride?"

She turned to look at the prince. There was a fierce look of distrust beneath the cold, damp and burned out coals in her eyes. Her head swiveled back to the pale royal, the wound on her arm having scabbed over and the bleeding stopped. There was a begrudging tone to her mumble although the prince didn't care to make her elaborate. With no option of refusal and the princess no longer in medical danger, her work as the palace doctor was complete. She pulled herself to her feet, collected the cloth, and walked from the room with Kai and Gerda following. Footsteps echoed in the hall and voices murmured prayers and thanks.

And so he was left alone with the princess, her body comatose and deep within the pink and buttercream fleece. Feeling worked its way to his lower half and a sickly mischievous grin curled up his lips. His little informant had been so kind as to tell him of what his fiance was doing to avoid an accident with her infidelity and more importantly with him.

There were no accidents in his life. Thirteen brothers and inattentive parents had robbed him of such excuses. Things were his fault, even things he didn't know about. That was simply the way things were. He turned away from her for a moment, his gaze shifting to the windows. Soft movements dragged the mauveine veils over the windows. He felt pride in snuffing out the light to the room, his reflection leaving the glass of each and every window until the very last beam of golden sun was blocked away. The orange glow of the dying fire shimmered in his green eyes. The flames hissed menacingly with puffs of steam as the basin was emptied into the hearth. Hans peeled the silk of his gloves away from his pale, thin fingers. Finally, with the final light in the room dimming, the prince turned back to his princess.

There could be an accident this time. He'd taken Anna before. And Hans knew by now he worked best in the dark.


Her mouth was dry, a strand of hair strawberry blonde hair caught between her lips. The sheets caressed her naked body beneath its cover. No light filtered through her windows, and the fireplace sheltered weak cracks of glowing orange embers and dilute trails of white smoke. Her cloak remained thrown across the back of her chair, and the rest of her clothes remained strewn about the floor on one side of her bed. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was someone, a maid probably, seeing her on the floor.

Bleeding from a self inflicted cut on her wrist.

She sat up on the headboard, pillows bunched beneath the small of her back as her left arm drifted into view. A red line of dried blood followed the jagged cut. The other one, much smaller, was only an inch above and scarred, a dark purple line slicing across her wrist. A depressing thought surfaced in the princess as she surveyed the tokens of shame that now permanently graced her pale, freckled wrist. There was blame to be had for her actions, and what was worse Anna didn't know who exactly the blame belonged to. Was Hans really to blame for her own ridiculous actions?

This was what she'd become. Princess Anna, the girl who cut herself out of desire to end the relatively little torment and abuse she'd faced.

Her back arched with a searing pain and she whimpered weakly, pulling herself from the headboard of her bed. Her free hand, once petting the injury on her wrist crawled to her shoulder. Angry purple bruises blushed scarlet to her touch with a blossom of pain that made her gnaw her cheek until coppery blood seeped to her tongue. The indent of his belt was vaguely imprinted to her shoulder still even after hours. Had the physician noticed it?

With a sarcastic huff, Anna dismissed the thought. Even if Martha had seen her injuries Hans had no doubt found out about them as well and smooth-talked his way out of any true blame. Once again, her back was to the wall, and she had nearly let Hans win, this time coming even closer.

"No," She shook her head at the injuries. "Never again." Her eyes shut and she forced herself to look away from her pain. She had too much to protect. She had her subjects. She had the servants. She had Kristoff.

Kristoff.

She tore from her bed as fast as her legs could possibly carry her, the first dress she could find tightening to her shoulders as she left it half pulled over her head. Bare feet burned against the carpet and gleaming parquet. Fiery long hair wafted behind her like a burning bush. The servants she passed barely caught glimpses of their princess dashing through the halls like a mighty stallion unleashed to its herd. Her heart burned in its broken remains, embers twisting along the fragments of love she'd kept safe. It smouldered for the love she'd failed. The love she'd destroyed; ruined. There was no telling if he was even alive.

But Anna refused to give that thought even a moment's consideration. Blind hope hadn't fueled her in weeks. She'd lost sight of herself through Hans' words and actions. She'd lost that child-like innocence she'd held, the princess of Elsa's coronation was dead now as the former was. But like a mighty phoenix she felt herself rising again. Not even the threat of her fiance would stop her now if there was even the tiniest chance her true prince still held a beating heart.

She tripped twice on the third flight of stairs. She stumbled on the blood sewn hall rug. Calls of confusion and awe echoed in her ears but she refused to slow even though her lungs screamed for air. Her legs lusted for a break. Her eyes glazed over with determination and before she knew it she was bursting through the dungeon door. Down another flight of steps. Tears brimmed at her eyelids with a final push to the door she'd travelled to almost more frequently than her elder sisters'. Silence greeted her and even over her own ragged breaths Anna hoped the silence was false; that Kristoff was passed out or something similar and waiting for her on the other side of his own door.

Her breath slowed, her pulse raced. Sweat ran down her lower back and soaked to the tight spots of the dress. Bare feet tingled on the near icy stone floor, and the silence persisted. Anna felt herself heaving, pushing at the door with ragged and sob induced breaths believing that she could somehow break the door to the ice cutters cell open with her bare hands and minimal strength.

But as the silence continued its relentless march, the princess felt herself growing weaker with each moment that passed in the empty dungeons. The cell was silent because it wasn't occupied. Not even the drunkest slob at a filthy seaside tavern could sleep through the sounds on the other side of the door. Tears pooled at her blue pupils as her back pressed to the door. Her legs began to folding like a flimsy tent. Her rear connected with the ground and her dress hiked slightly up the door. Emptiness awaited the other side of that door.

Suddenly she was dressed in black, two copper plaits dull in the light of the evening moon. The shadows of the dark world shined in her moonstone eyes limpid with tears; glazed with impending doom and emptiness. Her fifteen year old voice was hushed. They'd said two weeks at sea. Then three weeks, then four, then a meeting with the council, then Gerda delivering the news and her complete mental collapse. Her lonely world had grown ever so darker and was slowly collapsing around her. The funeral was scheduled, her eulogy delivered through chokes and silent sobbing.

Elsa had promised to attend. She was to be queen in their absence once she came of age. But with each hour on the grassy hill on which their parents graves rested slick, polished and gray, the princess began to lose hope. The sun had stretched high only to be slowly ingested by dark storm clouds. The first patter of raindrops joined her country's tears and her own. She was alone then, forced to bury years of great memories in the muddy ground of the countryside.

And she was alone again now. Kristoff was nowhere to be found. Wherever he was, he may have been better off from the world she'd cast him to. Tears leaked from full blue eyes into her dress.

But suddenly a low groan echoed in the stone hall. Anna felt her head swiveling up in reaction to the sound. A thumb dragged a fold of her dress across her burning red cheek as she forced herself to her feet, bare toes stumbling along the hall and lithe fingers trailing the moss engorged stones. Shadows faded and darkened with every step she took, the pale light of the mid afternoon sun stretching across the walls even through the small windows of the dungeon. The princess felt herself halting, questioning if there was a voice to be had anywhere besides her own.

Another weak groan came from where she'd begun to walk. Her footsteps quickened. The voice belonged to someone. It couldn't be in her head as Hans would've told her. There was no way it could've been an illusion. There was too much pain, too much weakness, too little emotion. No distinctions between fear and pride were held in that voice. His voice.

A set of spiral steps shuffled under her small feet and for a horror stricken moment Anna almost considered turning back. There was no telling what remains laid in the darkened room just around the corner. There was no telling what pain he was in. There was no knowing if she could do anything other than watch his death like she had so many times in her worst nightmares. But these worries were dismissed quickly. If he was still alive by this point there was still hope; she told herself with a hand guiding her down the twisting dark steps, there was still hope for them yet. The ancient door creaked on its hinges, unlocked. Grey light hung in the room. Her face drained pale and she could hear her blood curdling scream echo in her throbbing ears. Heels deflated and she felt herself rocking backwards, hands flying to mouth to silence herself before she attracted any unwanted attention be it from Hans or anyone else. There was no way she would risk any of them finishing the job. There wasn't much to complete.

Dried blood pooled around the center of the room. Kristoff lay slumped against a wooden post, splayed out and stomach down. Short golden hair spilled down his neck and his face was pressed to the dusty ground, mouth open lamely as if he didn't have the strength to hold his jaw shut. His biceps and forearms were held in awkward positions like that of a broken doll, hands bound in lengths of fraying twine. Torn and bloodied flesh gleamed in the dull light, scarlet blood still dripping in some places and slowing in others. His back was a massive, open wound, rising and falling in ragged breaths.

All the princess could see was Elsa flashing before her eyes, weak and shuddering from a sword being driven through her back. He flinched with her scream, knuckles whitening. The blonde's head turned slightly, lash marks blushing.

Anna felt sick, her stomach churning with nothing to pass while her knees quivered like jelly and finally buckled. Her knees scraped along the stone through her thin dress. Her hands flew to her bosom and neck, struggling to keep herself from a sobbing mess. She dry heaved, fingers clutching her jugular and eyes clouded with hot tears. But she didn't let a single one drop.

She couldn't bear to look at him. "I'm sorry," She shook her head. "I'm so so sorry," She felt her softest voice crack.

"The sword," His throat was hoarse. Anna blinked. "In the corner- behind you." Her eyes followed his instructions and immediately she felt like dying all over again. The sleek silver slade was still caked with dried blood. The worst part was she had so many disgusting ideas as to whom it could've belonged to and yet had no real way of knowing the truth even though she hardly wanted to. Elsa, Sven, Kristoff; everyone she held dear was wounded by him. By her.

A rough lump slid down her throat as willowy fingers wrapped around the hilt, cushioned by the thin lacquer. With both hands she struggled, the clouded red blade scraping messily and loudly across the stone floor. She was simply too weak and weary to wield it. For a pause of morbid disgust she pondered her next actions. White knuckles tightened around the hilt and blue eyes trembled. Her ice cutter was bleeding out, weak, dying.

Would it be worth ending this now, when she didn't know his chances?

He wouldn't feel anything. The voice answered gravely. It would be over with quickly. A distant chuckle rung in her ears, dark and malicious as she fought to dismiss him and his words. He's not worth anything- not like a prince. Not like me.

"No," She shuddered. "Stop it." She attempted weakly, arms breaking out in gooseflesh. His cold touch slithered up her leg like the slippery snake he was.

Not like you, Anna. You may be a princess, you may be queen, He continued vindictively. But we both know that no title will ever hide what he is, what you are.

Tears began a slow march down her blossoming hot cheeks. "Leave me alone," She begged, dry anger clawing at her throat. "You've taken enough from me," Her eyes began to tremble with rage.

A fool. Her knuckles whitened. Go on, dear pet. Put the animal out of his misery. Anna sucked in a breath and she heard Kristoff asking her something, his voice distant in her mind but etched with concern for her.

For her.

Her eyes flashed and a ferocious growl leapt from her throat. She controlled the sword, the invisible reminder of her fiance crumbling like sand and scattering far away. Kristoff was injured, broken, hurt. But none of that mattered. She could never harm him even with the motive of freeing him. There was no world in which that was right, and more so in her case. Anna had sworn to herself she wouldn't let Kristoff get hurt anymore. Killing him would do neither of them any form of justice. All it would do was ruin what they had and leave her with Hans. That option was obviously less preferable.

But it was also the fact that Kristoff had seen her through all of this. He'd held on for her sake and as far she knew her sake alone. She'd never really known what true love was and a hard, cold dose of reality had set the record straight. Love was sacrifice. Love was care. Love was selfless. It was also quite messy. He'd sacrificed so much for her and the princess knew with all he'd done, she could never replace him with anyone. Kristoff was more than what Hans said- more than he was, and more than he ever would be. He was a prince to her. Her long awaited knight in shining armor… fur armor and riding a valiant reindeer steed. It was hardly the ideal, storybook romance she would've ever expected to find, but that didn't matter anymore.

An ideal prince was one she'd thought to have found and dreamt of. Kristoff hardly lived or looked the part of a dashing, handsome prince. But looks in both their cases were if anything deceiving.

She crawled along the stone floor, sword in both confident hands. Around the grey shadows she crept, skinned knees burning through her skirt. Within the space of a minute she had the crusted sword ready.

"Kristoff, hold on." She began. "Can you move your hands?" A moment passed and the blonde gave a weak tug at the slightly loosened rope, his calloused and burned hands safely out of the way of the blade. Lowering the sharpened end as carefully as she could, Anna began to press and saw against the ropes that bound Kristoff to the whipping post, the blade sawing quickly back and forth.

After a few minutes of sawing back and forth the first ropes split with a resounding and anticipated echo, the other coils loosening and Kristoff grunting. The princess felt herself silently apologizing with each split and pained grunt her iceman emitted. Tears pricked again at her eyes as she looked down at him, his head slumped limp between his shoulders. The bloody mess on his back was improved, darkness overtaking the massive wound and obvious scarring beginning its work like a miracle seamstress stitching a broken rag doll. She wanted to say this wasn't her fault; it would've put her more at peace than anything in the world. But there was no denying she'd been part of it all. There was guilt to be felt, but that could wait.

"This is the one," She mentioned to him, relaxing her grip on the sword slightly. "Are you…" She gulped down 'alright'. "Ready?" Kristoff's head shook.

"Can't... move." He managed. "It hurts too much."

Anna held back a hiccup and blinked down at him, pain gushing between the both of them like a melting spring river. "We'll get you to the trolls." She concluded. "They'll be able to fix this, I promise."

There was doubt down in the shelter of his hair- Anna knew there was. But Kristoff either wasn't up to say anything or simply refrained from it to spare her hopes. Truthfully the princess couldn't promise anything to Kristoff. Not anymore after all she'd caused and ruined. One day, she hoped she'd be able to confidently look him in his luscious brown eyes and say everything would be wonderful with another day like she would've always done before. But that, like taking blame would need to wait. He needed help more than sympathy. Bulda would be more than eager to offer that at less than a simple request.

The last binding snapped and fell to the ground like the limp body of a decapitated cobra, it's ends fraying weakly like the final spasm of muscles. Kristoff slumped, his arms collapsing to the stone like flimsy columns. Bright red marks encircled his wrists where the rope had held him still. Anna hadn't been prepared for this reaction. Not to say she'd been prepared for him to get up and start dancing around the dungeon. She'd at least expected something other than a complete shutdown.

"Come on," She threw the sword aside and struggled to lift the ice cutter as he seethed in the pain caused by her motions. "Kristoff, please," She grunted in near exhaustion.

Suddenly the blonde quivered with a slight burst of energy and with a gulp of air he picked himself up to his knees. His large arms wrapped around her in a silent, shaking embrace like a child reunited with his parents after a decade long journey across the sea. Anna tried her best to return the embrace without touching his injuries, forearms loosely hanging around his neck. His nose buried in the shelter of her hair. Her freckled cheek pressed to his bare, soft chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart within the rough exterior she'd come to cherish so much.

Helping Kristoff stand and limp his way along and out of the dungeon proved to be more of a challenge then Anna had expected. In the end she'd arranged him to simply lean on her, right arm wrapped around the appropriate shoulder; although it felt less like she was helping her lover and more like she was dragging a bear on her back. No guards flanked the closest exit to the stables and no servants wandered the halls. Only a tiny strawberry blonde princess with a half dead reindeer prince draped over her side shuffled quietly along the bright scarlet halls. With the open door came a rush of brisk wind. It occurred to Anna this had been the first time in weeks she'd been outside and the first time in weeks Kristoff had even seen the outside; the first time in weeks where he'd felt a golden light of the sun, the sting of the mountain air, the smell of pine and crocus blossoms. She could feel he was taking deeper breaths with every foot they stepped farther from the castle, like he was somehow magically healed by his natural home. Cobblestones still brushed underfoot, but it wasn't long before they reached the royal stables.

The building was of a light wood, columns framing the doors and corners. Distant memories of Elsa's coronation played over her vision. A handsome auburn smiled and laughed at her attempts at hide and seek behind those many rose emblazoned doors. Playful sweet nothings echoed through her mind and a shiver overtook her that was so violent she nearly dropped Kristoff. She felt herself slowing. It had been so real.

"Anna," Kristoff grunted. "Why are you stopping," She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," She finally said and kept moving, Kristoff limping alongside her. "Let's keep going. We're almost there. You'll get to see Sven."

His grip on her shoulder tensed and his fingers dug closer to the angry purple bruise. She winced, and Kristoff turned his head, hand pulling away instinctively and clasping to a nearby column. His weary eyes trained on her for a moment as the princess cleared her throat and kept walking forward to the nearest door, unlatching the first handle, then the second.

"Anna," He found himself questioning. "What did he do to you?"

Her hand left the door, drifting along the painted wood and her head tilted towards the hay strewn ground, bare toes dark with mud. He heard her gulp. "There was a belt." Although she refused to look at him, he knew her eyes had hardened. "And I was a fool." She shook her head. "I wanted to believe what he said were empty threats- but I was stupid enough to think he'd spare you anything." She blinked. "After what he did to you I deserve it."

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. "Anna, come here." He requested. She felt herself complying, shuffling along the mud. Finally after a moment she was in his shared shadow, refusing to look at him and face the guilt she had. Kristoff wouldn't have missed it if it had been tied to a flake of Elsa's snow.

"Look at me." He continued. The princess blinked with another hiccup and tilted her head to be level with his chest. "Look at me." He chided a bit harder, a calloused hand squeezing her good shoulder. "Please." He finally asked, a hint of desperation finding its way to his voice. A tear rolled down her face as she forced herself to take in the man she'd hurt so much.

His skin was pale with a blotch of rose at his nose and cheeks. Smudges of dirt were pressed to his chin and just below his left brow. His unkempt blonde hair fell in tresses around his face and a soft peach fuzz stubble climbed his chin. But through all the pain she'd witnessed and saw before her, his honeyed amber eyes still held untold concern, passion. They were dark enough she couldn't see herself within. His voice was soft yet firm. "Don't ever blame yourself for me, do you hear me?" His finger trailed her cheek, wiping the tear away. "Do you hear me?" He questioned again. The princess nodded.

"I'm sorry." She answered in a cracked voice. "I can't stop myself. After all you've suffered, I just can't see you hurt again. I'm not strong enough."

Kristoff looked unphased. "And who told you that?" Silence passed between them and the answer became rather obvious. "Don't fool yourself, Anna. Don't listen to anything he says."

"Every time I try, someone else gets hurt." She answered. "Look at yourself." She gestured weakly.

He sighed. "I won't lie to you." He began. "This hasn't been easy. But if this is what I have to take if it means you keep going, it's well worth it. I made a deal with you, Anna. I promised to get you up and back from that mountain safely. My job isn't done until you're safe- even if it means I have to take a whip."

"I can't let you take that, Kristoff. Nobody should ever have to." She shook her head quickly, leaning into his chest.

"I know." He answered. "But I'm not what's important, Anna. What's important is Arendelle; what's important is you. Whatever happens to me, you'll pull through. I know it." He paused. "Because you're strong, Anna. You just have to realize it yourself." He let the words sink in for a moment until Anna finally nodded.

"Okay." She nodded again, her voice cracking. "Let's go. You need your family." The ice cutter compiled and released her from his grip. She walked back over to the stable doors she'd unlocked. It wasn't until she reached the door that a vile stench became known and made her hold back a gag. Fear suddenly mounted over her and for a brief moment she contemplated simply turning around and going back to the castle to find Martha. But instead, her fingers curled around the edge of the stable door, and pulled.

Light streamed in through the cracked open door. A distinct coppery scent was overshadowed by the powerful smell of rotting flesh. Blowflies and aphids whined softly in the air. Anna struggled to open her eyes, horrified of what she would find but knowing what it had to be and nothing else could convince her otherwise. Finally, bile rising in her throat, she opened her eyes. A reindeer lay against the wall, his legs splayed out. In the frame of the door's light scarlet glistened along its chocolate brown fur. It's pink tongue lolled out of its mouth. Blood saturated the once golden straw, the golden strands floating around the red lake like long, wiry canoes.

She heaved and vomited onto the wooden floor, footsteps echoing in her throbbing head and fear immediately rushing through her veins as she realized what Kristoff was about to see. Anna picked her legs up, forcing them to move and stop him from seeing what she'd already unfortunately seen. But she couldn't move. All she could do was attempt keep herself from throwing up again as Kristoff's bare feet padded into the stable. His reaction was as expected. The body was unmistakable, mighty antlers branching out like thick tree limbs. She heard a shout of a curse, and a mighty thump as the floor rattled from his weight. Tears fell once more to the ground.

Sven was dead.


A/N Thank you all so much for your support of this story! Summer break is coming up so I should have the next chapter out eventually!

Oh and to that one guest who said I should delete this story, could you please elaborate on why you chose to read this and what other works you've read of mine? I'd appreciate positive feedback on this story and constructive criticism would be a big help.