Disclaimer: I often pretend that the canon characters in this story belong to me, but pretend is pretend, and this is reality. Canon characters belong to Me. Wait, I mean Disney. Yes, Disney.

Author's Note: Hi, all! I hope everyone has been doing well! So, I decided to challenge myself and write an Olaf segment. Hopefully I was able to capture his voice and tone. It was kind of fun exploring him a bit. Thank you for reading! Like always, I really appreciate you spending some time with this story. ^_^

~x-X-x~

Chapter #15: Family First

His smile faltered, and this was particularly unusual because Olaf's natural state of being was one that promoted his large, infectious grin. He had moved from the floor and was now sitting on Elsa's desk chair. His large, round eyes trailed her as she paced between one end of the large window to the other, and then back again—a flutter of snowflakes drifting in her wake.

Elsa was not the only one pacing. Anna, too, paced. It was what they did when their thoughts were too overwhelming to be contained as just thoughts—movement was required to create a flow of contemplation, and pacing did just the trick. Gerda had once told Olaf that the sisters had inherited their pacing from their father, who had been known to wear down a rug or two.

Anna was pacing between Elsa's desk and the table-top globe, her speed changing with every transition of thought—sometimes a brisk walk, other times a slouched amble. Her path was jaunted and sporadic, with sharp turns and small stumbles. Every now and then she would look down—her hands balled into fists—as she processed a thought, and then she would lift her nose into the air when a realization formed. Watching Anna pace was like watching a bellowing breeze. Her presence filled the room.

In contrast, Elsa's pacing was a steady, consistent glide so unobtrusive she seemed to melt into the ambiance of the room. Her thoughts were expressed in the slight tilt of her head and the furrowing of her brow, and yet it was difficult to determine exactly what she was thinking. She exposed little behind the icy glass of her eyes. Unlike her sister she rarely paused; her steps fixed; her path unbroken.

Olaf's eyes shifted between the two sisters. Every now and then his eyes would make contact with Anna's and a silent look would pass between them. It had been a long time since Elsa had flurried and they both recognized the agitated patterns of her snowfall. He could tell that Anna desperately wanted to break the silence. It was not like her to hold back.

In his three years of existence, Olaf had learned a lot. Fire was hot, love thawed, lemonade stained snow, and there was no meaning to life unless you gave it one. He discovered very quickly that the best way to learn was to ask questions, and although he was only vaguely aware of the annoyance this sometimes caused in those on the receiving end of his inquiries, his happy disposition kept him immune to such reactions. He never hesitated to ask those impulsive questions he was so known for.

In his pursuit of knowledge, he had also become aware that his friendships served a purpose, and that this purpose was fulfillment. He went to Anna for laughter, warm hugs, play, and sunshine. He went to Kristoff for stories, jokes, reindeer cuddles, and stew. He frequented the kitchens for Vera's smiles, for Gerda's pampering, and even for Kai's little affectionate pats on the head.

But when he went to Elsa, this fulfillment was as much for her as it was for him. When Olaf first came into being, his first awareness was Elsa, and he somehow knew that his very last awareness would be of Elsa, as well. Olaf's existence was intertwined with hers and so he went to her when they both needed to just… be. He would sub-consciously hold her hand when they walked together. He often found himself playing in the snow she would conjure just for him, because even though she had managed to permafrost him, her snow revitalized him. Olaf did not need sleep, but he always found her in the early hours of the morning. Whether she was in bed, or asleep at her desk in the study, or buried deep in a bale of hay, he would find her, snuggle up to her, and rest.

Kristoff was his friend and he loved Anna most, but Elsa existed in his very manifestation. So, as he watched her pace back and forth, he could not help but feel her distress, and this caused his usual smile to falter ever so slightly. She was confused. He could feel it. Her thoughts were torn between two things, and Olaf did not need to think hard to realize that she was struggling to make sense of Emil Evensen's betrayal while also reconciling her feelings for his son.

Olaf slid down from the chair and waddled towards her. She paused only for the moment it took for him to grab her hand, and then she continued her pacing with Olaf by her side.

'You know what makes me feel better when things get tough?' The impulse was there.

Elsa continued to pace. Anna paused and looked in his direction.

'What's that, Olaf?'

'Singing,' he said, promptly. 'See, first you start off with a little humming because it's hard to start singing right away when things are tough. But soon that humming gets louder and before you know it, you've forgotten what was tough and you're singing like a mermaid with the voice of an angel!'

Anna blinked.

'Also, I don't think Mr. Evensen is bad.' Another, strategic impulse. He had learned a lot.

Elsa stumbled, and a flurry of snow lifted into the air. Olaf squeezed her hand.

'Elsa…' Anna took a step towards her sister. 'Can we talk about this?'

'Yes, let's talk about this,' Olaf supported. 'Wait, talk about what? Oh, you mean how Mr. Evensen's father betrayed our family and how Kai doesn't think Mr. Evensen is as nice as I know he is?' He looked up at Elsa while giving her hand a little tug. 'I think Mr. Evensen is a very nice person.'

Elsa looked down at Olaf and then up at Anna. Her brow was narrowed, but her eyes immediately softened and she inwardly chided herself for causing the look of worry so obviously displayed on their faces. They both look concerned… and a little nervous.

'Okay,' she said, sounding slightly defeated. 'Let's talk about it.'

~x-X-x~

'The thing about a polished shoe is that it sets you apart from the regular riff-raff.' Kai held up the shoe he was holding against the lantern light and contemplated the little scuff on the heel.

'But what if ye' are the regular riff-raff?' Henrik tried in vain to rub out the creases in his boot.

Kai peered down at the boy, his gaze taking in Henrik's stained fingers and the shiny streak of polish smeared across his freckled nose.

'What I mean is, a polished shoe says a lot about a man. It represents cleanliness, of course, but it's also a sign of determination, a strong work ethic, and a dedication to bettering oneself. A polished shoe reflects your pride in a job well done.'

'But ain't it just a shiny shoe?' Henrik sounded dubious, but he sat up a little straighter as he watched Kai's brisk back-and-forth hand movement as he buffed the leather.

'It's about feeling proud in how you present yourself, Henrik.' Kai held out the cloth he was holding. 'The trick is not how you polish the shoe, but what you use to get the job done. A soft cloth is a must.'

'Paired with a gentle hand, I would think,' Gerda intruded, as she bustled into the small room to grab a silver tray from a top shelf. She paused to watch Henrik vigorously rub his boot with a wire-bristled brush, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. 'Now there's a futile effort if I ever did see one. A stable-boy's boot is a hapless thing indeed.' She motioned at the boy as she walked past him towards the door. 'Come, Henrik. Vera just pulled the bread pudding from the oven and will probably need help drizzling on the vanilla syrup.' She held back a smile at the widening of Henrik's eyes and the little drool pooling at the corner if his mouth. 'That is, if you've finished with that shoe there.'

Henrik did not need to be convinced twice. He shoved his barely polished boot back onto his foot and hobbled out the door towards the kitchen.

'I was trying to teach him a lesson on self-care and grooming,' Kai grunted, as he continued working on the shoe in his hand.

Gerda balanced the silver tray against her hip. 'Really? Looks to me like you were using the boy as a distraction.'

Kai pursed his lips. 'I was not.'

'You're polishing the late King's shoe again.' She put the tray down on the counter and leaned towards her friend.

Kai looked down at the immaculately polished shoe, the gold buckle glinting in the lantern light. 'These were the last shoes I polished before their… voyage. He decided last-minute not the pack them.'

Gerda picked up the other shoe. The King must have had a dozen such pairs, and yet this particular pair had been his favourite. They were completely worn through, the leather was soft the supple, and there was a little tarnish in the gold finish of the buckle. The soles were threadbare with the hours the King had spent pacing. Pacing for the well-being of his kingdom. Pacing to form the important decisions only he could make. Pacing, endlessly, with concern for his eldest child.

'She'll be fine.' Gerda placed the shoe back on the table. 'The Queen will be fine. You did the right thing, telling her. I must admit, I didn't think so in the beginning. But… now that it's done, I think you were right to tell her.'

'But would he have wanted me to?' Elsa's sudden flurry was still sitting uneasily with him. He had been so sure that she needed to know the truth. How had he failed to anticipate such a reaction?

To Kai, Niklas was just a thorn in his shoe, a constant reminder of a time when things were dangerous for the royal family. But Elsa's reaction to the news made him wonder whether, for her, Niklas was something more. Was her sudden disregard for certain decorum not an act of rebellion, but rather an act of affection?

'I know that our girls are both adults, but I can't help feeling protective when either finds herself in a new situation. And of course, given how they've spent their formative years, every situation is practically a new one. The world is a huge place; an endless, cavernous pit of—'

'—of experiences,' Gerda interjected. 'They won't learn to run if we don't let go of their hands.'

Kai raised a brow. 'Are you forgetting what happened when one did run?'

Gerda shook her head with a small frown. 'Okay, but in the long run it was the best thing that could have happened. For both our girls.'

'Gerda, one nearly died at the hands of the other.'

She flinched. 'But one was also saved at the hands of the other.' She reached forward and patted Kai's arm. 'They just had to go through the in-between stuff. It's the same now. I have faith that the Queen will be able to decide what she needs to do.'

'That's not the problem,' Kai said, letting out a sigh. 'The tricky part is making sure she makes the decision that will be best for HER.'

'Best for her, or best for our Kingdom?'

Kai did not respond, but the way he shifted his eyes spoke volumes.

'Yes, I see. And I bet you will help her make that decision?'

He looked down at the King's shoe. 'Well, I am her advisor…'

'Kai, only she can know what is best for herself. Lord knows she's spent her entire life dealing with the decisions others have made for her.'

Kai let out a sigh and placed the shoe down on the counter. 'Of course, you're right.' He looked up and managed a smile. 'As per usual.'

Gerda picked up the tray with a bit of a flourish. 'How refreshing it is to hear you admit it.' She stepped towards the door. 'Kai, I'm sure the King is thankful that it's you by her side. He trusted no one more.'

Kai nodded. 'Thank you.'

'Of course. Now come along. Let's hope that boy has left us a crumb.'

~x-X-x~

Anna was following Elsa's and Olaf's stride, her buckled shoes crunching in the snow that covered Elsa's path. There were many things she wanted to say. She wanted to express that she felt their father had done the right thing in how he had dealt with Emil Evensen. She wanted to reassure Elsa that none of this was her fault. She wanted to remind her sister that Niklas was not his father, and that he was still the man they had come to know—a decent and kind man.

But as Anna trailed her sister, she took in the ice that cracked against the glass of the window, that climbed the walls to the ceiling, that dripped in frozen icicles, and she suddenly recognized this particular pattern of Elsa's flurry.

'Elsa… you're not a monster.'

Elsa stopped so abruptly that Anna bumped into her. 'I… what?'

Instead of stepping back, Anna wrapped her arms around Elsa's body and pressed her cheek against her sister's back.

'And no one thinks you're a monster. We love you. Our people love you. No one here will betray you.'

'I-I know…' Elsa closed her eyes and tilted her head back, her hair crinkling in the cold against the top of Anna's head. She could feel Olaf press his little body against her leg.

She did know. When she was fully herself and all was well with her world, she knew that she was not the monster she always feared she was—she was not the monster she once saw reflected in the eyes of her people all those years ago; she was not the monster Grand Pabbie had warned her of becoming; she was not the monster Emil Evensen threatened her father with. But there were times when self-doubt would emerge from the otherwise dormant cavern of fear within her and whisper with poison tongue that although she was not a monster, she may be something worse. And how could she prove otherwise when she was the only one?

Today, however, was not such a time. Her concern over the news of Niklas's father did not stem from such a fear… at least not in the way Anna was worried about.

She patted her sister's clasped hands around her waist. 'It's not that…'

Anna loosened her grip as Elsa turned around and reassured her sister with a small smile.

'But… the ice…'

Elsa lifted an eyebrow, and for the first time noticed the frosting of her sister's breath. Her eyes widened as she gazed around the room and took in the winter she had forced into an otherwise warm study. Her mouth formed a small pout as the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

'I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize…' She lifted her hands and drew the ice particles towards her. The ice creaked and cracked free from their surroundings. The shards and flakes merged into a ball that grew increasingly in size, causing Olaf's eyes to widen with excitement.

He scrambled up the bench at the window and watched as Elsa maneuvered the snowball outside and up into the air. She snapped her fingers, and the snowball exploded into a million of what Olaf called "shimmering sparkles". The warm, June sun reflected through each flake and Olaf knew that, somewhere, a garden would be enjoying a gentle, summer rain.

'Okay, so what is it then?' Anna pressed, not allowing for any distractions. 'You don't think Niklas is to blame for any of this, do you?!' There was a hint of accusation in her tone, but she felt a shift in Elsa's body language that immediately made her regret it. 'I mean… I hope you don't… because Niklas…' She faltered. Because Niklas what?

She was not naïve enough to ignore that people were sneaky and conniving, and that as Queen—and more extensively as a magical being—Elsa could easily attract the attention of political agendas, nay-sayers, power-seekers, and evil-doers. Arendelle was a small kingdom nestled in a fjord with limited access, but Anna and Elsa were careful to protect themselves against a false sense of security. Anna had a heightened radar when it came to any potential threat towards her sister and—as her sister's master protector, or so she was want to believe—her radar lay dormant when it came to Niklas Evensen. In fact, she felt strongly that Niklas was the right amount of dosage Elsa needed to… to…

… to breathe a little less restlessly.

'Niklas is our friend, Elsa.'

'I know that…'

'It was his father who tried to sell you out, not Niklas…'

'I know that…'

'Niklas probably doesn't even know anything about this. He would never knowingly take part in any of this…'

'I know that…'

Anna let out a frustrated sigh. 'Then why do I feel like you're about to break up with him?'

'I—what?'

Anna narrowed her brow, her eyes unwaveringly fixed on Elsa's. 'You're in a relationship with him, Elsa.'

'Anna, I…'

'Oh, you're definitely in a relationship with Mr. Evensen,' Olaf agreed, grinning. 'We learned in school that relationships are forged between people when there's a connection or attachment and I think it's clear that Mr. Evensen wants to be attached to you, like the rest of us are.' Olaf's grin widened. 'And Elsa is blushing.'

'I am not.'

Except that she was.

'Elsa, why can't you just admit how you feel—'

'This has nothing to do with that,' Elsa pressed on, and this was partly true. 'Knowing what we know now, how can we continue seeing him?'

She said "we", but Anna knew better.

'It's called trust, Elsa. We have to trust that he means you no harm.'

'That's not what I mean…'

'THEN WHAT DO YOU MEAN?' Anna exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air. 'Like, just spit it out because this back and forth is making me crazy.'

Elsa reached forward and subconsciously dusted a hair from Anna's shoulder. She could feel the tightness in her chest clenching—and releasing and clenching again—and hoped that talking through her thoughts would help alleviate the tension she felt in her heart. Niklas's kind eyes kept flashing into her mind, the sound of his voice in her thoughts lulling her into a place of solace.

'I think you're right, Anna,' she said, slowly, 'about Niklas not knowing about his father's actions…'

Anna nodded. She sat down in a heap of dress on the now snowless rug. Elsa sat down cross-legged before her.

'… and that's the problem. How can we tell him? How can we avoid telling him if we spend time with him? It's bound to come up… now that we know…'

'But shouldn't we tell him?' Olaf leaned against Elsa, his twig-hand patting her gently on the knee. 'Honesty is the best policy. Or at least that's what Kai always says…'

Elsa nodded, tugging at her braid. 'Yes… and that's why we have to stop seeing him…'

Anna crinkled her nose. 'You keep saying we…'

'Anna, Niklas is a good man. We—I—know that. If he finds out what his father did, it would change his relationship with him forever. And what would that mean for our friendship?'

Elsa's eyes darted between Olaf and Anna as they both—with similar tilts of the head and roving eyes—processed her words. Understanding was just on the cusp, and Elsa decided to give it a final push.

'Anna, what if Bulda threatened to cause you harm? How would this effect Kristoff and his relationship with his family? How would this effect his confidence in his relationship with you? On the one hand he would have to deal with Bulda's betrayal, and on the other hand he would have to reconcile the effects of that betrayal on his standing with you. Wouldn't he be torn between his family and the one he loves?'

Anna's lips parted in a small "o" as her eyes widened. 'Whoa… Elsa… that's some next level of concern! I hadn't even thought about this angle—WAIT. Kristoff loves me, that's why this would be a problem. Don't tell me you're finally admitting that Niklas lov—'

'Anna.'

Anna's eyebrows shot up as she sat up on her knees. 'Elsa, do YOU lov—'

'Anna, enough.' Her brow was furrowed. 'I don't want to be the reason for Niklas's distress. His guilt towards what his father did to our family—to me—will conflict with his loyalty and duty towards his family. I won't be the reason that will tear him from his father.'

'But Elsa… once he finds out, his relationship with his father will—'

'But don't you see, Anna? When I caused harm—to our kingdom, to you—it was the love of my family that healed the... the demons inside.'

'But Elsa,' Anna breathed, her heart constricting for her sister, 'you were never bad. You never intentionally meant to cause harm. You weren't causing harm at all. You were just feeling—'

'You can't forsake family.' Elsa's tone was firm. 'I won't allow that.'

Anna could only blink. She was finally beginning to understand. Elsa was willing to sacrifice her relationship with Niklas in order to salvage his relationship with his father.

'That's such an Elsa thing to do…' Olaf observed, and Anna knew he was right. There was nothing she could do to sway her sister's stubborn resolve. At least not in this moment.

'I think this is dumb,' she said, before she could stop herself.

'It's what I have to do.'

'No, it's—'

'Anna, it's what I have to do…'

And there it was. That look in her eyes that both Olaf and Anna had seen once before; in an ice palace hidden in the North Mountain so many years ago.

Anna made to open her mouth, but she felt Olaf's hand on her arm and realized that the conversation—at least for the time being—was over.

Olaf stared up at Elsa and his smile, for the second time, faltered. He knew that Elsa's words and actions were the right ones.

But he also knew that they were not the right ones for her.

~x-X-x~

Kristoff had told him not to worry, and as Niklas made his way towards the tavern he tried to convince himself of the Ice Master's reassurance. The urgency with which Kristoff had demanded that they meet had inspired in the school teacher a number of possible scenarios. Each one became more and more dire, and he could feel Elsa's hand slipping from his own.

He said not to worry… he reminded himself, for the fifteenth time.

But how could he not worry? It was already an impossible hope that Elsa reciprocated even a morsal of the feelings he held for her, and now he wondered whether his presence in her life had caused her harm. Why else had he been sent away with such urgency—and without being able to see her?

And he so desperately wanted to see her. He knew now, like a sudden clearing in the morning mist, that his heart was restless without her.

Perhaps this was why, as he turned down the small side-road, he felt an aching fear that whatever Kristoff wanted to tell him would thwart any hope of being by her side. As he strode indiscriminately down the cobblestone street, he could hear the muted noise of the tavern against the echo of his footsteps. Standing just outside the tavern doors was Kristoff, and when Niklas finally reached him he was surprised to find himself breathless.

Kristoff eyed Niklas with a hard gaze.

'I-I'm sorry for my tardiness,' Niklas started, but Kristoff held up his hand.

'You're not late. The tavern's busy. Is there anywhere else we can go and have a talk?'

"Have a talk" sounded far more foreboding than "have a chat". Niklas felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach.

'The s-school is just a few streets down,' he said, thinking fast.

'That'll do.' Kristoff pushed off the brick-siding of the building and motioned for Niklas to take the lead.

They walked in silence. It was an awkward ten minutes. Niklas felt compelled to say something, but what could he say when the pending conversation was leaving him deeply worried?

They reached the schoolhouse just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

'It's a little eerie at night, isn't it?' Niklas observed, as he walked up the front steps and unlocked the door. The scent of stale wood and chalk-dust immediately wafted towards him—a smell he associated with the job he loved. He could hear Kristoff step inside after him as he bustled around for the lantern.

A match sparked, a light flared, and suddenly the dark room was illuminated in a dim glow that barely reached the shadows lurking in the corner of the room.

Kristoff struggled a little to fit his large body onto one of the desk-benches. Niklas would have thought the scene quite comical had he not been dreading the words that were about to spill out from Kristoff's mouth.

'You might want to sit down,' Kristoff said, pointing his chin to the bench on the opposite side of the aisle. His tone was not unkind, but it was not very reassuring, either.

Niklas nodded. He slid onto the bench and placed the lantern on top of the desk. 'Okay… I-I'm ready…' he lied.

It took 3.7 minutes for Kristoff to completely dismantle everything Niklas had thought he knew about his own life; his youth was torn from him, ripped apart, haphazardly pieced back together, and thrown into a pit of uncertainty. When Kristoff finished repeating Kai's words, a long moment of silence stretched between them.

Kristoff waited for Niklas to process the news, but he quickly felt his patience splinter. It was Niklas, however, who eventually spoke first.

'But… that can't be…'

Kristoff crossed his arms over his wide chest. Half his face was hidden in shadow but from what little Niklas could see his expression was hard and unrelenting.

'Well, it is. Kai would never lie about something like this.'

'No, of c-course not… but…' His hand was shaking as he ran his fingers through his mess of hair. 'But we left Arendelle because my grandmother… she was sick… she needed us, you see, so we just up and left—'

'You didn't find it weird that your father just uprooted you overnight?'

'I-I was just a boy… I didn't think—'

'You didn't think it was weird that you father was able to afford a new life in a new town?'

'My father worked hard his whole life… savings, maybe? I don't… oh God…' Niklas buried his head in his hands. 'H-How could he…'

Kristoff pressed his lips into a thin line. He wanted to believe that Niklas had been oblivious to his father's betrayal, because otherwise things would get messy. There was no way he was going to allow such a man to stay in Elsa's kingdom, and he was sure Anna would not allow Niklas to leave unscathed. She had a habit of punching out anyone who betrayed the family. No, he needed to believe Niklas's ignorance was genuine. Although it still bothered him to admit it, he recognized just how important his relationship with Elsa had become.

'My father and I rarely see eye-to-eye on a lot of things,' Niklas said, slowly, his voice muffled in his hands. 'I think he was always a little disappointed that I wasn't like him. He wanted me to follow his footsteps and become a stable-hand; to "earn a solid living" he would always say. He never understood my passion for books and schooling. He never really talked to me about things…'

'Sounds like you're making excuses.'

'N-No, just trying to make sense of it all. My father was stubborn and unyielding… and, I suppose, looking back, he was quite resourceful when there was something he needed or wanted… but he was never unkind to me…'

Kristoff said nothing.

'When he realized I was going to follow my own path, he let me be. I guess in a way he just gave up on me because, really, he had no need for me…'

'Makes sense, considering he was reaping off the benefits of blood-money.'

Niklas flinched. He lifted his head and stared into Kristoff's eyes. He had been raised on that tainted money—on the money that was taken in place of Elsa's welfare. He suddenly found it difficult to swallow. 'I-I'm so sorry.'

Kristoff's lips parted in surprise. He was expecting quite a few reactions, but an apology had not been one of them. His face creased with confusion as he stared at Niklas's sagging body. He had to believe him.

'Tell me straight. Did you know your father had tried to blackmail King Agnarr?' he asked, bluntly. His hands were balled into fists. 'I want the honest truth.'

Niklas fixed Kristoff with a determined gaze. 'I promise you I had no idea.' He then dropped his eyes with a deep exhale. 'I would never have come back here if I had known…'

Kristoff let out an agitated sigh. 'I would hope not.'

'So… you believe me?'

'I guess I always did.' Kristoff rapped the tabletop with his fist. 'What a mess.'

'Kai was not wrong in telling Els—Queen Elsa and Princess Anna the truth. I mean, at least now I understand why he's been so cold towards me. I just wish the truth didn't exist.'

'It definitely complicates things now.'

Niklas shook his head. 'No, I can fix this mess.' His heart strained against his chest. It felt heavy and throbbed with an ache he was not ready to deal with. He inhaled slowly, and something in the pit of his stomach thumped in disdain.

Kristoff looked doubtful.

'The legacy I carry as the son of my father has made me unworthy.' Elsa's hand was definitely slipping from his; not because it was being pulled, but because he was letting it go. Thump. 'Not that I was ever worthy.'

Kristoff sat up in the bench. 'What are you saying?'

'That I'm a nobody.' Thump. He shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the energy seeping from his body. 'It was foolish of me to think that I could… with Elsa…'

Kristoff let out an audible groan. 'So, that's it then. You're just going to walk away.'

Thump. Thump. 'What choice do I have?' He was surprised at the annoyance in Kristoff's tone.

'You have a lot of choices.' Another groan. 'Listen, before this whole mess with your father came to light, what were your intentions towards Elsa?'

'My intentions?' In spite of his currently withered emotions, Niklas felt himself blushing. Thumpthump.

'Yea, you're intentions. You're clearly infatuated with her.'

'It's… more than an infatuation.' He rubbed the ache in his stomach, willing the thumping to stop. 'I know she doesn't need me to, but I want to take care of her, if anything just to feel connected to her somehow. How can I do that now knowing what my father did?' Ugh.

Kristoff raised a brow. 'You're in love with her.' It was a statement more than a question.

Niklas's blush deepened. 'Is it that obvious?' This was the second time he was admitting his love for Elsa out loud, and it was to this large, goliath of a man he still was not convinced even liked him.

'Well, you drool every time you're around her.' The corner of Kristoff's lips twitched.

'Wait, no I don—ah, you're joking.'

'Sort of joking. Look, I understand what you're going through, I guess. I had a moment of self-doubt when I realized I was in love with Anna.' He thought back to when he had delivered the frozen princess to the castle before leaving the storm behind. He often wondered if he would have returned had it not been for Elsa's snow squall. He felt a shudder pulse up his spine at the thought. 'You just have to be honest with yourself and go for it. For me, it paid off when I realized she loved me back.'

'Where did you get that confidence?'

'I guess I just don't sweat the big stuff. Sure, she's a princess. Sure, I'm just an orphan ice master with a no-nonsense reindeer. But me and Anna just fit, and that's all that matters for the both of us.'

'I'm not sure how Elsa feels, though. And her big stuff is really big.'

'That's fair. Elsa's also a hard one to break into it. But it's possible.'

'How?'

'I'll help you.'

Niklas blinked. 'You… want to help me…?'

'Yup.' Kristoff stood up from the bench—with quite the struggle—and stretched. 'We have to do some damage control now that we know your father is a complete jackass.'

Niklas nodded. 'That's a fair assessment.'

'It'll be your job to figure out what you're going to do about him, if you're planning to do anything about him at all.'

'I don't know. Suddenly he's a completely different person. I-I don't know if I'll be able to look past this…'

'Who says you have to? He's your father. I get it. But right now, we have to think about Elsa. For all we know, she's probably already buried the castle in snow.'

'Snow?'

'Things get a little… icy… when she gets—'

'—anxious,' Niklas supplied, suddenly pale.

'Ah, so you know about that.'

'She's snowing… this made her snow.'

'We'll fix it. The snow means she's feeling something.'

'Definitely bad feelings…'

'That's what we'll need to fix. You lay low for now because the last thing we need is another deep freeze in summer. I'll talk to her.'

Kristoff made his way to the schoolhouse door. Niklas followed him.

'Why are you willing to help me?'

Kristoff paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. 'Because Elsa's my family.'

Niklas did not understand and his expression showed it.

'I think you're good for her. And I think she knows that. We just have to make sure she doesn't ignore what's best for her.'

Niklas blinked. He had heard this before, from the mouth of a feisty princess who had waited for him on his doorstep in order to encourage him to attend his first date with her beloved sister. He had been so thankful then, and he was thankful now.

'You and Princess Anna really do fit,' he said, with a small smile. 'Thank you.'

Kristoff raised a brow, and then smiled. 'Don't thank me yet. I still have some ice to chisel away at.'

'And who better than an ice master?'

Kristoff chuckled, slapping Niklas's back with a heavy hand. Niklas returned the smile. He could feel a sliver of hope peeking through the cloud of doubt, and felt reassured.

If only for the moment.

~x-X-x~

Next Chapter: What's that saying… something about how separation makes the heart grow fonder? Well… it does.