"Kristoff." Anna said in a panic through her teeth. "Can you scratch my back? Please? It's killing me?"
Kristoff responded also through his teeth, that he could not without moving. "You can't get it yourself?"
"No, I would have to move too."
The pair was currently in one of the palace's many studies posing for a painting that had been specifically commissioned by Elsa. The pair had recently announced their engagement and that of course meant that a royal portrait of the pair was needed by rule of tradition. Anna was standing beside Kristoff in front of the fireplace, both were standing entirely still, straight back, perfect posture, and under the watchful eye of a rather surly painter. Anna could hardly take a breath without the angry little grey haired man shouting for her to stand still.
He was just an inch or so over five feet tall, and had his face covered with a permanent scowl. His hair, or the fringe of what remained of it on his nearly bald head, was the same grey as a stormy sky. She supposed that the color of his hair was also the color of his spirit as his aura heralded and portrayed the nastiest of storms with all the chill of the worst blizzard ever seen. He also acted with a sense of entitlement. He did not treat Anna like the royalty she was, which usually was something she enjoyed, but he was so ridiculously rude to her that she toyed with the thought of getting him thrown straight into the dungeon. However she was merciful where he was not, and also her wish to not upset Elsa did ensure that the portrait would get done. Of course she did not want to upset her sister, especially not after she had gone through all the trouble to find the very artist that had painted the engagement portrait of their parents, a painting that they had grown up seeing, and one they loved very much.
Kristoff tried to keep his expression the same as he spoke to Anna, they had both been posed to look towards each other slightly, but also to face forward. Standing that way, in their formal best, was frankly quite uncomfortable. Kristoff's suit felt far too tight, and the ribbons and medals of station that had been pinned to his chest were unwelcomed and made him want to lean forward, something he could not do when required to stand pin straight. He was certain that his spine had never been so straight, and he would have rather slouched. He knew he didn't have it as bad as Anna however as she was standing beside him not only with an itch, but also with the stress of being forced to wear high heeled shoes. She had always hated heels, but the old crotchety painter before them had insisted that he was simply too tall for her, and to avoid the ire of the man Anna had put on a pair of high heeled shoes that were obviously uncomfortable and likely too tight. Kristoff made a mental note to massage her feet as soon as they could escape to one of their respective bedrooms, but it was looking like it would be a long while off.
Anna tried to wiggle her shoulder imperceptibly in order to lessen the itch on her back. The dress she was wearing was not one of her usual choosing, but rather one that had been designed to make her look "sweet and innocent" in the words of the painter. Frankly it was a very outdated looking frock with itchy too hot fabric, and excessive lace. It even had a high collar on it, and frankly it was suffocating. If she didn't die of heatstroke she would surely parish of discomfort or suffocation. She wanted to scream, but instead she was only screamed at by the painter for moving "so much".
She couldn't help but wonder if he had been so terrible when painting her mother and father. In their portrait her mother had been in a far lovelier dress than the one she herself wore now. Even for that time she was sure that such a frock would have been outdated. She imagined her mother feeling just as tortured and confined as she did, but Anna was sure that she with his calm nature and big heart had fared much better. Or had she? Perhaps in her youth she had been like Anna and had been impatient and energetic. Somehow she could imagine her as such, perhaps because they had always been so very alike. It was from her mother that Anna had received her knowledge of chocolate sneaking.
"I'm dying." Anna said again, almost inaudibly through her teeth. "How long do you think this is going to take?"
Kristoff felt her despair equally. They had already been there for surely a minimum of three hours and they were both beginning to get anxious that it would never end. "I don't know."
He tried to be the calm one for her sake, but in truth he was ready to run from the room that very moment and never again return. He was uncomfortable, sweaty, and despite his excellent physical condition he felt as though his legs were mere moments away from giving up on him. The thought of lying down for a moment, even if it meant uncontrollably falling to the floor, was a welcomed thought.
"Maybe if we both run?" She asked, "He couldn't possibly catch us both?"
Kristoff watched as the painter turned away for a moment and took the opportunity to scratch Anna's back. "Good?"
"Lower." She begged.
He did as asked only to be caught in his motion and was chided for it. "Or you could just run and I could hold him back while you summon a guard to throw him in the fjord."
Kristoff was not the type of man to think of such things. He was not cruel and he did not plot, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was only self-defense of course; the man was practically killing him and his fiancé.
"That sounds heavenly."
"So on three then?" He really was ready to at least make a break for it if she was as well. He had never felt so awful in his entire life. Truly the only thing that outweighed this situation on a scale of how horrid a situation could be was when he nearly lost Anna at the hands of Elsa's accidently ice strike and Hans's cruelty.
"We can't though. We'd break Elsa's heart."
Kristoff sighed in agreement, trying hard not to move as he did so. He would never get between the bonds that Anna and her sister were reforming, in fact he would help it in any manner possible, even if that meant standing in pain for another hour. He liked to see them both happy, and if a royal portrait would make Elsa happy, he would do it for her and Anna. They were his family now.
There was no warning when Anna fell over. Her knee had simply given out beneath her and in heels she could not redistribute her weight fast enough to catch herself and remain standing. As a result she went falling to the floor, taking Kristoff equally weak in the leg with her.
"Oops." was all she could say as she fell, red-faced, atop her fiancé. So much for finishing the portrait as soon as possible she supposed as she looked at Kristoff apologetically. This was surely about to land them at least a half hour of berating.
Kristoff however didn't care. He simply started to laugh, and after a moment or so it was rather loud and uncontrollable, even infectious as Anna began to laugh along with him. He was done, no doubt about it. Whether or not that portrait painter was complete he and Anna were leaving.
Anna moved off of Kristoff and heard the screaming of the painter. He called her rude, savage, clumsy, and a litany and excess of other terms to which she frankly did not give a damn. She would have this finished another day, or perhaps by another painter completely. She was sure now that Elsa would understand an explanation when given, and frankly even if she didn't understand the situation, Anna knew her sister would approve of her judgment. It had taken her a while to do so, but now that she was a little bit older Elsa seemed to respect her decisions further. Something Anna was both grateful for and proud of as Kristoff lifted her up and carried her out of the room gently.
They went off in the direction of the family wing of the castle where they would spend the rest of the day relaxing and being comfortable. They were giddy with relief as they finally were out of earshot of the angry little artist man and were left together, a little worse for wear, but with smiles on their faces. Escaping was a good feeling, escaping with your lover beside you was even better.