Rating: G Words: ~400 Pairing(s): Kristanna, Frohana Summary: parallel to this piece I’m overdue for flipping my Kristanna pieces on their axes.
The mountains aren’t the same anymore.
It’s late fall, and the wind howls more lonelily than it did last year because Kristoff has a home now, not just a family, and he thinks of them back in the castle, warm and holed up by the fire. Anna would have fallen asleep by now, book long forgotten in her lap, and Elsa would be stroking her hair absentmindedly as she reads over monthly reports and ledgers until she, too, drifts asleep.
Branches snap beneath his boots as Kristoff continues his trek, readjusting the strap of the bag slung around his shoulders as the cottage finally comes into view at the top of the hill.
He misses them, even though its only been two days, and wishes he was there to put Anna’s book back on the shelf. To slide the papers out from under Elsa’s hand, and wake them for bed. Kristoff always tries to muffle his laugh at the string of drool that might dangle from the side of Anna’s mouth or the rare times Elsa mumbles in her sleep. Both sisters blink confusedly the same way before realizing where they are and stretch their arms above their heads and yawn like twin cats. That is their life most nights, but here Kristoff is, rounding the path to his shack of an old shelter until a cold October moon.
He wiggles the brick loose from the mortar in the stone wall and retrieves the key hidden inside. Kristoff might not have had much, but what little he did have, he didn’t want stolen. The door is creaky and moonlight filters in through the cracks in the window shutters. Everything is still and cold; familiar, but oddly distant.
This isn’t my life anymore, he thinks.
He finds the box exactly where he left it. Running his fingers across the top, he blows to clear off some of the dust. There’s not much inside, just some old kroners he’d saved, his first knife, some arrowheads. But there, under the few paltry items, is the one thing from his past life he came all the way here for.
Kristoff doesn’t just know love experts anymore, he is one.
Leaving the box forgotten where it is, he grips his mother’s ring tightly in his fist. Kristoff hoists the pack back onto his shoulders and turns to leave, heart soaring, impatient to get back home.