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musingsofsaturn · 4 years

Text

Braids

Fandom: Frozen, Frozen II

Ship: Anna/Kristoff

Words: 1,500+

Rating: K

Summary: Three times Kristoff braided Anna’s hair.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been cracking on with my contributions for Kristanna Week (because nothing screams ‘anxiety’ like preparing for a voluntary ship week two months in advance lmao) and found myself rather addicted to writing these two. Please enjoy this oneshot idea that popped into my head as I was plaiting my hair. I hope you like hair-playing fluff, and lots of it.

O N E

“So you take the strand on your left-”

“-on the left,” he whispered softly, probably not even realising he said it.

“And you take that and cross it over the one in the middle, so then that one is the one in the middle.”

“So that one is the one in the middle...” Anna felt Kristoff gently tug the strand into position. He let out a breath that he’d been holding, and she afforded him a supportive smile in the mirror.

“Great. And now, you take the strand that’s on your right-”

“-on the right.” She giggled when he repeated her words again, but she stifled it as a fake cough into her hand, so as not to discourage his efforts.

“And you put that one over the one in the middle, so now that’s the one in the middle.” Again, she felt him gently follow her instructions. “And then you just keep going! So start from the left again-”

“-the left again...”

Anna had always loved the feeling of having someone else style her hair, but this time it was even better. Kristoff had shown a great interest in her braids, and his face had lit up adorably when she offered to teach him how to do it. If she’d realised how pleasant it would be when his fingertips ghosted her scalp, and he gently brushed through the length of her hair, and carefully sculpted the strands into a single plait down her back, she would have offered to teach him sooner.

His touch was gentle, desperate not to cause her any pain. And his movements were so slow, taking so much focus from him to get it right. Anna realised just how much he was concentrating on his new skill when she noticed in the mirror that his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth. The sight made her feel as though her heart was melting.

“I’m at the end - now what?” He sounded mildly panicked, which made Anna chuckle.

“Keep hold of it, hang on,” she instructed, leaning forward to grab a piece of ribbon which she handed to him over her shoulder. “Okay, you should be really good at this part. Just tie this around all the hair, underneath where you’ve braided.”

Kristoff fell completely silent, and Anna could tell from his stillness that he was holding his breath. “Done.” He stepped back, reaching for a hand mirror to show her the back of her head.

The braid was far from perfect - it was uneven, very loosely fastened, and oddly lumpy in places. But it was unmistakabley a braid.

“Kristoff!” Anna cried, feeling herself brimming with pride. “You did great! Keep practising and you’ll be my royal hairstylist in no time!”

They both shared a laugh at the notion as Anna got to her feet, smoothing her skirts. She placed a hand on his chest, leaning upwards to kiss him quickly.

At breakfast, Elsa did raise an eyebrow when she saw her sister’s hairstyle, but she quickly realised why it was so haphazard and couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face.

T W O

“These instructions are terrible,” Kristoff frowned, gazing down at the book on Anna’s dressing table for the hundredth time that evening. “They could have at least included pictures for the different steps.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out.”

“I’m serious, all I have to go off is this picture that shows the finished product!”

Anna giggled lightly at his frustration. He always took hairstyling so seriously. Anna understood that this one was for a ball, but it was only a practice attempt, so she thought he really could relax about it a little bit. “You can just make something up if you can’t work it out.”

“I might just have to take you up on that, feistypants.”

As always, Kristoff fell silent as he started to braid. He was much more efficient at it than he used to be, and had even learnt styles from Anna and Elsa to add to his braiding and hairstyling repertoire. Anna in particular was more than happy to oblige his interest. She loved this time they spent together, with Kristoff’s skilled fingers twisting and braiding her hair into increasingly elaborate updos. It was strangely intimate, and she found herself looking forward to when Kristoff would shyly request to style it for her.

“You worked it out, huh?” She relaxed into his touch, delighting at the sensation of his fingers grazing across her neck and scalp as he gathered more hair.

He kept up his work, leaning over her shoulder every so often to check the instructions, occassionally huffing out frustrated whispers about how unclear they were. As ever, he was incredibly gentle, and a smile sprang to Anna’s lips when she looked at him in the mirror and saw that his tongue was poking out again.

“Okay,” he said finally, placing a comb decorated with crystals into the hair at the back of her head. “I think I got it.” As always, he held up the hand mirror for her to see.

Anna was actually impressed. The style had more little braids than she could count, twisted around into a low bun at the nape of her neck. It was neat, and felt secure, like it could survive all night at a ball. “Kristoff,” she grinned, “It’s amazing!”

He laughed slightly, admiring his own handiwork. “Yeah, it’s not bad for a scruffy ice harvester is it, feistypants?”

She wafted a hand in the air, as if batting away his insult to himself. “Looks like the work of a royal hairstylist to me!”

T H R E E

As was ever the case, it felt like Kristoff was the only person in the room who understood what Anna needed. Everyone had been fussing over her and the palace all day. The palace was a flurry of activity, which normally would excite Anna, but today only added to her nerves. Finally, recognising how it was all impacting her, Kristoff had discreetly asked the servants to leave his fiancée’s room, and instructed the guards at the door that no one was permitted to enter for a while.

“What if I trip up?” Anna looked at him, eyes wide, as he escorted her to the chair at her dressing table.

“That’s why you’re in flats, not heels,” Kristoff reminded her gently.

At Kristoff’s insistence, she sat down. “What if I forget the words?”

“You’ve been practising for weeks, Anna. There’s not a person - or a creature - in this castle who hasn’t memorised them by now.”

“What if I drop the sceptre?”

“You won’t do that,” he told her firmly.

She turned in her chair, placing her hands on his shoulders to stare fearfully into his eyes. “But what if I do?”

“Then I will stand up and sing some opera to distract everyone while you pick it up,” he told her earnestly. “Feistypants, listen to me. You are so prepared for this. You have rehearsed this ceremony a thousand times, and everyone is rooting for you to do well. Just make sure you grip that sceptre well before you pick it up, and everything will be fine.”

They shared a quiet smile, and Kristoff directed her to turn back around in her chair. She sighed as he gathered her hair in his hands. It felt so familiar and comforting to have her fiancé’s fingers carefully twisting and braiding her hair, as he had done a thousand times before. He worked quickly, and in no time at all he was pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before reaching for her hand mirror as she gazed into the looking glass in front of her.

“I tried to do the style that your mom has, in her portrait, I-” Kristoff noticed her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh no, Anna, oh please don’t cry. I’ll take it out, I’ll start over, I’m sorry.”

Her voice was a whisper as she gave him a watery smile in the mirror. “Kristoff, it’s perfect.”

He took her hands in his own, tugging her to her feet. Her arms went to his waist as his fingers grazed under her eyes to wipe away her tears before they could fall too far.

“Thank you,” was all she said, leaning upwards to kiss him quickly in a way that reminded him of the first time he’d ever plaited her hair, all those years ago. So much had changed. But one thing hadn’t.

“I love you, feistypants.”

Anna giggled, feeling her nerves subsiding slightly. “I love you too.”

Kristoff pulled himself upright, and put on the ridiculous accents of the diplomats and dignitaries that were no doubt flocking to their seats as they spoke. “May I escort you to your coronation, my Queen?”

Anna’s laugh was full and warmed his heart as she took the arm he had offered to her. “I’m not your queen for another hour,” she stated, rolling her eyes affectionately. “But nonetheless, I accept, sir.”

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