DISCLAIMER: All of the places and characters in this story belong to Disney and are inspired by the work of Hans Christian Andersen. No profit is being made from this story. It only serves to (hopefully) entertain.

Rated K+ for a fluff overdose. Written for Jessica.

-Hang In There, Joan!-

After a quarter of an hour, Kristoff finally found Anna in the most unlikely of places. He didn't think it was wrong of him to assume she'd be in Petra's room, seeing as she'd explicitly said she was going to tuck their daughter into bed, but she hadn't been there. Knowing his wife, he shouldn't have been surprised Petra wasn't in there, either.

Instead, when he was just about to give up looking for his girls, he finally spotted Anna standing at the entrance to the Hall of Portraits. She wasn't doing anything other than leaning against the door frame and looking in, hands lazily resting upon her rounded belly. Typical Anna, getting distracted and forgetting what she aiming to do in the first place.

"Anna," he called down the corridor, a small laugh mingling with his words, "weren't you-"

"Shh!" Anna turned to him with a finger pressed to her lips, then gestured for him to join her. Kristoff raised an eyebrow and walked toward her. He'd personally always found the Hall of Portraits to be rather boring, though he'd never dream of admitting that to Anna, so he couldn't imagine what was in there that could have possibly retained her attention for so long. When he neared her side, she jerked her head in the direction of the room, an adoring smile on her face.

Kristoff shook his head and obliged, only for an instant warmth to radiate through his heart. No wonder Anna had been so focused on the room. There was Petra, Anna's magenta cloak on her shoulders and his boots on her feet. The cloak was far too long for her four-year-old self and the boots looked awkwardly big and reached well past her knees, but none of that mattered because she looked so unbelievably cute. She'd even managed to find the winter hat he'd given to Anna during the short-lived winter; Petra wore it atop her golden, wavy hair.

"Oh my goodness," he breathed. "How did she even find all that stuff?"

"No idea, but I'm glad she did. Isn't she adorable? She's even using our stories."

"Our stories?"

"Yeah," Anna said with a nod. "I mean, she's mixing them up a bit, but that's okay. It's her own little adventure."

"What do you mean?"

"See that teddy bear right there?" Anna pointed to a small stuffed animal on the floor Kristoff hadn't noticed; Petra had somehow managed to attach two sticks to its head. "That's Sven. The couch she's sitting on is the sled, and I'm pretty sure she's using your sash as reins."

Kristoff quietly chuckled. "And what is she doing?"

"Well, I may be mistaken, but it appears that Marshmallow has stolen Joan of Arc's sword, and Petra and Sven have vowed to take down the big bad snowman and return the stolen property. The sled was a present from the trolls; they wanted to do everything they could because they raised a man named Oaken since he was a kid, and Joan is Oaken's wife."

"You're joking."

"Nope!" Anna chimed with a smile. "Listen."

"C'mon, Sven! The sled's all packed, now off to the North Mountain we go!" The little girl waved to the painting involved in the evening's mission. "Hang in there, Joan! We'll get your sword back! We promise! Go, Sven, go!"

Petra waved the crimson sash up and down and shouted words of encouragement to her teddy bear. Anna covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her giggles.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen," she laughed quietly. "I know I said I was going to tuck her in, but when I found her down here... I just couldn't. She's having too much fun."

"I wouldn't have had the heart to do it, either," Kristoff said, slipping an arm around Anna's shoulder.

"Alright, we're here!" Petra said, tossing the sash to the side and picking up the broom laying beside her on the couch. She tucked the teddy bear under her other arm. "Stay close, Sven. Marshmallow's not like Olaf. He's a meanie and he could be anywhere!"

Petra took a few steps before tumbling to the ground, the vast size of Kristoff's boots making it difficult for her little feet to walk. True to character, she got right back up and kept going. She fell again every few steps – sometimes because of the boots, sometimes because of the cloak – but her resilient self kept going, determined to win back that sword for her friend in the portrait.

"What a klutz," Kristoff joked. "She's just like her mother."

"Hey!" she laughed, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder. "I may be a klutz, but I certainly don't walk around with heavy, awkward steps like that. That's all you, my dear."

"Fine. The persistence, though... that's you."

Anna giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll happily take credit for that one." She tenderly rubbed her growing belly, wincing slightly. "Oof. Sorry. Kicks."

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes. I think he or she just wants to play, too."

Kristoff shrugged. "I kind of want to, too, actually."

"Then go!" Anna urged happily.

"Nah. We'll let her have her fun."

Kristoff stood behind Anna and pulled her against him. She leaned into his touch, tilting her head upward to nuzzle his neck with her nose. He rested his hands on her tummy and gave it a gentle massage through the velvety fabric of her dress. For what was likely the thousandth time, he wondered why fate had been willing to twist itself so heavily in his favor. It wasn't so long ago he was the loneliest man alive, and somehow the stars aligned and put him here, in the palace with his gorgeous wife, a child on the way, and the darling miniature adventurer he was proud to call his own.

Both lost in the moment, he and Anna were startled to hear a frightened gasp come from from within the Hall of Portraits. They both looked to see Petra standing still, shoulders hanging loose beneath the even looser cloak and eyes wide with shame. She quickly pulled the hat from her head.

"Mama, Papa," she said, small voice wavering. "I'm sorry."

"For what, sweetheart?" Anna asked.

"For taking your things," she answered, hanging her head. "I know I'm not supposed to."

"Then why did you?" Kristoff inquired, a small grin on his lips.

"I just wanted to have an adventure like you did," she confessed, and Kristoff felt his heart swell. "I'm sorry. I'll put everything back where it belongs."

Petra walked back to the couch to collect the props she'd gathered, dragging the broom on the floor behind her and only tripping over her own feet once along the way. Kristoff and Anna glanced at each other, the latter tilting her head toward the room.

"Go on," she whispered. Kristoff grinned and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Petra," he said, stepping into the room, "the only thing you need to put back is the hat."

"What?" she squeaked. She sounded as if she was going to cry.

"Put that hat back on your head, sweetheart."

"But Papa-"

"Petra, an adventurer can't take down a giant snowman without proper snow gear!" Kristoff grabbed an unlit candlestick from the mantle. "Now, would you look at that! I've got Joan's sword! I'm such a mean snowman, aren't I?"

"Papa," Petra giggled, "you're not mean enough to be Marshmallow!"

"Says who?" Kristoff scoffed. He raised the candle in the air. "ROAR! Come and get me!"

He wanted to cry with joy when Petra laughed and tucked the hat back on her head, smiling the only smile in the world with the capability to melt a hundred suns. Kristoff slowly ran around the room, half laughing and half roaring as Petra ran after him. He slowed down whenever she tripped and even let her softly whack him in the back of the knees with her broom a few times. Every once in a while he caught a glimpse of Anna still standing in the doorway, her eyes leaking happy tears.

"Hang in there, Joan!" Petra shouted again as they jogged past her portrait. "I'm gonna get him!"

And when Kristoff eventually "tripped," Petra jumped on top of him and stole the candle, raising it high above her head in victory. Instead of running back to Joan, however, his little girl just laughed and threw her short arms as far around him as she could reach.

"I love you, Papa."

They were four of the very few words he'd never tire of hearing.

"I love you, too, Petra," he reciprocated, cradling her tiny body against his, "more than you'll ever know."

Author's Note: This was based off an idea proposed by Jessica988 over on Tumblr. Sarah (sargar3000 on Tumblr) is the talented creator of the beautiful artwork, which is used in the cover for this story. :)

Much thanks to both of these lovely ladies for their inspiration and for allowing me the privilege to write the story; I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading!