The day of the wedding comes much too quickly, and yet it can't come quickly enough.

In the morning Kristoff is awoken before first light by a herd of valets and stewards sent to help him wash, dress, and prepare for the ceremony; they find him alone, as Kristoff and Anna had spent the night before in their separate, respective beds– the first night they've slept apart since the Midsummer celebration.

The head steward– or rather, the man who Kristoff interprets to be the head steward– prattles on about the order of events for the day, starting with his washing; as the sleepy mountain man is poked and prodded and stripped bare by many strange hands, he's forced into a bath that's been prepared for him and instructed to wash and wash well. He does so, awkwardly, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the dozen or so men surrounding him in a semi-circle with their backs turned.

"I, uh, usually do this alone," he squeaks without confidence. The head steward turns and gives him a smugly disdainful puckering of his lips in response.

"Queen Elsa seemed to be under the impression that you would shirk a proper bath if you did not have adequate supervision."

"Ah."

After he's washed and dried, the men set to work on dressing him in his ceremonial garments, strapping and clasping and buckling him into the many parts and pieces of his ensemble. When they've finished, they step back, and Kristoff turns this way and that, checking himself out in the mirror before him; he's wearing shiny leather boots, tailored crimson trousers (held up with a belt that matches his shoes), and a fitted white blazer adorned with golden epaulets, buttons, and an aiguillette. The outfit is topped off with a red sash at a diagonal across his broad chest, which an attendant clicks into place at his shoulder. He looks rather dashing; like a proper Prince Consort.

For the first time in his life, however, he jingles whenever he moves. He isn't sure if he likes it.

It's only when Kai arrives in the middle of breakfast to relieve the gaggle of attendants from their duties that Kristoff allows himself to heave out the breath he's been holding in since dawn.

"Are weddings always this… involved?" Kristoff asks him, flabbergasted as he sets down his fork and rises, agitated, from the round table in the corner of his chamber. He's hardly eaten any of his meal, but he can't stomach another bite.

Kai chuckles, and claps a friendly hand on the younger man's back. "Only in Arendelle."

It's obviously a joke, but Kristoff's half-hearted laugh in response still twangs with nervousness. Kai seems to pick up on this and moves to stand in front of Kristoff, reaching out to straighten his lapels.

"You've got this, kid."

All Kristoff can do is mumble a gracious word of thanks; anything more and he may throw up his meager breakfast onto his freshly-polished shoes.

Kai leads Kristoff down and out of the castle, where a horse-drawn carriage is waiting for them in the courtyard.

Kristoff glances around anxiously. "Where's–"

"Sven is already at the church."

"Oh."

He climbs in beside Kai and a groom closes the door. There's the shuffling of heeled boots on the cobblestone and the carriage shifts slightly before it comes to life, starting off with a jump that causes Kristoff's stomach to lurch into his throat.

He watches the scenery pass outside the carriage window without really watching, biting his fist as though it were an apple, desperate for something to sink his teeth into to ease his anxiety.

The carriage jolts to a halt when it reaches the ancient cathedral, and the door magically opens to free the passengers inside. Kristoff gulps as he stumbles over the seat and practically falls out of the vehicle, before beginning his ascent up the steps leading to the doors of the building, its towering facade intimidating against the stark blueness of the July sky, feeling his apprehension growing with each footfall that brings him closer to cementing his future.

An usher greets him at the door and takes his arm; the young lad leads Kristoff to the front of the massive room, past hundreds of pairs of eyes all focused on him, and deposits him before the altar and the priest before bowing out with his departure. Sven and Olaf are seated together in the first pew, and they wave at Kristoff, who somehow manages to wave back with a weak wiggling of his fingers. The air is full of the din of the murmurs of the crowd, as well as the angelic voices of the choir, but Kristoff hears none of it; he's only painfully aware of the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the panicked screaming inside of his own mind. His boots are too new and they cramp his toes, since he hadn't been given the chance to break them in, and he winces in pain when he shuffles his weight on them.

The music shifts then and the crowd quiets, snapping Kristoff from his daze. He turns his head towards the back of the church just in time to see the heavy double doors open wide; the members of the crowd all stand at once in reverence.

His princess enters the cathedral, a silhouette against the bright light of day behind her, escorted by Elsa. The doors are closed and the crowd coos and Kristoff is instantly reminded that all of this– the hours of torment, the public bathing, the nerves, the stuffy, restrictive clothes– is for her.

He would do anything for her.

The choir begins singing a wedding hymn and Anna makes her way slowly down the aisle; if Kristoff didn't know her as well as he did, he wouldn't have noticed the way she buzzed with barely-restrained energy, her flushed and freckled cheeks sucked inward from the effort of holding in her excitement, her blue eyes focused on him and radiating nothing but love. Her strawberry-blonde locks are done up in a braided chignon, and she's wearing a gown and veil of crisp, silken white, decked out in thousands of appliqued flowers made from ice, which sparkle in the sunlight that streams in through the tall cathedral windows in a dazzling light show. The bouquet trapped in her pale-knuckled grip is reminiscent of the one she received at their mock wedding a month earlier.

Elsa gives Anna away to Kristoff by placing the princess' dainty hand in his and the redheaded princess beams up at him from her place at his side, quivering in her slippers.

The minister begins speaking, and Anna gives Kristoff's hand a reassuring squeeze between them, and he squeezes back, and they both say the words that bind them together for eternity in the eyes of God and men. When the moment comes, Kristoff turns to face Anna and places the ring on her finger and swears his fidelity, and she does the same, giving him his own solid gold band that's been incised with sunflowers and snowflakes by the royal metalsmith.

When the minister decrees that the ritual is complete, and that Anna is Kristoff's wife and he is her husband, the former recluse wastes no time in kissing his bride, much to the delight of the crowd, igniting the room in applause and cheers. He feels Anna smile against his lips and he can't help but smile as well.

The reception following the ceremony is a party that rivals the celebration that followed after The Great Thaw a year earlier, but both Anna and Kristoff are eager to leave after they've made the obligatory appearance.

As the sun begins to set outside the great hall, Anna wordlessly nudges Kristoff with her elbow; a knowing look passes between them, and the blonde man takes his wife's hand in his own. They sneak out of the hall together, unnoticed, and out into the bailey, where Sven is already waiting with the sled.

The trip through the mountains is smooth and uneventful, and the sun dips below the treeline, taking the last of the light with it when they reach their destination. Sven loosens his harness with his teeth and trots off to sleep in the barn almost immediately upon arriving at Kristoff's cabin in the darkened clearing, shooting his oldest friend a wink before disappearing from view.

Kristoff disembarks first before rounding the sled to help his wife down; when she places a hand on his shoulder for support and the other in his own hand, however, Kristoff surprises her by swinging a giggling Anna into his arms, bridal-style, to carry her over the threshold.

Once inside, he sets her on her feet with a rustle of fabric, and she shivers at the loss of contact. The air inside the sparsely furnished, one-room cabin is warm and humid, but comfortable, and Kristoff sets to work on lighting a small fire in the fireplace for light.

Anna makes her way over to her new husband and wraps herself around him, embracing him from behind as the fire blazes to life, and he leans back into her for a moment, content with watching the flames dance and enjoying the feel of her petite body against his own.

As the fire grows, so does the desire in Kristoff's belly, and he turns to face Anna; there's no words when he draws her in for a long, slow kiss, and she reciprocates, placing her hands flat against his pecs. Her fingers fumble at his coat and trousers as the kiss becomes heated, carefully unclipping and unbuttoning and removing each layer with tender care, but it's obvious that she's becoming increasingly frustrated each time she peels away a garment only to reveal another one beneath; it only serves to heighten the tension building between them.

He doesn't want to rush, wants to take his time to savor her and this night– their wedding night– but Anna has other plans as her hands free him from the last of his clothing and roam eagerly over the plane of his bare chest and down his stomach, the muscles beneath her fingertips rippling under her touch like the waves of the fjord, and Kristoff finds that he can't fight the desire that's begun to eat away at him from the inside out.

They have the rest of their lives to make love; tonight, they'll give into passion, letting their emotions and urges guide them– their first time as husband and wife.

When it's Kristoff's turn to undress Anna, he struggles with the many buttons and lacings of her gown, and she whimpers and bucks against him, urging him to go faster. When at last she's free of her veil and dress and shoes and undergarments she tackles Kristoff to the bed, pushing him down and straddling his waist, and her lips pepper his face with worshipping kisses until he claims her reckless mouth with his own. His tongue delves inside and she moans, rutting against him, on top of him, and Kristoff can feel that she is already slick with cream against his sex.

Desperately, he grinds up against Anna's heat and she shudders with a gasp as the sensation runs its course through her body; the sound winds him tighter, his arousal coiling in the pit of his abdomen like a spring.

As if reading his mind, Anna reaches down to grip Kristoff's hardened length and lines it up with her opening, ready to receive him; they lock eyes as she fearlessly sinks onto him, enveloping him in her tight warmth and eliciting a primal groan from deep in his throat.

Having Anna finally take control feels incredible– even better than he ever dreamed– and his thoughts fog over with need as Anna lifts herself up and sinks on him again, letting out her own mewl of satisfaction at the friction it creates. Her body is trembling with pleasure, and Kristoff reaches out to steady her movements with his hands on her hips, guiding her until she finds her rhythm, swaying above him shamelessly as she bounces on his cock. A thin sheen of perspiration forms on her skin and Kristoff's hands start to slip, so he grips her tighter, digging his fingers into her silky flesh as he thrusts deeper, losing himself in his love.

Anna comes first, shattering atop him with a shriek before falling forward into him, and the way her inner muscles clench around him cause Kristoff to reach his own euphoric climax as he holds her quaking body flush against himself.

When they've calmed a bit, the burly man pulls his wife close as he lays back against the pillows. Anna allows herself to be cradled, melting into his body, molding herself to him as though she were made to be there, and lets out a sigh. They lay there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the harmony of each other's breathing along with the dying embers that crackle in the grate on the other side of the room.

Kristoff has the fleeting realization that the strike of midnight will mark precisely a year to the day that Elsa froze the summer; the day that the feisty Crown Princess of Arendelle coerced the ice harvester into helping her on her mission up the North Mountain and changed his life forever.

"Hey," Kristoff starts up in the silence, his soft voice like a breeze against her damp hair. "Remember that night when we first met, and you asked me what I know about love?"

Anna laughs, the breathy sound rumbling into his chest. "Yeah, when you thought you were some sort of love expert."

"I never claimed that I was," Kristoff corrects her with a playful tap on the nose with his fingertip. "I told you that I had friends who were."

Anna hums in agreement, closing her eyes and snuggling closer into him.

"Anyway... I've realized that... it's you. You're what I know about love, Anna."

She cracks an eye open and gives him a smirk. "Am I, now?"

He gives her a toothy smile of his own. "Yeah, you are."

Closing her eyes once more, Anna sighs contentedly. "Well, you've always been some sort of love expert to me, anyway."

Kristoff's heart swells and he dips his head to kiss his princess on her swollen lips, pouring his heart and soul into the kiss, giving all of himself over to her.

If somebody had tried to tell him a year ago that he could be this incredibly happy, he would have never believed them.

Maybe it's the way she lazily, but lovingly, kisses him back, or maybe it's the way she smiles at him when she pulls away to gaze into his amber eyes with her own warm blues, or maybe it's the way she says his name when she whispers, "Kristoff, I love you," that Kristoff knows without a doubt: with Anna, he's found home.

–

Thank you all for the support throughout this story. I hope you've enjoyed it! Kristanna forever~!