Just barely getting this in on time, but it’s not midnight just yet, so this totally counts.

I have no idea what happened with this thing, because it took a way different direction than I was intending. (I was going to do something with animals, and you’ll see as you read it that there’s not a single animal in this fic.)

First Elsa Week Prompt, “Elsa and Children”. Absolutely no idea how this turned out.

Rating: K

Pairing(s): None

Summary: In scarf and cowl, Elsa realizes on a disguised excursion into town that there are some things a queen can never realize until she sees them from another’s eyes.

Pulling her cowl closer around her, Elsa ducks into an alley and braces herself against the wall, letting out an unsteady breath. She closes her eyes and takes several more, chest heaving.

“Calm down,” she murmurs to herself, “you’ve got this, you can do this.”

The alley smells faintly of horse manure and old fruit, and Elsa wrinkles her nose and pulls her scarf up. It’s certainly not a pleasant odor – not what a queen is used to, and, hopefully, not what her villagers are used to either. The thought of any of her subjects living in such conditions perturbs her, but Elsa has been making strides in her short time as ruler to better the lives of her people. Her parents, well-intentioned as they may have been, could not stay informed while the gates were shut, and they may never have intended harm, but they did little to alleviate it.

Thankfully, it appears that Elsa only has luck as rotten as the fruit in the corner, because the smell and filth is from the garbage cart, and no more. She almost lets out a sigh of relief, but thinks that conserving her breath may be best for now.

Peeling back from the wall, Elsa fights a shiver – not from the winter air, unlike most others – and straightens her back. She can do this. She can do this.

It was Anna’s idea, seeing the town from a subject’s point of view, and it is a far different experience than Elsa had ever expected, that’s for certain. The hustle and bustle, the pushy vendors, the even pushier delivery carts. The streets are safe, she has learned, but there are occasional thieves slinking about, runaways from the kingdom’s orphanage, and there’s been a water shortage in one of the mountain villages that’s the talk of the docks. (Elsa wonders why it hasn’t been brought to her attention yet, and resolves to send supplies right away.)

She peers out around the corner of the alley, checking her hood once more to hide her signature hair and keeping her scarf tight around her face, leaving just her eyes, blue and alert, exposed as the rest of her stays hidden. The outfit is rather stuffy, a heavy winter coat and cowl and scarf and boots, and Elsa wishes she could stroll about the way she does in the castle gardens, reveling in the crisp winter air as it washes over her bare skin. (Even now, dressed as she is, she cannot bring herself to wear gloves, and so has tucked her uncovered hands in her pockets instead.) But only the queen can march about in winter with little more than a thin dress and heels, and, for today, Elsa is no queen.

Perhaps it’s the way she steps out onto the street again, the confidence in her gait despite the worn wool of her clothes, the way her chin lifts and her head holds itself high, the way her boots clack on the cobblestone like heels.

Because despite her clothes, chosen for simplicity and disguise, she feels a palm brush against her pockets, and in a swift movement Elsa turns and shoots her arm out, her own fingers just barely grazing the arm of a young pickpocket before the thief’s eyes widen at being caught. The child turns to run, but Elsa lunges and grabs their arm fully, and they squirm in her grasp, but Elsa’s grip is firm.

“Lemme go!” they shout, but Elsa frowns beneath her scarf and shakes her head, wondering what about her attire suggested she possessed money. Glancing around, she notices heads turning to peek her way before shrugging and carrying on, and Elsa’s brows furrow at the thought that this is more commonplace than she realized.

A voice interrupts her contemplation. “Need some help, ma’am?” She looks up to meet the eyes of one of the local smiths, apron stained in black and cheeks dusted in soot. He crosses his arms and scowls at the pickpocket, still wriggling in Elsa’s grasp.

Elsa shakes her head before speaking, voice muffled through the cloth, “No, I think I can handle this, but thank you kindly.”

“You sure?” He steps forward and plucks Elsa’s purse from the young thief’s other hand, hidden behind their back. “I know this little one – Elin, from ol’ Madame Helga’s just down the road.” He kneels down and takes off the thief’s cap, revealing a tangled mess of black hair that falls to frame her face. “Yep, it’s Elin all right.”

“I didn’t steal nothing.” Elin protests. “Just borrowin’ for a bit.”

The man rolls his eyes, handing the purse back to Elsa. “Used to be Elin was a polite kid, ‘til she fell in with Ivar and his lot. Bunch o’ thieves, the lot of them, stealing from the rest of us honest folk.”

Elsa bows her head. “Well thank you for your assistance, sir.”

“Not a problem!” He gives Elsa a hearty slap on the back and she stumbles forward a bit from the blow. “Want me to take care of Elin from here?”

Thinking, Elsa slowly shakes her head. “No,” she answers, “I’m the one who was fool enough to be caught by her, the least I can do is take her back myself.”

“Not your fault for nearly being robbed, but I’m not gonna stop you.” He jabs a thumb behind him. “Just take the old north road, close to the outer wall, and you’ll see the building. Old place, lots of children – you’ll know it when you see it.”

Elsa nods her head again and he lumbers off, calling out orders to a younger boy in a similar apron. Steam pours from the door to the forge, and the streets are filled with afternoon foot traffic. Elsa turns to the young girl in her grip and asks, “If I promise you a piece of gold, can I trust you not to run off?”

Elin perks up at the mention of coin, and she shrugs. “Sure thing, miss,” she says, “I can do that.”

Slowly relaxing her grip, Elsa gently takes her hand away, and Elin shrugs again, pulling her oversized coat back around her and setting her cap on her head once more. She tucks her hair away in it with practiced ease, and as they set off to Madame Helga’s – the orphanage, Elsa realizes – Elin marches in front, sleeves flopping over the tips of her fingers as she swings her arms wide.

Within minutes, they’re on a smaller, emptier road, and Elsa’s eyes flit about her, observing everything she can, from the tilt of the homes to the patched wooden doors to the children chasing each other through the streets, tossing snowballs from last week’s storm, cheeks ruddy and smiles bright.

“Are you a for-ayn-er, miss?” Elin asks without turning around, falling back to walk more beside Elsa.

Elsa laughs. “No, no, I’m from Arendelle. Born and raised, actually.”

“Really?” Elin turns a scrutinizing gaze on Elsa. “Then how come I’ve never seen ya around these parts?”

Wincing, Elsa admits, “I don’t get out as much as I’d like to.”

“Oh, you’re like Josef!”

“Who?”

“Josef,” Elin says again. “He’s always getting sick. I bet that’s why you’re all covered up, right?”

Elsa scratches her neck. “Something like that.”

“I hate it, because Josef’s so much nicer than the others, but he can’t ever play anymore.”

“Does he not have the proper medicine?”

Elin shrugs. “Dunno. I don’t think so, though. Madame Helga’s always fretting about money and stuff. It’s hard, running the place, and she’s a real nice lady, but sometimes she’s gotta buy food instead of Josef’s medicine.”

Her chest tightens at those words, and Elsa stops. Her hands curl into fists, and her breaths start to come more rapidly. Why didn’t she know about this? Why didn’t she know her people were facing this? Why wasn’t she informed, why did no one tell her, how could this have happened under her watch?

Part of Elsa reminds her gently that these are only her first few months as queen, but that gnawing guilt takes hold of her heart and squeezes, and she looks once more at Elin, at her loose clothes, at the patches sewn to her sleeves, at her scuffed boots and torn hat and absent gloves, and she thinks on the crisp air around her, and the breath that fogs out from Elin’s mouth, and Elsa’s not entirely sure how well-dressed one needs to be to avoid cold, but she knows it’s more than this, more than what this child is wearing.

As if on cue, Elin shivers, and she stops too as she realizes Elsa is no longer following her. “Miss?” She takes a step towards her. “Miss, I’m sorry I tried to rob you and all, but every bit of coin helps and all that, and you did promise you’d give me a bit if I cooperated.” She eyes Elsa suspiciously. “You’re not goin’ back on your word now, are ya?”

Shaking herself, Elsa smiles before remembering that Elin can’t see it behind the scarf. She says instead, “I’m sorry, I just got lost in thought for a moment. No, I’m not going back on my word, I promise. Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

Elin scrunches her nose up at Elsa before making a reluctant face. The suspicious look never fully leaves her eyes. “Sure thing, miss. Just keep up, okay?”

“Okay,” Elsa breathes, and she falls in step behind Elin, and she bites her lip as Elin shoots glances behind her every now and then, constantly checking to make sure Elsa’s still there.

At last they reach the orphanage, an old but sturdy looking building. The roof is a patchwork quilt of wooden planks, but the rest is tall and straight, and several children run about the yard, kicking snow in the air and laughing and scurrying about.

“Hey, it’s Elin!” one of them calls, a boy with blond hair and gloved hands. He waves the other children over, and Elsa stiffens as they crowd around her. Her hands itch in her pockets, and she inhales deeply and closes her eyes and lets thoughts of Anna warm her up, remind her that she no longer has to fear what she can do.

“Who’re you?”

Elsa looks down, startled, into the eyes a girl who can be no more than three. She pokes Elsa’s leg and says again, “Who’re you?”

Before she can do any more, Elin’s jumped in front of her and pushed her back, although Elsa notes with a raised brow that there is little force behind the motion, and that the girl seems unphased. Elin hisses, “Don’t go poking her, she’s a very nice lady who’s gonna give us money, okay?”

Elsa notes the use of “us”, and beneath her scarf, she fights a smile.

Yes, the nice lady is going to give them money, she thinks, determination coursing through her. Plenty of money, after she’s had a rather pointed chat with the head of the castle finances. Elin tugs on Elsa’s sleeve. “You, uh, are gonna pay me, right? You promised you would if I behaved and followed ya, miss.”

Crouching down, Elsa nods her head. “You’re very right, Elin, I did promise.” She pulls out her purse, opening the clasp and reaching inside. Biting her lip, Elsa counts the coins in her head, and grins wolfishly under her scarf. She weighs the bag in her hands, watching as Elin’s eyes track the motion, before she finally says, “How about I talk to this Madame Helga, yes?”

Elin huffs and stamps her foot. “You said you were gonna pay me!”

Rolling her eyes – Elsa’s seen that particular action before – Elsa takes one coin and places it in Elin’s hand, wondering what happened to the “us”.

“There,” Elsa says, “now you have your coin. May I see Madame Helga now?”

The rest of the children scowl at Elin, but she bounces happily, ignores their glares, and tucks the coin inside her pocket. She bows and gives an exaggerated flourish. “Right this way, miss!” And then Elsa’s being tugged along, a whole flock of children circling her feet as Elin leads the way and takes her inside the door.

She’s hit by the smell of cooking soup and by the heat of the fire, burning in its hearth just across the room. Tables are scattered about, and just by the fire stands an older woman, portly and small, hunched over a pot and stirring with a wooden ladle.

Elin lets go of Elsa’s hand and skips forward. “Madame Helga, Madame Helga! There’s a visitor for you!”

Startled, Helga almost drops her ladle before she tsks at Elin and beckons for another child, an older boy, to come take her place. Wiping her palms on the front of her gown, Helga steps forward and extends her hand. “Welcome, miss! How can I help you? I hope Elin hasn’t inconvenienced you in any way.”

Elsa notes with surprise that Helga’s smile doesn’t quite reach her mouth, and that her hand is shaking. A bitter taste fills her mouth at the realization that Helga thinks she’s here to demand recompense.

That same determination from earlier swells even more within her, and Elsa takes Helga’s hand and pumps it firmly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Madame Helga,” she greets, “and let me set you at ease – yes, Elin did try to rob me, but I’m not angry, and I am not here for payment.”

And with that, the tension in the room dissipates, and Helga’s shoulders drop and she places her hand to her chest and exhales loudly. “Well thank goodness!” Smiling fully this time, she lets out a laugh. “You read me perfectly just then, dear, didn’t you? Well come in, come in, what can I do for you? If you’re not here for that, then what are you here for? To adopt, by any chance?”

Elsa shakes her head and lets herself be led to one of the tables. She sits down, and Helga takes a seat across from her, shooing the other children away so that “the adults can talk properly”.

“No, I’m not ready for children at the moment,” Elsa says with a laugh. “I’m afraid that’s a rather long ways off, if at all.”

“Then what can I do for you? And – oh dear, are you cold?” Turning, Helga shouts, “Ivar, stir the fire up a bit!”

A boy grumbles and sets to his task, and Elsa’s brows furrow. “Oh no, no, I’m fine, please don’t worry!”

Helga gives her a puzzled smile. “Then why do you keep the scarf up, dear?”

Oh. Oh.

Reaching a hand up, Elsa’s fingers toy with the edge of the scarf. “It’s – it’s comfortable,” she says weakly.

Helga tilts her head but says nothing more. “If you say so,” she murmurs. She opens her mouth to say more but Elsa beats her to it.

“Here,” Elsa says brusquely, straightening her back and dropping her purse on the table in front of Helga.

The woman’s jaw drops.

“Are – are you – are you giving – no, that can’t be right – “

“Yes, I am.” And Elsa glances around, checking that the children are all occupied, and slowly pulls the scarf down. Helga stares, confused for a moment, before realization dawns on her. She squeaks in surprise and is about to dart to her feet when Elsa raises a finger to her lips and winks, pushing the purse forward.

And then Elin appears, and Elsa hastily pulls her scarf up once more, and Helga is sitting there in a stupor, mouth agape. Stifling laughter, Elsa turns and looks at Elin and the boy she’s clearly dragged over here, at his pale skin and red hair so like Anna’s.

“This is Josef!” she proclaims proudly. “He’s the fellow I was telling you about.”

“Elin,” he mutters, trying to hide behind her.

She ignores his attempts. “He’s not much to look at, but he’s real nice. Loads nicer than me. Just so you know. That not all of us are like that.”

Josef scrunches up his face and Elin sticks her tongue out and Elsa laughs, loud and audible, and she ruffles the cap on Elin’s head and says, “I believe you, don’t worry.”

Stretching, Elsa stands, bracing her left hand on the table and chuckling lightly as Elin and Josef begin to bicker. She turns back to Helga and raises her right to stop Helga from standing as well. “Please, there’s no need,” Elsa tells her gently. “I have to be on my way now, but I promise, I’ll be back very soon.”

Her eyes scan the children, young and old alike playing together, laughing despite the chill in the air, playing with secondhand dolls and beaten toys and wide smiles. “I’m sorry,” Elsa murmurs, “that I didn’t come here and realize sooner.”

Across the room, Josef coughs and stumbles, and Elin catches him and slings his arm around her shoulder.

“I’m still learning,” Elsa admits, “but I promise that things are about to change.”

Helga smiles then, and stands up despite Elsa’s orders, and scoops her up in a big hug. Elsa stiffens at first, and then slowly relaxes in the grip, her arms circling around Helga. “Thank you, Your – “

Elsa pulls back and glares playfully.

“ – dear,” Helga corrects. “Thank you, dear.”

“Any time.” And Elsa steps back from one hug into another, sharp-eyed children noting the purse now in Helga’s hands and the joy on their caretaker’s face and that this new stranger is the reason for it, and so Elsa finds she can no longer move as small arms wrap around her legs and beaming faces look up to her own.

When at last she escapes, bidding fond farewells and promising to be back soon, she snorts as she hears Elin begin to brag about how she dragged “Miss” all the way here herself, and how Josef says “Nuh uh!” and she smiles to herself, a steely glint in her eyes as she takes new strides, confidence shining in her movements, a stark contrast to earlier in the day when she walked with hunched shoulders and hands in her pockets and had to duck into alleys to fight a rising panic at being discovered, at all the people she could harm.

Her reign has not had the easiest start, but as Elsa breathes in deeply, lets her arms hang loose at her side and her scarf fall from her face to her neck, she thinks that she’s finally on the right path to becoming the queen this kingdom deserves.