Women's Work Chapter 1

A/N
Sometimes, when the man of the house has no clue how to solve a problem, the woman has to buckle down and solve it herself. Of course, she may have to hide the results from him, especially if he's the king of Arendelle, and the problem is your 12-year-old daughter with uncontrollable cold powers. But some outcomes can't be hidden. Rated K-plus to be safe; the language is all K.

This is not a sequel or prequel to my other Frozen fanfics, although they share a few fictional points in common (like the names of the nobles). My descriptions of women's roles are meant to be appropriate for the time and place of this story, and are not necessarily my opinion of how these things ought to be handled today.

It was just a coincidence, but a happy one, that I began posting this story the day after Mother's Day.

o

Queen Idun looked around at the flowers and shrubs around her, drew in a deep breath, and tried not to scream.

Their encounter with Elsa this morning was the worst they'd ever endured, with every indication that things would keep getting worse. She and her husband had rushed to her room in response to her fearful cry, as they'd done in the past, and found their daughter cowering in the corner. Ice had spread across the floor and risen up the walls. "I'm scared!" she'd cried, her eyes wide with fear. "It's getting stronger!" Her husband had tried to console her, and she had shrunk away from her father. "No! Don't touch me! Please, I don't want to hurt you!" she'd exclaimed.

This was all so wrong! What daughter should have to live in fear of hurting her parents? What parents should be unable to help their daughter with a problem, no matter how extreme it might be? She remembered her own childhood, and how her mother and father always knew the answers when things went wrong. She felt so helpless!

Perhaps worst of all was the discussion she'd had with her husband afterwards. "Everything we're doing is failing!" she'd exclaimed.

"What else can we do?" he sighed, looking as helpless as she felt. "If the people ever found out about her powers, they'd banish her! Or worse! She's got to learn how to control them!"

"But she isn't learning!" Idun had exclaimed. "The gloves haven't helped. Imprisoning her in her room hasn't helped. She's suffering, Agdar! We need to try something different!"

"What do you want me to do, Idun? Lock her hands in metal manacles? I think we've still got a pair down in the dungeons somewhere." At her shocked expression, he'd shaken his head. "No, I'm not serious. Besides, I don't think even those would help. She's a force of nature, Idun, and we can't lock her down. Somehow, she has to learn to control herself, or…" He left his sentence unfinished. She'd remembered the light-picture they'd seen when they visited the Grand Pabbie of the trolls that awful night, the picture of people rising up against their daughter in fear.

"We have to try something different," she'd insisted.

He'd sighed and shaken his head again. "How can we help her when we don't even understand what's happening to her?" Then Kai had reluctantly interrupted them; a messenger from the Kingdom of Oslo was at the gates, and whatever he wanted, it probably required the king's attention. The discussion had been left unfinished, but it might as well be over. She had no new ideas, and she knew he had none. She had retreated to the Queen's Garden, just to get away for a few minutes.

The Queen's Garden wasn't really a garden, but a greenhouse, built against an outer wall of the palace, where plants grew all year. By unspoken agreement, no one was allowed there except the Queen, the royal gardener (which meant Gerda these days), and those whom the Queen invited. If Idun was there, then Gerda stayed away, not by command, but by understanding – this was Queen Idun's refuge from the stresses of royalty, reigning, and trying to help a daughter who seemingly could not be helped. She chose which plants grew there, and spent almost as much time caring for them as Gerda did. The smell of freshly turned earth, and the fragrances of the flowers and herbs, helped her relax and forget her troubles for a few minutes. Those troubles were always waiting at the door, ready to descend on her shoulders and press down on her again, but no one could live with that kind of pressure forever. Everyone needed an escape, even a brief one.

Except poor little Elsa, who never got to escape from the horror her life had become.

Idun realized she was gripping the handle of the watering can so tightly, she was on the verge of hurting her hand. She set it down quickly and massaged her fingers. She plucked a leaf of lemon balm, pressed it between her fingers, and enjoyed the scent it released. If she had to squeeze something, she preferred lemon balm and similar herbs. They smelled nice when she squeezed them.

She looked around. She'd had some windows cut into the palace wall so people could see into the greenhouse from inside the palace. Anna frequently climbed into the window wells so she could see what her mother was doing in there. The concept of ladylike behavior was slowly sinking into her mind, but it was taking its time and she had frequent relapses. Her standard excuse was, "I just want to see!" Idun had brought her into the greenhouse many times, so it wouldn't be so mysterious to her younger daughter, but the forbidden fruit of a stolen view kept calling Anna's name. She wasn't there today, though.

Idun knew that, if she looked up through the clear roof, she would probably see Elsa watching her from her bedroom window. She also knew that, the moment Elsa saw her mother looking at her, she'd turn away from the window and hide, afraid that she might hurt her mother somehow. Her fist tightened again, crushing the lemon-balm leaf into a formless green mass. It was so unfair! The poor child had done nothing to deserve a fate like this! What was Elsa supposed to do when she got older – rule the kingdom from behind a locked door, unseen and unknown? Would the bishop willingly move the coronation ceremony from the royal chapel to a girl's bedroom? How could she ever take a husband and produce an heir?

It won't work, she thought bitterly. Nothing works. She picked up her watering can and searched her little domain for plants that looked parched. With some, the soil was visibly dry; with others, she had to touch the dirt and feel how moist it was. She wasn't like some queens who felt faint if they got their hands dirty. She'd learned gardening from her mother, who never made her servants do all the dirty work, and the smell and feel of dirt was something she always associated with pleasant thoughts and happy memories. She scooped up a handful of very moist soil from a pot of Norwegian kusymres. The soil was too wet for primroses, she noted; until it dried out, they would never thrive.

Would her daughter ever be able to thrive?

The Queen's fist tightened again. Soft mud oozed out between her fingers, making a complete mess of her hand. She stared at it, irritated. Then she stared at it some more, breathless, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

Could it really be that simple?

Well, was there some kind of rule that said it had to be complicated?

Maybe, just maybe, the solution to her most vexing problem lay right there in her hand.

o

Agdar was flatly against it.

"Idun, where have you been for the past four years? It's when she uses her cold power that bad things happen! She needs to control it, not turn it loose!"

"But she can't control it!" Idun burst out. "Can't you see? It's too much for a child to handle! She needs to –"

The King took her hands in hers. He looked sad. "Idun, my love, I have never done this before. I never thought I'd ever do this. But I have to be perfectly clear. As your husband, and as your king, I am forbidding you to turn our daughter's power loose while she's in this castle. Do you understand?"

Her face turned hard. "Yes. Perfectly. So what's your solution?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe there's a clue in that old book that has the trolls' map in it." He went to find that book in the library, leaving his wife fuming.

Idun was not the strongest-willed woman who ever lived; she had never been the rebellious type. But her husband's stubborn insistence on staying with a failing plan got under her skin. This wasn't some random citizen of their kingdom whose life was being frozen out of her – this was their daughter! The idea of doing nothing, or doing something that would result in nothing, had become intolerable to her. But she had never disobeyed her husband, and she certainly could not ignore a command from Arendelle's king.

"I am forbidding you to turn our daughter's power loose while she's in this castle." Hmmm…

She couldn't try anything that morning; she was committed to help judge the town's annual snowman-making contest. Normally, she loved viewing what the local children had made, but today, she couldn't wait for the contest to be over. When it finally ended, she rode back to the palace for lunch, hoping that her growing excitement wasn't going to be too obvious. Fortunately, her husband was distracted by a minor diplomatic problem with Weselton that had come up, and he didn't scrutinize his wife too closely from across the table.

She climbed the grand staircase, trying to keep herself calm. What if it didn't work? What if it backfired somehow – how would she explain it to her husband? Overriding every concern and worry was one overarching thought: I have to try this for Elsa's sake. She tapped on her daughter's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's your mother."

After a moment, Elsa called, "Come in." She wasn't expecting company at this time of day. Idun found her lying on the bed, reading a book about Viking history. The queen stopped about eight feet from the bed; any closer, and Elsa's fear would kick in.

"How are you today, dear?" she asked.

"I'm... all right, I guess," Elsa replied nervously.

"Would you mind if I sat on the bed for a few minutes? I'd like to –"

"No!" her daughter exclaimed, rolling off the bed, keeping it between her and her mother. "Please don't get too close to me!"

"All right! All right!" Idun replied, backing away a step. This wasn't starting well. "Elsa, everything we've tried hasn't helped you very much, has it?" After a moment, Elsa shook her head. Idun went on, "I didn't think so. How about if we try something completely different?"

"I don't think anything can help," Elsa said sadly, looking at the floor.

The queen's heart nearly broke at those words, but she forced herself to go on. "Elsa, my daughter, you're much too young to give up all hope. I know I haven't given up! Will you try something different with me, please?"

"What do you want to do?" Elsa mumbled.

"I'd like you to join me in my garden. Just for a few minutes; I won't make you stay long if you aren't comfortable there."

Elsa looked puzzled. "What good is that going to do?"

"There's something I want to show you," Idun replied, "and my garden is the only place I can show it to you."

Her daughter tensed up slightly. "What if I hurt someone when I meet them in the halls?"

"We'll take the back stairs, so we won't bump into your father or your sister," Idun answered. "Kai is dusting in the library, and Gerda is out doing the shopping. You won't meet anyone, and I promise I won't try to get too close to you, unless you say it's okay. Please, Elsa? It would mean a lot to me."

Elsa didn't answer. From her side of the bed, Idun couldn't see her daughter's feet, but she heard the crunching sound that meant the floor was freezing over. A few more such freezing episodes, and they would have to replace the bedroom floor again. That was the least of Idun's worries, though. She waited for Elsa to answer. Her husband would have prodded their daughter into making a decision, but that never seemed to work well.

At last, Elsa said, "I'll try it," in a very quiet voice.

"I'm glad," Idun answered.

Mother preceded daughter, not due to royal rank, but due to the daughter's reluctance to get close to the mother. Idun opened the door to the greenhouse, and left it open as she stepped inside. After a few seconds, Elsa followed her in and shut the door behind her. She left a few frost crystals on the door handle.

"What do you want to show me?" she asked. There were shreds of curiosity in her voice, mingled with the ever-present fear.

"First, I need you to come closer so you can see this."

Elsa backed up against the door, whose glass panes instantly frosted over. "No... I can't! I can't get that close to you! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Elsa, listen to me! Do you think I want either of us to get hurt?" Elsa shook her head mutely. "Then try this. Put your hands behind your back. That way, if your cold comes out of your hands, it won't go toward me. I'll be safe that way. Right?"

"But... but Father says a proper young lady shouldn't stand with her hands behind her back."

Idun tried to keep her voice gentle. "This isn't a posture and etiquette lesson, Elsa. This is a lot more important than that. Please do as I ask, and then step over toward this flower pot."

Very nervously, Elsa folded her hands behind her back. She took three steps toward the flower pot, then backed away one step, then took two more steps forward and stopped. Idun guessed that she wasn't going to get any closer, but she was close enough now.

The Queen of Arendelle stuck her hand into the flower pot and came up with a handful of the overly wet soil. "Elsa, what would you call this?"

"Mud," Elsa said with obvious distaste.

"You're right, of course," Idun nodded. "Now, watch what happens when I close my hand a little." She closed her fingers on her handful of mud and squeezed it slightly. Some of the mud leaked out from between her fingers.

"You make a mess," Elsa said.

"And if I squeeze harder?" She clamped down on the mud, which oozed out all over her fist.

"You make a bigger mess," Elsa commented.

"The tighter I squeeze, the more it leaks out," Idun agreed. "If I just held it lightly, would it leak out?"

"No," her daughter said, "but I don't understand what this means. Why did you want me to see this so badly?"

Idun raised her gaze from her muddy fist to her daughter. "Because I think this mud holds the answer to how you can control your power."