Prologue: The Boy Who Wouldn't be King
31 years ago…
It was in the predawn hours of the morning, all of Arendelle was still, quiet, lit only by moonlight. There was not a soul on the brick-laden streets, the whole city seemed to be fast asleep. There was no wind or rain, not a cloud in the midnight sky, just a clear, full moon, as large and bright as any other. No one would have guessed that it was in the palace, of all places, that the weight of the world was keeping someone from sleep that night.
Inside the royal palace, Queen Gerta paced back and forth in the darkened hallway. just outside her almost one year-old son's bedroom, her long brown hair trailing wistfully behind her like a silk curtain. She didn't know what to do. Very nearly a year ago, she had given birth to a pair of twins, her first and only son, and the second of her two daughters, and at the time, she, the King, and her older daughter, then three year-old Elsa, had been overjoyed; but since then she and the King had faced an agonizing choice. If she allowed things to stay as they were, her son's future would be decided for him. He would grow up, and when they were gone he would rule Arendelle as king. That was what was expected, it was the norm, the supposed ideal, not just there, but in every single monarchy throughout time and the world, but Gerta felt that it simply wasn't right to force her son into a future that he might or might not choose.
Without a brother to give the thrown to, he wouldn't have the legal opportunity to abdicate, he'd be forced to take the crown and keep it. Male heirs take precedence over female heirs, so his sisters wouldn't be eligible to take it from him even if they wished to rule or he wanted to give it to them. So Gerta was slowly hatching a plan, a plan to find her son a new family, who could give him the one thing she couldn't, a choice in life. To do it, they'd have to send him to a foreign land. If he stayed in Arendelle and his adoptive parents knew who he was they could try to force him to claim his birthright. If he ever did take it, Gerta wanted it to be his own choice. She didn't want to separate her children, she didn't want to give up her son, but there just didn't seem to be another way.
Despite herself, she let out a single, tortured sob. And thrust open the ornate double doors leading into his room. The nursery was large and cavernous, painted a pastel blue. There he was, sleeping peacefully in his crib, while a mobile of cherubs spun softly above his head. She ran her fingers gently over his soft brown hair, sweet little Alexander…it would hurt so much to say goodbye, but this was how it had to be, it was the only way to give him a choice in life.
"Oh my sweet boy…my beloved little prince, I love you so much…you probably won't even remember me…or your father and sisters but…" she trailed off, her voice gone as a lump rose in her throat. "But we love you…" She told him, scooping him into her arms and kissing his tiny forehead.
2 months later…
When Prince Alexander was just over a year old, the king and queen, left their daughters in the care of their housekeeper and nanny, and made the journey across the Atlantic Ocean, to the United States. Then, across that huge land, to a large, bustling city near the western coast, there, they found an average couple who had lost their own son, and were looking for another baby. This life would be nothing like the life he would have led in the palace in Arendelle, but these two, a blond university professor and her husband, could give him the thing that they never could. Here, he would have a choice in what he did with his life. For his own protection, his name would be changed, his adoption records sealed, and his very existence kept a secret from his own people and erased from the official records. When everything was finished, there would be no way for someone in America to discover who he was, nor for someone in Arendelle to find out where he had been taken. This had to be, since he wouldn't have the protection of the royal guard, and without it, if he was discovered by the kingdom's enemies, he could be hunted down, kidnapped, and held for ransom. It was better, that no one in either nation knew who he was.
The Americans watched longingly as Gerta cradled her son in her arms for the last time. For a moment she hesitated, even considered recanting her decision to give him up, but she closed her eyes and reminded herself that she was doing this for his own good. He hugged him close one last time, and then handed him to his knew American mother. The adoption would be finalized in court before they returned to Arendelle, but from this moment forward, the child's name would be Spencer Alexander Reid, the same name as the son his adoptive parents had lost. Prince Alexander David Vinter no-longer existed.