"On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations." – Revelation 22:2
When Fredrik awoke, he could've sworn he was dead. The building he was in was too white, too pristine to be anything created on earth. He briefly wondered where the angels and harps were if this was heaven. It was only when he shifted and felt pain radiating out of his chest that he knew he was still alive.
When he spotted a nurse moving across the room, he came back to reality. He was in a hospital, a military one from the looks of it. It was then that he noticed his bed and the bandages tightly wrapped around his throbbing chest.
Oh right. The arrow, Fredrik thought.
Even with the pain, Fredrik smiled. If the arrow hit him then it didn't hit Jørgen. He saved his friend. He was the hero this time, just Jørgen said he could be.
"So the courageous colonel awakens," said a smooth voice on his right.
Fredrik looked over and was shocked by the sight of Count Roman Montressor in the bed next to his. The Count, it looked like, had seen better days. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages, along with his arms and even his hands. His face, however, was untouched and still sported the same charming smile as always.
"Montressor…" Fredrik managed, finding his voice weak thanks to his injury, "What happened?"
"We won the fucking war is what happened, my friend!" Montressor boomed, grinning triumphantly, "You should've seen those Weaseltown ships turning tail. It was glorious sight."
"What're you doing here?" Fredrik asked, confused at what a Capri nobleman was doing injured in a military hospital.
"Oh, forgive me," Montressor said dramatically, "I forgot you've been unconscious and haven't been treated to tales of my heroism yet. I, my friend, was seriously wounded defeating the naval forces of Weselton at Arendelle's harbor."
What? How did Montressor get involved in all this? He's a foreigner. It wasn't his fight, Fredrik wondered.
"I don't get it. How'd you get roped into fighting for us?" Fredrik asked. The nobles he'd known seemed like the types to avoid all possible combat and award each other medals afterward.
Montressor flashed another satisfied smile at the young colonel. "I volunteered," he answered simply.
"You volunteered to fight for us?" Fredrik asked.
The Count puffed himself up as much as humanely possible given his current position, looking incredibly proud of himself.
"I certainly did," he answered, "I even sacrificed my beloved Catfish to achieve victory."
"You defeated Weselton's navy with a catfish?" Fredrik asked incredulously.
"Not a catfish. The Catfish," Montressor stressed, "My beloved ship, lost to depths of Arendelle's harbor forever. I'm telling you, my friend…you never saw such a noble ship."
Fredrik couldn't help but chuckle. Something about Montressor's ease and flair for the dramatic was refreshing, probably because most nobles were the exact opposite of him. Stiff, snobbish and cowardly.
At least Montressor actually has some balls, Fredrik thought.
"I thought captains were supposed to go down with their ships?" Fredrik asked, teasing the Capri nobleman.
Montressor simply shrugged. "And deny the world all this?" he asked, grinning and gesturing to his badly wounded body.
Fredrik rolled his eyes. "How'd that happen anyway?"
"Oh y'know…the ship caught fire and exploded. Usual stuff," Montressor said casually.
"The ship exploded? How the hell did that happen?" Fredrik asked.
"Well…I may have broken out an old Byzantine fire-weapon to combat Weselton's ships. As you may have guessed, it was a little too effective," answered the Count, lifting a bandage up to show his burns.
Fredrik winced at the sight. He'd always hated burns. He thought of the ones he'd received from his father and shuddered. He couldn't imagine his body being covered in something so terrible.
"I know, right? It's not too pretty. My crew's got it as bad or worse," the Count said, gesturing the row of men on his right, all bandaged and confined to hospital beds like their captain.
"My sympathies," Fredrik said, looking at the men. A few were awake and groaning in pain. The others were fortunately asleep…or unconscious. Fredrik wasn't sure.
Montressor just shrugged. "It'll be alright. I keep telling them that ladies love scars," quipped the irrepressible Count, drawing a few obscenities from his conscious crew members.
Crazy bastard, Fredrik thought, shaking his head.
"Well, thank you for your service. For a foreigner, I'd say you went above and beyond," Fredrik said earnestly.
The Count immediately sported his most charming smile, as he usually did whenever someone praised him. "I have to say that means a lot coming from a dedicated soldier such as yourself," said Montressor warmly, "It's an honor to be hospitalized beside you."
Fredrik couldn't help but chuckle at that. But then he paused. The Count had already laid back on his pillow and closed his eyes.
"Hey Montressor," Fredrik said.
"Call me Roman, you dolt," the Count muttered without opening his eyes.
"Fine. Roman…" Fredrik said dramatically.
"Yes?" The Count answered, unable to keep from laughing a bit at how he was rubbing off on the young soldier.
"Why did you help us? It wasn't your fight," Fredrik asked. The question had been nagging him since Montressor told him how he'd been injured.
Montressor chuckled. "Would you believe I was trying to see how many ladies' beds a war hero could get into?" asked the Count.
Fredrik rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, I actually wouldn't."
"Alright, alright," the Count relented, pausing for a moment and looking unusually thoughtful, "I guess I just saw something happening that was wrong that I knew I could do something about."
Fredrik nodded. He could appreciate that. Montressor simply did what he thought was right. Instead of sitting on the sidelines and claiming neutrality, he chose a side and quite possibly saved Arendelle.
"I'm sorry about your ship," Fredrik offered, "I no sailor, but I'm sure it's impossible not to get attached to your vessel."
Montressor nodded. "I will miss my beloved Catfish," he said, looking glum for a brief moment, "But thanks to her majesty the queen, I think I'll be alright."
"The queen?" Fredrik asked.
"Yes sir," Montress grinned triumphantly, "When her majesty contacted me, she agreed to furnish me with a new ship. She said it was the least Arendelle could do to show its gratitude."
A new ship? Lucky bastard, Fredrik thought, wondering where his reward was before another question came to him.
"Hey why'd the queen contact you anyway?" he asked.
Fredrik wasn't sure if Montressor's grin could've gotten any bigger than in that moment. "Oh, she just sent a letter to inform me I was receiving the Order of Arendelle for my actions in battle."
Fredrik's eyes widened at that.
The Order of Arendelle!? he thought.
The Order of Arendelle was the highest honor Arendelle's military could give for valor. It was seldom given, although it's not like their nation was at war very often. Fredrik could only remember hearing about a handful of recipients back when he was at the military academy.
"Wow…congratulations, Roman. That's a tremendous honor. Wear it with pride," Fredrik said, shocked that this eccentric foreigner was going to become one of his country's most decorated soldiers. To be honest, it made him a little envious.
"Well maybe you can show me how to wear it," Montressor quipped.
Fredrik's gaze snapped back to the Capri nobleman so fast you could hear his neck pop. The Count just looked on the young colonel with a knowing smile.
"What do you mean by that?" Fredrik asked.
"Oh, silly me. I knew I forgot to mention something," said Montressor, "When I was notified I would be receiving the Order of Arendelle, one also came for you…you just happened to be too unconscious to appreciate it at the time."
Fredrik's jaw dropped. "I'm receiving the Order of Arendelle?"
"Unless there's another Fredrik Amundsen hiding somewhere in this hospital, yes," Montressor answered with a chuckle, taking in the young man's stunned expression.
"I don't believe it…" Fredrik said quietly.
Montressor just laughed. "I'm certainly not surprised. From what I heard, you turned the tide at Ramberg with one ballsy cavalry charge and then took an arrow for a comrade. I don't know about Arendelle, but in Capri we consider feats like that commendable."
"He's my best friend…" Fredrik muttered.
"What?" Montressor asked.
"The man I took the arrow for. He's my best friend."
Montressor nodded in understanding before smirking again. "You sure you didn't just do it for the glory?"
"He's only asking because that's what he's always after," interjected one of Montressor's crewmen a few beds down.
"Lies and slander," Montressor quipped, before laughing along with the young colonel.
Fredrik laughed even as pain emanated from his chest. Somehow, laughing felt too good to stop, especially after all the recent death. At that moment, it was exactly what he needed.
Jørgen Larsen stood alone on the firing range near Arendelle's barracks. It'd been five days since they'd beaten back the invasion at Ramberg and the saved their country. Five days since his best friend had nearly died saving his life.
Just the thought made Jørgen feel guilty. If he'd only been paying attention, he might've seen that guy and Fredrik wouldn't have almost been killed taking an arrow for him. He wished his friend hadn't done something so reckless. He'd rather be dead than know his friend died for him.
Jørgen picked up his crossbow and continued to drill dummies with clinical precision. It didn't hurt they were dressed in salvaged Weselton uniforms. Each dummy he shot wasn't a dummy. It was the crossbow wielding cowards who'd wounded his best friend.
To say that soldier hadn't been taken prisoner would be an understatement. When Fredrik went down, Jørgen thought his best friend had been killed. The only way to explain it was that he flew into a rage. He drew his sword and descended on the Weselton soldier like a hawk. And nobody said a word as he gutted the man like a fish.
It was only when another man literally shook him and said Fredrik was still alive that he calmed down slightly. He then watched helplessly as his friend was carried to the medical tent, where doctors worked frantically to save his life. Those few hours had been the worst. All Jørgen could do was sit outside the hospital tent and wait. Every time somebody exited the tent, Jørgen cringed, convinced this was the moment they'd tell him that his best friend, his brother was dead.
When Fredrik pulled through, it felt like a miracle. Jørgen raced into the tent only to see his friend unconscious, looking pale and weak and so unlike his friend that it made his breath catch. The doctors had informed him that although Fredrik was alive, he'd lost a lot of blood and likely wouldn't wake up for a while. That was five days ago.
Jørgen had visited Fredrik in the hospital every day since then, hoping that when he got there, he'd be able to see his best friend alive and well again. So far, he'd been greeted each time by his best friend's unconscious body. He stayed anyway, sitting by his bed for as long as the nurse would allow. He owed Fredrik that much.
He tried to come during evenings when the eccentric Count Montressor was more likely to be asleep. He'd only interacted with the man once since he started visited the hospital and it was more than enough. Something about the way Montressor just seemed to wallow in the pleasures of his life bugged Jørgen, possibly because it too much like his own philosophy. He didn't like to think he had much in common with any nobles, foreign or domestic. He had to give the Count points for courage on the battlefield, though. Most of the nobles he'd encountered would've been too busy shitting themselves to fight.
Few people will burn down their goddamn ship fighting for a country that isn't even theirs, Jørgen thought.
Finally tired of firing arrows, Jørgen returned to the stables where he'd left Odysseus. He knew how much Fredrik loved his horse and figured taking care of it while he was indisposed was the least he could do, especially since the man had saved his life. Much like him, the horse had been down a little bit since the battle.
"Missing your best friend, too, huh boy?" Jørgen said as he rubbed the horse's head.
Odysseus whinnied, almost as if he was agreeing with the statement. Jørgen reached down into his satchel and produced an apple. He remembered Fredrik giving them to Odysseus before and since he'd become the creature's unofficial caretaker, he'd started to carry them around. As the horse gnawed on the juicy fruit, Jørgen heard a pair of soldiers enter the stables with their mounts. He idly listened to their conversation, something about the festivities that were being held to celebrate Arendelle's great victory and honor those who fell.
"The colonel gonna be there?" one of the men asked the other.
Jørgen's ear instantly perked up. Colonels, while not uncommon, weren't nearly as numerous as other ranks.
"I doubt it. I heard he's still stuck in the hospital," the other soldier answered.
Jørgen grumbled and returned to stroking Odysseus' mane. Nothing new. His friend was still in the hospital…assuming they were even talking about his friend.
"Yeah, apparently the poor bastard's finally awake but still pretty feeble," the soldier continued.
Jørgen's arm fell to his side.
An injured colonel that finally woke up in the hospital…he thought.
Without word, Jørgen bolted out of the stables, rushing past the confused soldiers. He'd never moved through the streets of Arendelle faster, his seldom-polished riding boots moving over the cobblestones impossibly fast. He was so excited he could hardly think and was very nearly run over by a carriage along the way. He finally reached the hospital and burst on, surprising the nurse on duty.
"Is Colonel Amundsen awake?" he asked breathlessly.
The nurse quickly got over her momentary shock at the sight of the disheveled officer. "Sir, he's not really-
"Is he awake?" Jørgen pressed.
"Yes, sir. He is," the nurse answered, eyes never leaving the frantic man.
Jørgen shot by the nurse before she could even react, racing into the recovery ward in search of his friend. He spotted him reading in his hospital bed and didn't hesitate to rush over and hug his friend.
"Good to see ya, Jørgen," Fredrik chuckled after recovering from his surprise.
"Sir, you can't be in here. The colonel is still recovering, not to mention the-
"It's alright. He's practically family," Fredrik interjected.
The nurse looked at the men skeptically for a moment. "Just call if you want him to go," she said before leaving.
"Nice staff," Jørgen said, detaching himself from the hug and admiring the nurse's retreating form, "Not bad to look at, though."
Fredrik couldn't help but laugh at that.
Same old Jørgen, he thought.
"So how've you been, my friend?' Fredrik asked.
Jørgen looked at him like he was insane. "How've I been? What about you? You're the one who almost died."
"Yeah…I've been okay. My chest hurts like a son of a bitch, but I'm managing," Fredrik said, glancing over at the other wounded soldiers in the ward, most of whom were asleep, including Count Montressor.
"I see you've met the Count," Jørgen said, catching his friend's eye.
"I actually met him before at the queen's ball. For a noble, he's actually alright," Fredrik said.
"He's certainly got courage. I'll give him that," Jørgen acknowledged, "I'm sure by now he's regaled you with tales of his heroism."
Fredrik chuckled. "Yeah, he told me that story right after I woke up. It's crazy that the Order of Arendelle's going to an eccentric foreigner."
"From what I heard, that's not the only person it's going to," Jørgen observed wryly.
"Hard to believe, I know," Fredrik said, glancing up at his friend.
"It's actually not," Jørgen said, suddenly serious, "There's nobody more deserving than you, Fredrik."
Fredrik chuckled and looked at his friend for some sign of a joke. The smile dropped from his face when he found none.
"Jørgen, that's kind of you but…"
"But what?" Jørgen asked.
"You remember what I told you, the night before the invasion," Fredrik said, "I may have done some good, but I'm far from absolved."
"Do you remember what I told you the night before the invasion?" Jørgen questioned.
Fredrik raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so."
"I told you that you're not evil. You definitely made some mistakes, but you're not evil. And most importantly, you're trying to make up for them. There's not one single deed that will fix everything, but I think you're on the right path," Jørgen said, smiling genuinely, "You did a courageous thing and you deserve the rewards from it."
Fredrik paused for a moment, taking in the truth of his friend's words before a cheeky smile spread across his face. "You're horribly sober aren't you?"
Jørgen just laughed and shrugged. "It's hard to find time for La Iruña when I'm taking care of your goddamn horse."
Fredrik laughed, but couldn't help being touched by the gesture. Little things like that reminded him of why Jørgen was the closest thing he had to family.
"Y'know, I never thanked you for saving my life," Jørgen said, gaze wandering over his friend's bandages.
"You don't have to," Fredrik said, attempting to wave his friend off.
"No, I do. I really do. So thank you, Fredrik. That was above and beyond," Jørgen said with unmistakable sincerity.
Fredrik just smiled at his friend. "That's just what brothers do for one another."
Jørgen couldn't keep the smile off his face as he clasped his friend's hand again. "When you're finally set free from this infernal place, first round at La Iruña's on me."
"Now that's a proper thank you," Fredrik quipped, drawing a contagious laugh out of his best friend that even the nurse could hear.
Days after the invasion had been hectic for Elsa. When she'd first heard the news from Ramberg, she'd been fearing the worst, racking her brain trying to think of contingency plans for her country. Then the wonderful news came: the invaders had been repelled and Arendelle was safe. She almost wanted to fall to her knees right there and thank whatever it was that saved her country and her people.
The following days had been more somber. The wounded men that were pulled out of the harbor joined a stream of casualties from Ramberg. The lucky ones were in the hospital recovering from their horrendous wounds. Hundreds of others, fallen in service of their country, had to be buried. The queen had already commissioned an ornate cemetery for the fallen heroes, along with a monument at Ramberg to honor their sacrifice and let the future generations of Arendelle know that their country didn't just persist through a rocky patch in its history. She wanted them to know that people of unwavering courage laid down their lives to defend and preserve it.
There was also the task of rebuilding the military and the inevitable diplomatic chaos that came out of such an invasion. General Broulard had informed the queen that it would take several months to get the army and navy back into fighting shape after sustaining such losses, but also that a victory such as theirs should deter any aggressors in the meantime. Weselton still wasn't responding to the numerous accusations from Arendelle and its allies, although there was a rumor that the Duke was on the verge of being overthrown after such a failure. Even Elsa couldn't keep from smiling at that.
As Elsa stood out on her balcony, dressed regally as always, she couldn't help but marvel at how quickly her country had changed. It had gone from a serene paradise to a brutal war-zone in a few days. Now it was somewhere in between. The damage from the battle on the harbor was still evident, but the civilians were back and the water looked as peaceful as ever with the sun bouncing off its blue surface.
Ever since the battle, she'd felt stronger, but not dangerously. If anything, she felt more confident than ever in her abilities, both as queen and a wielder of frozen power. For once, her powers hadn't been a problem. They didn't injure Anna or plunge Arendelle into a premature winer. They saved Arendelle, repelling an invasion that would've destroyed everything. And she maintained control the whole time.
She couldn't take all the credit, knowing that many others had made the ultimate sacrifice for Arendelle, but she couldn't help but feel proud. She felt better than she had in years. Her country was wounded, but not dead. And it would heal. She could see evidence of it everywhere. Today was just another part of it.
"Elsa!" called a familiar voice outside her door.
Elsa smiled but didn't bother answering the door. She knew her sister would open it before she got there anyway.
"Elsa!" Anna called, entering her sister's chambers.
"Out here," Elsa answered.
Anna strode out over to the balcony excitedly. "It's time. Everyone's waiting for you."
"Well," Elsa said, turning towards her sister and smiling, "We better get going then."
Her sister trailed just behind her as she walked, trying to emulate the way she carried herself.
She's always so composed, Anna mused as she watched her big sister. She'd changed a lot in the past year. She was different, but a good different.
Just like at the party, they stood behind a curtain, waiting for Kai to announce them. Except this time was different. There was no party, just a ceremony honoring the recipients of the Order of Arendelle. And as queen, it was Elsa's duty to bestow them upon her nation's finest soldiers.
"How come you aren't getting one? You basically defeated Weaseltown's navy by yourself!" Anna whispered.
Elsa chuckled a bit at her sister's praise. "It wasn't just me. Our whole navy helped."
Along with Montressor, she thought. In spite of everything, she still didn't trust the Capri nobleman. Maybe it was just leftover paranoia from Hans, but something about the way he was just so damn charming all the time didn't sit right with her. Still, he'd been a huge help during the battle at great personal risk. For that, she relented, he deserved his reward.
"Besides, I don't think I can award them to myself," Elsa snickered.
"You're the queen. You can do anything you want," Anna reminded.
Before Elsa could answer, Kai began the announcements. Elsa moved gracefully, posture perfect and a small smile on her face. Anna soon followed, with less grace but an undeniable amount of enthusiasm. The throne room was immaculate, freshly cleaned by the returned staff. They'd even thrown open the windows, letting refreshing gusts of autumn breeze. High ranking military officers, including General Broulard (who smiled kindly at the queen) and General Mireau (who didn't).
The four recipients stood with perfect discipline before the throne. Their completely stoic faced look respectfully up at her. She knew two of the faces quite well.
"Ladies and gentleman, I stand before you today not as your monarch, but as a fellow citizen of Arendelle," Elsa said simply, the crowd watching attentively, "There's no doubt that our nation has recently gone through some very dark times. We've lost much, but we've survived. We survived thanks to heroes like the four men you see before you and countless others, who all faced these dark times with unwavering courage. Many of them, unfortunately, didn't get to see the glories of victory."
Every soldier in the room momentarily bowed their head, recalling all the comrades who'd never returned home. Elsa felt her throat constricting with emotion and coughed to clear it. She was the queen and she had to be composed.
"We honor their sacrifice and cherish their memories. They saved our lives by sacrificing theirs and it's a debt we can never hope to repay. I don't doubt that they're the finest group of warriors to ever enter Valhalla," Elsa continued, "As for those here today, we have a different honor to bestow upon them."
Four servants stepped beside the queen, each carrying a small wooden case. They opened it to reveal the Order of Arendelle medals, finely crafted golden medallions bearing the crest of the nation. Elsa slowly removed one from its box and bestowed it upon the first soldier, who lowered his head graciously to allow the queen to put it on. She thanked him for his service and he bowed in response.
The next soldier looked incredibly young, even younger than her. He smiled boyishly as the queen gave him his medal and thanked him for his service. The next recipient, she knew well. Before she'd even removed the medal, Montressor had the most satisfied smile she'd ever seen on his face. Elsa was tempted to roll her eyes, but paused when she saw the burns on his hands. No doubt he'd sustained even worse injuries than that below his ceremonial black uniform.
"Thank you for your service, Count," she said simply, "You're a friend to the people of Arendelle."
"I'm honored, your majesty," he answered smoothly, bowing as she placed his medal around his neck, "And please, contact me whenever you're ready to discuss my trade proposals."
Odd timing for that, Elsa thought. She quickly shook it off and regained her composure.
Elsa didn't have to force a smile for the next soldier. It was genuine. Fredrik Amundsen stood before her, striking as ever in his uniform and smiling brightly. She'd read the report of his actions, how he'd led a charge that changed the course of the battle and threw himself in front of an arrow to protect a comrade. To her, it confirmed that the person she'd spoken with on the balcony was the real Fredrik. He really was a noble soldier. She didn't worry about something being up his sleeve like she did with Montressor or General Mireau.
Although he tried his best to hide it, Fredrik was nervous. Receiving the medal was one thing, but receiving it from the queen was something else. When he'd seen her emerge from behind the curtain, he'd almost forgotten his own name. She looked stunning, just like she had the night of the party.
I wonder if she even remembers that, Fredrik wondered. He knew it was stupid to indulge in fantasies, especially ones as impossible as those related to the queen. He was still just a soldier. He wasn't a king or a prince…or a count.
Fredrik lowered his head respectfully as Elsa placed the medal around his neck.
"Thank you for your service, Fredrik," Elsa said simply, "I heard about what you did and I want you to know that it was one of the noblest things I'd ever heard."
Fredrik's eyes widened as he tried to make his mouth work. Not only did she remember him, she actually cared enough to read about his actions in battle. It did absolutely nothing to help him quell his fantasies.
"Thank you, your majesty. Although from what I heard about the harbor, maybe you should be receiving one of these," Fredrik joked quietly.
Elsa fought back a smile and retained her composure, even when everything in her told her to just be Elsa and enjoy Fredrik's company. It wasn't an appropriate time anyway.
"You're a true hero, Fredrik. Arendelle is lucky to have you," she said before returning to her place before the crowd.
Fredrik didn't even hear the rest of her speech. He didn't even feel the medal around his neck. All he was aware of was the fact that Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle, thought he was a hero.
Fredrik sat in La Iruña later that evening, surrounded by his comrades. Music and laughter filled the air as the soldiers celebrated the end of the war. Fredrik drank from his beer lightly, wanting to stay sober. He wanted to remember this. Everything felt different now. He didn't feel like the bastard son of a coal miner. He didn't feel like a war criminal. He didn't feel like the Lion. For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful, hopeful about the future would hold for him and for his nation. He had a long way to go, sins he still had to atone for. But he could do it. He'd been a hero at Ramberg. Jørgen, General Broulard and even Queen Elsa believed he could keep it up. Maybe he could believe in himself, too.
"I'd like to propose a toast," Jørgen announced, slightly intoxicated and snapping Fredrik out of his thoughts, "To Fredrik! The Hero of Ramberg!"
A chorus of cheers rang out through the bar as Fredrik chuckled, slightly embarrassed but happy all the same. The Hero of Ramberg. He liked that one a lot better. Sitting in the warm confines of La Iruña on a cold night, surrounded by friends and with a beer in his hand, Fredrik remembered his rides up on the hill.
You live for moments like these, he thought.
FIN
Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, but I've been consumed with another fanfic I'm itching to get started. Still, this deserved an ending. I like this story and wouldn't mind a sequel but I've got a few other ideas I'm eager to get off the ground first. I'd like to thank all my readers for sticking with my first story. If you have any interest, come check out my Hunger Games fanfic that finally gives a seldom-used character some much needed attention.