Authors note: Hi, hope your all still enjoying! I apologize for the late update, life got in the way, but hope the update will be worth the wait!
Any way, hope you all enjoy it and please review when done as your opinions are important so I can make the best story possible. :)
The days leading up to this year's Midsummer Festival grew increasingly hectic as more and more foreign vessels sailed up the fjords into Arendelle's capital. The harbor was awash with colorful banners fluttering in the wind, each one proudly displayed the crests and sigils of their home nation – Great Britain's Union Jack, the double-headed eagles of Germany, Russia, and Austria-Hungary, France's golden fleur-de-lis, and even the azure dragon of the Great Qing of the Far East.
The dockside was bustling with activity as passengers and sailors hurried to the inns and taverns, whilst the porters and stevedores loaded the foreign goods onto delivery wagons. The pier at Christiana had become so packed to the point that domestic ships had to be routed to the harbor at Drammen some 40 kilometers to the west, where passengers and cargo could make a land journey eastwards to the capital.
At the same time, Ross was hard at work, harvesting vegetables from the castle greenhouse. While most other royals filled their greenhouses and topiaries with exotic flowers and ornamental fruits, Ross dedicated his to growing food crops such vegetables, fruits, and berries. The only area of the castle greenhouse that had any ornamental plants was the central foyer. There, one could find circular plot if land, entirely covered with red blossoms and a red weeping willow which had been imported from the New World.
As Ross loaded the vegetables into a handcart, he took note of the inventory on his pocket journal. Said journal was filled with notes on farming techniques to ensure optimum food production. A couple of years back, he had launched his own charity project, a feeding program for the capital's poorest households where any surplus vegetables grown in the castle would be donated away.
It was a routine that he had gotten accustomed over the last few years, and it gave him an excuse to leave the confines of the castle; but after an incident that took place roughly two years ago, it was a miracle he was still allowed to venture beyond the gates…
Christiana, Arendelle – 1861
Humming a merry little tune, Ross grinned to himself as made his way home with his now-empty produce cart. It had been a good day giving away the surplus produce from the castle gardens to the less fortunate. Yes, they were from the lower echelons of society, but they were still loyal to the Arendellian crown, thus this charitable act was the least that Ross could do in gratitude of their steadfast service.
"They definitely need it more," he said to himself, "No use hoarding it up and letting it go to waste."
Along the way, he passed by a few dimly-lit alleys. Not exactly uncommon as street lights at the time were powered by oil burners, and to install one in such a narrow path was just an accident waiting to happen. Because of this, such locations have become frequented by pickpockets and muggers alike; but Ross was not afraid. The combat training he had received from Caleb and Shuangsong was beginning to pay off, and he could definitely hold his own in a fight.
However, what Ross did not expect was for him to be ganged up by so many men. He tried his best to fight back, but unlike the wild punches of a typical street tough or the sluggish swings of an angry drunkard, the men he were fighting were disciplined and could parry him blow-by-blow.
'Discharged soldiers out for revenge?'
It was at this point that he considered using his powers, but before he could do so, a sharp blow to his temple knocked the wind out of him, allowing them to overpower him.
Just before his consciousness completely slipped away, he was able to pick up some tidbits of their conversation:
"Get him to the ship!"
'A ship!? Where the hell are you taking me?'
"Bloody hell, hurry up!"
"Blimey! He's all banged up, what did you bloody do?"
'Sounds like an Englishman… What is going on here?'
"The Queen's not going t' like this…"
'Knowing Mother, she definitely won't.'
"Who? Ours or his?"
"How about both? No matter, we have to leave now! Only he can save him."
'Save him? Who's him?'
With that last thought, he succumbed to the blackness and he knew no more.
A gentle rocking motion stirred Ross from his slumber. He groaned, burying his head deeper into soft pillows beneath him, but the motions did not stop. Frowning, he sat up only to be assailed by a throbbing pain to the side of his head and several more all over his body. Just then, it all came back to him – a gang of men, an ambush, followed by an all-out brawl.
As he took in his surroundings, it was clear that he was not in his room, or anywhere in Arendelle for that matter. The constant rocking indicated that he was in a boat, somewhere out at sea. Kicking off the blankets, he made his way to the door and jiggled it, only to find it locked. 'Kidnapped,' he thought to himself, cursing his luck. 'But who would–?'
Slavers were definitely out of the question. Instead being chained up in a rat-infested brig teeming disease and decay, he had been confined in a private cabin; and the cot he had been lying in had clean linens, blankets, and pillows. Whoever had snatched him explicitly had his comfort in mind.
Just then the jingling of keys of keys could be heard behind the heavy wooden door, and moments later, the lock clicked open. He looked up and saw a pair of burly men wearing the black-and-gold of the British Royal Navy enter the room, one of them carrying a tray of food. The man then set it down on the rough-hewn table, and without another word, both sailors left, not even bothering to spare him a glance.
They were afraid, that much Ross could tell – but whether it was of their benefactor or his mother. To disobey the command of the ruling monarch could be interpreted as treason of the highest order, and Queen Victoria was not a very forgiving woman. However, only the truly foolish would dare to cross the Queen of Arendelle, and while she had never execute those who did, her methods of dealing with them would make them pray for death.
As soon as they were gone, Ross walked over to the table to find that a nice little spread had been laid out for him. It looked quite tempting too – a traditional English breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, fried dough, bacon, and a few slices of tomatoes and cheese served with a piping hot cup of black tea – but as hungry as he was, Ross did not touch the food. Queen Victoria might have ordered her men to treat him hospitably, but there was no telling if there were any underlying motives. The legend of Ptolemy and the Maccabees came to mind, cold betrayal concealed with the promise of friendship and goodwill.
'Now you're just being paranoid and stupid…' he scolded himself. As cutthroat the British Queen was, there was to reason for her to turn against his mother. Arendelle was an ally of the British Empire, and the fact that they had recently conquered India established Queen Victoria's position as the most preeminent of the European monarchs.
In fact, killing him would be moot because it meant war, and those who were familiar with Queen Elsa knew that it would be suicide to incur her wrath. No… …it had to be another reason.
But even so, it rankled him that an allied country would stoop so low as to kidnap him, and knowing his mother, she was not going to take it well. Out of spiteful rebellion, Ross refused to touch the provisions that had been left for him. Day in, day out, not a morsel or sip touched his lips. He could see concern and even panic building up among the sailors who delivered his meals, but he was not going to give them any quarter.
But in the end, doing a hunger strike proved to be a stupid, futile move. After two days without any sustenance, he had grown weak from hunger and thirst. The moment he was given food, he pounced on it like a rabid animal, scarfing it down so fast that he practically made himself sick.
Some time in the dead of night, Ross was jolted awake by an excruciating sensation coming from his lower abdomen. The pain was so bad that it was could be felt all the way down to his legs. He gasped, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he curled into a ball, trying to staunch the pain, but to no avail. As he lay wracked in agony, he wondered if there really had been some basis on his suspicions about his food having been poisoned.
Just then he felt the boat stop, and the faint sound of voices above deck indicated that they were now docking. Not long after, a quartet of soldiers dragged him out of the cell and down the gangplank towards the wharf where a lone carriage sat, waiting for them. They then forced him inside, and soon the carriage was off in one of the most unpleasant rides of Ross' life. As it sped down London's cobblestone streets, the bumps in the road jostled and rattled the passengers inside, exacerbating Ross' stomachache.
Finally, the carriage stopped, and he was once again dragged out by the soldiers to an edifice he recognized as Windsor Castle. They then led him inside the Great Hall, and into one of the private rooms. There, a man could be seen lying in a bed, surrounded by a group of grim-faced doctors. As he was brought closer, he could also five people he knew all too well – Queen Victoria and her four sons, Edward, Alfred, Arthur, and Leopold. If they were there, that only meant that the bedridden man was none other than the Price Consort Albert himself.
All this time, Ross could barely stand because of the intense pain. There had been several intervals where he had nearly fainted. If it had not been for the men holding him up, he might have as well collapsed on the floor. But through sheer willpower, he managed to stay lucid and aware of the on-goings.
The moment Victoria spotted Ross, she marched right up to him and gestured to her ailing husband. "Save him."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, confused. He had an inkling of what the British queen wanted, but so far, only a select few knew of his healing abilities, so how did Queen Victoria know of this? Unless… He peered over her shoulder to see the four princes looking rather guilty.
"My older sons told me of how you saved their youngest brother," Victoria explained, her tone firm and commanding. "Now I order you to do the same for my husband."
Upon hearing her words, Ross burned with anger. When he had healed Leopold of his hemophilia after a hiking trip gone awry, it had been a life-or-death situation, and he had asked the younger prince and his brothers to never breathe a word of his secondary abilities to anyone else, to which they promised. As far as anyone knew, Crown Prince Rosenrød of Arendelle merely had fire powers, nothing more, nothing less. But now, they had broken his trust by revealing this secret to their mother.
"Heal him!" the British Queen shouted, grabbing Ross by the arm. "Did you not hear me?"
Ross drew back in response, a retort hot on his tongue only for it to die down when he looked into her eyes; for behind the imperious countenance and impatient demands was not a cruel, power-hungry tyrant, but that of a desperate, anxious, grief-stricken yet devoted spouse who wanted nothing more than to save her beloved's life.
Though she had done him wrong, Ross could not find it in himself to hate the woman. If anything, at that very moment he pitied her. For a moment it was as if her pain was his, to the point that he could not help but silently cry for her. He could see that the love and devotion she had for her husband rivaled, perhaps even surpassed that of his own parents. The only difference was that Albert was still alive, whereas Hans had been long dead.
Nodding wordlessly, he allowed Victoria to lead him to Albert's bedside, where he could see the Prince Consort gasping and groaning as he clutched at his lower abdomen – exactly where Ross had felt the pain.
From what he could glean, he had the ability to feel the pain of others, be it physical or emotional, but how he was doing so, Ross did not know. As far as he knew he only had fire powers and healing tears, the latter of which, he was not too familiar with either.
He leaned over Albert as he reflected on the sadness and sorrow felt by the Queen and her sons. As he did, he let it mingle with his own emotions and soon, he began to weep. Large droplets landed on the ailing prince – on his brow, his chest, and his stomach. For a while, nothing happened, but bit by bit, Albert began to relax, and soon he slipped into a restful slumber.
After the encounter with Queen Victoria and her family, Ross was then escorted to one of the castle's guest rooms. Although his ordeal had exhausted him, he found himself unable to fall asleep. He knew that having fire magic was enough to set him apart from most other humans, where was this odd ability to heal with his tears coming from? Furthermore, how was he able to sense the pain of another, both physical and emotional?
He had asked his relatives before, but that proved to be fruitless; his relatives had all pointed out that his magic came from him having Fair Folk blood, but even then that did not explain the nature of his powers. His mother and his godmothers, Aunt Ingrid and Aunt Helga, had told him that he was the first in their family to wield such magic, and even they could not fully explain its source nor that of his other abilities.
But in any event, he never used his powers unless he really needed to, and in the case of Prince Albert, it seemed that the healing tears had worked as he too was no longer troubled by stomach pains.
Just then someone could be heard knocking at his door.
"Come in," Ross beckoned, and it opened, allowing Queen Victoria's four sons – Edward, Alfred, Arthur, and Leopold to enter the room.
Upon seeing them, Ross felt his earlier anger return. He was so displeased that he turned away, unwilling to face them. Where was their word of honor? Even if they meant to save their father, how could they have broken his trust to reveal his secret to their mother? If more and more people found out about his healing abilities, the consequences could be dire.
For what seemed like an eternity, the four brother princes merely stood there, unsure of what to say. After several more moments of awkward silence, Prince Edward decided to step up. "So…" he began, sounding rather hesitant, "How are you?"
"Fine…" Ross bit out, still not looking at them. But even then, he could not hold a grudge against the British princes. Even though they had broken their oath, it had been done out of familial concern, something that he could relate and sympathize with. "How about your father? How is he faring?"
"He's doing much better now," Prince Arthur replied. "He'll need to stay in bed for a week, but the doctors are expecting him to make a full recovery."
"I see…"
Prince Leopold, who was only eight, was practically beside himself in tears. "Please don't be angry with us!" he wailed, "I warned them not to tell Mother–"
"It's my fault," Edward cut in. "But I had to do it. Father means the world to Mother, and if he were to die, it would destroy her. You can punish me if you want, but leave my brothers out of it."
"Still, it's the principle of things," Ross countered. "There was a reason these powers were kept a secret." He turned to face the Prince of Wales, his expression grave. "Who else knows?"
"Only Mother and the doctors that were present at Father's bedside," Prince Alfred told him. "You don't have to worry," he assured, "Mother had them swear to keep their silence under the pain of death."
"It's the least we can do," Edward added. "You saved our lives from the freak avalanche back then, cured Leopold of his hemophilia, and now, you have shielded our father from going into an early grave. We truly are indebted to you Prince Rosenrød."
"That is beside the point!" Ross argued, whirling at him. "Don't you know how dangerous it is for someone in my position? What if my powers fell into the wrong hands or worse?"
The Prince of Wales was at a loss for words. "I… I'm sorry. I just wanted to save my father."
"Fine… I'll forgive you this time," Ross replied, his furious expression softening. He sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. "But next time, just send an invite instead kidnapping me."
Despite a rough arrival, Ross wound up enjoying his stay in Britain. Both Victoria and Albert, and their children had been more than grateful with his actions, and spared no expense and effort in making his stay as comfortable as possible.
To allay his mother's fears, he had sent her letters, photographs, and postcards of his tour across the United Kingdom. From Balmoral to Kent, he pointed out that he was treated hospitably by the British royals, and that he had secretly left home in hopes of adventure. The latter bit was a lie of course, something that tugged at Ross' guilt, but his mother's reaction would have had been far worse had she learned that he had been kidnapped.
When he finally returned to Arendelle, he had received an earful from her and his aunts and uncles. Despite the numerous missives he had sent, reassuring them that all was well, none of them were particularly happy that he had disappeared with nary a word. Consequently, he was grounded for the entirety of the year. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, and from it, he had learned to be more aware of his surroundings to avoid a repeat incident.
Back to the present…
And just as it had been back then, here he was again, out about town, pushing his produce cart. And just like before, he sensed a presence. But instead of soldiers hiding in the shadows, this time he was accosted by his cousin Thomas, along with several other high-born young men.
One of the young lords sniffed at him disdainfully. "Off to feed the masses, Your Highness?"
"Naturally," Ross replied with a stern glare of his own. "They're the lifeblood of our nation." He tried to push past them only to have his path blocked.
"Must you really associate yourself with the riffraff?" asked another nobleman. "It really is unbecoming of someone of your standing."
"Agreed!" said a third. "Mother would positively die of shame if she saw me doing what you do."
"Regardless, it is a noble's duty to protect and look after the those under him," Ross retorted. "The food on our tables are a testament of their loyalty. They toil for us, they fight for our country, the taxes they pay are what line our coffers. It's only fair that we should give back to them, no matter how little!"
Unfortunately, his words fell on deaf ears and was met with derisive laughter. "Honestly, dear cousin," scoffed Thomas, "Do you really believe such nonsense?"
Ross felt his face heat up with annoyance. "And what do you care?"
"Rosenrød, I'm serious! This has gone far enough! You are the Crown Prince of Arendelle, it's high time that you associate yourself with those of your standing!" Thomas shouted. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to see you debase yourself to serve the unwashed masses? To cavort with them? To be seen with them?"
"It was once said that one must serve before he can lead, and I am doing just that. If you don't like it, that's your problem."
"Can't you see that they're expendable?"" Thomas pushed on, "You and I both know that ultimately it's the nobles who matter."
His cousin's callous statement disgusted Ross to his very core. "Why? Because of their titles? Their wealth? Their authority?" he spat. "You do realize the moment they lose all that, they'll be no different than anyone else."
"Ross, they have the power and the bloodlines. They–"
"Are the minority," Ross cut in. "As the Crown Prince and future king, it is my duty has to take care of everyone, not just a select few. You and I are family, but in my eyes, so are the inhabitants of this kingdom. The state of the nation is the reflection its leaders, and to do that, we need to support each other for the betterment of our people. What say you, Cousin?"
However, Thomas remained silent. Levelling a cold glare at his cousin, he turned on his heel and left with his fellow lords.
Ross heaved a dejected sigh. Despite their clashing ideologies and the frigid treatment he received from the older boy, he still clung to the hope that Thomas would come to his senses and once again return to being the kindhearted older brother of his childhood. But given the state of things, it seemed very, very unlikely.
To be continued...
Authors note: Don't be fooled for nothing is what it seems! Now things are getting serious as lines will be drawn. But that is all I will say, for now I hope you all enjoy it and please review and stay tuned for the next chapter.
Fun fact: Sadly Queen Victoria always blamed her eldest for Alberts sickness and death, always letting him know what she though, though its actually likely he died from either kidney failure or Crohns disease, Crohns disease being the most likely in my course in this au he is cured. Leopold suffered from hemophilia, yes in this au he is cured, but the disease is still there, he is just a carrier now, not a sufferer. The healing is all part of the duality of Ross power, he can destroy yet at the same time he can heal...