A letter to my son

Dear son,

Eighteen years ago, I left you asleep in your cradle next to the bed I shared with your father. Never had I imagined you’d be at my doorstep now. I envisioned a safe life for you, far away from me and the insanity of your grandfather. A life where you were raised to be a strong man, a sane man, well taken care of with a full belly to warm you each night.

As a mother, it’s in most of us to have a nature to seek out what is best for our children. You, young Trygve, will do better without me to poison your life. Leaving you is what was best, staying far from you is what is best, your father was meant to be what is best for you. He wa kind, he was caring, he was loyal, and he was so much more than I could ever be for you.

I left you with the name of my father in hopes that you’d clear it, make it whole, and leave a proper and proud legacy behind for him. A legacy not of a broken man who has lost himself, his wife, and his only son also named Trygve.. all because of me, you see? I’m a curse. I brought all this I’ll fortune upon our family.

When my mother gave up her life to keep our bellies full, I failed my brother and he fell to sickness because I didn’t know the first thing about caring for a young child. I still don’t, it’s why I left you to begin with. I hoped and I prayed each night that you could thrive and stay far away, alas.. maybe this curse is in my blood and you have now inherited it, despite all of my attempts to prevent it from grabbing hold of your soul.

Here you are, at my doorstep, having tracked me down because the one good person you had has been taken away from you. I’ve promised to teach you all that I can, but I cannot fathom that anything you learn from me will be what you’ll need to survive in this cold world as a man.

I cannot shield you from the terrors of the night, I cannot promise to keep your belly full, all I can teach you is how to be hungry and how to expect that life is a cruel and unforgiving monster. I can teach you about heartache, about lust, about how one day you may fall in love so deeply with someone who may not love you the same way back. I can show you what it feels like to hurt, to watch your people die around you, to pick up the scraps of the careless left behind and try to forge your own life. But is this really something a young man needs?

Will my tragedies be passed down to you? If they are, run. Run and don’t look back, because running away will be the only thing that can keep you alive. You can tell everyone that you are chasing something down, something important, in a hopes that maybe it’ll make you look far less a coward than I. But, I’ll be honest, some days I wonder if I’m even more sane than your grandfather.

I wonder if this life of following Knut for me has only been a distraction from the failings and shortcomings I’ve had all these years. I wonder if anyone else notices and if they do, why haven’t they told me? Is it because they feel sorry for me? If it is, what a pathetic life I’ve lived thus far. This is not the legacy I wish upon you, this is not the inheritance I wanted to bestow.

Find someone strong to be at your side, to keep you safe, and learn from them as much as you can. If your love interest tells you that you need to make 500 gold to marry him, find someone who will love you and respect you instead without stipulations and strings attached. Despite the smile on my face and eagerness to fulfill Knut’s request, despite the begging for his love, deep down I’ve always known he doesn’t actually love me. Let yourself be happy and don’t waste time on those who may not provide you with that happiness.

As a mother’s wish, if you want to do anything for me after I’ve done nothing for you, find happiness and hold it close to you. Don’t let it go, ever. I’m sorry that your father was too weak to stay alive longer for you. And I’m sorry you ever found me.

Also, don’t ever pay the price for goods that you would sell them at, ask to buy it for less. Always sell for more than the price you’d pay.

Good luck, Trygve. I can feel my time here will be ending soon and I hope that you do not join me
It is in your best interest. Stay with Tora and she will teach you all the things I would have.

Winter comes

Tove: Father, you will not believe what I’ve done. Ser Knut has promised to wed me if I earn 500 gold. I would be married to a noble man, we would be so well cared for and not scraping by anymore as we have been. Finally there is an end in site, a goal I can achieve, are you proud?

Trygve: Gods needn’t waste their time with mortal concerns such as gold or marriage, daughter. You were born to inherit so much more than being a simple noble could ever offer you. What would your grandmother think of this mortal behavior, Tove. You need to be living your life in her footsteps, spreading her wrath, embracing the cold that is to befall all these men.

Tove sighs: Here we go again. For the last time, da, you are not the son of Sveas nor am I her granddaughter. How I wish for a moment of clarity from you just this once.

Trygve stares at the woman, eyes wide: I have never seen more clearly in my entire life, Tove. Death is coming, the nights are growing longer, the earth is frozen, our time to thrive nears.

Tove kicks her bag across the floor: old man, you’ll be the death of us both if you don’t button your lips for 20 minutes. There is a reason I don’t bring you into town with me, can’t you see? You’re absolutely mad. Disgraceful. Besides, have you even eaten today?

Trygve: Gods needn’t nourishment in the form of food to stay strong…

Tove: For fucks sake, eat your soup while I run you a bath. Just because you’re the son of Sveas doesn’t mean you need to have the stench of death wafting around you.

Tove rolled her eyes, warming water to bathe the senile old man. He was right, the cold is coming, the food will become scarce, winters are terrifying for us mortals.