We Follow the Road (Closed)

[Prydania]

OOC Notes: This thread follows on from characters used in "For the King, to Valhalla." These posts specifically will help give context to this thread.

Advent of the End, Part I
Advent of the End, Part II
Advent of the End, Part III
Your Brother's in Heaven, Fight Like You're Going to Valhalla
Advent Reunions

I would also like to thank @Kyle for the stories he was inspired to create in FtKtV and allowing me to continue the stories of some of his characters.

IC:

5 January 2018
8:07 am
On a Friday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Hygge. Strictly translated it meant "coziness," but it had something of a deeper meaning in Prydania. It was almost intangible, but it could best be understood as a friendly, happy atmosphere with loved ones. Particularly around mealtime. Any good meal with others had hygge.

And, one year since the end of the Civil War, hygge seemed to be present in the Granseth household.
It had hardly been instant. Þorfinnur's willingness to forgive his father Sigfreður still meant he had to learn how to. Finally, though, it seemed like there was warmth again, between them, and his mother, Elina.
It made up for the plain breakfast. Bread, eggs, and coffee were the bare minimum of a traditional Prydanian breakfast, but aid packages and rations were still commonplace. The government was investing aid money in farms, but that wasn't all they were investing in...

Elina served breakfast as the pleasant smells of coffee, toast, and eggs filled the air. It was simple, but plentiful. Much work had been done to rehabilitate the farmlands. And while the country's famed agricultural economy had not rebounded to a point where aid packages were not needed they were able to provide enough that people no longer had to rely on small portions. Even this simple breakfast was a marked improvement from the paltry portions available under Syndicalist rule.

"I'm always glad when you can come home," Sigfreður said as Elina took her seat next to her husband and son as they all began to eat.

Þorfinnur smiled softly and ate some eggs. He wasn't sure how to break the news to his parents, so he figured he'd start simply.
"You shouldn't say that, pabbi," he said, "you might get sick of me."

"The Army doesn't let me see you enough to get sick of you," Sigfreður replied. Þorfinnur looked up at his father. Part of him was still angry at him. Angry how he beat them, angry about what happened to Styrbjörn...but he'd come to understand his father over the past year. And he was trying. That was what was important. So Þorfinnur smiled and chuckled for a moment before he decided to delve into it.

"I won't be in the Army much longer."

"What?" Elina remarked.
"Why? Has something happened?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes mamma," Þorfinnur said with a wider smile. He had to learn to forgive his father, but he always loved his mother.
"You've seen the news?"

"I've been too busy," she remarked, "to watch the news." It was a half truth. Elina had been engaged with others in the neighbourhood. Sharing food with families who couldn't get enough for whatever reason, helping out young families by looking after children if both parents had to work.
It wasn't the only reason she didn't watch the news though. She couldn't bring herself to watch a single moment of Syndicalist-controlled RÚV after Styrbjörn's death. She knew that the RÚV was no longer a Syndicalist propaganda arm, but the habit of avoiding news was still there. A scab over a painful wound. Sigfreður knew what his son was talking about though, and explained.

"The government is reducing the size of the Army," he said.

"Why?" Elina asked, curiously.

"War's over," Þorfinnur shrugged.
"They don't need as many soldiers. Even less now that there are more civilian-trained police on the streets."
Indeed, Þorfinnur had spent the last year keeping the peace. And now there were more and more actual police ready to do that.

"Your commanding officer likes you though?" Elina asked.

"Já," Þorfinnur replied.
"I saved his ass once actually, during the fighting."

"So he owes you," Elina said.
"Shouldn't he be able to make sure you're one of the soldiers who keeps his position?"

And now...now it was finally time. Þorfinnur had danced around it, but now he had to tell his parents. The curious gazes of both his parents at his mother's question just made it harder.

"You know..." he said, "I guess I could. But I'm..." he felt his heart leap into his throat. It was better to just say it.
"I'm not sure I want to be a soldier."

Sigfreður almost blurted out "you ran away to be a soldier," but stopped himself. His son had begun trying to forgive him. And it was a mutual feeling. They were both trying. Instead he just asked a question.
"Why not? You could have a career."

Þorfinnur looked down for a moment...
"I joined the FRE to fight for something I believed in, and we won. I guess...I just don't want to have to do anything involving any more fighting now that we fought for is here."

Sigfreður's earlier desire to avoid conflict with his son butted up against fatherly instinct. He loved Þorfinnur after all.
"I'm going to say some things," he said softly.
"And I need you to know that I am only saying them because I love you."

Þorfinnur cleared his throat a bit but nodded. They had both made a habit of saying things that could be mistaken as negative as clearly as possible. It was an exercise suggested by his grief councillor.
"Ok," he said with another nod.

"You left to join the FRE at sixteen," Sigfreður said matter-of-factly.
"You dropped out of school. I'm unsure what your prospects are, outside of the Army. You have your service from the War there, that's enough to make a career for yourself."

Elina was a bit worried. Her husband and son had been doing well lately, but she always got worried when conversations got too serious, that one or both of their tempers would get the better of them. Þorfinnur lowered his head to scratch his scalp, a nervous tic, before looking back up.

"I...um, I was going to go back to school, actually," he said.

"You're twenty-two," Elina replied.
"Can you do that?"

Þorfinnur smiled. He'd been reading up on this program since the government announced it. He was prepared for this part of the conversation.
"Já," he nodded. "I'm not unique, really. Lots of people my age had to leave school because of the War so the government is going to start night classes. For adults to finish their menntaskóli*."

Elina and Sigfreður looked at each other and then back at their son.

"And then what?" Sigfreður asked. That...actually made Þorfinnur smile wider. He had memories, early memories, of his father before he'd become a bitter shell of himself, and began beating his family. He was a loving man back then, and he had a way about him. How he'd always encourage you to figure things out if you were stumped. He'd always ask that. "And then what?" as a young Þorfinnur would work out Spilvel sets with his father's help. Hearing him ask him that again, in that tone...it was a nice reminder that the man his father was that he loved was truly back.

"Well," Þorfinnur replied.
"I always wanted to be an engineer. I could go to háskóli*, after I've completed my menntaskóli studies, and get a degree in it. Midland and Freya will almost certainly be looking for people."

Elina smiled. Her son had always been fascinated with cars. Even as young as two, Þorfinnur would want to spend time with his father when he had to work on his truck. And from Spilvel to model kits, he had always been fascinated in how automotive engineering worked. Her first instinct was to be supportive, but Sigfreður gave his wife a concerned look. Elina knew her husband well enough and nodded, before asking her son the big question.
"How will we afford it?"

"Já," Sigfreður added.
"The docks are busy again, but I don't know if I can afford to support you as you finish your menntaskóli. Much less pay for háskóli..."

"I mean...you won't have to," Þorfinnur said as he excitedly pulled his phone from his pocket.

"No phones at the table," Elina insisted. Indeed, gluing yourself to a phone during a family meal was not keeping with hygge.

"I'm just sending you two something..." Þorfinnur replied. And indeed both his parents' phones buzzed.

"I just sent you a link to the program. Look," Þorfinnur said.
"I know, about money, but I've looked into this. There are aid packages that the government will use to incentivize people going back to school. As long as I am doing well enough to work towards a degree- in either menntaskóli or háskóli- I will be paid enough for books, supplies, and food. It's not much, but it's enough that you don't need to do much. I just need one thing from you both, if I'm going to do this."

"What's that?" Sigfreður asked.

"A place to stay," Þorfinnur said smiling sheepishly.

Sigfreður laughed. His son...he knew he wouldn't refuse that...
"Of course," he chuckled.
"As long as you don't mind staying in your old room."

Þorfinnur smiled wide. That was actually what he'd counted on. His mother had kept both his room and Styrbjörn's rooms intact. And that was partially why Elina got up from the table and hugged her son as he sat tight.

"You always have a home here," she said to her son as she hugged him tight. Þorfinnur closed his eyes and sighed happily as he enjoyed his mother's embrace. He opened his eyes and saw his father. And his smile remained, seeing his father's happiness.

"Just promise us, you'll study hard and do well."

"Já pabbi," Þorfinnur said.
"I promise."

He felt a warmth about him, as his mother released him and retook her seat as they continued to eat.
It was an intangible warmth, caused by so many feelings. The excitement that, even after all that happened, he could try and achieve his dreams. That his parents both approved, and that he could have both of them in his life fully. And his brother- Styrbjörn.
Styrbjörn prayed for peace. Þorfinnur had gone to war to fight for a peace worth praying for. Now that it was here...he didn't want to be a soldier anymore. He wanted to honour what his brother had died praying for. And he knew his brother would be excited and happy that he was following his dreams.

All of that made Þorfinnur feel warm, and feeling that with his parents was what gave a Prydanian meal a sense of hygge.

---

*menntaskóli- high school
*háskóli- university

 

[Prydania]

5 January 2018
12:03 am
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Þorfinnur looked over his model cars. They included models from Prydania, Goyanes, Saintonge, Iraelia, Astragon, Mintoria...he grinned. He'd built these as a kid.
He was amazed they were still here, even a year after returning home. He was sure his father would have trashed them after he ran away from home. Maybe his mother had stopped him. Maybe, even at his worst, his father truly loved him deep down?

He was paying them extra attention, though, because he was excited. He'd have to complete his menntaskóli before he could work towards an engineering degree but...it was the start! He was doing it. He was doing what he'd always wanted to do.

Part of him was immensely proud, that he'd been part of something to make this happen. He may not have wanted to be a soldier anymore, but he didn't regret having been one. He fought for a better country...and a place where he could follow his dreams. It was time to transition from fighter to dreamer, and finally live. He'd helped do this, make this better world.

He grabbed a model, an Astragonese luxury sedan, from his shelf and laid down with it on his stomach as he grinned, just fidgeting with it here or there.

He remembered back to when he'd make cars out of Spilvel.

---

"Why do you always make cars?" Styrbjörn asked.

"Because they're cool!" he'd replied.
"I want to make them for real one day."

"That's so cool, big bro."

---

He smiled...he felt happy knowing his brother would be excited to see him finally working towards what he always wanted to do.
It also make him sad...he had to set the model down on the night table as he sat up in bed and clutches his pillow to his chest as he cried softly.

His brother...he imagined what he'd say, if he were here. Not just his memories, but what he'd say now. The both of them, older. Styrbjörn would be eighteen by now...they could have begun starting their futures together.
Styrbjörn had no future though. He was killed, hung by Syndicalists. Þorfinnur clutched the pillow tight and began to sob. He had worked hard to get to the point where he merely sobbed when he got like this, rather than bawling uncontrollably.

He thought how his brother would be excited for him, how he'd be encouraging...he cried softly knowing that could never happen and he could never see Styrbjörn again.
"I'm sorry..." he said between sobs.
"I'm sorry..." he repeated before he shook his head. No. He wasn't to blame for his brother's death. He couldn't keep putting that guilt on himself, or his father. He sighed.

"I love you, Styr. And I miss you so much..." he clutched the pillow tight.
"I wish I could see you today."

He sobbed some more before he forced himself to stop, breathing deep. His mind was blank for a moment before he thought back to what had just previously gone through his mind. He'd never see Styrbjörn again.
But Stybjörn didn't believe that. He died loving God and knowing that there was heaven. And he realized that Styrbjörn had gone to his death certain that he would see his brother again some day.

Þorfinnur had never been an overtly religious person. His father being a Syndicalist growing up probably had something to do with it. His mother, he knew, came from a Laurenist family but she had always been irreligious.
Styrbjörn though, had the same upbringing. And he still found God in the Courantist faith.

It was a nice idea, to ponder that Styrbjörn had been right. What if he was, and that he would see his brother again some day?
His mind kept jumping back from the instinct to say "well that's just something nice sad people tell themselves" to being open to it.
He wasn't hostile to faith at all. Even before his brother had found God his friend Eðvar, who he had run away to join the FRE with, was a faithful Laurenist. Still, Þorfinnur's father had raised them in an irreligious home even before he got violent, and had left him with a casual disregard for faith.
Which he was trying to overcome.

He wiped his eyes of tears and opened his night stand to take out Styrbjörn's bible, which his mother had given to him. He didn't open it at first, just looking at it.

"It's easy to blame pabbi," he said softly.
"But pabbi found God too." Both he and his mother had converted to the Courantist faith.
At first Þorfinnur scoffed at this, and wrote his father's conversion off as just his guilt over Styrbjörn's death. As Þorfinnur and his father began to reconcile, though, he saw that his father's newfound faith had truly made him a better man. Not a new man, though. The old Sigfreður didn't need faith to be a good husband and father, but faith had helped the bitter, angry man Þorfinnur had run away from become that good husband and father again.

"You found God and it gave you hope, bro," Þorfinnur smiled.
"Pabbi found God and became the good man he used to be..." his thoughts trailed off as he looked at the bible's cover.
"Maybe you were right Styr, maybe I will see you in heaven."

He thought for a moment before looking up to the ceiling.
"If I do I'm going to give you such a big hug..." he began to cry again, but he stopped himself and wiped his eyes once more. He breathed deep and calmed himself. And he opened Styrbjörn's bible to one of the many pages he'd bookmarked.

"For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen."

Þorfinnur smiled. How appropriate that, as he was thinking about whether or not his brother was right about heaven he turned to this page. It was one of many book marked pages too.
Or maybe it was fate.
That was a comforting thought. Þorfinnur smiled, reading a bit more before he set it down.

"Today was a happy day," he said as he lay back down in bed.
"I know you wouldn't want me to be sad, bro," he smiled.
"I promise I'll try to not be so sad..."

He turned off the lamp, and closed his eyes. He had been sad, but he'd come through it happy. Whether it was faith or just his love for his brother, he wasn't sure. Still, there was no reason the two couldn't be one in the same.

 

[Prydania]

5 February 2018
4:54 pm
On a Monday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Þorfinnur watched as people filtered into the classroom. He was sitting in one of the larger high schools in Býkonsviði, that had survived the Battle of Býkonsviði at the end of the War. It wasn't his old high school though. His old high school was still mostly standing too, but it had incurred enough damage to need to be partially rebuilt. It was nearly done, but this school was ready. So here he was, across town.

Þorfinnur had never been one for people watching, but he'd gotten here very early. Both because he wanted to make sure he knew where he was going and because he was excited. In fact there were still teenagers from school lingering around when he arrived about an hour ago. He was the first one here, and he'd watched people trickle in. He'd occasionally drift to his new phone- these smart phones were really something else- but he mostly people watched.

He'd smile friendly at a few people. Started a few brief conversations. Everyone was around his age, and the people he talked to all had their own stories. Some people had to leave school because their mother or father (or sometimes both) had run afoul of the Peoples' Militia and they had to help their family. Others were like him, and left to fight. Some were former FRE* veterans like he was, but others were SLLH* veterans. The King's pardon had given them a clean slate. Þorfinnur just shut his mouth. He had no desire to deal with Syndicalists, "former" or otherwise. Still, he wasn't here to start fights. So he just smiled politely and ignored them as much as he could.

He felt a tangle of nerves, really. He hadn't been in a classroom in six years. And this was the first step towards something else, towards something he dreamed he'd be. He opened his notebook and jotted the date down before he channelled his nerves into doodling in the margins as he waited for all of this to start. People eventually gravitated towards desks though- Þorfinnur had chosen his, a desk in the middle of the left row, based on feeling- as the hands on the clocked ticked towards five.

"Hello."

Þorfinnur and the rest of the class looked up, at the accented voice. It was a man in khakis and a blue dress shirt. He set a satchel down on the desk at the head of the class.

"My name," he said in fluent Prydanian none-the-less marked with a Santonian accent, "is Bernard-Maxime Barbet. And I'm happy to welcome you all to Algebra 2!"

Þorfinnur was caught off-guard by the Santonian accent, but he was excited. Math had been his strongest subject in school before he ran away to join the War.

"I know," Mr. Barbet said, "that everyone here is probably a bit excited or nervous, so hey. Let's break the ice. First class on the first day, why don't we introduce ourselves? I'll start. I'm from St-Ocean in Saintonge, as you can probably tell from my accent," he said in a friendly tone.
"I went to university in Saintes, and I've been a teacher for four years now. I learnt Prydanian working with refugees, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to come here and help with the need for teachers in helping rebuild the Prydanian government's educational program. Adult education is something I feel very strongly about, and I think that this passion is something I can contribute to here. I'm actually pretty excited to start, and meet all of you."

Þorfinnur listened, tilting his head a bit as he listened. He seemed like a nice enough guy. And then he started calling on students row by row. Þorfinnur listened to them too. Some he'd met before class, others he hadn't. He found himself getting nervous actually, as it got close to his turn. For fuck's sake, he'd shot people. He'd gone into battle. Introducing himself to strangers though? That seemed daunting. Finally though, it was his turn.

"Um, hi, my name's Þorfinnur Granseth. I grew up here, in Býkonsviði," he said.
"I dropped out of school as a kid to join the FRE, and now that the war's over I want to complete my education. I want to become an automotive engineer, some day."

Valfríður Engell was one of the first people who had spoken. She was from Býkonsviði, had to drop out of school to work in a Syndicalist-run metallurgy plant at sixteen to help support her family when her father had vanished, and wanted to be a teacher herself. She listened as the rest of the class all introduced themselves but then something caught her attention.

"Þorfinnur Granseth."

She looked over at the guy who said it, across the classroom. She tried to remember.
"Did Styrbjörn Granseth have a brother?"

---

*FRE- Framan Ríki Eining- Front of National Unity
*SLLH- Syndikalisti Lýðveldi Landherrin- Syndicalist Republican Army

 

[Prydania]

5 February 2018
7:16 pm
On a Monday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

It was starting to get dark, and Þorfinnur stretched as he got up following his literature class. He'd sat through three classes so far, and it was both intense and chill. Chill because it was the first day of classes and so the teachers were just going over the class. Nothing had started quite yet. And it was intense because he was seeing entire courses worth of work at once. He had to tell himself he wouldn't be doing anything at once, and that the workload wouldn't be so bad.
He was also thankful that he'd taken a nap earlier in the day, so he wouldn't get tired. He'd be here until ten at night.

"Guess sleepy days and awake nights are my life now," he muttered as he looked out of the classroom window before leaving. It was time for dinner. He had an hour now, to grab some food. The school's cafeteria was closed down, but people were gathering around here or there in various classrooms to eat. Some brought food from home, some were leaving to grab food where they could. He tried to figure out what to do...he didn't bring anything. So he figured he'd head out. There was a new Zamboni's nearby. He could swing a slice or two and a pop...

He chuckled a bit as he left. The War had only been over for a bit over a year, and already this school seemed happier than his old high school when he ran away. The walls weren't collecting grime, and there were no pictures of Thomas Nielsen glaring at you in every classroom.
He stuck his hands in his pockets as he left the building. It may have been September, but it still felt warm.

Valfríður had been trying to figure out how to approach Þorfinnur since that first class. She wasn't sure why...she wasn't close with Styrbjörn Granseth, but she'd met him a few times. Like him, she was a member of Býkonsviði's underground Courantist community led by Father Hesketh. She wasn't in his cell like Styrbjörn was, but they would meet up on rare occasions.
The Advent Executions had shocked and horrified the community. They all laid low, out of fear. Valfríður remembered...she didn't sleep for three days, terrified that the Peoples' Militia would come through her door at any moment. And when that fear, when that abject terror that they were at her door faded, she mourned the fallen. Prayed for them in silence. And then prayed for them openly again as the Syndicalists were cleared out of her neighbourhood during the Battle of Býkonsviði.

A lot had happened in the fifteen months since the War had ended. In many ways the scars had begun to heal, as the city's religious communities opened up once again. For the first time she could remember, the sermons weren't about perseverance, but hope for the future. She never forgot the six people who were hung, though. And then she heard Þorfinnur's name. She...wanted to speak with him, but how? How to approach him? She saw him walking out of the building for dinner, alone. And just decided to go talk to him. No real plan beyond that.

"You look like you could use company," she said as she followed Þorfinnur down the school's front steps.

"Huh?" Þorfinnur looked over his shoulder. It was a girl from his Algebra 2 class. "Oh. Hi," he said with a smile as he stood on the sidewalk.
"I um...I don't really know anyone so I figured I'd slink out to get some pizza."

"Would you like some company?" she asked, sounding a bit nervous.
"I'm not super familiar with anyone either."

Þorfinnur smiled. She was cute, and she seemed nice. He nodded.
"Já, sure," he said as he waved her along.

"I'm Þorfinnur," he said as they began walking.

"Valfríður," she replied, "but I think we both knew our names," she said with a chuckle.

"Já," Þorfinnur laughed back.
"That was pretty cheesy, huh?"

"Well..." Valfríður said, again sounding nervous.
"I hope you won't hate me, but there's a reason I followed you out."

"Oh? What's that?"
Þorfinnur raised an eyebrow. He tried to remember what her last name was. "Engell." Did that name mean anything to him? He didn't think so. Was she some Syndie who was related to someone he came across during the War? He got a bit tense, but he wasn't ready for what would come next.

"When I heard your surname...Granseth. You're...are you related to Styrbjörn Granseth?"

Þorfinnur stopped. For a moment- it was just a moment but felt like forever- the sounds of people on the sidewalk and cars on the street dominated the space between them.

"I'm sorry," Valfríður said, blushing as she looked away. She felt embarrassed, but Þorfinnur didn't pick up on that. There were lots of people who would know who his brother was. And not all of them were people he wanted to talk to. He breathed deep.

"He was my brother," he said, his body and voice tense.

Valfríður's eyes went wide. So Styrbjörn did have a brother...it was a bit of a shock, and it overcame her embarrassment. She hugged him tight.
"I'm so sorry what happened to your brother," she said as she squeezed. Þorfinnur wasn't expecting that...he'd gone from defensive to relieved that she wasn't some ex-Syndie and didn't know what to say at first.

"Did..." he began as she released the hug, "did you know Styrbjörn?" he asked.

"Well not really," she said as they both stood on the sidewalk.
"I was an underground Courantist. Father Hesketh was our underground priest, and we were all terrified and shocked when he and the cell that included your brother were hung by the Syndicalists. I um...I met your brother a few times, briefly. I never got to know him that well, but he seemed like a very nice kid."

"He..." Þorfinnur began as he breathed deep, "he was."
He went to say something else, before he began to cry.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Valfríður insisted.
"I'm sorry, please, forget I brought it up. I didn't..." she was flustered again, and blushing again. She didn't intend to make him sad...she had just wanted to talk.
"Please, don't be sad," she said.
"I'm sorry for bothering you," she turned to leave.

"Please," Þorfinnur said softly, having stopped his crying and wiping away the fresh tears.
"Please, stay?"

Valfríður looked at him. He was looking at her, with reddened eyes. She nodded, and began to walk with him.

"I um..." Þorfinnur began, "I wasn't expecting someone who knew my brother."

"I heard your name, like I said," Valfríður replied.
"I just wanted to talk to you, because I wanted to pass my condolences to you if you were related to Styrbjörn. What happened was awful. It was the darkest thing I'd ever seen."

"I...heard about it on the radio," Þorfinnur said softly.
"I was fighting for the FRE outside of Hadden and I heard about it over the radio. I couldn't stop crying..."

Valfríður nodded. So that's why Styrbjörn didn't appear to have a brother. He was fighting in the FRE.
"You joined the FRE then, and went out east?"

Þorfinnur nodded.
"My father was a Syndicalist. And he beat us. One day he hit me again, and I had enough...so I left. I left with my best friend, who convinced me that what was happening wasn't ok. I guess...I guess that's the same reason my brother found God. So I guess he was the more moral one," he chuckled. He remembered his brother's sweet nature.

"I don't see it like that," Valfríður said as they walked.
"I think you both...I think you both found different ways to deal with something bad. I think you both did what God asked of you."

Þorfinnur didn't want to get into a debate on God right now. Besides, this girl meant well. He smiled.
"I know," he said.
"And I know my brother, he wouldn't want me to be sad. If he could be here right now, he'd hug me and tell me not to be sad. I try to remember that, and it helps me sometimes, when I get overwhelmed. But other times it's hard. I'm sorry you had to see me crying," he said with a chuckle.

"It's ok," Valfríður replied.
"Really...I shouldn't have asked you. It wasn't my business."

"But I'm glad you did," Þorfinnur said, smiling.
"I um, I know you said you didn't know him well, but he found the Church after I left. It was a whole part of his life, I just didn't know. I hear about it from my mamma and pabbi mostly."

"Your pabbi?" Valfríður asked, remembering what he'd said about his father earlier.

"Pabbi converted to the Church," Þorfinnur said with a nod.
"I actually...I didn't think it was sincere at first, but it's helped him. He's a much better man then the man I ran away from."

"I'm glad," Valfríður replied.

"Were...were you like my brother?" Þorfinnur asked.
"A convert, I mean."

"No," Valfríður answered.
"Well...no, and yes." Þorfinnur looked confused.
"I was born into a Courantist family," Valfríður continued, "but we rediscovered our faith after my pabbi was taken by the People's Militia."

"I'm sorry," Þorfinnur said quietly.

"It's ok..." Valfríður said.
"He's in a better place."

"Well," Þorfinnur replied, "can I give you a hug?"

"A hug?"

"You gave me a hug for my brother. I want to give you a hug for your pabbi," Þorfinnur said sheepishly.

"Ok," Valfríður said with a nod. She got a warm feeling from Þorfinnur. He hugged her, and said "I'm sorry," softly before letting go.

"But, thank you for approaching me. I mean it," he added.

"Even if I made you sad?" Valfríður asked, nervously as they stopped before the Zamboni's.

"It's good to meet nice people," Þorfinnur said with a nod.
"I think, maybe we both needed that?"

"Já," Valfríður nodded.
"Já, I think so..."
She smiled. She had really only meant to offer him her condolences, but he seemed sweet in his own right. Hurting though, but that was understandable. She was enjoying their talk though.

"You said you wanted to be a teacher," Þorfinnur said.

"Já," she nodded.
"I do. I helped with the young children in our underground cell, and I liked that."

"Would you tell me more about it, over pizza?" Þorfinnur asked.

Valfríður smiled.
"Já, I would."

---

OOC Note: co-written with @Kyle

 

[Prydania]

21 April 2018
7:44 pm
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Þorfinnur stood as he pulled his hands in his pockets. It was snowing lightly, and it was going to be dark soon. That's why he was here now. He wanted some quality time with his brother before the sun set.

"I'd have gotten here sooner," he said as he stood before Styrbjörn's grave, "but I had to wait for the grades to post. I wanted to be able to give you some good news. Or bad news..." he chuckled.
"But it's good. I got an A on my algebra exam! It's only one grade, I don't have my others yet, but it's math. It's one of the important ones for what I want to do..." he smiled as he sighed.
"I know it's nothing special, just Algebra, but it's the first step to my dream." He sighed. What were Styrbjörn's dreams? What would he want to do with his future, if he were here? He breathed deeply and repressed the urge to cry. And he smiled a bit.
"I'd love to show you," he said, "but it's all digital now," he chuckled.
"But here..."

Þorfinnur pulled his phone from his pocket and typed in his login information and pulled up his grade.
"Look, 96, Algebra 2," he said, crouching by the tombstone, and holding his phone up to it.
"And um..." he chuckled as he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket, "I've um...met someone. I think you'd like her. You were part of the same Courantist...um...group..." he paused for a moment.
"She's really wonderful. I know you'd like her, but I also know you'd probably tease your big bro for having a girlfriend," he chuckled nervously. He put his hand atop of the tombstone to pat it.
"I miss you, bro," he said softly.
"I miss you so much."

He sighed again but stood and smiled. He was actually proud of himself, getting through this without breaking down.
"I'll see you soon, Styrbjörn," he said softly. He turned to leave when he saw an older man in a black coat, arms crossed at the wrist by his waist, and head down at the grave next to Styrbjörn's.

"I'm sorry," Þorfinnur said to the man, feeling bad if what he was saying had disturbed this man's own mourning.

"You don't have to be," the man said softly, with a smile.

"Have a nice night," Þorfinnur replied, but the man asked another question.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you actually Styrbjörn Granseth's brother?"

Þorfinnur looked back.
"Já," he said with a nod.
"My name's Þorfinnur Granseth."

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you then," the man added, extending his hand.
"My name's Finngeir Rössvoll," he said. "I'm..." but Þorfinnur completed that for him.

"You're related to Björnólfur Rössvoll." He knew the names of his younger brother's compatriots who were killed with him.

"I'm his pabbi," Finngeir replied softly.
"This is his grave."

"It's right next to Styrbjörn's," Þorfinnur said, sounding surprised. He'd only been here a few times before, and he'd not paid attention to any of the other graves.

"They were lucky..." Finngeir said.
"That they got proper graves. The others didn't get that. Your father and I, we managed to get them proper burials at least."

Þorfinnur looked down, and scratched the back of his head. His father...
"Did you...were you a Syndicalist?"

"I worked for the Syndicalist government, já," Finngeir said.

"Did...do you know my father?"

"He and I spoke, a few times," Finngeir said, nodding solemly.
"The last time we spoke was...well...it was shortly after the War. It was when he was in the process of becoming a Courantist. I was just entering seminary."

"You're a priest?" Þorfinnur asked.

"No, I'm still in seminary," Finngeir said with a soft laugh.

Þorfinnur nodded. And then...well...he didn't know why he asked what he asked. Maybe he was feeling forlorn. Maybe Finngeir just gave off comforting vibes. Maybe it was meeting someone who had lost someone the same way he'd lost his brother. Whatever it was he just asked...
"Hey man, it's gonna be dark soon. I'd like to take you out to an early dinner, if that's ok?"

Finngeir nodded. He could see something in Þorfinnur's eyes. It wasn't anger, or confusion...but it was a restlessness.
"Just let me finish up saying hello to my son, and I'd love to."

"Of course," Þorfinnur said, saying goodbye to his brother once more before letting Finngeir have his time. He could hear him speaking to Björnólfur but he didn't ease drop. He just stood, waiting. Soon, maybe five minutes later, Finngeir pat him on the shoulder. Þorfinnur was sure he saw tears in his eyes, otherwise he was smiling.

"Where are we going?"

21 April 2018
8:18 pm
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

It was a small restaurant, only eight booths, a takeout counter, and a kitchen. Still, it was cozy on this spring evening.

"Thank you," Finngeir said as they sat down, only one of two parties in the place.
"It does get lonely at times."

"You're...not married? I mean sorry. You're becoming a priest. I'm sorry," Þorfinnur replied, shaking his head.

"It's alright," Finngeir said with a smile.
"I lost my wife years ago. And then the Syndicalists took my boy from me..."

"I'm sorry," Þorfinnur replied, looking down.

"And so am I, for you. For your brother."

"Thank you," Þorfinnur said, before the two placed an order for coffee and rye toast with butter.

"I'm...I'm just..." Þorfinnur said when the two were alone again.
"I really don't know. I guess....I guess I wanted to talk to someone who would understand. 'cause I just need to know some things, and no one to talk to."

"You can't talk to your parents?" Finngeir asked curiously. Þorfinnur just laughed softly.

"My pabbi and I..." he shook his head.
"He's the reason I ran away to fight for the FRE. When I came home, I half wanted to shoot him. I blamed him, for Styrbjörn's death."

"Oh," Finngeir said with a nod.
"I...I can't know what's gone on between you two, but if I may can I relate a story?"

"Go ahead," Þorfinnur replied, removing his cap and setting it down on the table.

"The last time I spoke with your father was after the war. I don't know if it's after you came home or not, but he was in the midst of his conversion. He wanted to do right by his family."

Þorfinnur looked down as he he began to absent mindedly fold his paper napkin.
"I thought he just did it as a show, or because of guilt over what happened to my brother."

Finngeir looked at the kid before him. He wasn't a kid though, no...but he was at the age where everyone who was younger than him was a "kid." He thought of what to say. Þorfinnur had asked him here because he wanted someone to talk to. Finngeir had agreed. Both because he saw that in Þorfinnur and because, truthfully, he too wanted someone to talk to. And he was training to be a priest. He would be expected to help people who came to him.

"Can I ask a question?" he asked, being a bit cautious.

Þorfinnur nodded.

"I'm sorry if this touches a nerve but...do you blame your father for your brother's death?"

Þorfinnur just sat there but...he didn't have the urge to scream or yell or leave....he felt...peaceful, almost. Like he could finally talk about this.
"I did..." he said softly.
"He was a Syndicalist. The Party wanted to kill Styrbjörn and they did. He could have stopped it...I mean I thought he could have stopped it."

Finngeir nodded. He was holding back tears, but he managed to subdue them by breathing deeply.
"Do you think I'm to blame for my son's death?"

Þorfinnur looked up.
"No..." he said softly.

"I worked for the Syndicalists, same as your father," Finngeir replied.

"You're training to be a priest though," Þorfinnur replied.

"And your father converted to Courantism," Finngeir answered. He smiled. It was a soft, welcoming smile. Þorfinnur had to admit he had a point, but the old man didn't gloat, he just spoke his truth. And was friendly.

"My pabbi," Þorfinnur said softly, "beat me. He beat Styrbjörn, and Mamma. He hit me one too many times. And I ran, because I could see how fucked everything was. My pabbi was hurting us, he followed this regime that hurt everyone else. It was all just...evil..."

"Evil is a good way of putting it," Finngeir said.
"You know I had that realization too, after my son was taken from me."

"What did you do?" Þorfinnur asked. He was mentally looking to compare how Finngeir dealt with it vs how his father had.

"I was a systems manager, IT stuff you know," Finngeir said, only stopping his story to thank the waitress that brought their toast and coffee. He ordered a roast beef and egg smjörbrauð* while Þorfinnur ordered one as well, only with pickled herring and mayo instead.

"As I was saying," Finngeir continued after they were alone again, "I was a systems manager. And after they took my son well...I fucked with them. I had nothing to live for so if I got caught, who cared? But I wanted to hurt them. Copied files onto drives I could smuggle into FRE hands. I directed everything from Leiftur's email to Stig Eiderwig's. I basically pantsed the system," he said with a nod.
"And afterwards I lent my expertise to the FRE. I ran a cyber warfare division for the remainder of the War."

Þorfinnur was amazed. He did not expect to hear this man, this kindly man who was training to be a priest, get be involved in cyber warfare of all things.

"Oh don't give me that look," Finngeir chuckled.
"I'm not that old."

Þorfinnur chuckled softly.
"Sorry."

"Well my point is that like you, I saw evil. And I wanted to fight it. And so did your pabbi."

"I know I just..." Þorfinnur sighed.
"We have great moments now. When I'm with him, and it's like before be became so bitter. I feel like I have my father back. But I can't shake this..."

"It's anger you can't shake," Finngeir replied.

Þorfinnur shook his head.
"No...I'm not angry..."

"You know you shouldn't be, but you are," Finngeir replied.
"And that's ok," he smiled, leaning forward to take Þorfinnur's hands in his own.
"We are not perfect beings. We always have to struggle with something. That you know you shouldn't be angry is a good step."

Þorfinnur smiled. Finngeir holding his hands was comforting.

"I don't want to be angry at my pabbi...I love him," he said softly.

"I know," Finngeir said softly.
"Jesús says a lot of things. About forgiveness. He wants you to find forgiveness. Styrbjörn wants you to find forgiveness."

Þorfinnur just looked down for a moment.
"I guess I...I don't know that. I don't know if God is real. I don't know if Styrbjörn is anything but a pile of bones in that grave back there."

"You were visiting your brother's grave and speaking to him," Finngeir said softly.
"Surely you believe he could hear you."

"I want to..." Þorfinnur said, his voice sounding wounded.
"But every time I do I think 'that's just something nice desperate and sad people tell themselves.'"

Finngeir stroked his hands to comfort him a moment more before letting go and sitting back in his booth.
"I know your father's conversion was genuine," he said.
"I know because I looked into his eyes when we spoke of it, and I could see. And I look into your eyes too, and I see you're looking for a reason to stop hurting."

Þorfinnur was about to go on about the horrors of war he'd seen, but Finngeir had served in the War too. Maybe not front lines but he surely knew how bad it could get.
"I just...well...you saw what I saw during the War. I can't square what I saw with a loving God. And I can't..." he began to tear up, and Finngeir leaned forward to take his hands comfortingly again.

"It's ok," Finngeir said.
"It's ok..."

Þorfinnur nodded and steeled himself.
"I loved my brother. Why would God take him from me? He didn't do anything wrong..." he said in a whisper. It was as loud as he could say it without breaking down in tears.
"I can't talk to Mamma and Pabbi because I don't want to pick at old scars," he continued.
"I can't talk to Valfríður because God bless her she doesn't understand..." he shook his head.
"I want to...I want to believe. But I've seen too much evil."

Finngeir nodded solemnly as Þorfinnur spoke. He just let his head hang as he tried to hide the tears he was fighting back.
"God does not make evil things happen," he said. "Evil exists in men, and evil men make evil things happen. God wept when my son and your brother were killed. God wept, but that act was in the hands of men. Not Him. God's goodness isn't some magical hand that comes down and erases the bad in the world. God's goodness is when He acts through you. When you said you would fight the people who were killing this country, you were acting with God's goodness. When your brother prayed for a better world, he way acting with God's goodness. He acted through both of you, Þorfinnur. He acted through both of you, to repulse the evil that had grown in this land."

"Then...why am I here, and why is Styrbjörn dead?" Þorfinnur asked softly.

"Why am I here while Björnólfur is dead?" Finngeir asked.
"I honestly cannot tell you. I wish I could. If I could I could comfort myself as well as you, but I can't. What I can tell you is that all four of us made the world better in our own ways, with God's blessing. I miss my son dearly, Þorfinnur," he said, holding back the urge to cry himself.
"But I know he's in a better place. Not because it's a pat thing to say, but because I know God looks after His own, He looks after His flock."

Þorfinnur smiled softly. It was a new feeling. He thought of his brother, and he wasn't...sad. He missed him, he loved him...but the way Finngeir had put it, he just felt a sense of peace that Styrbjörn was ok."
"Thank you," he said with a soft grin as the waitress returned with their smjörbrauð.

21 April 2018
9:25 pm
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Sigfreður and Elina were just preparing to sit down for dinner when they heard the front door open.

"Þorfinnur?" Elina called out.

"Já, Mamma," Þorfinnur answered as he got in. He quickly discarded his jacket and scarf and entered the kitchen.

"I thought you would still be out or I'd have made more..." Elina began, but Þorfinnur wasn't paying much mind to that. He walked over to his father's chair. Sigfreður went to get up, unsure what this was about, but as he got up he was...hugged. Þorfinnur hugged him. He'd hugged him before. They each meant something. And so did this one. He felt the last of the anger he was feeling fade away.

---

*smjörbrauð- an open-faced Prydanian sandwhich that can include a number of different toppings

 

[Prydania]

12 May 2018
5:41 pm
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

"You know I love you, right?" Valfríður asked softly as she and Þorfinnur lay on his bed in his room.

"Já, of course," Þorfinnur said with a smiled. He was holding her close to him. Neither were doing anything. They had been studying for exams, but after a full day of that they were just enjoying being with each other.
"I love you too," Þorfinnur said.
"More than anything." He spoke with very plain certainty as he relaxed. He was letting his brain unwind from all the studying, and being with the love of his life made it so much easier.

"Same," Valfríður said with a meek smile as she kissed his cheek.
"I just want you to know I love you, and I always will, however you are."

Þorfinnur opened an eye and looked at her, with a chuckle.
"Is this your way of giving me the green light to go into male erotic dancing?" he said with a cheeky grin. Valfríður chuckled playfully smacked his chest.

"No silly, I'm trying to be serious!" she said, giggling softly.

"I'm sorry," Þorfinnur chuckled, before breathing deep and getting serious.
"What's up?"

Valfríður nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She was very nervous, getting ready to tell Þorfinnur this. And he could feel it, how her body got tense. He wrapped both arms around her and kissed her forehead.
"It's ok," he said softly.

"I just..." Valfríður said nervously, "want you to know you don't have to convert to Courantism to be with me. I love you...however you are."

Þorfinnur felt his heart flutter, and his knees and fingers tingling with nerves of his own. He didn't say anything and first, instead just giving Valfríður a kiss to reassure her as his mind tried to navigate the ball of emotions that had been brought up, to figure out what to say.

"I love you so much Val," he said softly.
"But..." he paused to further collect his thoughts. "I'm converting because I want to. I believe in it. Please don't think you're forcing me to, because you're not."

Valfríður nodded, but she wanted to speak her mind. Air her doubts, lest they eat at her inside. She was terrified of that. Of...of forcing this man she loved to do something he didn't want to do.
"I know you had your doubts. I just want to make sure I'm not forcing you...I couldn't live with myself."

Þorfinnur's heart began to race. Something she said. She'd given him an opening.
He continued to hold her.
"You didn't know my pabbi before all of this," he said softly.
"He was an angry and violent man. But before that...he wasn't. Courantism didn't make him a good man, but it helped him find the good man he used to be. The Church gave me my pabbi back," he said, blinking to deal with the tears forming.
"And Finngeir Rössvoll and I have been talking...I donno, Val. It makes sense to me. It makes me feel...happy. Like you do."

Valfríður kissed his neck gently and nodded.
"I just wanted you to know. It doesn't matter, I love you."

"And I love you," Þorfinnur said, steeling himself through his nerves. His palms were starting to sweat.
"You told me...you couldn't live with yourself, making me do something I didn't want to do?"

"Já..." Valfríður said, a bit nervously.

"Well you're not because you're wonderful," Þorfinnur said softly as he sat up in bed, forcing her to do so too.
"And I...want you to live with me, by your side..."

"Wha..." Valfríður gulped. Suddenly something she wasn't expecting to happen was very much happening.

Þorfinnur just forced himself to do it. He forced himself to kneel by her, and took her hand.
"Valfríður Engell," he said, "would you marry me?" he asked, forcing the words out. He hadn't planned on this. He'd planned to do this "soon," but not sure when. But he'd done it. And he forced the question out as his voice broke like he was a teenager all over again. He felt his face blush deep. His heart racing and his palms sweating. He felt his whole body tense and on edge....

"Þor, yes, oh God, yes," she said meekly, holding his hands. "Yes," she smiled wide, holding them tight.

Þorfinnur gasped. His body went loose, and he almost collapsed. He looked up...blue eyes tearing up and trembling. He smiled...oh God...he just felt warmness envelop him. Valfríður had been everything to him. She had given him light...his father's conversion had played a role in his own. Finngeir Rössvoll had been a kind friend whose faith was inspiring...and even Styrbjörn's story had meant a lot, but the love he felt for Valfríður had been the light in his life since meeting her.

He looked down and pressed his forehead to her hands.
"I don't have a ring right now but I promise as soon as I can aff..."

He felt her hand in his hair, pulling up just a pit. He looked up at her, his lips trembling. She pulled him up to the bed with her and hugged him as they both sat up.
"I love you, ring or no, and I want to be with you, ring or no," she whispered. Þorfinnur hugged Valfríður and slowly lowered themselves, so he was hugging her as they lay on their sides.

"I want to do right by you, one day. When I can..." he said softly.

"You already are," she replied meekly, nuzzling Þorfinnur's chest under his chin. He just held her. As she held him.

 

[Prydania]

26 April 2019
6:53 pm
On a Friday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Þorfinnur had looked at her. For two weeks he'd looked at her.

Greta Indresand.

He'd had to sit there for two weeks in that court room as he listened to her attempt to justify her betrayal of an underground cell of Courantists to the Syndicalist regime.
Styrbjörn's cell.
His brother's cell.

She sat there for weeks. Her words still echoed on his head.

"I was hungry. My father was hungry. There wasn't a lot of food then. I needed to do what I did. I had to, for rations and money. My family needed me. I had no choice. We were starving..."

The worst part? She had the nerve to cry. To pretend like she was the victim! To beg for mercy! Appealing to mercy!

Þorfinnur would have lost it if not for everyone else. Valfríður, his wife. His rock. Mother of his newborn son...named for his brother. His mother and father.
And the others. The others who, like him, lost family on that Advent evening. He knew Finngeir Rössvoll, but the trial had brought him together with everyone else. Even the Skaugs, who had fled to Saintonge during the War, had returned to see the trial in person. So Finnbjörn and Kristfinnur would be represented.

They'd all formed something of a support group the past three weeks. Helping each other. Finngeir Rössvoll, the Priest in training, was their de facto leader, helping guide their group discussions in helpful ways.

It was that comfort, that group friendship, that allowed Þorfinnur to sit there calmly as he listened to Greta and her excuses.

And they were all sitting here now, in a restaurant. It was finally over. Greta had been found guilty of accessory to murder as part of a criminal conspiracy. Forty years in prison.

It had been insanity, really. Þorfinnur and Valfríður had just had their son. And then the trial...and the media. This was, in fact, the last of the post-War trials. For now at least. It drew a lot of media attention because of that.

But now it was over. Greta was found guilty. Their loved ones had some justice. And the media had allowed them their privacy. Alone, together. Finishing their meal together. Probably their last meal together, for now at least.

God bless Finngeir, he kept them focused on what mattered. With justice served they should spend this meal reminiscing about their loved ones in positive ways.
And it was good. It was helpful. But Þorfinnur...he'd felt a weight the entire meal. Even as he shared his favourite memories about his brother...he felt this uncertainty. But he wouldn't let it show.

The meal wound down eventually though, and as the conversation slowed Finngeir spoke up.

"This has been...a harrowing experience," he said with a meek smile.

"But, it's also brought us together. It hasn't been easy, but our loved ones found comfort in each other and their shared faith. I'm honoured and blessed that we found comfort in each other, and them."

Þorfinnur smiled. It was a genuine smile. Even if he felt this sense of inner turmoil. It was a proper group of friends. They even had a Twitcher group chat. And that meant a lot. These people were the only people besides his parents who understood- totally understood- what he went through with Styrbjörn.

"Have a goodnight little one," Finnbjörk Skaug said, smiling and waving to the one month old Styrbjörn. Finnbjörk had lost her twin brother and father in the Advent Executions. She appreciated that Þorfinnur had named his son after his own brother.

"Oh he will, believe me," Þorfinnur said with a smile.

"Mamma and pabbi not so much," Valfríður chuckled.

"So when are you heading back to Saintonge?" Þorfinnur asked as he and his wife got their son ready to go.

"Day after next," Finnbjörk said with a nod.

"I've got exams to study for," Þorfinnur replied.
"I don't think I'll be able to see you off with everyone else," he sighed. He'd had to juggle school work with helping raise a newborn and the trial.
"So if I can't be there, safe travels ok?"

"Thank you, Þor," Finnbjörk said with a grin. She hugged him, Valfríður, and Styrbjörn as they left, and Þorfinnur sighed deep as he felt his muscles relax as he walked alongside his wife and his baby boy in a stroller.

"Does it feel good, love? Knowing it's over?" Valfríður asked.

Þorfinnur didn't say anything at first. His wife's question had finally made the inner turmoil he'd been feeling since the end of the trial clear...

And he felt ashamed.

"Já," he said with a meek smile.
"It does."

---

26 April 2019
7:21 pm
On a Friday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Valfríður knew her husband.

It had been a whirlwind romance in some ways, but still...they'd had a deep connection early on. Love at first sight. That was the saying...

And that meant she knew when he was upset. What confused her though, was why. Greta Indresand had been found guilty. She expected her husband to be relieved or happy. But instead he was just...forlorn. And he wasn't telling her. He didn't tell Finngeir either, or the rest of the group. That's what concerned her.

So she decided to be direct. Þorfinnur was turning down his side of the bed when she leaned over, and kissed him gently, on the lips.

"What's that for?" Þorfinnur asked as he blushed and smiled.

"Letting you know it's ok," Valfríður answered as she climbed into bed.

"What's ok?" Þorfinnur asked, his voice getting quieter.

"Whatever you won't tell anyone else," she said as she cuddled next to him.

Þorfinnur held her, and relaxed into the bed. God he felt old. He was only twenty-two, but between a newborn, school work, and the emotional baggage of this trial…he was ready to collapse and it wasn’t even eight o’clock.

“It’s just been a crazy few months, you know?”

“I had to push a person out of me,” Valfríður laughed.
“You don’t have to tell me.”

Þorfinnur chuckled and kissed her. He knew as tired as he was, the both of them would be up with Styrbjörn.
“It’s just been a lot, you know? I’m fine.”

Valfríður didn’t know if she should be insulted or amused at the idea that Þorfinnur thought he could get away with that. She’d been by his side this entire trial. She saw how it affected him. How seeing that woman every day affected him. How having to keep his anger in check when the media asked him for comment every single day affected him. She knew, she saw, she understood.
What she was seeing now, though, was new. Very new. Within the last few hours. Since the verdict had been read. Which confused her, because Greta was found guilty. She’d gotten the maxmine sentence she could have gotten. Her husband, though, was withdrawn.

“You’re not fine love,” she said softly as she closed her eyes and rested against him.
“But that’s ok,” she added as she rested a hand against his chest.
“I’m here for you, when you’re ready.”

Þorfinnur put his hand on her’s and closed his eyes. He just lay there for a few moments. Letting her comfort him by just being there…he almost said “thank you.” Just say it… put it off. Then they could sleep for as long as their newborn allowed them. But…no. Because he couldn’t sleep. Not like this.

“I’m a failure,” he said softly.

“What?” his wife asked, her voice heavy with concern. Her first thought was that Þorfinnur was blaming himself for his brother’s death. And that was so worrying. He’d finally come to terms that neither he or his father was at fault. If this trial forced those old feelings of guilt back up then…

“I can’t forgive her.”

Valfríður’s mind stopped in its tracks. Her husband didn’t blame himself for his brother’s death. He was…still angry with Greta. It was understandable. She’d seen it the entire trial but this was…this was different.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly as she sat up in bed with him.

He looked down. He blushed. And Valfríður realized that Þorfinnur was embarrassed.
“I tried to forgive her like Finngeir said,'' he whispered. “Like Jesús says.”
Valfríður leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, to reassure him.
“Kristur* loves you, and He understands you, and your pain, Þor,” she said softly. She had grown up a Courantist. Even if she had to keep it a secret during the Syndicalist era. But Þorfinnur had recently converted. He felt his faith very passionately.

“I know…but…I’m trying.” Þorfinnur looked at his wife on the verge of tears. Valfríður nodded, holding him. He just looked down.
“I know I should forgive her, but I can’t.” He felt his heart rate pick up. He was getting angry.
“I know I should but every time I look at her I think of Styrbjörn. I think of both Styrbjörns.”

Valfríður listened. He was talking about both their son and his brother. She went to say something, but her husband continued.

“I know Styr would want me to forgive her too. I just can’t because…because I know I’ll never hug him again. I’ll never see him again. And he’ll never…he’ll never see his nephew.”

Valfríður gulped and held his hand, comfortingly. She didn’t know what to say. She just knew to be there for him when he got this way about his brother.

“Styr would have loved to meet his nephew,” Þorfinnur said softly and smiled.
“He would have loved to play with him, like we used to play together. But now he’s never going to be able to. He’s never going to be able to see his nephew, or fall in love or…” Þorfinnur began to cry. He cried softly as his wife rested her head on his shoulders.

“Love, love, it’s ok…” she said softly.

“It’s not…it’s not ok…” Þorfinnur cried.
“Styr never even got a chance…he never got to really live…that bitch took him from us. She took him. She took him…” he cried.
“I’ve tried so hard like Finngeir said, to forgive her because it’s what Styr would want but…” he broke down. He cried. Valfríður tried to comfort him, but Þorfinnur didn’t even look up at her. He couldn’t. He was too ashamed.

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about,” Valfríður whispered.
“You love your brother. There’s nothing to be ashamed about missing him.”

“I can’t forgive her,” Þorfinnur repeated.
“I can’t..what does that make me?” he asked barely a whisper.
“Am I…am I a bad person?”

Valfríður looked at her husband, and her heart broke. She hugged him tight in bed, and shook her head.
“No, never think that,” she said softly.

“But…”

“It makes you human,” she said, running her fingers through his hair to comfort him.
“It makes you human.”

She held him close. And they fell asleep in each other’s hands, as he cried softly into her shoulder.

27 April 2019
7:01 am
On a Saturday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Þorfinnur awoke the next morning feeling like he’d cried all night. And he must have. It was the first time since his son was born that he’d slept past five in the morning.

“Fok,” he grumbled. Styrbjörn had actually woke the both of them up in the middle of the night, but Valfríður had assured him she had it. She wanted him to get some sleep after everything that had happened. And now she was gone.

That made sense. She was probably with Styrbjörn right now. So he shuffled out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red. He’d…he’d admitted what he’d been ashamed of since Greta had been found guilty- that despite justice being served and knowing that God wanted him to forgive, he couldn’t. How he could never forgive that woman for his brother no longer being here. He still trembled a bit thinking about it. He ran a hand through his hair as he headed out in sweat pants and a t-shirt, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Sigfreður said as he sat at the kitchen table with a mostly finished eggjakaka* on his plate as he browsed his phone.

“Morning pabbi,” Þorfinnur said with a smile. He’d forgiven his father. He wasn’t ready to open up like he had to his wife. Besides…opening up last night had helped. He felt better.

“You studying today?” Sigfreður asked.

“All day,” Þorfinnur remarked. His finals were coming up. If he completed this program he’d have his high school diploma. And he’d already been accepted into the University of Býkonsviði’s engineering program provided he passed his final slate of high school course work.

“You gonna be free tonight?” he father asked as he put on a pair of reading glasses.
“The font on these damn phones is too small,” he added with a grumble.

“You can change it in the settings,” Þorfinnur replied as he scavenged for food. He was going to find his wife and son, give them kisses, and then focus on his studies. Get his mind off of everything. He slid the last eggjakaka onto a plate and put some bread into the toaster oven. It hadn’t been much longer than a year ago that breakfast consisted of aid rations. Now? Now most mornings began with a good hearty traditional Prydanian breakfast again. The farms were starting to produce again.

“Oh I never go into the settings,” Sigfreður muttered.
“Too damn complicated.”
Þorfinnur chuckled as he tried to keep an eye on his toast as he began making a fresh cup of coffee. His eggjakaka might be lukewarm but he’d have fresh coffee by God.

“So why’d you ask if I’m going to be free tonight?” he asked his father.

“Playoffs! Býkonsviði vs Keris!”

“Oh fok, already?”

“Já. Game one’s tonight. Seven o’clock. I was wondering if you wanted to watch. Maybe even bring Styrbjörn. Maybe he’ll take to hockey like his pabbi did!”

Þorfinnur smiled. He was touched that his father still saw him as a hockey player even if he hadn’t laced up skates since before he ran away to join the FRE during the Civil War.

“Styrbjörn’s a month old,” Þorfinnur laughed as he half-hazardly buttered and jammed his toast.

“Good, get him early! Otherwise who knows? He could grow up to be a Midland fan if you’re not careful!”

“God forbid,” Þorfinnur chuckled.
“I should be able to watch tonight, if I get my work done. I’ll bring the little guy if he’s awake.”

“Sounds good,” Sigfreður replied as he made his way through the news app.
“Good thing about the trial, eh?”

Þorfinnur went quiet for a moment. His guilt over being unable to forgive Greta. His history with his father. His memory of his brother. It was all too much for a moment. He collected himself though.

“Já,” he said quietly before smiling again.
“Gotta go pabbi, see you tonight,” he said before balancing an eggjakaka, toast, and coffee in his arms, and kissing his father. He was gonna go find his wife and begin hunkering down when Valfríður’s voice came from the family room.

“Þor? Could you come here?”

“Já,” he called out, leaving the kitchen.
“Thank you for last night, honey I…” he stopped dead in his tracks. His wife was there, with their son. And sitting next to her was Finnbjörk Skaug.

“Um…” Þorfinnur stood there in old sweatpants, an even older t-shirt, and balancing breakfast with his hair still a mess and his eye still red.

“Hi!” he said, shocked as he set his food down on the coffee table, sitting in his father’s chair off to the side.
“Um, I’m sorry if I knew we had company I would have…” he looked over at his wife confused. Finnbjörk just chuckled softly.

“It’s ok. Valfríður texted me and asked if I could come on by.”

“Huh?”

Valfríður gulped. Her husband had told her something in confidence. Normally she’d have kept it, but she’d gotten to know Finnbjörk too. And she knew this would help.
“Honey, she has something to say. That you should hear.”

“Ok…” Þorfinnur said softly. Now seemingly disengaged from his breakfast.

Finnbjörk nodded.
“I wanted you to know, you’re not alone.”

Þorfinnur knew what this was about. He just…sat there. He sat there. And he didn’t move.

“I sat there in that courtroom,” Finnbjörk said, “listening to that woman tell her sob story about why my father and brother, your brother, and everyone else had to die. At first I thought that she was just sorry she got caught, you know?”

Þorfinnur nodded, looking down.

“But then, as the trial went on, I realized that I didn’t care what her reasoning was. Maybe she was sorry only because she got caught. Maybe she really was sorry…but it didn’t matter to me. Her being sorry won’t bring my brother and pabbi back.”

Þorfinnur looked up. He felt…he wanted to hug her. But he held back. She deserved a chance to unburden.

“She’s a vile woman, Greta,” Finnbjörk said as she shook her head.
“Part of me even said ‘screw the law. Give her the death penalty,’ but I don’t think it would matter. Hell would have spit her up anyway.”

Þorfinnur sat quietly, watching. Finnbjörk was holding back tears. Like he’d tried to with Valfríður last night.

“I thought…” Þorfinnur began, before stopping himself.
“Finngeir spoke of forgiveness,” he whispered.
“He’s been… a guiding light for me.”

“Finngeir is too good for this world,” Finnbjörk said with a meak smile as she found some levity in that.
“He’s going to make a wonderful priest, but we…shouldn’t feel like we can’t measure up.”

Þorfinnur looked down and nodded, running his hand through his hair.
“Valfríður said I wasn’t a bad person, I was human.”
Valfríður nodded and leaned in to reassuringly put a hand on his knee.

“Whatever you are,” Finnbjörk said, “you’re not alone.”

Þorfinnur gulped, and nodded.
“I know I can forgive. I can. I’ve um…I know former Syndies. I’ve made amends. But with her…”

“It’s different. I know,” Finnbjörk replied.
“I know. But you’re not a monster, Þor. And you’re not a failure. Your wife’s right. You have my Twitcher account?”

“Já, in the group chat.”

“Please feel free to message me one on one, if you need to,” Finnbjörk said with a nod.
“I love the group too, but sometimes… I just know what it’s like. To feel like this and feel you can’t share.”

“Thank you,” Þorfinnur said, his voice soft. But trembling.

“The distance between Prydania and Saintonge has never been shorter thanks to the internet,” Finnbjörk added with a more confident smile.

“I really mean it,” Þorfinnur replied.
“Thank you.”

“Thank you too,” Finnbjörk said with a grin.
“I was…feeling like you were. Please don’t be angry with Valfríður, for telling me. I’m glad she did for both of us.”

Þorfinnur smiled as he looked at his wife and his son. His son who had his brother’s eyes. And his brother’s name.
“She’s lucky it’s impossible to be mad at her,” he said with a smirk. He hugged his wife and son, before hugging Finnbjörk.

“When are you leaving for Saintes tomorrow?” he asked.

“One o’clock,” Finnbjörk replied as she gathered her things.

“Ok, I’ll be there.”

“Oh you don’t need to, Val told me how busy with school you are.”

“No, this is important. I’ll be there with everyone else to see you off.”

Finnbjörk smiled meekly before everyone hugged again. Þorfinnur watched his friend head out, down the street, before he returned to the family room.

“I’m sorry I told her what you said, Þor, but she’d told me days ago how she felt and I knew…”

Þorfinnur kissed his wife on the lips. Deep. And then he looked into her eyes before kissing the top of his son’s head.
“Thank you for everything,” he said before holding them again. The day ahead held a lukewarm breakfast, lots of studying, and hockey playoffs. He’d get there. But right now, he held his wife and son.

---

*Kristur- Christ
*eggjakaka- traditional Prydanian breakfast dish, a baked omelet

OOC Note: Thanks to @Kyle for the characters and inspiration for some of the dialogue

 

[Prydania]

15 June 2020
12:11 pm
On a Monday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

Finngeir smiled as Þorfinnur took a Spilvel block from Styrbjörn and completed a race car.

"And now," Þorfinnur said, "it's ready for a driver "
He took mini-figure wearing the race car driver helmet and plugged it into the car's cabin.

"Race!" Styrbjörn said, grabbing the completed race car as Þorfinnur ran it along the coffee table.

"That's right, race," Þorfinnur said with a smile as his son bobbed his hand at the Spilvel race car.
"Oh, don't break it," he continued, rolling it back and forth with him.

"How have you and Valfríður managed with him talking now?" Finngeir asked.

"Oh it's a challenge. He's learning words every day. Tell Father Finngeir what you learnt," Þorfinnur said as he held up a soft biscuit.

"Cookie!" Styrbjörn proclaimed happily.

"So it begins," Þorfinnur chuckled.
"He knows how to ask for cookies. It's all over."

Finngeir chuckled with his friend and shook his head.
"Not Father yet," he said.

"Well you will be by the time he's old enough," Þorfinnur replied as he sat up on the couch with his son, who was holding the Spilvel racecar and examining it intently.

Finngeir nodded.
"Well for the moment we're both students. How did you find your first year of university?"

"It's really interesting and fascinating work...like..." he smiled.
"Well, it's what I've always wanted to do."

"That's wonderful," Finngeir replied.
"I'd be lying if I said I always wanted to be a man of God, but when I entered the Seminary I realized it's what I was meant for. You've always known you wanted to work in engineering. You have that on me."

"It's these," Þorfinnur said as he motioned to the pile of space Spilvel blocks.
"My mamma and pabbi knew I liked to build things when I was little, so they bought me these. Then Styrbjörn- my brother- he wanted to play with me..." he smiled softly.
"Styrbjörn didn't like to build cars or planes or trains like I did...I used to get mad..." Þorfinnur chuckled, "because he wouldn't follow the instructions. He'd take a set that was supposed to be a speed boat, right? And he'd turn it into a monster. But I stopped getting mad."

"Because he was your brother?" Finngeir asked.

"Já and he was fun!" Þorfinnur chuckled.
"I figured Styr here, maybe he'd like 'em too."

"Do you think he'll be like his uncle, or his pabbi?" Finngeir asked.

"Oh I have no idea," Þorfinnur laughed.
"I don't know. Whatever he ends up being though, he's my guy."

Finngeir smiled. Seeing him with his son, it reminded him with his own son. He held back the urge to shed a tear.
"But you and Valfríður are doing alright?"

Þorfinnur nodded.
"I meant everything I said about loving what I'm doing at school. But I'm also very happy that it's summer."

"Your brother is proud, I'm sure," Finngeir said. He and Þorfinnur had been to their loved ones' graves earlier in the day. Þorfinnur had told his brother about his good grades following his first year in university.

"Thank you," Þorfinnur said softly, but Finngeir continued.

"Next time you go, though, maybe don't talk about school."

"Eh?"

"You always go to your brother's grave, to tell him about your grades. But I think...well...I know... Styrbjörn is up in heaven. And he sees you, your family. He wants to hear about his sister in law. His nephew."

"I..." Þorfinnur held his son close to him.
"Styrbjörn knew what I was good at, and what I wanted to do. I think I...just want him to know that I'm ok. Things are ok. He died for..." Þorfinnur bit his lower lip.

"He knows," Finngeir said with a grin.
"He knows. He's proud of you, and his nephew. I'm suggesting you talk to your brother about other things...for your benefit, Þor. Your brother's too...but mostly yours."

Þorfinnur loosened his grip on his son.
"Maybe more cheerful conversation?"

"Styrbjörn knows his big bro is smart. But I'm sure he'd love to hear about how he's handling fatherhood."

They both chuckled as Þorfinnur breathed deep for a moment.
"Val and I are doing ok," he said with a nod.
"But she's been amazing. Between my studying and everything else...she's had to be here with this little one. I can't... I don't know. She's a saint. She deserves the day off."

"Is checking out pre-kindergardens really much of a day off?" Finngeir asked, in a faux-judgmental tone.

"Oh she and Mamma are very excited. They've built some wonderful new schools. So much better than the rundown ones Styr and I used to go to. Val and Mamma were going over everything with a fine toothed comb. Gotta make sure everything's a-ok for this one. It's Pabbi I'm sure isn't having the best time."

"Heh," Finngeir chuckled.
"You'd be surprised. Being a father changes you. So does being a grandfather. If I had to guess Sigfreður is probably making sure that school is good enough for his grandson, and having a great time doing it."

Þorfinnur nodded as he chuckled, but Finngeir had a follow-up question.

"Are things still good? With your father and you?"

"Better than good," Þorfinnur said as he closed his eyes.

"That's wonderful to hear. I always worried, you know. How things were. Healing is never instant."

"He loves Styrbjörn," Þorfinnur replied.

Finngeir didn't answer at first. He wasn't sure if Þor meant his son or brother. Þorfinnur, sensing that, smirked.
"Both. I had to learn to forgive Pabbi. I did...it was hard. But when I see him with Styrbjörn I just forget the anger. He loves his grandson. My son. How can I not love him?"

"Your father carries a lot with him, but...he'd be over the moons to hear you say that."

"He would?"

"Nice thing about not being done with Seminary, you're not bound by the rules of confidentiality."

Þorfinnur chuckled and looked down at his son. His son looked up at him.

"Pabbi! Race!"

"Já," Þorfinnur said. He took the mini figure out of the racecar's cabin and held it up.
"This is a racecar driver," he said to his son.
"He drives the racecar. What's his name?"

Styrbjörn looked up at his pabbi, and then to Finngeir.

"Finngeir!" Styrbjörn exclaimed.

Þorfinnur laughed and looked at his friend.
"Seems you're going to be a racecar driver and a priest!"

"Seems to be that way," Finngeir laughed.

"You know," Þorfinnur began, sounding a bit nervous. He wasn't sure if he should share it but...Finngeir was his friend. And more than that, he'd leaned on him for spiritual and life advice.
"Val and I...we're talking about another."

"Hm," Finngeir said softly.
"Another kid?"

"Já," Þorfinnur said with a nod.
"We um...I don't know. It's not been easy but...we love him. And we...we want a family. A bigger one."

Finngeir nodded. It wasn't uncommon. A lot of young families were having children. The King and Queen were even expecting twins. But he felt the need to provide his young friend with good council.

"You're going into your second year of your undergrad, Þor. Internships are going to start coming up."

"I know."

"Good. You're a smart kid, just make sure you don't give yourself, your wife, or your parents more than any of you can handle."

"Thanks Finn...I promise I will."

"That's good, thank you."

Þorfinnur leaned into the pile of Spilvel parts and picked up a male hair piece, grey. He took the helmet off the racecar driver's head and put the grey hair piece on.
"There, it looks a lot like Finngeir, huh, Styr?"

Styrbjörn giggled as Þorfinnur put the driver back in the car's canopy.

"Have you thought abour internships?" Finngeir asked.

"I have, já. Freya Motors just opened up a whole new complex on the other end of town. Not just a factory, but a whole complex. They're going to need engineers."

"So cars? You were pretty keen on trains last we talked."

"The new railway systems are really cool," Þorfinnur replied.
"The Goyaneans know their trains. But you know what? I've always wanted to design cars. Since I was a kid. I always waned to design a Miðland sports car. That was the dream."

"But Freya..."

"Is doing some interesting things. I've been thinking about it. Freya makes more family cars. I think I'd like that. I'd like to make cars for families."

"Parenthood really has changed you," Finngeir laughed.

"Maybe that's why I'm not telling Styrbjörn about this. I don't want him to mock me for getting old and boring."

"You aren't old," Finngeir replied as he rolled his eyes.
"And I should smack you for insisting you are."

"That wouldn't be very priestly," Þorfinnur said with a chuckle.

"Good thing I'm not a priest yet then!"

They both chuckled, and Finngeir leaned back in his chair.
"I'm glad to see you doing well, Þor."

"Thank you for coming by. I always..." Þorfinnur paused and smiled.
"I enjoy our talks."

"So do I. So do I. And I'm honoured you trusted me with helping you with the little one. I'm a bit out of practice."

"Well he's easy. See? He's got his racecar."

He looked down at his son.
"Some day...one day, you're going to ride in a car your pabbi designed."

He grinned. So much about that idea made what he fought for worth it. And what his brother prayed for.

 

[Prydania]

25 December 2022
6:30 pm
On a Sunday
Býkonsviði, Prydania

"Dinner's ready!" Valfríður announced. Þorfinnur could smell it as he looked up, holding his five month old Eyríkur.

The smell of roasted pig and turkey was enough to get everyone's attention. And it was quite a party. Of course Sigfreður and Elina and the three year old Styrbjörn, but also Valfríður's parents Ari and Mœid. As well as the recently ordained Father Finngeir. And Kent Julson. A Yalkan student from Þorfinnur's engineering program at the university. He was new in town and Þorfinnur had invited him for the holidays.

Chatter enveloped the house as everyone descended on the table, working out seating arrangements. Þorfinnur got Eyríkur in his high seat as Valfríður politely waved off both her mother and mother-in-law offering help. Sigfreður helped Styrbjörn into his seat, giving him a high five.

"No Mamma, no, I'm good," Valfríður insisted to her mother again, with a smile.
"You're our guest, please, just relax I've got this," she said before placing cups with ice and pop cans at everyone's spot, and wine glasses for the adults.

"Thank you, Father, for the wine," Ari remarked as Finngeir waved it off.
"Think nothing of it, my pleasure," as everyone finally seemed to settle into their seats. And then Finngeir's attention was drawn to Sigfreður at the head of the table.

"Father," he said with a smile.
"Would you lead us in prayer?"

The entire party was Courantist, after all. And Finngeir nodded. He held his hands and soon everyone was holding hands around the table.

"Dear Heavenly Father," he began.
"Love brought Jesús to the earth, and love brings us to this Christmas table. Today as we share this holiday feast, may we also share with one another a joyful heart and a warm smile. May our Christmas dinner be filled with kindness. And may the memories of today warm our hearts for years to come."

Everyone else listened, and quietly replied with "amen" as Finngeir finished.

"And now," he added, "we eat!"
Everyone began to get a bit of everything on their plate.

"You've outdone yourself Val," Elina said to her daughter-in-law.
"This is all so good!"

"Thank you!" Valfríður replied.
"It's my first attempt at a Christmas dinner by myself!"

"By yourself?" Mæid asked her daughter and Valfríður nodded.
"I insisted!"

"I got banished from my own kitchen," Elina chuckled. It elicited a chuckle from Þorfinnur too at his wife's insistence on making this work.

"Hey I helped," he added.
"Who do you think picked up the turkey and ham?"

"Wait," Kent asked as Þorfinnur poured Styrbjörn some Toki's.
"Þor, was that when you saw the black fellow?"

"Oh?" Ari asked looking at his son-in-law.
"You did?"

"Já!" Þorfinnur replied. He'd been talking about it for the last two days! Kent though, he just chuckled.

"Where did you see him?" Ari asked. It wasn't common to see someone of a darker complexion up in these parts. Maybe the occasional Syrixian but that was it.

"Þor," Kent replied, still stifling the urge to chuckle, "saw him downtown when he was getting the ham and turkey."

"He was coming out of a Sven's, the one right in the middle of Krónprinsinsgata, next to the Zamboni's."

"Oh that's interesting," Ari replied.
"I wonder what brings him up this way."

"That's what I was wondering," Sigfreður added.

"Don't say it like that, pabbi!" Þorfinnur said to Sigfreður.

"Like what?"

"'That's what I was wondering,' like it's suspicious. It sounds racist."

"I didn't mean it like that," Sigfreður said defensively.
"I'm just wondering!"

"I agree with Sig!" Ari replied with a shrug as he cut into his ham.
"Just curiosity."

Kent was chuckling and Þorfinnur smirked at his friend.
"Kent here thinks it's funny."

"I'm just saying," Kent replied.
"I'm from Yalkan. You see people of darker complexions all the time."

"Oh? That's curious," Ari said, nodding along clearly intrigued.

"So I just find it funny Þor saw a black guy with a cup of coffee and followed him for like two blocks!"

"Just out of curiosity!" Þorfinnur laughed.
"I think he was Naizerri. He had a Naizerri football jacket on."

"Where'd he go?" Ari asked clearly into the story.

"Oh he got into the metro station."

"In Krónprinsinsgata?" Ari asked his son-in-law.

"Já."

"Well he could be getting the train to the docks. You know, he's probably either a sailor or he's working for one of the Metteran trade companies that set up in the port."

"That's what I figured," Sigfreður said with a knowing self confident nod. He, Ari, and Þorfinnur nodded all convinced that was the most likely explanation.

Finngeir changed the discussion as he looked over at Kent.
"So you know Þorfinnur from school?"

"Já, I'm in Prydania at University of Býkonsviði on a student exchange in the engineering program. I'll be here until the end of the school year."

"I hope you're finding it nice! You're catching us in our winter months I'm afraid."

"No, it's cool. We don't get much snow in Yalkan, so it's nice to see a proper northern winter."

"He's become quite apt at snowballs," Þorfinnur chuckled. This got Styrbjörn's attention.

"Snowballs? Can we pabbi?"

"After dinner maybe," he said with a grin as he ruffled his son's hair.

And as the decorative candles that served as the centrepiece to the table flickered pleasant, warm conversation filled the room, along with the smell of roasted turkey and ham....