Twenty springs

[Isolde]

Isolde, in her early twenties, had hair as dark as a raven's wing, falling in soft waves down her back. Her eyes were a vibrant green, their gaze piercing and intense as if looking right through people. Her pale skin had a slight pink on her cheeks, which gave her a quite youthful appearance.

Isolde's days revolved around her five younger siblings; even though they could sometimes be annoying, she loved them dearly. Their big family lived in a modest house next to Haldor's place. Each morning, she woke to the sound of her siblings' laughter, ready to help her mother.

Even though the roosters hadn't yet announced the new day, she was quite busy in the kitchen, preparing their meals, with the smell of freshly baked bread and hearty soups filling the space.

Having no father and being the oldest child, Isolde had to take on various jobs around town throughout the day to support her family. She swept the streets, cleaned homes, laundered soldiers' uniforms, and mended clothing. These tasks provided just enough income to keep her family from going hungry.

Everything changed when their mother fell seriously ill, leaving Isolde in charge of the household. Weeks after weeks, her days revolved around caring for her mother, handling household chores, and making sure her younger siblings had what they needed.

One morning, a few months ago, Isolde woke with aching muscles and a tired mind from a sleepless night. The constant coughing of her ill mother echoed through the house, keeping her awake until the early hours of the morning.

The sun rose, casting a soft light through the window into the room where Isolde stood by her mother's bedside. Kneeling down, she spoke to her frail, ailing mother. "Morning, Ma," she said tenderly, in a whisper, eyes fixed on her mother's face. "How are you feeling today?" she asked, seeing only the faded remnants of her mother's once strong and vibrant self.

"A bit better than yesterday," her mother whispered, her voice barely cutting through the quiet room. Clearly a lie, Isolde could tell.

— "That's good to hear," Isolde replied softly, even though tears brimmed in her eyes. It hurt to see her mother so fragile and in pain. Words couldn't describe how much she longed for the days when her mother would chase her youngest brother around the house, hurling all kinds of curses that would make anyone's ears ring. "You must be hungry. I'll get you something to eat," she said, already moving to fetch a bowl and spoon.

"I'm not hungry," her mother said, her voice hoarse, her gaze distant.

 Isolde's heart sank at the refusal as it wasn't the first one. "Mom, you need to eat," Isolde said, her voice pleading.

— "Mom, you have to eat something," Isolde said, clutching the wooden spoon, her voice pleading.

"There's not much food left, dear," her mother replied, her gaze drifting toward the blue sky outside the window.

Of course, Isolde also noticed the almost empty shelves in their kitchen. Their supplies had shrunk to nearly nothing, and they had been left to survive on scraps and leftovers. "We'll find a way," Isolde said, her voice wavering. She couldn't afford to lose hope, not for her mother's sake and not for her siblings.

"Isolde," her mother whispered, her gaze still fixed on the window. "I don't have much time left. Don't waste what's left on me. Take care of your siblings." Her words were like a soft breeze, barely disturbing the room's stillness.

Isolde couldn't hold back her tears any longer. "Don't say that. I can't lose you, Mom," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking, putting away the bowl and the spoon.

Mother offered a weak, sorrowful smile. "We all have to go someday, Isolde. I-I..."

— "It's okay, Mom. I'll go to the market and find some work," Isolde murmured, interrupting her words.

"You are a brave and strong young woman, Isolde," her mother said, her voice gentle and encouraging. "Don't forget that, my little girl," she added, her voice growing weaker.

— "I'll come back with some coin, Mom. Just hold on a little longer," Isolde whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. She couldn't bear the thought of her mother leaving, not like this. She turned to leave the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Isolde left the house, her eyes filled with determination and sorrow. The sunlight was harsh, starkly contrasting with the dimly lit room she had just left.

The streets were filled with people, and the air buzzed with voices and sounds. The scent of fresh bread mixed with the sharp, metallic smell of a nearby smithy. Isolde took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and began walking from street to street, desperately searching for any available work. 

As the sun reached its peak, Isolde's feet throbbed, and her body cried out for rest. Yet, she pressed on; her mother and siblings relied on her. Each time a door slammed shut in her face, her heart sank further, and her desperation deepened with every rejection. It was only when the sun began its descent that Isolde found herself wandering aimlessly, her steps heavy with defeat.

Tears streamed down her face, warm and salty, staining her cheeks. Her lips trembled, her heart filled with sorrow and helplessness. Now, the streets were almost empty, the silence occasionally broken by a dog's bark or whimper. Above, the sky was a vibrant mix of oranges, purples, and reds, showcasing nature's breathtaking beauty. Yet, in that moment, she could hardly care less.

Isolde sat on the steps of some home, her head buried in her hands. Her heart ached, her body wracked with sobs. The hopelessness of the situation was crushing, a suffocating weight on her shoulders. How could she go back home empty-handed? She felt utterly powerless, unable to support her family, and loathed herself for it. So, she just sat there, waiting for a miracle to happen.

As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, the town grew quieter, and its residents retreated to the safety of their homes. But Isolde felt like the shadows were watching her, judging her failure.

Elara, the owner of the nearby brothel, approached Isolde, her hips swaying confidently, a seductive smile on her lips. "Hello, darling," she greeted, her voice low.

— "Hi," Isolde replied, raising her head to look at the woman.

"You seem like a nice girl," Elara said, her eyes scanning Isolde's body. "How would you like a job that would pay well and put food on the table?"

Isolde couldn't help but feel a wave of unease and suspicion wash over her. It was just too good to be true. "What do you mean?" she asked shyly.

"I'm the owner of the Pleasure Palace, the only brothel in this town," Elara explained, her smile never wavering. "I'm looking for some fresh faces to help with the business," she added, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Isolde's heart sank. She knew what this meant, and her desperation made her consider it. She hesitated, torn between the promise of a steady income and the judgment she might face from friends and family. She knew the world could be cruel, especially to women who made such choices. But was it worse than watching your mother starve to death?

It wasn't. In the end, she gave a nod. A tiny, small nod that was about to change her entire life. She agreed to work for Elara, believing her family's well-being was worth this difficult choice. Isolde didn't dare share her secret with anyone, especially her mother and siblings.

On her first night at the Pleasure Palace, Isolde was overwhelmed by the noise and smells. The air was filled with music, laughter, and the scent of various perfumes. It felt like a completely different world, and it wasn't nearly as bad as she imagined it would.

Elara guided her through the crowded space, her movements smooth and graceful. She pointed out the different rooms and services, explaining their purpose with pride. "There are many types of patrons here, Isolde," Elara explained. "We cater to every whim and desire, offering a wide variety of choices. I hope you understand what it means," she finished, glancing at the girl.

Another nod followed, Isolde trying her best to remain calm despite her nervousness. She knew this wasn't a place she should be, and she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if anyone from the church learned of her presence there.

Elara led Isolde upstairs, the sounds of laughter and celebration ringing out around them. She gestured towards a row of private rooms, each marked with a number. "These are the private rooms," Elara explained. "After you're finished with your customer, you can return here, and we'll pair you up with a new patron." She paused briefly, her expression turning serious. "We have some important rules," she continued. "Your safety is our priority. If a customer gets rough, just call for help," she stated firmly. "There is also a strict rule against bringing any type of drugs into the building. The last thing we need is for one of our girls to get addicted," she finished.

Isolde felt a sense of relief hearing that she was relatively safe here. She knew she wouldn't be in danger... as long as she did her job. And the drugs rule; she liked it, though her stomach still twisted and turned with anxiety.

"If you have any questions, please let me know," Elara said, her voice suddenly becoming warm and reassuring.

— "Thank you," Isolde replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't believe the turn her life had taken. She had spent so many years dreaming of marriage, a quiet life. Now, she was facing a life of shame. But her mother's illness weighed heavily on her, pushing her to do whatever it took to help her family.

The night wore on, and Isolde found herself in the company of various men, each seeking the pleasures of her young body. Isolde's first time was as painful as it ever could be, and her inexperience was evident. Yet, the amount of coin it brought was truly overwhelming, more than she earned in a month. And all because she just spread her legs, as simple as that.

In the early hours of the morning, Isolde returned home, her body aching and soul weary, but her pocket full of coins. Her mother and siblings were asleep, unaware of her secret activities. She felt relief and guilt, knowing she couldn't bear the shame and disappointment in their eyes if they knew the truth. She still could feel all those wandering hands all over her body.

Months passed ever since, and her mother's health gradually improved. Isolde felt relieved, knowing her efforts, no matter how shameful and dirty they were, had helped cover their medical expenses.

Isolde continued her work at the Pleasure Palace, and the pain and discomfort eventually faded. Her body adapted, and her mind learned to accept the shame. Over time, she even grew to like and look forward to it, much to her surprise.

Despite the judgmental stares and whispers from the townsfolk, for once in her life, it felt liberating not to worry about the money. Her family's well-being was all that mattered.

...

It was just another ordinary morning, soaking in the warm rays of sunlight as the cheerful songs of birds filled the air. Isolde sat outside her home, diligently scrubbing her younger siblings' clothes. Her mind buzzed with the list of tasks waiting for her throughout the day. Though it was her day off, that didn't mean she planned to just lay around and do nothing.

As Isolde focused on her work, her eyes were suddenly drawn to a movement in the distance. A woman was pulling the sled and headed towards the edge of the forest in such a hurry as if running from something. In the sled, she saw a little girl holding something in her hands.

Recognition dawned upon Isolde; it was Nivalis, the Haldor's wife. A surge of empathy rose inside her as she watched Nivalis flee. Exhaustion and fear marked her face, her eyes darting from side to side, her body tense as if she were afraid that someone was watching her.

Isolde couldn't help but recall seeing Nivalis with bruises on her face and body, reminders of Haldor's cruelty. She knew Nivalis's life was a daily struggle, both physically and emotionally. He was known to verbally abuse her, degrading her with harsh words and enjoying her helplessness and submission. Unfortunately, no one could help Nivalis. She was trapped in a cycle of abuse and dependency. After all, she was an elf. No one in the community would dare speak up to defend the elf.

Tears welled up in Isolde's eyes as she stood there, watching Nivalis's figure grow smaller and smaller until it vanished into the depths of the forest. A deep ache settled in her heart as she realized this might be the last time she would ever see her alive. The odds of survival in that unforgiving forest were slim, especially for a delicate woman like her.

Haldor, on the contrary, was a skilled hunter who knew the woods well. If Nivalis didn't put enough distance between herself and the town, he would likely track her down. And who knows what he will do to her once he does?

As she continued her chores, Isolde felt the weight of her thoughts. She longed to help Nivalis but felt helpless. All she could do was hope that, against all odds, Nivalis would find a way to escape her husband and build a better life for herself and her daughter—somewhere far away from here.

...

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. The sky was painted with warm hues of orange, red, and pink, and the air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and pine. Isolde's body was heavy and tired from a day of endless chores. Her feet throbbed, and her fingers ached from hours of scrubbing and washing. She took a break on her porch, simply enjoying the last few minutes of the day.

As the sky darkened, a figure emerged in the distance, growing clearer with each step. Isolde squinted, trying to make out who it was. Her heart pounded as she recognized Haldor, their neighbor and Nivalis's husband. Anxiety churned in Isolde's stomach, and her heart raced as she watched Haldor stumble towards his house, clutching a bottle of ale.

She knew that If Haldor found out about Nivalis's absence, he would surely set out to find her without delay, and Isolde couldn't bear the thought of what might happen to Nivalis. Determined to help, she considered her options. Should she try to reason with him? Or would it be wiser to distract him somehow?

Her heart hammered in her chest, and her palms grew sweaty as Haldor drew closer. She mustered her courage and called out to him. "Hey, Haldor!"

He stopped and turned towards her, his bloodshot eyes barely focusing. "Yes, what is it?" he slurred.

Isolde hesitated, her throat dry. "I, uh..."

"Spit it out, come on," Haldor snarled, taking a sip from his bottle.

Brushing aside all her nervousness, Isolde approached Haldor. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she asked, "Are you... alright?" Her tone was gentle and calming—even a bit cute.

Haldor looked at her, confused and drunk, his gaze clouded. "I'm fine," he muttered, the scent of ale strong on his breath.

Isolde needed to act if she wanted to help Nivalis. Even though she didn't have to do it, she wanted to do something. It was a simple act of a good deed to a person she barely knew. Maybe one day it will return to her? It was a risky move, but it was one of the few things she could do to distract him. One thing she is good at.

With a gentle touch, Isolde laid her hand on Haldor's arm, her fingers lingering on his skin. She sensed his body tensing beneath her touch. "Perhaps we should go somewhere more... private," she suggested softly, tracing small circles on his forearm. His breathing quickened, and his pulse raced. "What do you say?" she purred, her words dripping with lust and desire. "Why don't we finish that drink inside, and then..." she trailed off.

Haldor's eyes remained fixed on her, his expression torn between desire and hesitation. She continued her advances, her hands exploring his chest and sliding down to his abdomen, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt. "I... don't have much coin," Haldor confessed, glancing away at his house.

Isolde smiled slyly. "How much do you have?"

Haldor rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. "This is all I've got," he confessed, feeling a bit sheepish. If only he had seen this coming, he wouldn't have spent it all on the booze.

Isolde took the coins and slipped them into her pocket. "Today is your lucky day," she purred, flashing a sly, seductive smile. "I've got a special discount for you."

Haldor's eyes lit up with excitement, and he followed Isolde willingly as she led him towards her barn. Inside the barn, the scents of hay and animal dung filled the air. The dim lighting added a sense of secrecy and intimacy. "Lie down on that hay bale over there," Isolde instructed, pointing to a pile of soft hay. Haldor complied, quickly removing his shirt, and watched with bated breath as Isolde began to shed her clothing, her skilled fingers slowly revealing her pale, silken skin.

With that, Isolde kept Haldor occupied throughout the night, ensuring he stayed in the barn, doing things to him no other woman ever did. Their moans and cries echoed through the darkness.