Chereads / Blood, Wolves, and Death / Chapter 18 - Oakwood Melodies (Issola’s backstory 2)

Chapter 18 - Oakwood Melodies (Issola’s backstory 2)

Isolla found herself at the foot of closed doors once more. Her father never gave her the time of day. Always work, work, work. And at the end of it all he even had the gall to say it was for her sake. The lies of love mixed with selfish desires, sickened her.

Her days began with lesson after lesson, a strict diet where her stomach growled in fury... and even more lessons.

When she wasn't learning, she was either hosting or attending various tea parties.

Her time spent with the daughters of influential individuals. She couldn't even have normal friends, rather being used as a political pawn to make connections for her father.

Young spoiled daughters who flaunted their jewellery as they insulted other young ladies behind their backs. They had everything, and even then, a lack of self confidence remained.

Petty grudges, casual bullying, and the need to have all eyes on them. Issola felt like a fish out of water when accompanied by them. She could feel the jealousy, their eyes envying her beauty at such a young age.

Though she couldn't blame them, she too was left within a society like this where appearances are everything. Whether it be to marry some douche of a husband, or the old man who happened to have a lot of money.

Even though everything was against them, even though they could have acted better than their parents, they never did. It infuriated Issola, and she noticed the hypocrisy in these ideas.

- - - - -

"Miss Issola", a butler reached out his hand, helping Issola down the carriage.

They had been invited by Earl Segwall to have the two fiancés finally meet.

His son was Sir Sedrick, a man 18 years old. 1 year older than Issola.

Issola however was not the least bit keen on meeting him. He was probably just like all the rest of them.

Issola looked up to the tall white walls of the large estate. A butler stood by the door, welcoming them inside.

Brought to a lavishly decorated room, Issola sat, waiting for whatever was to come; braving herself for anything as if she were going off to battle.

After what could only be described as forever, the doors swung open, revealing a tall young man dressed in expensive looking clothes.

He scratched his neck, clicking his tongue. Clearly showing his disinterest. It's not like Issola wanted to be here either.

Though this being their first interaction ticked her off to no end. Why would her own fiancé not want anything to do with her? Calling it off right then and there would apparently be better for the both of them.

An awkward silence adorned the room.

"So you're… my fiancée?", a snobby, frustrated tone lingered in his voice as he sighed. "I never wanted any of this to begin with, so why don't you just head home, I have better things to do".

Issola stood up suddenly, her gaze to the floor and fist pulled tight to her side, shaking incessantly.

"What, angry?", he stood up, a smirk on his face.

He noticed the shaking fist, even though Issola was trying her best to control it.

"What are you going to do about it, hit me? Cry?", his gaze only further widened.

Issola's fist shook still, she had yet to tip over.

A soft snicker came out of Segwall's smile.

"Your mother must be ashamed to have brought up such a savage daughter, more deserving to be locked up in some cage than a wild beast".

Issola's first came to a sudden stop.

"So that's all?-".

But in the next second, there was utter silence.

Issola's hand moved, as if it had a will of it's own. All her pent up and bottled anger, frustrations, sadness. All pulled into one slap.

And in the next moment, she ran out the room, through the halls and out the entrance.

"Sir!".

He raised his hand, holding them back.

Finding herself in the garden, she looked to the evening sun.

Running past flower and bush, she found herself running and running and running.

She hadn't had a destination and yet her feet seemed to skip as she felt like she were floating.

A laugh leaked out of her mouth. Some tears leaking from her eyes.

A tall oak. It's branches spread out in all directions, like arms reaching to the sky, stood firm atop a small hill of leaves.

Finding it difficult to tread on the uneven dirt, with her heels, she took them off.

Waking up to the tree, she put her back to it, sliding down it's rough bark.

Her laughing continued, yet with the weight of her actions soon crashing down on her, she found herself crying more than anything.

She cried and she cried and she cried. The sun soon had begun to set.

Finally composing herself, she heard a soft scratching. As if someone were carving out at wood. Along with that came a low humming, so comforting and yet sad. It was like her emotions conveyed into song.

Looking to the other side of the tree, she found her gaze fall upon a hand.

She feel back to the ground from the shock. How long had he been there.

"Oh, I'm- I'm sorry, I… uhmm", she wiped away the tears that were still left on her cheeks.

"It's ok, sometimes I come here to think to myself as well", a low voice, kind and warm, said, beyond the tree. "We all have days when we just can't take it any more. So don't mind me".

And so the two sat, on either end of the tree.

Not a word was spoken, and yet the company was enough to let some of that pain go away.

"I really messed up this time. I don't think I can go back", Issola tore some of the leaves on the ground. "My father, he's very… controlling. Like it's either his way or no way. And at the end of it all, he somehow brings it back to something like him caring about me, and doing it for 'us'".

"..."

The person kept listening in silence, only the carving of his knife making any noise among her voice.

"I think I should be going now", she stood up. "This was nice, goodbye".

"I hope everything turn out all right for you", the person said.

Finding herself back at the carriage, she told the butler who accompanied her, to bring her home.

And so they set off…

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Vroom vroom, oh shit, he's back? YES I AM

Now goodbye for another 12 years