Time for background stories!

[Somethingsomething]

Okay, so here is my challenge for you: Pick one of the following four images and write a background story to it. Who is / are the character / s? What's their relationship? How did they end up where they are right now? The word maximum is 500 words. The plot can be lewd, can be non-lewd, however you wish! I hope there is a picture that catches your interest! Enjoy

Image #1

Spoiler

Image #2

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Image #3

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Last but not least: Image #4

Spoiler

 

[IsabellaRose]

Crap. Those ALL give me ideas... 4 replies, incoming...

[IsabellaRose]

@Somethingsomething - EXACTLY 500 WORDS!

Iskayla's Kiss

 

It was said that Iskayla only took beautiful sinners to be her maidens.

The sun had been setting quickly, and they decided on the shortcut across the lakan, the frozen sheet of ice that was the surface of the lake that never thawed. It was said that dusk was the most dangerous time to be on the lakan, but those were old wives’ tales and there was no to them.

One minute they had been trekking across the lakan, the smooth surface dangerous beneath the wind-driven drifts, and the next Göta was gone. He looked around to see where she had fallen, but her foot prints simply stopped. It wasn’t until he heard the distant thump from below that fear gripped his heart, an icy talon colder even than the wind that whipped his hood from his head as he stared down at the snow beneath his feet.

As darkness fell, he worked to clear the snow from the icy surface. He could see nothing. He lit his lantern, placed it upon the ice.

Göta came to him then.

A startled sob was torn from his throat like some other force controlled his voice and lungs. He peered through the inches-thick ice at the face that stared back up at him.

It was Göta. That was her face. Her delicately sculpted features tinted grey and green through the fractured ice. That was her body, lithe and graceful, glimpsed before only by lantern light as well during their late night trysts, but never appearing so cold and lifeless. Her eyes were soulless, those of a dead fish, and when they locked with his, he felt despair.

“Göta.” He said her name and didn’t even recognize his own voice, heavy with grief.

She stared up at him, unblinking, unmoving. Her hair flowed about her head as if many breezes tugged it from different directions. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what had happened, knowing that the legends were true, that old wives’ tales were not manufactured only to frighten children, and then realization slowly dawned on him of what would come next.

“Sten.” Her voice was a murmur in his head, a nightmare of reality bent sideways.

“Sten.” She called him again, and he felt tears well in his eyes, felt his eyelashes freezing in the wind.

“Iskayla has called me, Sten,” she said into his mind, and her voice was like the caress of a lover lulling him, like the claws of a bear rending him, “as she calls all beautiful sinners.”

“No.” He said it aloud and knew it was futile.

“We have both sinned,” she said. “And we must pay.”

He shook his head, felt tears run down his cheeks and freeze there.

“Kiss me, Sten,” she said. “Kiss me, brother.”

Her lips were right there, as they had been all those nights. He leaned forward, not wanting to, but unable to resist, kissed the surface of the ice, and disappeared from view.

Iskayla had claimed the incestuous sinners.

Edited September 1, 2021 by IsabellaRose