(no subject)
Title: Cortezana, Kurtisane, Courtesan
Characters: Holy Roman Empire (A bit older, like a teen), Prussia, Northern Italy (Young, but not young young)
Notes: Cortezana (Italian for "courtesans") were popular and well learned in Italy, the best being in the city of Venice. They were women who knew as much as a man did, knew love and how to use it to their advantage, and a mad thirst for power. The Cortezana had a weekly schedule, a different man every night they were in service. It became such a big thing the officials tried putting a tax on the women who did it, mostly young girls and at times noble women, but the Cortezana cross-dressed as men to evade the tax. There's a bridge in Italy called the Bridge of Tits because the officials allowed Cortezanas to stand on it and bare their breasts in hopes of converting gay men to become straight.
Translations (Please forgive me if I'm wrong, I'm not very fluent in many languages):
Hausmädchen - House maid, like a servant.
Vuoi vedermi? - Literally "Want to see me?"
It had been a kidnapping. One moment I had been sitting at my desk working on my paperwork, swinging my legs underneath the table, and the next I was being dragged by my older brother down the streets to a carriage. Awkwardly, I tried to keep up but my newly gained long legs and arms threw off my balance. He pulled me into the carriage and gave me a grin before shouting out their destination.
"Venedig!"
With a crack of the reins the horse started off, the world blurring from out the windows. Now I watch the countryside fly by, ignoring my brother while he chatters on about what we're going to do today.
"I'm gonna find you a woman Bruder, one that'll make you relax. A Venetian woman. They know how to settle men's nerves, if you know what I mean."
Disgusting.
Venice is as beautiful as its channels are murky, gondolas pushing past as we walk towards an extravagent house, walls shining white with ribbons upheld by strings across the walls, decorating the palace. My brother glances around, then knocks on the door. One, two in quick succession, then four slower ones.
When the door opens, my breath hitches in my throat. Never had I seen a more beautiful woman, her dark locks laying lightly upon her bared shoulders, her olive-skinned breasts peeking over the top of her red bodice, the necklaces drawing my attention to them and I quickly look away, studying the dress instead, which was embroidered with gold down to the hem of her dress. Rings glint off her fingers, the precious jewels shining in the light of the day. Her mouth curls into a smile as her dark eyes studies us, most likely noting how young we look to be in such a place. My brother nudges my side with an elbow, then leans in to whisper as the woman disappears inside, leaving the door open.
"Bet you could find your pretty little Italian Hausmädchen here if you looked hard enough."
In return, I stomp on his foot and walk inside, admiring the beauty of the building's interior as my brother swears and limps inside. Plants and flowers hang about the room from the ceilings, the doorways are covered with beautiful silk curtains and the carpet is just as pretty, depicting a scene I didn't recognize. Women stand around, some chatting to one another and others reading. But others were also teaching young girls, "future Kurtisane" my brother tells me with a smirk as he eyes their well-shaped bodies. The beautiful lady returns and we sit close to the maidens.
"What brings two young men like yourselves to a place so far from your home?" She asks as one of the girls pours us wine and the others sit around us excitedly, wanting to hear the stories of our lands. I clear my throat as my brother wraps an arm around one of them, and he retracts it, grinning widely.
"I was hopin' you could pretty ladies could teach my brother a few things about relaxing. He's just had a growth spurt you see, and he feels... awkward in his new body."
So not true. I was just getting used to it, and I didn't need pretty young women to help me. However tempting they were, with their virgin skin just wishing to be touched, to be stroked so lovingly by the hand of a man, their eyes full of innocence and smiles sharing the same trait. They were so tempting. But I hold myself upright, looking the woman in the eye.
"It was my brother's idea, but I don't think I need this sort of help."
The girls giggle and move closer, I could smell their perfumed bodies pressing closer onto mine and a blush rises up. Something else does too, but no one seems to notice when I slide a pillow onto my lap and lean boredly on it with my elbows. Except my brother, who nudges me and gives a sly, knowing grin.
"If you think you do not need this sort of help, you may go into the back. There will be someone who could show you what you need."
I hesitate to stand, the bulge possibly noticeable, but my brother draws the attention of the girls to help me escape. I thank the woman and move to the back of the house, moving the curtain and peeking inside. There is a girl sitting on a pile of pillows, singing an Italian song so sweetly to herself she must've been an angel at some point. But she seems familiar to me.
Quietly I enter, my curiousty bringing me closer to the maiden. Her back was partially bare, chestnut locks swinging softly and she sways as she stitches clothes together, eyes closed and oblivious to the world. Trembling, I reach my hand and softly stroke her shoulder. She tenses, her song stopping momentarily, though she continues it and relaxes as she brings out a piece of cloth. I kneel beside her and lean in close, laying my head gently on her bare shoulder. Two hands, slightly rougher, lift my face up and close my eyes with the cloth I had seen before, the melody the girl sings soothing any fears I have. It must have been another woman. I feel her turn towards me and the first pair of hands leave my face, another cupping my cheeks just after. The song comes closer and then stops suddenly. I wonder why. It was such a pretty song, I want to listen to it more. I bring my hands up and search for her face, stroking up and down parts of her body and mapping it out in my mind since I can't to see her. When my hands find her face, I bring her close.
"Bitte. Please continue your song, fair maiden."
I can feel her anxiety, though I can't find the source of it. She brings my hands from her face and rests them on her slender hips, and I feel her legs slide across mine as she sits on my lap, turned towards me. She was straddling me now, and I could feel her hot breath in my ear as she began to sing again. I could hear people move through the room, though my main focus was the girl on my lap and the sweet melody coming from her mouth. She lets the last note die out on her voice and I feel her staring at me, studying me. She gets off, but doesn't remove the blindfold, instead feeding me the food the others must've brought in. She helps me drink wine, drowsing my senses and lulling a warm feeling into the pit of my stomach as she settles once again into my lap.
"Vuoi vedermi?"
I nod, understanding the Italian by my lessons as a child.
"Bitte."
The girl slowly takes off the cloth and runs her fingers across my closed eyes. I open my eyes slowly, shock widing them as I recognize the girl who sang such sweet songs and pressed so close against me. She is the girl who sweeps for me, the one whom I've loved for so long. Italien looks up from under her bangs and tugs at her dress, as shy as I am and she must be twice as embarrassed to be found here. She stands and moves away from me, while I sit on the floor in disbelief.
"I like the dresses my Cortezana wear, they're so pretty and comfortable." It is an empty statement, something said to stall for time. As soon as I get my mouth to close, I open it again.
"Italien, what are you doing here?"
Silence.
"H-how did you even get here without me knowing? Why here, of all the places in Venice, why did you choose to stay here?"
More silence. She turns towards me, the emotion in her eyes makes me stand and walk closer to her, though a foot of space keeps us apart. She refused to say anything more about why she was here or how she even got here. I grab her hand and pull her out of the room, my brother giving a low whistle at the sight of us. I glare at him before pulling Italien onto the streets with me and into the carriage that my brother and I had arrived in.
We sit in silence until he arrives. Even my brother is silent, sensing the tension in the small space as the carriage passes over the countryside and into the town we had first started at. The moon is high when we return home, and not one word has been spoken since I had pulled the sweet girl who had loved me so tenderly into the carriage.
No one asks where we have been.
Characters: Holy Roman Empire (A bit older, like a teen), Prussia, Northern Italy (Young, but not young young)
Notes: Cortezana (Italian for "courtesans") were popular and well learned in Italy, the best being in the city of Venice. They were women who knew as much as a man did, knew love and how to use it to their advantage, and a mad thirst for power. The Cortezana had a weekly schedule, a different man every night they were in service. It became such a big thing the officials tried putting a tax on the women who did it, mostly young girls and at times noble women, but the Cortezana cross-dressed as men to evade the tax. There's a bridge in Italy called the Bridge of Tits because the officials allowed Cortezanas to stand on it and bare their breasts in hopes of converting gay men to become straight.
Translations (Please forgive me if I'm wrong, I'm not very fluent in many languages):
Hausmädchen - House maid, like a servant.
Vuoi vedermi? - Literally "Want to see me?"
It had been a kidnapping. One moment I had been sitting at my desk working on my paperwork, swinging my legs underneath the table, and the next I was being dragged by my older brother down the streets to a carriage. Awkwardly, I tried to keep up but my newly gained long legs and arms threw off my balance. He pulled me into the carriage and gave me a grin before shouting out their destination.
"Venedig!"
With a crack of the reins the horse started off, the world blurring from out the windows. Now I watch the countryside fly by, ignoring my brother while he chatters on about what we're going to do today.
"I'm gonna find you a woman Bruder, one that'll make you relax. A Venetian woman. They know how to settle men's nerves, if you know what I mean."
Disgusting.
Venice is as beautiful as its channels are murky, gondolas pushing past as we walk towards an extravagent house, walls shining white with ribbons upheld by strings across the walls, decorating the palace. My brother glances around, then knocks on the door. One, two in quick succession, then four slower ones.
When the door opens, my breath hitches in my throat. Never had I seen a more beautiful woman, her dark locks laying lightly upon her bared shoulders, her olive-skinned breasts peeking over the top of her red bodice, the necklaces drawing my attention to them and I quickly look away, studying the dress instead, which was embroidered with gold down to the hem of her dress. Rings glint off her fingers, the precious jewels shining in the light of the day. Her mouth curls into a smile as her dark eyes studies us, most likely noting how young we look to be in such a place. My brother nudges my side with an elbow, then leans in to whisper as the woman disappears inside, leaving the door open.
"Bet you could find your pretty little Italian Hausmädchen here if you looked hard enough."
In return, I stomp on his foot and walk inside, admiring the beauty of the building's interior as my brother swears and limps inside. Plants and flowers hang about the room from the ceilings, the doorways are covered with beautiful silk curtains and the carpet is just as pretty, depicting a scene I didn't recognize. Women stand around, some chatting to one another and others reading. But others were also teaching young girls, "future Kurtisane" my brother tells me with a smirk as he eyes their well-shaped bodies. The beautiful lady returns and we sit close to the maidens.
"What brings two young men like yourselves to a place so far from your home?" She asks as one of the girls pours us wine and the others sit around us excitedly, wanting to hear the stories of our lands. I clear my throat as my brother wraps an arm around one of them, and he retracts it, grinning widely.
"I was hopin' you could pretty ladies could teach my brother a few things about relaxing. He's just had a growth spurt you see, and he feels... awkward in his new body."
So not true. I was just getting used to it, and I didn't need pretty young women to help me. However tempting they were, with their virgin skin just wishing to be touched, to be stroked so lovingly by the hand of a man, their eyes full of innocence and smiles sharing the same trait. They were so tempting. But I hold myself upright, looking the woman in the eye.
"It was my brother's idea, but I don't think I need this sort of help."
The girls giggle and move closer, I could smell their perfumed bodies pressing closer onto mine and a blush rises up. Something else does too, but no one seems to notice when I slide a pillow onto my lap and lean boredly on it with my elbows. Except my brother, who nudges me and gives a sly, knowing grin.
"If you think you do not need this sort of help, you may go into the back. There will be someone who could show you what you need."
I hesitate to stand, the bulge possibly noticeable, but my brother draws the attention of the girls to help me escape. I thank the woman and move to the back of the house, moving the curtain and peeking inside. There is a girl sitting on a pile of pillows, singing an Italian song so sweetly to herself she must've been an angel at some point. But she seems familiar to me.
Quietly I enter, my curiousty bringing me closer to the maiden. Her back was partially bare, chestnut locks swinging softly and she sways as she stitches clothes together, eyes closed and oblivious to the world. Trembling, I reach my hand and softly stroke her shoulder. She tenses, her song stopping momentarily, though she continues it and relaxes as she brings out a piece of cloth. I kneel beside her and lean in close, laying my head gently on her bare shoulder. Two hands, slightly rougher, lift my face up and close my eyes with the cloth I had seen before, the melody the girl sings soothing any fears I have. It must have been another woman. I feel her turn towards me and the first pair of hands leave my face, another cupping my cheeks just after. The song comes closer and then stops suddenly. I wonder why. It was such a pretty song, I want to listen to it more. I bring my hands up and search for her face, stroking up and down parts of her body and mapping it out in my mind since I can't to see her. When my hands find her face, I bring her close.
"Bitte. Please continue your song, fair maiden."
I can feel her anxiety, though I can't find the source of it. She brings my hands from her face and rests them on her slender hips, and I feel her legs slide across mine as she sits on my lap, turned towards me. She was straddling me now, and I could feel her hot breath in my ear as she began to sing again. I could hear people move through the room, though my main focus was the girl on my lap and the sweet melody coming from her mouth. She lets the last note die out on her voice and I feel her staring at me, studying me. She gets off, but doesn't remove the blindfold, instead feeding me the food the others must've brought in. She helps me drink wine, drowsing my senses and lulling a warm feeling into the pit of my stomach as she settles once again into my lap.
"Vuoi vedermi?"
I nod, understanding the Italian by my lessons as a child.
"Bitte."
The girl slowly takes off the cloth and runs her fingers across my closed eyes. I open my eyes slowly, shock widing them as I recognize the girl who sang such sweet songs and pressed so close against me. She is the girl who sweeps for me, the one whom I've loved for so long. Italien looks up from under her bangs and tugs at her dress, as shy as I am and she must be twice as embarrassed to be found here. She stands and moves away from me, while I sit on the floor in disbelief.
"I like the dresses my Cortezana wear, they're so pretty and comfortable." It is an empty statement, something said to stall for time. As soon as I get my mouth to close, I open it again.
"Italien, what are you doing here?"
Silence.
"H-how did you even get here without me knowing? Why here, of all the places in Venice, why did you choose to stay here?"
More silence. She turns towards me, the emotion in her eyes makes me stand and walk closer to her, though a foot of space keeps us apart. She refused to say anything more about why she was here or how she even got here. I grab her hand and pull her out of the room, my brother giving a low whistle at the sight of us. I glare at him before pulling Italien onto the streets with me and into the carriage that my brother and I had arrived in.
We sit in silence until he arrives. Even my brother is silent, sensing the tension in the small space as the carriage passes over the countryside and into the town we had first started at. The moon is high when we return home, and not one word has been spoken since I had pulled the sweet girl who had loved me so tenderly into the carriage.
No one asks where we have been.