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INFORMATION

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Synopsis.

All that glisters is not gold— Often have you heard that told.

— William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

Warnings.

This work may contain various dark, sensitive, and/or mature themes. Reader’s discretion is strongly advised. Do not engage if you are easily upset, triggered or offended. You are fully responsible for your own media consumption.

LGBTQ+, NSFW (Erotica, Nudity)

Notes.

CHALLENGE.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land called Ishgard, there lived a young man called Emmanellain. Though he was born into the high house of Fortemps, he was deemed unfit as an heir as he wasn’t talented like his older brother, Artoirel. Emmanellain left his family when he came of age, choosing to work at a chocobo stable on the castle city outskirts.

You see, Emmanellain loved these gold-feathered friends; he always wanted become a chocobo racer at the renowned Manderville Gold Saucer when he grew up. His parents often tutted at his childish daydreams and tried to groom him into Artoirel’s right-hand man, but they eventually gave up and treated him like a failure who brought shame to the family’s name.

He later inherited a stable-house from the previous owner who kindly took him in and taught him everything about chocobos. He even succeeded to create a new breed, with feathers as dark as the night sky. The black chocobos were extremely popular with the locals for their sturdiness and speed, though their limited numbers made them too pricey for an average Ishgardian, and only nobles were able to afford.

One day, Emmanellain received an letter from Artoirel, requesting for a black chocobo as a courting present; further, his brother asked for the steed to be delivered on a new moon night. How queer, he thought as he strolled down the ranch. Why a racing bird, instead of a gorgeous dress or beautiful accessories, especially for an official engagement with a fair lady? Shrugging, he went about his daily routine around the stable-house.

By the time he was finished, it was already sunset. He looked up at the fiery sky as Artoirel’s strange order returned to his mind; his curiosity for his brother’s love interest tugged at his heartstrings. Ah… if only I’d met her before Brother did, would she become my betrothed instead?

Sighing, Emmanellain picked up a lantern and headed out into the woods. Perhaps an evening walk might help to clear his head.

Down a meandering path and into the heart of the forest, a lake with water as clear as the mirror lay therein, amongst a canopy of red maple trees. A moving shadow near the edge caught his attention; then, the full moon emerged from behind the shifting clouds and illuminated the area. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

Once a member of a high noble family himself, Emmanellain had seen his fair share of beauties who came to the house for parties and social gatherings, but none could compare to this one who just walked up ashore, very much naked and wet from a bath. Hiding himself behind some nearby bushes, he watched the lady with unblinking eyes.

Her smooth, pale skin seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, while droplets of water were trailing down the back of her curvy silhouette. Her silver bobcut was held together with an elaborate braid, like a hairband that fitted nicely around the base of her fluffy, leporine ears. When she finally turned around, Emmanellain had to cover his mouth to stifle a soft gasp.

Aside from the chocobo ranch, Emmanellain also inherited a peculiar painting collection from his late master. All of them featured a certain Veena woman, usually depicted as topless or half-dressed. Back then, he didn’t understand his master’s obsession with the person in the pictures. But now, he could finally see why.

This lady in the lake was the main subject in the paintings.

He recognized her soft yet elegant visage: red markings could be seen around the corner of her heterochromic eyes, complete with a beauty spot under the left. The thin silk robe she’d pulled over her torso fluttered in the night breeze, and her firm breasts spilled out of the open collar in full view. The Viera’s profile ended with a long, flowing skirt. She was like a nymph out of water.

Before Emmanellain could stop himself, he straightened up from his hiding place and began to walk towards the startled lady. She quickly gathered the robes around her chest, though that didn’t stop her uplifted nipples poking against the translucent fabric.

“M-My apologies,” he began, his voice shaking with nervousness. “I-I just happened to pass by here, perchance.” Scratching the back of his head, he finally introduced himself proper, “I am Emmanellain, and I live in the chocobo ranch on the forest fringe.”

The Veena watched him warily for a moment; then her shoulder relaxed, and her face broke out a demure smile. “Ah, so you’re the young lord whom Ser Aymeric has talked about,” she spoke; her oddly mature voice had a pleasant contrast with her youthful appearance. “He comes by here often, sitting along the lakeside to paint,” she added at Emmanellain’s raised eyebrow. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”