The deck lurched under his feet as the breeze became a gust. He would've lost his footing if he hadn't done this all his life. Instead of stumbling or falling overboard and becoming a laughing stock (again), he moved onward with the practised ease of any sailor twice his age. At least until one such sailor stuck his foot out and sent him spinning down for a hard greeting with the worn out deck.

Hearty laughter tore through the receding wind as he sat up, glowering at the joyous men, before their contagious laughs caused a chuckle to escape his lips before he could stop it. They took this as their cue to cheer in delight, and start their laughter anew. With an exasperated sigh, he stood, wiping the salted dust from his clothes, unable to hide the smile that their laughter always brought him.

He felt a wetness on his face and reached to touch it. ‘Maybe the sea sprayed me when I fell? Or was it a prank?’ He thought absently, taking his hand away to inspect the source of the feeling.

Red.

The deepest red there is. His stomach tightened, as he pulled a cloth from his pocket and dabbed at his bloody nose. Gutting fish, filleting eels, de-shelling crabs and lobsters, none of them posed a problem to him and his stomach. Only the sanguine sheen of human blood turned his stomach and chilled his blood. Its vibrant colour was so deep and bright that it just felt…wrong.

Gill Saila, a boy of 17 years, former dockhand, up and coming sailor. Born to a loving family of sailors and sail makers. His parents were Didric and Maria Saila, a former military sailor and the second best seamstress in the northern half of the mainland Havare. A happy family born and raised by the sea for generations and living at peace. At least until Maria died, and then it all went to hell.

Gill pushed the painful thoughts to the back of his head, where he could let them all out later, as was his usual bad habit. He shook the dull ache from his head, sifting his calloused fingers through his raven hair, and strode forward once more. Hurt or not he still had a job to do. Though his mind was not entirely on the task, the mild numbness of his head would not be the best thing to advertise. Though the slight spring had been taken from his step, the purpose and conviction that replaced it would turn the head of even the most grizzled veteran.

“Hey, Gils!” Called an overly chirpy and unbelievably irritating voice from above his head.

‘Well,’ Gill thought, ‘I guess even purpose isn't enough to ward off a pain in the neck.’ He sighed, and looked up to the sneering face of Vexa Finn, the only other boy on the crew that was his age, but he wished he was the only one whenever he opened that stupidly perfect mouth of his that always seemed to be asking for a smack. And gods know he wanted to.

“What do you want, Vex? Stuck up there again?” Gill called, lacing in as much sarcasm as was humanly possible.

“Oh, I was just worried when I saw you hanging from the mast. Thought you might've died!” Vexa smiled innocently.

‘If I have to hear another damn sail joke, I’ll gladly hang myself,’ Gill silently sighed at the mention of the same joke for the thousandth time. He was about to continue and finish the job he was given but something about today made him want to hit back for the first time. He thought for a second and had a stroke of sudden genius.

“You know, I saw you earlier as well. I threw you overboard with the rest of the fish guts, glad to see you can swim now!” Gill called, barely holding back his laughter.

Vexa turned beet red, a stark contrast to his platinum blonde hair, as everyone who heard the dual insult burst out laughing. It was a common joke on board that he was the only boy they'd ever seen over the age of 6 who couldn't swim, despite his last name being Finn, the very things that fish use to swim.

“S-Shut it, Gil! What are you even doing anyway? My job is way more important than yours!” Vexa shouted, trying not to fall off his perch on the spar from leaning too far over.

‘That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,’ thought Gill with a huge grin spreading on his face. “I'm holding the deck. Speaking of which, you missed a bit!” Gill shouts with an extreme satisfaction as Vexa’s face paled and disappeared back above the spar.

Gill smiled to himself as he relished this small power. Holding the deck was what the captain assigned to someone when he wanted to get drunk and black out for the day, so it happened fairly often. He strolled along the deck, the conviction in his step replaced by a happy bounce as he felt totally on top of the world.

At least until he saw Arianna.

The world turned to the sea that surrounded them and his legs turned to foam as he got lost in the glowing amber of her eyes and the priceless silver of her hair. It flowed over her shoulders like the crystal waves over golden sands, beauty and perfection in equal measure. There was a slight blush as well, that wasn’t there wasn't before. He snapped back to reality and realised with a creep of fear that he’d been staring.

She’d hate him now. He knew it. He readied himself to jump over the side into the ocean, but then she smiled back at him, only a glimmer of red left on her cheeks, though still bright and vivid against her light, shining skin.

She hopped down the stairs; her slim and toned body may have been smaller than everyone else's, but it was easily twice as intimidating to see her prepare for a fight. She reached the final step which creaked like a ship about to split in two. She skipped forward and drew him into a spine breaking hug, which he had grown used to but still enjoyed more and more every time. As she let go, she smirked at him, mischievously. “Gil, what were you looking at?” She poked him in the chest playfully. Even her voice sounded like liquid crystal.

“J-Just checking that you're doing your job right.” Gill lied. He knew he was a bad liar, and so did she, but there was never anything more than mild teasing about it. The two had become fast friends when they met at the docks at Honiare, Gill’s home. She had been the daughter of the first mate of a visiting fishing vessel, when an alcohol filled mutiny caused the death of her father and her being stranded there.

She had lived at the docks from then on, becoming a first rate dockhand like Gill. He had been attracted to her the moment she arrived, which he had tried to keep a secret from her, but miserably failed at the first hurdle, causing her to take an interest in poking fun at his awkwardness. This led to constant teasing from her but he didn't really mind, if it was her.

“Shouldn’t you be working, Gils?!” Vexa squawked from his elevated lounging spot, flashing that damned smile of his to Arianna, probably blinding several birds with the glint off his teeth.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning, you blonde lighthouse?!” Arianna yelled over Gill’s shoulder before he could turn around and reprimand him, but why would he have to after an insult of that caliber.

Vexa’s fury burnt so hot that he stood up and began angrily shouting obscenities and stamping his feet. Then he slipped, his rants turning to high pitched screams as he plummeted into the big arms of the passing chef.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“Princesses fallin’ from the sky? C’mere love.” The chef puckered up in an exaggerated display of storybook affection. Vexa struggled like a captured salmon, writhing to be free of the chef’s iron grip. Meanwhile, the entire ship was falling over in stitches of laughter, Gill and Arianna included.

After the howls of laughter had died down, the work began again. Vexa climbed the mast again, his head hung in embarrassment. Gill and Arianna made their way to the helm to begin plotting their next leg of their trading journey.

The news that he was the current deck holder spread fast so he was listened to quickly and the ship stayed sailing straight and true. After a few hours of command over the vessel, it was time for him to pass command on to someone else for the next few hours. He passed it to his god-father

Mike Anchory; His Father’s best friend since childhood and like a second parent to Gill after his mother died. Though there was always something about him that gave Gill a chill. It always came around when he was explaining the nuances and difficulties of making and properly weighting and preparing the anchors his God-father made.

Gill slumped down in a chair next to Arianna, and sighed away the day’s effort and stress. He would've fallen asleep right then and there but Arianna took his hand and squeezed it.

‘I guess I'm not sleeping anytime soon,’ He mused, the tiredness he felt drifted away as he looked towards her. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw that she had her face barely an inch away from his. She doubled down laughing at his reaction, and relaxed back in her chair, but didn't let go of his hand. He turned to ask why, but she had already started speaking by the time he plucked up the courage.

“You know, at times like this, I'm glad life turned out this way, as crazy as that seems. After all, I met you didn’t I?” She spoke as if she were talking to herself in a dream, but her eyes were wide open and she was smiling at him.

“Uhh…yeah! Of course. Meeting you and being your friend has been the best part of my life so far.” Gill tried to sound confidant but ended up cracking his voice a total of three times, which earned a stifled chuckle from her.

“Oh?” She said with a smirk playing on her lips. “Just a friend?”

Before he could answer that mind blower, there was a jarring screech in the air, giving a splitting headache to anyone that heard. Arren birds, the messengers of the seas since the seas have been explored. It dropped a package onto the deck just by Gill’s feet and squawked with impatience.

Groaning, he got out of his chair and reluctantly dropped Arianna’s hand. He rang a bell by the steering wheel, calling for all letters and packages, which were all put into another message box for the huge bird to fly back. He knelt beside it, carefully avoiding its rapier like beak to replace the box on its harness. He stood up and offered it one of the dried mackerel fillets that they accept as payment for delivery. Accepting the salty meal greedily, the bird spread its massive wings and shot like lightning back into the sky, making its return trip.

Gill turned around to see Arianna raise an eyebrow at him. It seems the mood has shifted from where it was before, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing and his mind from going haywire thinking about what she said and what it meant. Did she mean it? Is she lying? What does she really think of him? Did this mean that she wanted to-

“Gil, you're staring again” She said with another raised eyebrow.

He snapped back into reality and realised he was staring into her eyes again, a knowing and playful grin on her face.

“W-What? No I'm not! I'm a good, decent son!” His voice cracked, diminishing any semblance of manliness that he may have had, to which she only raised an eyebrow and smirked. He tried hide his blush by going through the package for anything for either of them. He heard her laugh just as he found a package with her name on it. He decided to have a bit of revenge.

“Think fast!” Gill said, tossing the small package to her. She caught it out the air quickly and expertly, as if she’d done it thousands of times perfectly before. ‘Damn. She's so perfect its painful.’ He mused as he found one for himself. As he shredded open the parchment that had a string through it, easy for tearing, he took out 2 letters and a small cloth bag.

He tore open the first letter, then before he could read it, he heard her take in a nervous breath. ‘Arianna? Nervous? What, has the sea opened or something?’ He wondered in amusement, while turning to look at her and freezing in surprise.

She was blushing. A flush of deep pink and red coated her whole face, as she was looking down at her feet trying and failing to stumble over words. He was stunned. This was nothing like the chirpy, confidant Arianna he knew. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she spoke.

“H-Hey, Gil?” She stuttered, looking up to see that I was already looking at her, which only deepened her red tint even more. “You know. What I said earlier. About…” she trailed off and looked at her feet.

Starting to get slightly worried, and nervous and terrified himself, Gill took a few deep breaths of his own and finally spoke up. “About? About us?” He said slowly, trying no keep his voice level. Despite his awkwardness, he wasn't completely clueless about love.

She caught her breath and looked him dead in the eye. Her own amber eyes glistening like perfect garnets on display in a rose garden. “W-Would you ever consider me for the f-future?” She stumbled through the words like a baby horse over a gangplank. They sounded perfect to Gill. He opened his mouth to say yes and make himself the happiest he'd ever been before.

“Oi! Ari! Get yourself over here, we need your muscles!” Yelled Mike, interrupting the moment between them, and causing his highflying heart to dip slightly.

She looked at Gill, and burst out laughing. So did he. They shared that moment together, before she stood up and put her hand on his shoulder. “Typical right? Won't be a moment, Gil.” She said the words like a song, and skipped along to help raise another sail to catch some more wind.

Sighing, Gill looks at the letters and pouch, thinking that whatever they contained could not possibly dampen his mood, because he was the happiest he'd ever been. He tore through the seal of the first letter and flicked it open, eager to see what he'd been sent. ‘There's no way that these will be anything bad, everything's so good today.’ He sang to himself in his head. It turns out that he was wrong.

A notice for Gill Saila.

Your family and all their property, ownings and earnings have been taken in by order of the Sicilian family, due to an overdue payment from 174 years prior to this notice. When you are next able, please visit in order to discuss the terms of this agreement. Best regards,

Aola Sicilian.

‘What? 174 years?? Are they seriously taking everything for a century and a half old promise?’ He thought, as his blood starting boiling and his vision began turning red from the seething rage that was building. His head was splitting, he didn’t stop to think why but it gave him more reason to be furious. He glared at the other items with his name printed on them and tore through the seal of the next letter, looking for something to be angrier at. The moment the words hit his eyes, his anger melted and he collapsed onto his knees.

Dearest Gill Saila,

It breaks my heart to send this letter to such a nice boy as yourself but you should know as soon as possible. I am sending this letter to inform you that your father passed away earlier today, after receiving several fatal stab wounds from thieves who cornered him and stabbed him multiple times. I did what I could to help him and ease his passing, but there was nothing that I could do. I am truly sorry that you had to find out by way of a letter but I thought it better you know fast rather than at the better time. My deepest condolences,

Your godmother, Elizabeth Anchory.

He couldn't read the last line clearly. The parchment was already soaked through with tears and his eyes felt like they'd been dunked in lava and thrown in salt. He couldn't speak. All that came out were choked sobs and feeble sounds of half formed words. His head thumped, splintering his mind with the sheer pain and agony. His mind flashed images. He didn't know how to follow them. He didn’t see the point.

His father and him mourning by the sea. His first steps on the sea. His first fight. His first battle. Slaying men by the dozen with a curving, wave like sword cloaked in green magic. Drowning, under the weight of a military anchor, as he plunges into the abyss.

“What?” He whispered to himself, cradling his head in agony. “What is this? Who is this?” His breathing becomes fast, irregular. He's primed for fight or flight. He trembles as he opens the pouch and dust falls out. Followed by a shattered shell. His mothers shell.

In the distance, he can hear Arianna calling out to him, if he was ok, the shadows of the crowded crew members around him. The creaking of the deck beneath him. His tears felt like magma on his face, the boat thrashing from side to side. He felt lost in the web of screams and tears and cries for help.

He snaps. Everything goes blurry. The world spins, lurches, he falls, he flies. He sees nothing but a blur of blue, green and red. So much red. The wood splintering and breaking is all he hears mixed in with something. Something else. Screams.