Author's Note:

To my followers (I think there about 5 of you), this must have come out of nowhere, huh? Don't worry, I'm not quitting my other story. I just needed a break from things.

Life comes at you fast. I remember starting this profile when I was just starting high school. Fast-forward to now, I'm a college student and a functioning member of working society. At least, I am when I'm not wasting my time writing fanfiction of all things.

I wanted to get away from routine and the like. I actually have a project due several hours after posting this, but that can wait. I want to escape. And I will by writing this story.

So here it is. A series nobody asked for, but one I will gladly write, time and soul permitting.

If you have any questions about it, potential characters who appear, suggestions, whatnot, feel free to PM me. I will gladly take time to answer any pertinent questions you may have, that's if you've read this far and haven't skipped to the story already. Thank you for listening to my rambling.

Without any further ado, please enjoy.

EDIT: This chapter has been altered heavily. Future chapters will be receiving similar makeovers.


Delthea was absolutely sure of two things.

She had a knack for Channeling and her big brother Lu was a big fat liar.

"You've got talent Delthea! You'll be just fine!"

No, she was not doing just fine, actually. As a matter of fact, she felt as if her morning's brunch was going to come hurling out of her mouth at any second. The un-rhythmic up-and-down swaying of the ship caused her shoulder-length brown hair to bob ungracefully. And the swaying definitely didn't help her insides either.

No amount of so-called "talent"—or whatever the hell her older brother was on—could have prepared her for her greatest nemesis yet: motion sickness

She had to get to the deck. Fast.

"Please. Please. Please. Not on the cute outfit…" she pleaded desperately.

She couldn't afford to puke all over the only fashionable clothes she brought—or had for that matter—unless she wanted to march around the entire day in her pajamas. The very thought of sauntering about in her kitten paw-print PJs was the push that kept her trudging forward. Such a thing would be a death sentence to her reputation.

But that would be putting the cart before the horse. At this very moment, she cared more for her well-being than an abstract, non-existent concept like her popularity.

She was heading somewhere new, far away from the home she had grown up, surrounded by complete and utter strangers. If she wanted to see any of that, and flourish her unbridled potential, whether as a Channeler or a popular girl that people adored, she needed to get to the deck.

However willing her spirit was, her body lacked the same conviction.

Under her seasickness, her legs felt like jelly and lead at the same time. Too wobbly to stand up straight and too heavy to move around freely.

Clinging onto the wall railing for dear life, Delthea inched her way down the pristine, red-carpeted hall, her old beaten-up boots dragging slowly behind.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Her left eye twitched.

"Why… are these freakin' hallways so darn long?!" she exclaimed, fury in her voice.

However, her anger was quickly washed over by a different, conflicting feeling.

She wasn't worried that someone had seen her childish outburst. She could worry about that another day. It was because her sudden yell made her stomach do a somersault with the grace of a skydiver without a parachute.

If that wasn't bad enough, the skydiver was due for imminent landing.

Cold sweat broke out along her cheeks and the backside of her neck.

Her knees wobbled.

"I'm done for…" she muttered. Her grip on the bannister slackened as she began to slowly sink into the glossy red carpet.

The demise of her sanctity—especially her clothes—was all but certain. Her mind jumped through hoops and hurdles to think of ways that would minimize damage to herself, leading her eyes eventually to the pristine, red-carpeted floor. For all her time on the ship, the floor had never looked so appealing.

She'd apologize to the ship's janitor later for dirtying it with pudding and muffins—or what was left of them. What wasn't her fault was how delicious they had been at the brunch. It would have been a crime to not scarf down a few.

Okay, maybe more than just a few.

It wasn't everyday she got to enjoy such tasty treats for a meal. Back home, it was always the same old servings of rice and whatever roots and veggies her brother bought at the town market. Food lacked variety. She'd be lucky if she got such a treat in a month, without having to pay a pretty penny for it.

Her family ran an inn in the countryside and actually served such treats on the daily. But after an incident that ruined a fresh batch of cookies meant for the customers, Delthea was barred from entering the kitchen without express permission. It was something she never got to live down. And now, her withdrawals were at their peak.

When she heard that good food would be provided during this trip, Delthea didn't hesitate in agreeing to come aboard. Sure, there was something about touring a school and showcasing ability but all of that came second. She left all the complicated paperwork involved to Lu. This was a chance of a lifetime, and chance to let loose and enjoy herself, and Delthea wasn't about to lose it.

Though, they say hindsight is 20/20.

And now, Delthea wished she hadn't stuffed herself to the brim with so many sweets. It definitely wasn't a good first impression to leave the other passengers she had boarded with, especially a crowd with so many lookers.

She still remembered the face of one of them: well-kempt red hair, his sharp, handsome features, the gentle-look in his eyes, the slight smile he gave her as they made eye-contact while she jammed another pastry into her mouth. Thinking back on it made her heart flutter.

But something else was aflutter right now, namely her poor, abused stomach. There would be another time for her to revel in her fantasies. Right now, her biggest problem, more than her budding reputation as a sweet-toothed maniac, was that she needed to get up and move before she turned into a walking doggy bag.

Mustering up her last reserves of energy, Delthea tried pulling herself up with the railing one last time, but it was no use. Strength had left her limbs, betraying her. She would never forgive them.

The only thing keeping everything down was her sheer force of will, but even such willpower had its limits.

And she was fast approaching hers.

"Somebody… anybody…" she croaked, echoing lifelessly down the barren halls, "Please save me…"

Of course, there wasn't a response. Why would there be? The hallway was empty. It had been for the last hour. Everyone had already headed to the bridge ever since the announcement that they would be seeing Port City soon, awaiting land.

Land. Sweet, sweet land. Delthea had overheard several passengers earlier complaining about being out at sea and wishing to set foot on land as soon as possible. She mentally ridiculed them for thinking that way on a trip like this, but she now found herself sympathizing with their sentiments. Perhaps this was karmic retribution for her quick-to-judge attitude.

To make the sentencing worse, everyone was probably lined up along the dock rails, binoculars and cameras in hand to greet the renowned city, and beloved land. And here was Delthea, unceremoniously flat on her bottom, awaiting her impending doom like an inmate on death row, help barely out of reach.

Delthea wasn't really the devout type but her crumbling resolve made her desperate. She really was out of options now. She shut her eyes. Her mind furiously chanted a prayer to any divine being that would lend an ear or two, since saying it aloud would erupt her stomach to kingdom come.

Her plea wasn't very long.

She just wanted something to save her.

Or, kill her. So she wouldn't have to suffer the aftermath.

"Hey."

Was… was she hearing the voice of God right now? Had someone heard her cries? No, that's not possible. It couldn't be.

The seasickness must've gotten so bad, I'm beginning to hear things, Delthea thought to herself while smiling dejectedly, I'm beyond saving now…

"Hey."

The voice came again and this time she heard it clearer, making her sit up now. It was that of a man. She didn't realize that God was male.

I wonder what he looks like, she wondered.

If God looked anything like the ginger stud she saw earlier, she would proudly profess to her faith to—

"HEY!"

The sudden yell made her jump to her feet, seasickness be damned. There was no doubt in her mind now that there definitely was someone talking to her and it wasn't "God" or anything supernatural of that kind. Thinking about it, no god could ever sound as coarse and ungentle as the voice she heard just now.

Peeking from behind her closed eyes, Delthea saw the outline of a figure that towered over her by at least two or three head sizes… and well-built to boot.

Oh, it definitely was a man.

All the alarms in her head were sounding off at full blast.

She pondered for a moment if it could have been the boy she saw at brunch. His voice was a bit harsh but his looks would more than make up for—

"You can stop pretending to have your eyes closed."

Drat.

No use hiding now.

Delthea slowly opened her eyes.

Her heart dropped faster than her mouth did.

Instead of the well-dressed, handsome boy she had envisioned, a grimy-looking janitor stood in front of her, mop, bucket, and all. Stains of various and unknown origin smeared his work overalls.

He wore a dirty work cap atop his head, hiding his unkempt teal-colored hair and shrouding much of his face. Delthea could not think of a worse thing to open her eyes to on the verge of vomiting.

Her insides began to churn again.

"Look, I saw you hunched over and… Are you... alright?"

Unlike the gruffness in his voice before, the man spoke gentler now. But it was a little too late for niceties. Not after what Delthea was feeling right now.

She glared up at him.

"Does it look like I'm—Wh?!"

Before she could even finish her sentence, she felt something large and warm cover her forehead.

It took her a full second to realize that this total stranger had his hand on her forehead

Wh-wh-wh-what is he doing?!

She was about to cry out until she saw the janitor use his other hand to remove his cap and place his palm against his own forehead. When Delthea saw what was hidden beneath the mess, her eyes widened.

She had mistakenly thought that the janitor was some old weird man but reality couldn't be any further from the truth.

He was a boy. A bit older than she was.

To say the boy was attractive would be inaccurate. Oh, he was attracting her attention alright. Attraction and suspicion often go hand in hand. In any other case, Delthea would have been screaming for help, but something about this stranger made her quiet and unable to tear her eyes away.

A unique flavor of intrigue unlike anything she had ever seen before exuded from his sharp features. The pronounced contours of his face were further outlined by his fair—rather pale—skin. His handsome face would have been perfectly symmetrical if not for the worried expression he wore.

But his most striking feature had to be his eyes, which were an odd shade of faded blue, reminding her of the tundras Delthea saw in a geography book back home that one time she decided to read. Just like the frozen wastelands they mirrored, his eyes were just as sharp and icy. Delthea could feel the chill just looking at them.

The way it seeped right into her soul… and how she could see a reflection of herself in the crystalline pool of his eyes.

He had been looking directly at her for some time.

Funnily, all Delthea felt now was her face heat up. He on the other hand was unfazed.

Who was this boy? Why was someone like this working as a janitor aboard a ship? Why was someone who looked like this working as a janitor? Why was his gaze so mesmerizing?

Her questions would go unanswered as he took his hand off Delthea's forehead. For a lingering second, as cool air brushed against her skin, she was almost sorry that he did. There was something strangely comforting about his touch. For someone who appeared icy, his hands were certainly warm.

"Mm. Can't be a cold," he said to himself, shaking his head, "Temperature is not hot enough."

But you know what is?

She didn't say that of course, but Delthea still felt like slapping herself in the face. Now really wasn't the time to joke around. Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach had reached her head… or perhaps it wasn't butterflies she was feeling again.

"Oo—oogh…" she groaned, slumping up against the wall, her knees buckling. The pleasant shock of this chance encounter wore off and the uneasy, dull pain began to slowly return.

Fate really had it out for her today. A once in a lifetime trip and encounter, and she's seasick in the midst of it all. What a sick joke.

... She really wished it weren't so literal.

The boy continued to observe her before a shift in his eyes indicated he had come to a conclusion.

"You're seasick."

Feeling too sick to be cheeky, Delthea merely nodded.

The boy then knelt next to her. He reached for her hand. Delthea felt uneasy at the prospect of a total stranger touching her so frankly but there was little she could do. Any sudden movement would spell—or maybe, spill?—doom for her and her poor companion.

Rather than her hand, the boy thankfully took a hold of her wrist. Very important distinction between the two! Gently, yet firmly, he pressed his thumbs against the area several centimeters below the joint.

"Ow!"

Delthea instinctively yelped.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" he asked.

"Er, yes-I mean, no," Delthea stammered. What she felt wasn't pain. The cool sensation that had pierced her at the wrist, like thin, fine needles, surprised her. It wasn't anything like she ever felt before in her life. She just didn't know how to respond.

Taking Delthea's words as permission, the boy continued his work. Now, the calming cold feeling slowly spread throughout all corners of her body. For how warm the boy's hands were when they touched her forehead, they were a lot cooler now, which had caught her off guard.

How did he manage to do that?

Delthea didn't have much time to dwell on those questions as the sensation slowly filling her body began overriding all of her thoughts.

It was like she just rose up from swampy water, fresh air filling her lungs, body, and especially her stomach. The mountain of pressure and weight that bogged her down felt excised from her body.

It was magical. Surreal.

She looked back at the boy whose eyes were glued to his task, still kneading his thumbs against her wrist, adding slight variations to where and how he was applying pressure. The concentrated look on his face made him appear quite dashing, gallant even.

Delthea wanted to pinch herself, to prove to herself that this wasn't a dream but that would disturb the boy, and she wanted to bask in the moment a little longer. She'd let the boy continue to work his magic.

Unlike when she opened her mouth, the silence was rather pleasant to hear.

"What… did you do?" Delthea asked after feeling comfortable enough to talk.

The boy slowed his kneading and met her eyes. Delthea almost instinctively looked away. They were inviting but also repelling her at the same time. She never had such a hard time maintaining eye contact with anyone else before.

"Pressure points are all over our body," he said, pointing to where he was massaging along Delthea's arm. He tapped his cold, slender finger against the area he was currently working on. "This one in particular is good for alleviating seasickness."

"O-oh, I see." She managed to say. What else was she supposed to add? This was all out of her element. It was in her best interest to keep quiet about things she didn't know, unless she wanted to come off like an idiot.

Delthea was not one who normally got tongue-tied over talking with strangers. Heck, back home, she had a knack for kicking it off with all the guests who visited their inn, regardless of the incessant scolding she got from her brother.

It was one of the few forms of entertainment she had and her method of connecting to the world beyond. Her village was a bit isolated from the rest of the larger world after all, being so far in the country. It left her hungry for new stories and experiences, sometimes more so than the hunger she felt for sweets.

And today marked a startlingly new experience for her.

"Feeling any better?"

She hesitantly nodded. As confused as she was about her own nervousness, Delthea knew for sure that she didn't want this pleasantness to end. However, she felt bad for the boy… who she still did not know the name of.

"Thank you. For helping me out in a pinch," she said, laughing nervously, "I would have… been in a lot of trouble if you didn't help me."

A subtle smile appeared on the boy's face, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly. It... appeared less like a smile and more like he was stretching his mouth, but Delthea could feel his sincerity… or at least hoped she did.

"Don't mention it," he said, shaking his head. "Helping… is just something I do."

Delthea scratched her cheek with her free hand. "I want to thank you properly, but I don't know your name…"

"Ah…" the boy realized.

He cleared his throat.

"Byleth."

Delthea's eyebrows went up. Her exposure to names from around the world was bigger than most—working at the family inn helped her with that—but this was one she had never actually heard before. It was wholly unfamiliar and foreign to her ears… but had a nice ring to it too.

"Well, thank you, Byleth. Name's Delthea. You really saved my skin," she said. "Can't go marching around the academy smelling like… you know."

As she finished her sentence, Delthea noticed that Byleth had cocked his head.

"Did you say 'Academy?'"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's partly—I mean, mainly—the reason I'm even on this ship."

He raised an eyebrow. "Heroes Academy?" he asked, specifying.

Geez, what a gaudy name, Delthea thought to herself, hearing the name aloud, getting second-hand embarrassment. She had no idea how such places managed to stay open being shamelessly named as such or gain any attendance at all.

Yet, as the luck's irony would have it, it was the very same place she was headed herself.

"That's the one," she answered, reluctant almost.

There was a pause in Byleth's massage. His eyes turned away from her wrist and towards her, his gaze gliding over what felt like every inch of her. Unlike the comforting presence given off by his touch, his staring had her incredibly unsettled.

She usually wasn't one to turn away the attention of an attractive young man… but something about Byleth's hawk-like staring sent a shiver down her veins.

He stared at her for a while and began muttering something under his breath. It was for but a few seconds, and Delthea would have missed it had she not been paying such keen attention to the boy.

Realizing he spoke without meaning to, Byleth quickly closed his mouth. But it was too late for that. Delthea had already heard what he said. The very word itself raised quite the fuss back home.

And was the whole reason why she was offered this once in a lifetime trip in the first place.

"That's right," she said, looking the boy straight in the eye. "I'm a Channeler."

Personally, Delthea understood very little about what being a Channeler entailed. Part of her announcing it was because it sounded cool to say, and the other was because what her brother had reassured her:

She was gifted at Channeling, the ability to harness the power of the world's elements through one's body.

It was the closest thing the world had to magic. Many actually believed that it was. How can channeling lightning or fire into your very hands be considered not to be?

What she had, despite not understanding it all that well, was a gift according to Lu. So much so, it somehow attracted the attention of Heroes Academy, a premier school in the art. It was by this happenstance that led her to this current predicament. The trip's purpose was to showcase her "abilities" before the school.

Though, her actual reasons for boarding were much different and less pure.

The queasy feeling in her stomach was testament to that.

Pushing that feeling aside, Delthea spoke up again, to quell Byleth's silence.

"What about it, me being a Channeler?"

Byleth looked at her quietly for a few more seconds before turning his eyes away. His hands left her wrist. Instead, he extended one towards the confused girl, who was wondering what the hell he was doing.

"Then I suppose that that makes us classmates," he said, still eyeing her rather intently. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Delthea."

Oh. So that was what he was doing.

Byleth's gesture was a handshake and not some weird hand motion for Channeling. A greeting for things to come. A hand belonging to a face she would no doubt be seeing more of in the future. If that was the case, then perhaps enduring this sickness might not be so bad after all.

She raised her own hand to clasp the boy's, her own gesture of greeting and gratitude. A joining of hands for better things to come.

"Likewise."

And the moment she finished her words, complete with the most charming smile she could muster, the ship lurched violently amid the waves.

The dormant monster within Delthea's stomach, which had been kept at bay by Byleth's magical hands and touch, was rudely, and most unfortunately, awoken, spewing its anger and venom within a certain ship's hallway, carrying an occupancy of two most unfortunate souls.

There were no survivors.


(A/N): Hey, thanks for reading. Know that if you have any questions about the story, characters who might make an appearance, what age the characters are, or, heck, even what sort of ice-cream they like, feel free to shoot me a PM.

Ask and you shall receive. Mostly. On a good day. When I am not weighed down by a mountain of work as a "working professional" (believe me when I say I have some reservations regarding that title).

Have yourselves a damn good one.