Visions (The Daevas #2)

1 | The Journey

Visions

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Copyright © 2015 by ESchwarz

A/N: Okay, so yes...I wrote this back in 2007! I left the stories untouched, so I have to warn yoy all that the writing isn't as polished as it was. Then my major writer's block kicked in. But I figured book 1 and 2 deserve to be shown out here. This is the last of The Daevas.

MAJOR SUSPENSE coming. :p

Anyway, I hope you like history. Because this has a LOT of it, but written in my own way, and from my perspective.

Yorkshire, England
May, 1471
Spring

I hold the blue velvet curtain --Father's favourite colour -- and looked at the view outside. 'Tis me and my sister Anna Marianne's first time to reach English soil. We have been living in Venice for many years, where Father, Anne, and I were born.

Our mother thought 'twas a good idea for me and Anne to get acquainted with our native England, and we are right glad to have agreed, us squealing in girly delight. 'Tis Mother and Father's wish that we have a come-out here, and 'tis also a birthday present for us. My beloved sister and I shall be twelve in two days.

I smile up at the bright spring sky, my body leaning out, my head sticking out a bit outside the window. I squint up at the sky with a grin. My eleven-year-old imagination races as fast as the woolly clouds that floats above me. A dragon, a ship, a whale -- oh, 'tis so many that I cannot keep track of them all! I inhale deeply and savour the experience of the spring afternoon: the rich, warm earth in the fields, fern fronds unfurling in the sun, and the heady scent of wildflowers, all combined together on the bright green grass like a thick coverlet; so colourful and full of life.

"Come, sister, 'tis a beautiful sight, is it not?" I ask Anne. I don't look behind me to know if she hears me, for the next thing, she is beside me, brushing her arm against mine, poking her head out slightly like I am doing.

"Certes, Venise!" she exclaims delightedly, gazing at the view. "I wonder when we shall reach our new home...I would have asked Mother, but she is not here in the carriage with us."

I nod. "I am not sure as well, Anne. But I hope we are soon there."

"God's greetings, fellow Yorkists!" Anne yells out gleefully. The farmers and passersby all greets her and waves, chanting "To York!" and "Long live King Edward!" I round my eyes largely and pull my sister's arm none too roughly.

"Sweet Jesu, Anne! Mother shall scold you if she is here with us at this moment. Pray be quiet. I don't want you to be chided, sister." Anne complies and sits back in her seat beside me, rolling her eyes and giggling. She watches our servant, Nina, who is sleeping across from the two of us, snoring gently as the vehicle rocks.

I look at Anne, who is as brazen as can be. We have our differences, thought we are twins. I know naught about how to be as bold as she, for I am more of the quiet type between the two of us. I am demure and ladylike; Anne is the one who is brazen and a saucy hoyden. I know naught whether who else can stand on the back of a horse than Anne. She stood up on her jennet, while in her gown while barefoot, squealing in mirth. Mother nearly fainted, while Father swore and pulled her out before she broke a bone.

But even though Anne is a stubborn, adventurous girl, I admire my sister dearly. We both do not lack the grace we inherited from our mother -- though Anne is not well at dancing -- and we both inherited out parents' beauty.

I luxuriate in the burgundy cushions of the carriage seat, wriggling my toes inside my rich leather boots, feeling the fresh country air, touching my skin. I draw back the curtains even more, feeling the sun's rays warming my young body through my yellow gown, made of soft sarcenet silk. I smile and look down on my kirtle, my fingers tracing the flower patterns on the silk. I shift in my seat and hear my petticoats rustle and swish.