Heart's Revolution

Chapter 1

1/21/03

Author's Note:  I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed.  As you can see, I was able to fix the formatting of my story so there's a big 'Yay!'  I'd just like to add here that I'm trying to stay as true to history as I can but I am no historian so please forgive any errors.  I also might have to change the dates of certain things around for it to work so if some event happens a year later or earlier than it was supposed to, please don't criticize.  There is also the addition of certain events that did not happen at all.  It's just to fit the story.

            I'd also really like to thank Blazing Comets for the great help she provided me in order to write this next chapter.

15 years later, 1780

Avery Mansion, New York

It was a clear, sunny day as Serenity walked through the extensive gardens on the Avery estate.  She loved coming here during these sort of days.  The weather was calming and it was exactly what she needed after her frequent fights with Lord Damien Avery.  Her guardian seemed determined that she not be out of his visual perception but the golden-haired seventeen year old was just as determined to have her freedom and space.  At least, in the limited amounts granted to her.

As she approached the seven-foot, ivy-covered wall surrounding the estate, Serenity was reminded of the world beyond it that was forbidden to her.  It was not that she denied anything on the manor.  No, Damien made sure her every need was attended to, if not a bit excessively.  However, she wished to see what was going on in the outside world.  The only news she ever got of the war going on were the little tidbits her servants, Molly and Melvin would occasionally drop.  Sometimes, she would hear Damien cursing the 'American' rebels and their 'pathetic little army.'  He always sounded so vehement about it and she could only wonder if they had done something to him personally.

Serenity continued her stroll through the garden, her clear, blue eyes taking in the lovely flora in its prime.  She leaned down and picked a white rose from one of the bushes, being wary of the thorns.  She recalled with a frown being pricked once and running back to the house in tears, her finger bleeding.  Damien had laughed at her and called her every sort of fool for forgetting about the sharp barbs that protected the flower.  Molly had cleaned and wrapped her finger for her, just as a mother would have done.

This train of thought led her to think of her parents.  Damien had only told her that they had died long ago, killed by the rebel traitors and that was when his father took her in.  She could not remember them or the event that took their lives.

She traced the flower along a crack in the wall as she continued.  It seemed to her that these rebels must be very foolish.  If His Majesty the King offered them protection, wouldn't it be best for them to simply take it and accept his rule?  Why they would want to bother with starting a whole new country seemed rather impractical to her.  Especially if they would kill to do it.  Even though she could not remember her parents, she had a feeling that they were good people and had not deserved their death.  Her thoughts were interrupted by the call of her name.  "Serenity?  Serenity!  Come in and wash for supper!" 

Serenity tucked the white flower behind her ear, picking up her skirts and heading towards the house.  "Coming, Molly!" 

As she approached the door, she turned around for a last look at the garden, her eyes locking onto the ivy-encompassed wall.   An unidentifiable emotion flicked across her gaze before she swung around to reenter the mansion.

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"'D'mion!"

Endymion pushed the magnifiers as well as a lock of raven hair away from his face. He turned his torso around to see the grinning face of his blond-haired cousin and best friend, Andrew. "What is it, Drew?" he asked as he turned his latest project around in his hands giving it a last defining hit of the chisel.

"It's- hey!" Andrew cut himself off, looking at the chiseled piece of wood that Endymion was holding. "What's that? Your newest masterpiece?" he asked, smirking as he exaggerated the word "master". He took the small, wooden statuette out of his friend's hand studying the marks and chisels in the wood.

Endymion gave the sculpture of a woman a glance, brushing woodchips off of his work table into a dust pan. "Yeah. It's-"

"Rei," Andrew finished for him. "You did a really good job of her." He spoke the truth. It was an exact replica. A tiny Rei. Life seemed to seep into the figurine, it was so detailed.

"Well, she is my sister after all. I see her every single day. I ought to know her well enough to carve a little statuette of her." Endymion placed down his carving tool, cracking his knuckles restlessly. "Now what did you come to tell me?"

"Oh right," Andrew replied, placing down the figurine carefully on the surface of Endymion's work table. "Brigadier General Anthony Wayne stormed the British fort at Stony Point and took it back! Great news, eh?"

At this, Endymion stood, rising to his powerful, towering height of 6 feet 2 inches. "Wayne? The tanner?"

Andrew nodded. "That's the one. They're calling him 'Mad Anthony' now for the crazy stunts he pulled. The man is a genius. But there's…" He faltered. "There is another matter ."

Endymion made a small gesture, "Go on . . ."

"My father got word from one of the Liberty leaders in New York City. They want us to help in a raid on the arsenal on the northern part of Long Island."

"When?" Endymion looked toward the map of New York on the wall of his work room, above the cluttered mess of wood shavings.

"Tomorrow."  Andrew stretched his arms over his head with a yawn and then added, "Which is why I suggest we both turn in early tonight and get some sleep. We'll need it.  We want to be there as soon as the sun rises."

Endymion groaned, running a hand through his thick hair.  "That early?"

"That's right.  I'll see you then, bright and early!"  Andrew winked at his friend.  "And tell Rei I'll be expecting her to have some of her famous coffee ready."

"Hell, no!  If I tell her that, I'm the one that'll get a verbal lashing for it.  She never wakes up before ten and she shan't start now."

Andrew smirked.  "Well, tell her it's for me.  You don't have to drink any.  Besides,"  he paused and then grinned.  "She thinks I'm cute."

"Andrew?"

"Hmm?"

"Get out."

At that, Andrew laughed, winking at his friend and strolling out the door.

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"Serenity . . ."  Damien narrowed his violet gaze on the angel sitting across from him in his study. 

"Yes, Damien?"  Serenity twirled a rose in her hand, seemingly focused more on the flower than on him.

He frowned at this, before continuing on.  "Serenity, you will be eighteen within the year.  Naturally, it is time for you to be considering some changes."

Serenity did not take her eyes of the pure white of the rose.  "Changes, milord?"

"Serenity!"  Damien's sharp voice cut in on her daydreaming and she looked up, startled.  "Milord?"

"For the love of God, Serenity, please pay attention!  This is important."  Damien gave an exasperated sigh as he ran his hand through his white hair.  He

was almost 26 and it was past time for him to be married.  Serenity was meant for him as she had been since his father had taken her in.  His father had died to make sure Serenity was his and by God, he'd have her if it was the last thing he did.  She had no reason to object anyway.  Furthermore, she had no right to.  She and all her properties were owned by the Avery's, him specifically.   She was his, without a doubt.  This confidence in mind, he continued.

"Serenity . . ." He took her hand in his and lightly stroked the skin with his thumb.  She stared at him, her remarkably blue eyes wide.  What was he doing?  He was supposed to mock her, yell at her for her lack of focus; not caress her hand as if she was something more than an irritant to him. 

"Serenity.  You are of marriageable age yet you have very few suitors."

Serenity looked startled.  "Damien, I have none.  It is difficult to meet people when I am kept inside the walls of the estate all the time.  With the exception, of course, of visiting the weekend house," she pointed out, hinting at her lack of freedom, once again.

Damien sighed.  "Well, yes.  There is good cause for that."  He released her hand and stood up.  "You see, Serenity . . ."

She followed suit by standing as he went to stand by the window and gaze out at the expansive estate.  "Damien?"

"Your hand has already been given to someone.  If not somewhat informally."

Serenity froze.  "My…hand…?  In marriage?"  Her hand went to her throat, as colour fled from her face.  "Wh-who?" She stammered out.

Damien turned to face her, his violet gaze meeting her azure one.  "Me."

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Review, s'il vous plait!

~*~Jaina Xiran~*~