Disclaimer: all characters belong to the one and only, Cassandra Clare.
Did you enjoy Chapter 1? Feel free to review or pm me!
Until then, here's Chapter 2!!
Enjoy!
Chapter 2
Jace POV
"Come in," I say loudly. Just then, the red-haired girl entered the room. She turned around to close the door and remained standing there.
I noticed that she changed out of her ratty old clothes into her new ones. They were covered in dark colours ranging from black, to scarlet, to dark brown.
I figured out that the clothes had once belonged to Isabelle, since she loves spending her extra time sewing and decorating. I allow her and all my other servants to express who they truly are in their own way, in their own time though. I also saw that she looks cleaner, and that I could notice her fair skin more, instead of dirt smudges.
I laughed on the inside when saw that the long skirt and blouse looked a little too big on her.
The girl twisted her hands in front of her. Thinking that I've been staring and making her feel uncomfortable, I cleared my throats and said,"You may take a seat."
She obeyed and sat down in one of my black leather seats. When I could examine at her face more clearly, I notice wet stains on her face.
"Were you crying?" I asked. She didn't answer. "You don't have to tell me if don't want to," I added quickly.
"Th-thank you," she said, inaudible. After an excruciating awkward silence, I asked her something.
"What do you feel about having a name?" She looked at me as though I had grown another head, her face growing red.
"I-I honestly do not know sir," she replied, trying to look into my eyes but failing.
"Do you have a name in mind?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning on them.
"No sir." she gulped. "But do you have a name in mind?"
"Clarissa." sneaking a glance, I saw Alec's eyes widen. He tilted his head and averted his eyes from me. I let that roll off my back. "Do you like the name?"
"It's a beautiful name sir," she gave a small smile. I don't know if it was allocated to me or her now creased skirt. It's hard to tell with when she's always looking down at the floor.
"Then it's yours," is all I said. She looked up at me, tears welling up in her eyes. Alec opened the door for some fresh air to seep through. I happened to see Isabelle walk by.
"Isabelle!" I called out. She looked towards me. I motioned for her to come into the room. So she gladly came in. She acknowledged her brother, Alec, and came to a stop by my desk.
"How may I help you, Mr Herondale?" she asked politely.
I introduced her to Clarissa. "Please show her to the servants' quarters and help her get settled in." Isabelle nodded. I then turn towards Clarissa.
"Take the rest of the day off. You begin work first thing in the morning." Clarissa nodded and got escorted by Isabelle to her quarters.
"What do you think you're doing?" Alec asked.
"What? I'm sitting in this comfy chair, that's what I'm doing," I snorted.
"What made you give the girl her name?"
"Because she reminds me of her, Alec. She was brave to have survived whoever it was that burdened her."
Alec sighed," I guess you're right."
"But I don't know why she got all weepy and sulkish when I gave her name."
"That's because you have her an identity. She's not a nobody anymore. She's a somebody, a person with a name and a purpose now." Alec beamed. I nodded, understanding him. I went back to work.
A few days later
Clarissa POV
I've been working for Master Herondale for a few days now. I still haven't fitted in yet. Every morning he would greet his slaves good morning, or wish them goodnight. I thought masters and owners abused their slaves, not...what's the word?
Care. Master Herondale cares for his slaves. Even if we do something wrong, he'll just let it roll of his back. Is that illegal or is it just in his nature to behave in such a way? Like a well spirited man, but I wouldn't say kind or warm hearted. I'd say he has more of a...arrogant aura, if that's the right way to put it.
It's early in the morning, at the brink of dusk in the Winter's morning, and I'm setting Master Herondale's bed. His bedroom is enormous! It even smells beautiful. Like roses with a bit a of man colonge. It has become a familiar smell, and a better one of course. My previous master would always smell like alcohol.
As I change the duvet I hear water running in the bathroom. Mr Herondale is in there. And he's having a shower. At my previous workplace, Master would always recommend company in the shower or bathtub. And I was in that scenario manier times. I'd rather not talk about is before nostalgia hits me.
After changing the duvet, I advance onto the pillow cases. The water is still running in the shower. How long does it take to soap up, rinse off and dry off? Then again, Master Herondale is tall after all.
I sigh, knowing I'd be here forever since I also need to do his laundry. And that basket is in his bathroom. But if he takes forever in that shower, I'm sure I'll find something innovative to do.
As I bundle up all the pillow cases, I couldn't help but get the wiff of Master Herondale. It was a man's smell after all, mostly colonge, and drool. But it was a nice smell. Forget it. This man is way out of your league.
I finish setting the bed. Satisfied with myself, I picked up the dirty beddings and proceeded to go out the room. As if on cue, the water stopped and the bathroom door opened. Thinking that I could go and get the laundry, I turned around to see Master standing there in nothing but a towel around his waist. That gave me time to see his wonderful 8 pack, tanned chest, muscles and his tousled hair.
"Like what you see, Clarissa?" Master Herondale chucked and walked towards his cupboards.
I blushed and shied away, "Sorry Master." I said softly. He stopped walking.
"What did you just call me?" he asked, half turning towards me.
"Master. I called you Master." I was still standing in the same spot, in the same position.
"Why did you call me that?" He asked, with a frown on his face.
"Umm...well, you're my new owner, and it's usually a type of habit for a slave to call her owner 'Master', since they're forced to, and since they're also owned." I mumbled, looking Master Herondale in the eye.
"Master? Slave?" he murmured, his eyebrows scrunched up. "Clarissa, do you know the reason I bought you?" he said 'bought' like it was a burden. I shook my head, my arms getting tired of holding his sheets. He seemed to notice my struggle and gave me a closed lip smile.
"Meet me in my office. Bring me my lunch, and we will further resume this discussion. You may resume your work," he nodded curtly, heading towards his closet. I almost forgot that he was...umm...half naked in front of me.
Master Herondale confuses me. And it's barely been a month, only a week. I sigh softly, turning around and headed towards the big Victorian double door.
"Oh, and Clarissa?" Master Herondale called out to me. I turned back to him, seeing him fully dressed in simple cream trousers and a button up shirt, his long blone hair combed neatly. Wow. He dresses up quickly, but can take a long shower.
"Yes, Master?" I asked, really becoming uncomfortable being in the same room as a man.
"Call me Sir or Mr Herondale, not Master." he said.
"But-" I started.
"Uh-uh-uh!" he added quickly. "I only go by Sir or Mr Herondale, not Master. I don't like being called that. Got it?" he said slowly.
"Yes Mast- I mean, Mr Herondale." I bit my bottom lip.
"You may resume back to your work," he ordered. I left.
Time skip- Lunch
Clary POV
"Isabelle! I can't do this. I cannot cost myself breaking a porcelain cup! It's barbaric!" I exclaimed. Isabelle and I have become...friends. I wouldn't say best friends or good friends, no. Just friends. But she's nice and kind to me, and I return the favour. I haven't become friends with any of the other ladies and gentlemen, just Isabelle and her family. They're good people.
"Come on Clary, you can do this. Just follow the pattern; right, left, right, left." she beamed. Clary is Isabelle's nickname for me that she came up with. Only she calls me that. No one yet knows about my nickname, not even Mr Herondale.
I sighed. "Mr Herondale will hate me for this. If I break this beautiful cup, who knows what he'll do to me!" I fought back tears.
"Mr Herondale is a kind-hearted man. Sure, he can be arrogant and a jerk on the outside. But on the inside, he really cares for all of his people. And he wouldn't hurt a soul. Not even you. Take it from a person who's been here for eight years, look at me. I'm healthy Isabelle!" she winked at me.
"You've been since you were fifteen?" Isabelle nodded. She's lucky. I've been a slave since I was in my mom's belly.
"What happens if you do something bad?" I asked.
"You get locked in the dark room, of course." she said, like it was obvious.
"D-dark room?" I shuddered.
"Enough chatting girls. Isabelle, Clarissa has a job to do!" Maryse Lightwood, Isabelle's mom, scolded us. We giggled and exited the kitchen.
(Seconds later)
I was nearing Mr Herondale's office, and to be fair, I was doing pretty well, but I was terrified. Usually Isabelle serves Mr Herondale with his meals.
Right Left Right Left Right Left, I followed Isabelle's instructions, looking down at the tray full of crumpets, coffee and a bowl of fruit and yogurt.
I was getting the hang of it, until I bumped into a hard wall, spilling every content on that tray.
