The Sisters Sinister.
Here is another chapter for my beautiful followers.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, favourite and read the first two chapters, I hope you enjoy this one!
The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie).
Not-so-interesting-fact: I write every chapter in this story the day I publish it and in "Garamound" font, because it inspires me and gets me in the mood to write.
What is your favourite font?
Dressed in Finery and Gold.
The deafening noise finally lowered to silence, and Mother came fully into view. She stood upon the stage at the back of the room, looking down fondly at all her guests. "Welcome, to yet another Courting Session. May The Goddess bless us with prosperous alliances and grant us lifelong matrimony." She greeted, her voice travelling powerfully through the room, loud and clear as crystal. Mother was a beautiful woman; her hair reached her ankles, straight, thick and black as a raven's wing. Her skin was a soft and creamy white, devoid of any warmth or colour, like a white rose in the Winter-time's very first fells of snow. Mother was a slight woman, thin boned and, to Clarissa, she strangely resembled a stick. Clarissa thought Mother always looked beautiful, but today she looked particularly magnificent, she wore a long crimson dress that contrasted beautifully with her white skin, like spilled blood upon chalk. As usual, she wore no shoes upon her feet. Upon her head she wore a majestic crown of blood rubies and wrought iron feathers and her thin lips were stained a deep blue-red that made her narrow eyes glitter like a clear Winter-night sky. Mother's hair was let loose, and it swayed around her head and body like a cocoon of black silk. A collective "Lifelong matrimony" was murmured by everyone in the room and Mother's voice rang out again, sharp as an arrow, "Today is a special day. As I am sure many of you already know, today we are to celebrate a new marriage. Let us pray that this alliance lasts forevermore and brings joy to the couple's hearts. I welcome the happy couple to the stage." Mother smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, it never did, not since the untimely death of her beloved. Suddenly, Clarissa was being moved forward by gentle hands. Clarissa looked to her left and caught a glimpse of Miss Isabelle's lovely face before Kaelie tugged her away. Clarissa kept her eyes trained on the black and white tiles on the floor, "I am glad for you," She heard Kaelie say softly.
"Oh? And why might that be?" Clarissa asked voice soft as moth-wings.
"You are finally rid of The Sisters. They did awful things to you and I am sorry that I couldn't do anything to stop them I wish you hadn't come here, maybe then your life wouldn't have been so difficult." Kaelie replied quietly. Clarissa turned to the girl next to her in shock, trying to see if there was anything in her face that would hint at her true feelings, but Kaelie's stoic pale blue eyes were as sincere as sincere could be.
"Thank you, though there is no need for you to be sorry for things outside of your control." Clarissa said.
"You didn't deserve any of this. The Sisters were just afraid of your beauty," Kaelie whispered hurriedly, "We are at the steps, you must join Mother. But remember, you can change it all. You are more powerful than you think." And with that, Kaelie turned away and joined the rest of the crowd, her grey skirts swirling like mist behind her, her blonde head disappearing in the masses of faces.
Clarissa ascended the decadent stairs to the stage in a daze, thinking about Kaelie's words, her determined yet hopeful expression. A strange sense of pride came over her, but what could she have done to invoke such faith from the Handmaiden? The beautifully carved cherry-wood banister felt smooth and cool beneath her fingers, and the higher she rose, the more she found she needed to hold on to those very banisters. All too soon she was at Mothers side, looking down upon The Potentials and The Sisterhood, smiling warmly at them, though they did nothing of the sort back. Mother brought her thin arms around Clarissa in an embrace, and Clarissa welcomed the smell of roses that enveloped her. "Clarissa," Mother whispered for only her to hear, "I wish you the best of luck, and remember, though you'll be far from home, you'll always be in the hearts of every single one of us." Clarissa doubted this very much, but nodded into Mothers shoulder anyway.
Clarissa pulled away and watched as Mr Lockwood ascended the stairs right after her. Mr Lockwood was a man of seventeen; he had a scratchy growth of stubble and a head of thick silvery-black hair. Clarissa thought it a bit odd that he should already have silver hair. Mr Lockwood had cunning grey eyes and a pointed chin, he looked a little like the tricksters from her fairytales. Mr Lockwood smiled at Clarissa, baring white teeth, and bowed deeply. Clarissa curtseyed and Mother just touched the top of his head, signalling that it was alright for him to stand now. Mr Lockwood wore a long grey tunic with silver breastplates and a silver ring around his head and matching silver bands at the tops of his arms.
"And now, let the couple-to-be have their first dance." Mother smiled encouragingly and moved to allow Mr Lockwood to take Clarissa's hand. His hand was warm and a lot bigger than Clarissa's, his fingers stubby and tufts of hair sprouted out from his knuckles. Mr Lockwood led Clarissa down the steps and to the centre of The Hall of Chance. He kept Clarissa at a comfortable distance from himself when they danced, his hands on her slender hips and hers on his narrow shoulders. They twirled and stepped in time with the cheerful tune that the Royal Musicians played, Clarissa's hair spun out behind her like a burning phoenix come from the embers. Mr Lockwood seemed friendly enough, but Clarissa somehow doubted that friendliness would make for a good marriage, not that that was the worst of her problems. She repressed a shudder as the image of Young Master Verlac invaded her mind again.
A terribly beautiful voice cut through her thoughts, "Clarissa, come find me." Was all it said. Clarissa found that once The Voice silenced, she could no longer remember how it had sounded, or what it had said exactly. She only knew that she was dancing with the wrong person. She had to find the right person. Yes that was right, the right person.
Once the song had ended, Clarissa and Mr Lockwood parted on polite terms. Clarissa walked through the crowd of dancing and twirling people, looking for someone, she wasn't sure who. She felt a strong hand clamp down on her shoulder and she spun around. There was the man she had seen from the window. He was even more beautiful up close; he was taller than her, her forehead barely reaching the top of his broad, well muscled shoulders. He had a head of spun-gold hair that curled at the ends and high cheekbones complimented by a high forehead. His eyes were endless pools of caramel-gold ringed with thick lashes that any sane woman would be envious of and his skin was a beautiful shade of brown-gold that Clarissa had never seen before. His lips were full and Clarissa found herself wondering if they were as velvet soft as they looked. He wore a long white tunic that complimented his skin tone with gold breastplates, a gold belt and gold bands around his wrists and the tops of his muscular arms. In the lobe of his right ear was a dagger-shaped piece of gold. The strange man bowed deeply and Clarissa curtseyed as gracefully as she could.
"Clarissa, 'tis a great honour." He said. His voice was deep, Clarissa noted, and intriguingly beautiful. Clarissa thought that perhaps she recognised it, but from where she did not know.
"I was hoping I'd get a chance to speak with you." Clarissa replied. "It is nice to meet you."
"And I you, Clarissa." Clarissa loved the sound of her name on his lips, she loved the way his tongue held to the 's' sound slightly, as if he didn't want to let go of her name, as if he wanted to say it forever. The man had an air of confidence around him, she could see it in the way he had bowed, she could see it in the way he spoke, and she could see it in his lazy half-smile.
"Would you like to dance?" The man asked her. Clarissa's heart jumped a little.
"Of course, Mr..." She trailed off, realising he hadn't told her his name.
"Herondale. Call me Herondale." He said laconically.
Clarissa nodded and tested the name on her lips, "Herondale. An unusual name, I must admit, but still very pretty."
The man, Herondale, smiled a genuine smile then. "I'm glad you like it." He said. Clarissa wondered why it should be so important that she should like his name, but said nothing on the matter. The music started up again, though this time it was slower, deeper, and each note seemed to linger before blowing into nothingness, like a whisper in a storm. Herondale pulled Clarissa against his body; he was all hard muscle to her soft curves, she could feel his body heat as it migled with her own. He smelled of the outdoors and of something rich and dark and intrguing. He placed his large hands on her hips, his long, slender fingers meeting on the small of her back. Clarissa wrapped her small hands around his broad shoulders. Clarissa could feel his heart beating against her chest as they spun and danced to the beautiful music. She noticed, for the first time, the black markings in Herondale's lean, muscular arms. She let one of her fingers trail along the markings, following the lines and curlicues and she felt Herondale suck in a breath. Startled, she looked up and saw him looking down at her with an indecipherable look in his gaze.
"You truly are a thing of divine beauty." He said, though Clarissa wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. She felt her face flush, and Herondale smirked in response.
"Your blush is very intriguing, Clarissa." He said, and somehow his voice had changed, become lower and different altogether, almost like there was a whispered secret within his words.
Clarissa averted her eyes, not knowing how to reply, but Herondale placed an elegant finger beneath her chin and turned her gaze upwards, back to his. He let his hand drift into her hair, and he picked at the flowers in her locks.
"You shouldn't hide your eyes, Clarissa. They're too beautiful to hide."
"You shouldn't say such things to a married woman, Herondale." Clarissa replied.
"You are not yet tied by marriage, Clarissa. A lot of things could happen in the time between now and your wedding." Herondale replied, with a smile like sin.
Clarissa didn't know if that was a threat or a promise or nothing at all, all she did know is that it made her stomach jump and her heart race. She felt herself flush again, and this time, Herondale was the one to avert his eyes. She watched his throat as he swallowed whatever he had been about to say.
"I may not be tied by marriage yet, but that doesn't mean I am not tied by responsibilities and-"
Herondale cut her off, "Expectations?" He asked.
"That's not what I was going to say." Clarissa replied.
"It's what you were thinking, though. It's what everyone is thinking. Why would someone of your beauty and intelligence agree to wed a stable boy? I'm sure there are better offers, someone older perhaps? Someone with more of a direction in life?"
"Someone older?" Clarissa echoed, "Why is age important?"
"How old is your fiancé? Seventeen? You need a man, Clarissa, not a boy." Herondale pulled her closer towards him, though neither Clarissa nor Herondale seemed to notice.
"And how old are you?" Clarissa asked.
"Two and twenty."
"So, not a man then?"
Herondale looked martyred, "Of course I am a man."
Clarissa smiled inwardly but stayed quiet.
"What if I want a boy and not a man?" Clarissa asked finally.
"Then fine, but you don't. So why did you agree to the alliance, Clarissa?" Herondale asked.
Clarissa thought about it and saw that he was right. She did it because it was expected of her. She did it because it was what Mother wanted. Herondale watched her silently, waiting for her to say something.
"I must take my leave now." Clarissa said, and then she turned on her heel and left in a flurry of autumn leaves, snow and skirts.
Penny for your thoughts? I'd love to know your thoughts!
Yours Faithfully,
ClaryFrayMockingjay.
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