The Sisters Sinister.


The Mortal Instruments series and all its characters belong solely to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie). Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favourites and follows! Please review!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Happy early New Years!

There is an almost rape scene in this chapter, I've put it in italics so if you don't want to read it then avoid the italics. I hated writing it but it had to be done, I hope it's okay.


Struck Down Before it Began.


Mother visited Clarissa in her bedchambers that night, right before Clarissa went to bed. This room had been Clarissa's since the day she got here, it was the only home she remembered, and to her it was always beautiful. The ceilings were high and decorated with the familiar motifs of cherubs and grapevines and a glorious blue, light clouded sky. The room was lit by a single low hanging, tear-drop crystal chandelier, the crystals reflected haphazard rays of light all across the room, making it look like a small sun had recently exploded. Despite all that, her bedchambers seemed to be perpetually lit in a romantic, soft light, even in full daylight. She supposed that was because of the sheer net that draped her window and because of the huge oak tree right outside her window that barely let any natural sunlight through. Clarissa's room was furnished with an oversized, four-poster oak bed with sheer drapery that she closed around herself every night and a matching oak wardrobe that was far too big for one person, a chest of drawers and two oak bedside table. Her bedroom didn't lead to a powder room like The Sisters' bedchambers did. Clarissa had just slipped into her pale rose coloured night-dress and was just about to blow out the candle on the sill of her window when Mother entered. She didn't knock, but then again, she didn't need to. Mother was always welcome. "Clarissa: my darling child." She cooed from her position at the foot of my bed.

"Mother, how wonderful it is to see you." Clarissa curtseyed low and only straightened up when she felt a tap at the top of her head and then each of her shoulders, right to left and heard Mother say- voice low and queenly-"Rise, dear child."

Clarissa watched Mother curiously as she glided around her bedchambers, moving here and there effortlessly and gracefully as the rays of the Sun upon a glassy ocean. Tonight, Mother wore a jewel blue silk dress that showcased her body well. Mother had a body made to be envied, thin-boned and dancer-like, it was rumoured she tested all of The Potential Males in her bedchambers before they were allowed to court The Sisters. Most of The Sisters hated her for these reasons, not only was she beautiful but she had her choice of The Potentials before they themselves did. Clarissa had never chosen to believe this until late one night she herself caught a Potential leaving her bedchambers without his shirt, wearing a dazed expression.

"No doubt you are wondering why I have graced you with my presence this beautiful eve'?" Mother finally spoke.

Clarissa nodded. "I am here to see you personally before I leave." Mother said in her regal voice.

"Leave?" Clarissa asked.

"I have been called away on urgent business. A neighbouring land senses some danger within their community; they want me to help them overcome rebels. I'll be gone for the next fortnight." Mother sighed and Clarissa looked away from her dark eyes as she took in what Mother was saying. She wouldn't be here for her wedding, which meant...she really could escape her fate. With the absence of Mother's she could find a way to stop her pre-arranged marriage. Mother mistook Clarissa's silence for sadness. "Dearest child; there is nothing to be done about it. It is such a shame really; I wanted your wedding to be so special, too. Of course," She mused, "It couldn't have been as magnificent as one of The Sisters' weddings." Clarissa looked up at that, Mother was studying her, her dark eyes emotion-less. "Because-" She continued, "You are, less...", she thought about her next choice of word carefully until finally, "desirable than The Sisters. You lack the... well, I'm sorry dear but you lack the beauty." She didn't sound sorry at all. This is always how it always was with Mother and I, Clarissa reminded herself: She loves me enough to tell me the truth, no matter how much I didn't want to hear it. She loves me enough not to delude me with false hopes and dreams. Clarissa respected and loved her for it, no matter how much it hurt sometimes. Clarissa smiled at her and nodded her auburn head, "I am not worthy of a wedding as spectacular as The Sisters'. I appreciate all you have done for me, Mother."

Mother tilted her head and the right side of her mouth quirked upwards, making her look more than a little like the evil, murderous females from Clarissa's old fairytale books. "Do you, Clarissa?" She asked; her voice suddenly cold and accusing. The room seemed to grow chillier. Mother was angry, but for what reason Clarissa had no idea. "You see Clarissa, I am not entirely happy with you. There is another, less favourable reason as to why I am visiting you. I assume you remember the young man you danced with the night before this eve'?" Mother asked. She didn't wait for Clarissa's answer, which Clarissa was glad for, because of course Clarissa remembered him. He was all she had been able to think about. "Well, there has been word that you whored yourself out to him. I hope this is not true, Clarissa. Herondale is an important man, very important indeed. He is absolutely not at the disposal of neither you nor The Sisters. Herondale could make me very happy, Clarissa. Don't you want me to be happy?" Mother's voice had risen several octaves and her normally tame hair had become a riot of black inky locks around her thin, pale face.

"I understand Mother, and I assure you, you have nothing to worry about-" Clarissa began, but Mother cut her off with a shriek. "Of course I have nothing to worry about; after all, you are below the standards of a man like Herondale...look at you. Whatever you think Herondale feels for you, whatever happened between you two; was nothing. Nothing but a mistake on his part and mutiny on yours. You will do well to forget him, forget his name, forget he exists." Mother's callous dark eyes glared murderously at Clarissa. "I am warning you Clarissa. Do not tempt Herondale with your vile Hellish charms." And with that simple utterance, a spark was set aflame in Clarissa's heart. Mother left her bedchambers shortly afterwards, leaving Clarissa heartbroken and feeling vengeful. All these years, Clarissa thought, I thought she loved me, but how could she when she too thinks me nothing but a dirty whore? I am not a whore, Miss Isabelle says so and so does Herondale. Herondale, she thought and her heart cracked a little more, How could I have been so unutterably stupid...of course! Of course, of course, of course he is in love with Mother. Of course he feels nothing for me. Of course he had to be the one man to make me feel human. The one man that could make me want to feel, to love was the man I could never have.

I have been treated like a slave for far too long. The sooner I can leave this wretched place the better. Soon, Clarissa thought, I will be nothing but a distant memory, a myth. Clarissa blew out her candle, wiped away her tears and got into her bed, seeking comfort in her down pillows and mattress. She closed her eyes and felt sleep claim her, a thought was just at the back of her mind, she grasped at it but sleep was already over-coming her. The thought slipped away from her, like a retreating ocean wave. Soon, she was fast asleep.


Oh no. No, no, no...help, someone please, help me. I can't breathe. Anyone, please-please...

The back of Clarissa's head hit the wall behind her, but she barely felt the pain. All she could focus on was the fear that burned in her lungs.

Young Master Verlac shoved at her again, his hands groping her roughly, painfully. His dark hair was a mess, his eyes wild and crazed as they roamed over her form, making her shudder with repulsion. Clarissa wanted to be sick, she wanted to stab Verlac and then stab herself.

This could not be happening, Clarissa thought, Please make it stop. She felt the tears fall unbidden, she tried to keep them in, really she did; but it was no use. A choked sob escaped her throat and Verlac closed his left hand tighter around it. "Be quiet, stupid little whore or do I have to hurt you?"

Aren't you already? Clarissa wanted to scream. Verlac used his free hand to pull up the skirt of his tunic, he shoved Clarissa down onto her knees and looked down at her, his black, soulless eyes glinting evilly in the candle light of her bedchambers. "Take me into your mouth, whore. I know you've done it before." He growled out. Done it before? Clarissa wanted to scream at him that she'd never even been this close to a man before, but thought better of it. Verlac gripped the back of her neck and pulled the hair there, Clarissa cried out in pain. He slapped her hard across the cheek with his right hand, "You only open your mouth when I want it on me, understand wench?" He barked out.

Clarissa closed her eyes and tried in vain to pull out of his grip. When she opened them again, Verlac was leaning down so that his face was inches away from hers. His black eyes danced with sick amusement and excitement, his breath came out in harsh pants. "I know you want me; I can see it in your beautiful eyes." He whispered.

Clarissa looked into those black, hideous eyes and reached out towards Verlac's face, he closed his eyes in anticipation and hummed low in his throat, then Clarissa raked her nails across his cheek so hard that he yelled out in pain and shoved her away from him. Clarissa stumbled away from him, towards the door. Verlac caught her from behind and slammed her onto the floor. Clarissa stood back up and slapped him once, twice, but then he was on top of her and she was screaming as he reached down and lifted the hem of her dress. The door swung open and light poured into the room and Clarissa knew Mother and Kaelie had come to save her, just like they had in reality, just like they had in her other flashbacks.


But when she woke up, her room wasn't empty, the door was open and a pair of swirling golden eyes hovered above her. Someone was shaking her frantically. She sat up abruptly and found herself encased in the steady warmth of someone's arms. No, not just someone's, Herondale's. Clarissa waited for her breathing to return to normal before she pulled away from Herondale's embrace. Herondale was sat on her bed, he wore a simple grey tunic and his right hand cupped her cheek. His hair looked messy from sleep and made Clarissa's body tingle from the roots of her hair all the way down to her toes. She could feel the heat from his body; they were close enough that when he breathed in, she could feel the expansion of his chest. Herondale's face looked paler, and a little drawn. His eyes were full of concern, and something else. Something Clarissa didn't recognise. Herondale's left hand came up to cup Clarissa's left cheek. Clarissa couldn't help but admire his beauty; he looked softer in the pale light of the moon.

"Save you from what, Clarissa? What happened?" He asked softly. His voice was a welcome, comforting sound.

Clarissa blushed; of course she had to make a fool of herself in front of Mothers lover. No doubt they would laugh about her afterwards, while they were in bed-Clarissa shook her head free of thoughts of Mother wrapped in Herondale's arms, the same arms that she had felt so protected in, the same arms that had made her feel strong for the first time in her life. "Nothing. Nothing happened and nothing will." Clarissa said, carefully controlling the emotions in her voice. She didn't want Herondale to know how deeply he had hurt her. Clarissa wrapped her small hands around Herondale's strong wrists and pulled his hands away from her face. Slowly, she shuffled away from him, until her back hit the headboard of her oak bed. It struck her suddenly that she should probably be afraid, after all the last time a man had been in her bedchambers uninvited, he had tried to force himself on her, but Clarissa didn't feel any fear clogging up her lungs. No, she felt betrayed and determined. Determined to start afresh in a place where she could finally be more than just a whore, more than just the girl who was too ugly to become a Sister.

Clarissa thought she saw a look of hurt flash within the swirling depths of Herondale's, but she ignored it.

"I heard you screaming for help, Clarissa. What happened? What are they doing to you?" He asked in an urgent voice.

Clarissa didn't answer his question, instead she asked a question of her own, "How did you get in here? James-" She began, but was cut off by Herondale's low, delectable voice. "Your nightguard is lying unconscious outside. Don't worry, I've sent for help for him."

"I think you should leave." Clarissa said in an equally low voice, refusing to look into Herondale's eyes. She would forget him. It would be easy, after all, she had only known him for a few days and whatever she thought she felt for him was clearly a stupid mistake.

Herondale sighed; it was a beautiful sound, a deep, male sound. It was a deceiving sound. It made it sound like he actually cared.

"You want me to leave?" He asked, voice rough.

Clarissa nodded, afraid that if she spoke her voice would betray her.

"Clarissa-" Herondale began.

"Please, please just leave. You've done enough; do you want me to get into more trouble?" She asked quietly. She knew she was being unfair, she had had her own hand in this whole sorry mess, too, but it was easier to be angry at Herondale than it was to admit that Mother had never loved her.

"What do you mean? What trouble?" Herondale asked, sounding concerned. Clarissa almost scoffed, now she was truly deluding herself. "Please. Just go." She said again, this time Herondale obeyed. Clarissa heard him close the door softly behind him. She sighed and finally, her body relaxed again. His nearness had caused her body to erupt in heat and sparks.


What do you think of Mother now? I have so many plans for this story I think I might faint. Please review! Also, do you think I should change the title of this story? If so, please leave some suggestions!

Yours Faithfully,

ClaryFrayMockingjay.

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