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! HAPPY JANUARY! And happy belated birthday to WinxClubLover1999!

I know some of y'all have a helluva lot of questions and I wish I could answer you, but I don't want to ruin anything for you. All I can say is, read carefully my friends. What it seems all is not. Hella Yoda. If any of you are dying- and I mean choking and on your deathbeds and the only thing that can save you is answers- then you can P.M. me and I'll give you answers. Albeit more than a little reluctantly.


A Tragedy of Love and Loss.


Clarissa awoke the next day feeling strangely light-hearted. She lay on her bed and traced the beautiful, familiar patterns on the ceiling with her eyes. Today- Clarissa thought- today Mother is leaving and I finally have the chance I have been waiting for. I can escape. Clarissa hesitated- but- she thought, leaving would mean never seeing Mother or The Sisters again. What would I do after I left? How would I live? And with those thoughts, Clarissa's mood took a sharp blow. Clarissa was determined, though, to find a way. She knew she could do this; she just needed a good, solid plan.

Clarissa pulled on her cotton white morning tunic and gathered her soaps and towels before she made her way to the female servants' quarters. The Head-Cook- Julia- was one of Clarissa's favourite people at The Great Chambers. She nursed Clarissa at infancy and though Clarissa had seen less and less of her as she grew up, she still knew that if there was anyone who she truly, truly loved here, it was Julia. Once when she was five years old, Clarissa called Julia "Mama", a phrase she had learned from one of the children's books she had found at The Omniscient Library. Julian had cried and when Clarissa had asked her what was wrong, Julia had just smiled and patted her red curls affectionately. Clarissa had called her "Mama" on and off for the next year until Mother had found out and slapped her hard across the cheek. "How dare you call the cook 'Mama'? I am the only Mother you will ever have." She'd said angrily, this was one of the few times Mother had ever been truly angry at Clarissa. Julia cried out and put her thick arms around Clarissa to protect her from another blow and Mother struck her instead. Clarissa wailed and wailed as one of Mother's men dragged her from the room. The last thing Clarissa saw before the huge oak doors closed was the most horrible thing she could recall ever seeing, Mother stood tall over a cowering Julia with a mad look in her eyes and a white hot fire poker in her hand, raised high above her head. No one had let Clarissa see Julia for six whole days. On her sixth night away from Julia, Clarissa- sick with guilt and worry- snuck out of her bedchambers and made her way into the servants' quarters. There she found Julia putting away the dough for tomorrow's baked goods, Clarissa ran to her and apologised. When Julia turned to her, Clarissa cried. Julia's right eye had been damaged beyond repair; it was swollen and sealed shut, the skin red and blue and purple. Julia would never open her right eye again. Clarissa was sure Julia would hate her, but Julia wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek. "You mustn't come here anymore, dear. It would be a danger to us both. The only time you can come to these quarters is to bathe and if someone specifically sends you. Okay?" Julia asked softly.

Clarissa nodded, her red curls bouncing, enormous green eyes wide with fear and shining with tears, "Okay, Julia."

"Good girl." Julia replied, sadness curling in her voice.

Clarissa still used the bath at the female servants' quarters but she could never go and see Julia while Mother was home. Today Clarissa would finally speak to Julia again after eight years.


The bathtub was small, but served its purpose well enough. Clarissa bathed and pulled her morning tunic back on before going to see Julia. A long-forgotten feeling bubbled up in Clarissa's chest threatening to choke her, a feeling of happiness and excitement and home. Clarissa always felt at home with Julia. After searching the usual places Clarissa could once be sure to find Julia, she had approached a thin, wiry servant that she vaguely recognised and asked her where Julia was. The servant paled and shook her head mutely. "What is it?" Clarissa asked worriedly.

"Julia-Julie- is..." the servant began. The servant wrung her hands and looked anywhere but Clarissa's eyes. Clarissa placed her hands over the servant's hands, effectively stilling them. "Please," She whispered. "I have to know." Finally the servant met Clarissa's gaze with her own steel-blue one and said, "I'm sorry. Julie passed three years ago."

"'Passed?' As in...gone?" Clarissa's voice was barely above a whisper, but the servant nodded.

Clarissa nodded numbly, everything ached; her heart, her head. She felt sick and angry and sad all at once. "Thank you." She whispered and, to her utter surprise, the servant- whom she didn't even know the name of- hugged her to her chest.

"She loved you," the servant said, wiping tears from Clarissa's face that she hadn't even known had fallen. "...She loved you like you were her family."


Clarissa took her time getting dressed; she chose a jewel green dress that brought out her eyes and complimented,- rather than muted- her auburn hair. Mother had always hated this dress, she had said it made Clarissa look wider and it was unflattering; it was for this reason that Clarissa never wore this dress, similarly, it was for this same reason that Clarissa finally dared going out in public wearing it. Clarissa loved it, the way it hugged the delicate curves of her chest and her narrow waist; she loved the way the skirt swept the floor behind her and the way light sparked off the scattered sequins on the bodice and hem of the skirt. Most of all, Clarissa loved the feel of the dress against her skin, like silken water through her fingers. The grey-blue eyed servant, Nancy, took Clarissa to the female servants' bedchambers- a long room with rows of cots- and pulled out a box from underneath a loose floorboard. The box contained letters that Julia had written for Clarissa. Letters that Clarissa had not yet read. Truth be told, Clarissa was scared; terrified of what these letters may contain. She stuffed the ornate box at the back of her oak wardrobe, behind all of her dresses.

Clarissa piled her hair in an elegant bun on top of her head, revealing her elegant neck. She didn't wear any jewellery apart from the silver diamond anklet that Nancy had given to her on behalf of Julia. The anklet was delicate and fit perfectly around her ankle. The clasp had been inscribed with the initials "J.E.M", Clarissa guessed the 'J' was for Julia, but as for the rest of it, she had no clue.


Clarissa spent the morning in The Royal Garden, picking white flowers for mourning. It was late, three years late, but she wanted to remember Julia's life. She knew the servant's would be too busy, so she would be doing this alone. Clarissa heard soft footfall behind her and then a deep, beautiful voice spoke out; "You look particularly ravishing today, Clarissa." Clarissa could hear the smile in his voice. He walked around her until he was standing right in front of her. "Thank you." Clarissa replied distractedly.

"No blush? What has the world come to?" Herondale asked, sounding genuinely shocked. Of course Clarissa knew why she hadn't blushed. She knew now that Herondale was Mother's. She knew that he was just being friendly. To Clarissa it made sense that she had fallen for him in so short a length of time, she wasn't accustomed to men being anything but hostile and demanding with her until Herondale had come along and made her smile and blush and laugh. Clarissa didn't regret asking him to leave last night, if they had been caught the Mother would have punished them both, no matter how innocent the situation had been. No- Clarissa mentally amended- Mother would have punished me.

"I guess I have grown immune to your charm, Herondale." She teased, though her mind was still on Julia. Though some part of her heart ached, Clarissa was glad for Herondale, he had never showed any special interest in her, after all; he was always being friendly. Right now, Clarissa wanted friends more than anything.

"Is there something the matter, Clarissa? What is the use of all these flowers?" Herondale asked.

"I am mourning." Clarissa replied with a small smile.

"Mourning?" Herondale asked.

"Yes, mourning. The death of someone I loved. An old friend." Clarissa replied, eyes trained on the flowers in her hands. Herondale remained silent for some time and Clarissa was hyper-aware of his gaze on her face and his nearness. Finally, he sighed a decisive sigh and asked, "Would you walk with me Clarissa?"

Clarissa looked at Herondale properly for the first time since he'd found her, he wore a black tunic with steel-silver arm bands and black sandals. His hair had grown a little longer since the first time she had seen him, insignificantly so. Clarissa scorned herself for noticing. The stubble scattered charmingly across his jaw was also new. His eyes were still a beautiful swirling golden colour, though. Clarissa considered him a moment before nodding her head yes.

He started off in the direction of The Whispering Lake and Clarissa followed. When she finally caught up with him he was whistling a familiar tune. He stopped whistling and glanced at her and then away, "You should know, your hair looks nice like that. It shows off your neck. You have a beautiful neck." He said, not looking at her.

Clarissa mumbled an embarrassed 'Thank you' and they fell into a steady silence.


The somewhat unlikely pair walked along the edge of The Whispering Lake, "This person you're mourning. Were they a good person?" Herondale asked Clarissa as her laughter died down. They had been sharing jokes. Clarissa's smile faltered, then changed into a sad, loving quirk of her lips. Herondale watched intently as she took her bottom lip between her pearly teeth.

"Yes, they were. One of the best." Clarissa replied shyly.

"Will you tell me about them?" Herondale asked.

Clarissa thought for a while before telling Herondale how wonderful and loving Julia had been. She told stories of her childhood, of Julia's magnificent cooking, of her uncanny ability to tell the most imaginative tales. She even told Herondale about the box Nancy had given her, and of the diamond anklet. When Clarissa leaned down to lift a little of her skirt to show him, Herondale gulped and clenched his jaw and fists, as if he were stopping himself from doing something with great force, Clarissa didn't know what was wrong with him, but when she put a hand on his arm to ask if he was okay he smiled awkwardly and shrugged her off. Clarissa avoided any mention of Mother. When she was finished, the Sun was at its highest point in the sky. It was midday, she had spent the whole morning and more with Herondale. Clarissa discreetly wiped away her tears and turned to Herondale, "We should get back. The Sisters will scream bloody murder when they find out I've been hogging you all to myself." Clarissa joked. Herondale reached forward and wiped Clarissa's face with his thumb, catching the tears she had tried to hide. His face looked open and vulnerable. "I am not here for The Sisters, Clarissa." He said softly. Clarissa looked out at The Whispering Lake and nodded, "I know." and Mother's face flared up in her mind, disturbing the peace. Clarissa pulled Herondale's hand away from her face and smiled, "Walk me back?" She asked. He blinked, as if pulling himself out of a daze, and nodded. "But first, I think I know what to do with those flowers." He smiled encouragingly.

"Really? Do share." Clarissa replied.

Herondale took a handful of flowers from Clarissa and blew them out towards The Whispering Lake.

"A soul as beautiful as your friends should be remembered in a place beautiful enough for a Queen." He said voice dizzyingly low and affectionate. Clarissa bit back more tears and mirrored Herondale's actions, her heart was growing wings within her chest, and she knew exactly where those wings wanted to go. She looked at Herondale and marvelled at how much he had helped her today. With a small smile in her direction, Herondale offered out his arm for Clarissa to take.


Thoughts? Too sappy?

Yours Faithfully,

ClaryFrayMockingjay.

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