The Sisters Sinister.
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Here is another chapter for my beautiful followers.
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I hope you're not too disappointed with this oneā¦
The Mortal Instruments and all its characters belong to Cassandra Clare (Sassy Cassie)
Islandgirl4ever: Thank you so much! I had a great birthday :) I'm glad you're enjoying my story so far. XO
Headfirst Into Shared Uncertainty.
Clarissa looked down at her white gown and sighed. This was it for her, she was leaving The Sisters and Mother for the first time in her life and she doubted she'd ever come back. She wished Miss Isabelle were with her, but she knew by the time Miss Isabelle found out about her early leave she'd be as far from here and Verlac as she could get.
Verlac. Just the name itself made her shudder and shake with hatred and fear. Her heart thrashed fearfully in her chest as she thought of what would happen if she was in Young Master Verlac's grasp.
Clarissa was interrupted from her musings by a light knocking at her door; she called out a soft "Come in" and waited. Kaelie shuffled in, a sorrowful look on her face. "The carriage is ready for you."
Clarissa nodded, even though she knew she would die before she got on that carriage. "Take my trunks." Clarissa said, gesturing to her chest of clothes and belongings with a simple jerk of her chin. Kaelie nodded and called for the help of her fellow maidservants.
The three of the maidservants carried her things away, to the carriage, Clarissa presumed.
Once again, only Clarissa remained in her bedchambers. There is no way- Clarissa thought- that I am going to let anyone send me to Verlac. There is nothing left to do, I must escape. I have to run away. Clarissa spared no last glance for the room that had been hers through both childhood and adulthood as she crossed the threshold into the candle-lit corridor.
Clarissa didn't know where she would go if she escaped or what she would do, all she knew was that she couldn't stay here and await her fate. She knew enough of escape plans from her books to travel light, which is why she'd let Kaelie take her things. All that remained was the letters and the piece of jewellery that Julia had left for her which Clarissa tucked into the folds of her skirt.
The servant's quarters had its own door that opened out into The Royal Gardens, Clarissa had spent enough of her childhood with Julia to know this. This was where Clarissa was headed now; she crept around in the darkness, praying she wouldn't be caught. When she finally reached the servant's quarters she wasted no time in finding the back door. Her hand trembled as she reached out to turn the scuffed brass doorknob.
Suddenly Clarissa felt a strong, warm hand on her forearm. She sucked in a deep, fearful breath and closed her eyes, her grip on the brass doorknob going lax. The hand trailed a path up down her arm and stopped atop her shoulder. With some force, Clarissa was pulled into the chest of her captor. Her captor's free hand flattened itself against her stomach and slid across it until it was gripping her hip. Clarissa sensed the person behind her dip their head, warm breath fanned across her neck.
"You gave me a little scare when I couldn't find you at your bedchambers, Clarissa. But did you really think no one would find you?" A deep, familiar voice spoke at her ear. Clarissa's eyes sprung open wide and she finally found the strength to try and pull away, however, the arms around her were vise-like in their grip.
"What are you doing here, Herondale?" Clarissa asked quietly.
"I'm here to take you away." Herondale answered; his rich, velvety tone nearly eliciting a shiver from her.
"Of all people, you were the last I'd ever suspect to betray me. To betray my trust." Clarissa said, voice laced with disappointment, hurt and anger. "Tell me," Clarissa continued- "Were you always going to help Mother force me to marry? Or did she convince you to do so after you arrived and made nice with me?"
Finally, Herondale loosened his grip on her. Clarissa turned slowly, not wanting to see the hatred and maliciousness in Herondale's eyes that she had already seen in the eyes of so many others. When Clarissa finally met Herondale's eyes, she didn't see what she was expecting to see. Herondale stood so close that their chests were almost flush, his swirling gold eyes held a question.
"What are you talking about?" Herondale asked.
"Don't act stupid. I know why you're here. How long have you been planning against me? How long have you allied yourself with Mother while I thought you were a good, honest person?" Clarissa asked angrily.
"Clarissa I have no intention of ever letting you marry that boy. Believe me." Herondale's eyes glittered fiercely in the dimness. Clarissa held his glare, until the sound of a door opening nearby pulled her out of her anger.
Herondale reached behind her to open the back door and he pushed himself and Clarissa out of it, into The Royal Gardens.
"What are you doing?" Clarissa hissed under her breath as Herondale tugged her through the gardens. Clarissa dug her heels into the ground and stood still, refusing to follow him. Herondale sighed irritably and turned around to face Clarissa. His gaze swept over her almost hungrily, making Clarissa take a step back, instinctively putting space between them. One side of Herondale's mouth crooked upwards and he took a step forward, reaching out and pulling her back towards him as he did so. His gaze warmed her skin and left her feeling strung out.
"What?" Clarissa demanded.
"You look magnificent in that dress." Herondale replied, still smirking.
"Where are you taking me Herondale?" Clarissa ignored his praise outwardly but inside she had melted like butter.
Herondale ignored her and took another step forward. He fingered a strand of her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. Clarissa swatted his hand away and demanded to be told what was going on.
"I'm helping you Clarissa. Can't you just trust me on this? I cannot stand by and let that witch destroy you and your future."
Clarissa opened her mouth to defend Mother out of habit, but closed it again when she realised that she was no longer a prisoner of Mother's lies. Suddenly, a tumult of cries sounded from inside the building behind them. Herondale tugged at Clarissa's arm sharply.
"They know you've escaped. We must hurry, Clarissa." Clarissa wasn't entirely sure if following Herondale was a good idea, but she didn't have any better ideas, so she let him lead her away.
Herondale led Clarissa through The Royal Gardens as though he had a map of the grounds memorised. He knew exactly where to tread carefully and where to avoid. Finally, they found their way to Herondale's horse. Herondale helped Clarissa onto the horse and then jumped on behind her with a grunt. His arms and legs formed a cage around her and he sat so close that his chest was flush with her back. Clarissa thought she might well have been sitting in his lap, and with that thought a blush stained her cheeks. Herondale guided the horse with great skill, his handle on the reigns easy and relaxed.
They rode away from the only place Clarissa could consider a home and into the uncertainty of the night. Clarissa looked on everything with fascination. This was the first time she'd ever been this far from home. A sense of sadness and regret mingled with elation and fear kept her silent and withdrawn from Herondale. Clarissa tried to stay upright and away from Herondale but over time, her exhaustion proved to trying to ignore and she reluctantly leaned back into Herondale's solid, warm chest. Herondale said nothing, instead he leaned forward and rested his chin atop the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. They rode through two sunsets, stopping only briefly at lakes to wash up a little and to feed the horse and themselves. Thankfully Herondale had had the foresight to pack crackers, broth and fruit.
"We'll stop here for rest." Herondale said, breaking the silence. The dusty blue sky bled into the autumn orange of the sun, dark clouds hovered overhead ominously and the ghost-pale moon was already visible. The silence resumed, broken only by the sound of birds and the rustling of leaves. Herondale helped Clarissa off the steed and made himself busy with the saddle bag, Clarissa took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. They were in the clearing of a dense forest, trees of all heights and widths surrounding them, caging them in. Now that they were no longer riding, Clarissa could faintly pick up the sound of running water.
Clarissa watched with unconcealed curiosity and fascination as Herondale began pitching a large cloth tent. "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, not wanting to sit back while he did all the work.
Herondale paused momentarily and regarded her silently, "I suppose you can collect some dry branches and twigs. If it's not too much to ask." Clarissa nodded and set about collecting the largest fallen branches she could find. She took her time with her job, losing herself in her thoughts. She hadn't walked this much since they'd run away and she relished in the feeling of using her legs. By the time Clarissa made her way back to the clearing, night had settled and Herodale had finished with the tent. Clarissa spotted him pacing restlessly at the edge of the forest growth. He looked up and relief filled his face when he saw her, he rushed towards her, a scowl marring his manly features.
"Where have you been, Clarissa? You have had me sick with concern." He grabbed the fire-wood from her arms and set them at their feet.
"I lost track of time, I didn't wander too far, you needn't worry about me." Clarissa replied, a frown pinching at her forehead.
Herondale ran an agitated hand over his face and growled, "Don't leave my side again."
The fire was lit with barely any effort on Herondale's part; it was almost as if he willed the branches to burst aflame. Herondale cut and skinned two hare's that he'd caught while he'd been waiting for Clarissa and Clarissa cooked them over the fire. Once they had eaten, Clarissa took the only remaining bar of lavender soap and washed off at the lake that Herondale had directed her to. They only had one drying tunic between them so they were forced to wash off one after the other, not- Clarissa mused- that I would ever wash off at the same time as Herondale. Just the thought alone made Clarissa want to hide behind her own hair. Clarissa washed off in the frigid water as quickly as she could, taking care to rid her hair and body of dirt without using up the bar of soap. After drying herself off, Clarissa pulled her undergarments and gown back on and made her way back to their make-shift campsite to allow the heat of the fire to dry her damp hair.
Clarissa handed the drying tunic and the bar of soap to Herondale wordlessly, not a single word passing between them as he left to wash off.
The heat of the fire and the exhaustion of their trip were beginning to lull Clarissa into a deep sleep when Herondale finally emerged from the trees, drying tunic in one hand and bar of soap carefully wrapped in leaves in the other. His usually soft, golden curls were damp and darkened with water. Clarissa stifled a gasp of shock as it dawned on her that his chest was bare. Small droplets of water formed tantalizing rivulets down his defined, broad chest. He had the chest of a warrior, all sharp lines and tight muscles. His inked arms were also on display, and Clarissa didn't know which part of him she liked best. The gold arm bands coiled around his upper arms, gripping his muscles.
Herondale sat beside Clarissa looked down at her, the light of the fire creating s mesmerising tale of shadows and lights on his cheekbones. Clarissa had to consciously stop herself from looking at his full lips. Herondale reached up and toyed with the drying, curling ends of her auburn her, "You must get some rest. We will set out again tomorrow." His voice was indulgently low and Clarissa nearly had to clamp her eyes shut. His gentle hand came to rest beneath her jaw line "You sleep in the tent. I've got rugs and animal skin for me out here." Clarissa was about to protest but Herondale silenced her with a look of determination. She nodded and Herondale's features relaxed, "Good girl." He murmured.
Herondale had laid out a thick animal skin rug for her to lay on and two others for her to cover herself with. Clarissa peeled off her gown and settled in, the only light available to her emanating from an oil fuelled lamp.
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Yours Faithfully,
ClaryFrayMockingjay.
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