The Sisters Sinister.


READERS! I don't even know what to say! I seriously cannot apologise enough for ghosting you guys, but I promise I love you all, despite being absent for God knows how long. When did I last update this story? I just checked after I typed that, the answer is 2015! I feel like so much yet so little has happened since then. I bet you have all forgotten about little old me, with my dream to write but my failure to deliver. I bet you've all moved on with your lives, fallen in love and fallen out of love. I suspect you've met new people you never imagined would be in your life and have lost people you thought you'd know forever. If anyone from the beginning is still reading with me, please message or just review, I'd love to hear what you're all up to! I'm in Uni studying English Literature (shocking) and I've met some amazing people! I hope I'll be able to upload more chapters in the coming months, much love! Ps, I didn't have time to proof read, apologies in advance for any mistakes x


Riders of the Mist.


"An attack? Who would attack us?" Clarissa fought the urge to squirm as Herondale's hand slid slowly across her body, making its way from below her breast to her taught stomach. He urged the horse to go faster and the landscape started to change. The green valleys to Clarissa's left gave way to an enormous forest of towering trees. How many forests had they passed? At least three, not counting the one they had made camp in. "Why am I here, Herondale?" Clarissa wanted to ask, but for some reason, she couldn't bring her mouth to form the words. Perhaps she was scared of the answer, but perhaps- Clarissa looked down at where Herondale's hand rested on her lower stomach- perhaps she did not want him to think she wished to be elsewhere.

"Clarissa, you have lived with the Sisterhood your entire life, yes?" Herondale's deep voice rumbled from his ribs, through her chest.

"Yes." Clarissa responded immediately.

"There is a lot more to this world than you think. You have lived with the facade of aristocracy all your life, but the world is filled with far more sinister people than your Mother and the Sisters. Where I am from, battle is our fortune. We measure a mans worth by his wounds or his wit and talent while in battle. There are a lot of scorned men who would wish to see me dead, men whom lost their women, dignity and fortune to me. Now to make things even more complicated, I have you."

"Me? What have I to do with your child's play?" Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest. Of course, she thought, a man who wins women. Wonderful. She felt her stomach hollow out a little as she imagined Herondale with scores of beautiful women, all of them far more splendid and experienced than she.

"Child's play? Being a warrior is an art, there is more to the battlefield than meets the eye. You grew up surrounded by pansy Potentials- until you met me, you had never met a man in your life. Men do not attack women, force themselves on women, or abuse women, real men are protectors."

"Is that why you practically abducted me? To 'protect me'" Clarissa rolled her eyes.

"That is part of the reason."

"You're wrong. The Potentials may have been awful but they were still men."

"Really, Clarissa? Let me ask you something-" Herondale let his hand drift from Clarissa's stomach to the top of her thigh, and with agonising slowness, inched towards the flesh of her inner thighs. "-has any Potential ever made you feel like you're burning? Burning from the inside out, with no respite?" Herondale's voice had lowered to an almost whisper, right by her ear. Clarissa wanted to say no, no man but he had made her feel such a way. But instead she placed her hand on his so as to still them, and said: "That sounds extremely unpleasant, I should hope I never feel like that."

"They are not men, Clarissa, they are hollow souls. I am just glad I found you when I did." Herondale's voice had become harder, angry somehow, and Clarissa wondered what she had said to vex him.

"You still haven't told me what part I play in all this." Clarissa replied coolly. She didn't want to think about the potentials, or what could have happened to her.

"You, my sweet Clarissa, are the damsel in distress" Herondale said, and although he didn't outright chuckle, Clarissa sensed a hint of amusement in the decadent timbre of his voice.

Clarissa sat in silence after that, musing over what Herondale had said while they gradually sped up the pace. Herondale began to coil up behind her, getting so tense Clarissa was worried he'd spontaneously explode. His words kept playing in her mind, "Damsel in distress", was she really so helpless? She'd grown up with another and the Sisters and for some reason, there was a twisted sort of love in her heart. She had never tried to fight back against the Sisters or fight for the servants. She had never tried to escape on her own and had been so malleable to Mother's iron will that she almost married a man she did not know, knowing it would result in a terrible fate. All of a sudden, Herondale brought the stallion to a sharp halt. The horse gave a neigh of surprise as Herondale tugged harshly at the reigns.

"Stay on the horse." Herondale said grimly, as he jumped off and stretched his arms.

"Why have we stopped?" Clarissa demanded, but quietened as she saw a horseman riding towards them. The horseman suddenly veered to the left and revealed another horseman behind him. Suddenly, Herondale relaxed. "Vallach." He muttered, so quietly that Clarissa has to strain her ears to hear. Herondale stayed stationed next to Clarissa, his face relaxing into the distinct expression of recognition with a subtle hint of something else, something like anger, or determination. "Sebastian sent you, I assume." The two unidentified horsemen also slowed until they were moving at a lazy canter, still prowling gracefully towards them. Clarissa leaned forward in an attempt to see better, but Herondale's solid arm whipped out in front of her, faster than a bolt of lightning, crashing into her sternum, just below her chest. Clarissa shot him a wary glance, she wished she knew what he was thinking as these two horsemen made their slow descent towards them. The figures were steadily becoming clearer; they seemed to materialise from the centre of their bodies first, the edges still a murky blend of sky and body. They both wore no armour save for their knee guards and the wrought iron headbands placed gingerly on the bigger, bulkier ones temples. As they got cloer, they seemed to gather solidity from the very air around them, becoming two separate entities as they rode apart, parallel to one another and then combining to create one endlessly dark mass as the smaller, slinkier rider slipped behind it's superior counterpart. Herondale watched Clarissa as she made her observations, she could not dare rip her inquisitive gaze from the figures, but she could feel Herondale's glare on her, as if he was screaming "WHY MUST YOU STARE?" right into the barrel of her ears. Suddenly, Clarissa noticed the swell of the smaller rider's chest, the way their waist curved softly inwards and the roundness of their hips. A woman! Clarissa instantly recoiled in fear, how had The Sisters already found her? What would her punishment be? She looked wildly at Herondale just as his broad hand disappeared from before her and reappeared at the small of her back, burying itself in her copper lengths of hair. Without a word, he tugged her off the horse so she could stand beside him. "Herondale!" she said leadingly as she stood, melting into his side. "Herondale, they've found me-"

"Hush. Say nothing, just look down at the ground and stay with me no matter what."

The riders pulled their steeds to a halt a meter away from Clarissa and her unlikely, possibly untrustworthy hero. The female jumped off first, and made a beeline straight for… Herondale?

"Celine" Herondale gruffed, as she slunk around him and then, finally ran a hand down his chest, not even paying Clarissa the slightest glance.


Please review, let me know what you think and if I should just give up on this story!

Yours Faithfully,

ClaryFrayMockingjay

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