I blame the following on essentially binge-watching The Musketeers with my mom, as well as my insatiable desire for Peter Capaldi and Sam Anderson period in period dress.
Written with historical context in mind but not necessarily adhered to because I'm lazy reasons. No spoilers.
Oh, and this thing is hella long for my recent output (8181 words). Also posted on my writing tumblr.
"So, what is your relationship to the Doctor?"
Clara looked at the other woman and tried to conceal her fear; it had been two weeks since they had crash-landed in seventeenth-century France and after dodging questions the entire time, the lady whom she was working for had finally come out and asked it.
"I am his ward, nothing more, milady," Clara smiled. She glanced up into the mirror and caught the disapproving look on the countess's face. Quickly, she looked back down at corset laces and continued to tie them.
"If you are his ward, then why, pray tell, does he make you work so hard? Shouldn't he take care of you?"
"The Doctor is already older, milady, and he will not be around forever," Clara said, trying not to sound too mechanical and practiced. "I find good employment wherever we go, so that my dignity will not be lost with him."
"I still think a respectable marriage would do you well but I guess we already had that discussion, didn't we?"
"We did, milady," Clara nodded. She finished tying the corset and stepped back to observe her work. Now, she thought, it was a very good thing she had helped the students in drama club the previous term with their production of Les Miserables; a hundred and fifty or so years off, but corset technology was still relatively similar (the students running the club were trying for some form of authenticity). She helped the countess into her dress without further questioning.
"Thank you, Clara, you may take your leave now," the countess smiled once her outfit was complete. "I will not have need for you tomorrow, so you may take the day off to prepare for the costume ball."
"You are most generous, milady," Clara said with a bow. She excused herself from the room and slipped out of mansion without another word.
Paris: an interesting collection of old things Clara recognized, new things she recognized as being old, and things in places of what should have already been old and worn and possibly even bullet-ridden but was so new that the architects had not yet been born. She had been to Paris a couple times as a tourist. Lots of people were tourists in Paris. In fact, she had asked if they could go to Paris as tourists. It was just that the TARDIS was being, well, the TARDIS again and hit a few hundred years off the mark.
They had crash-landed on the grounds of the royal palace and, if Clara was really honest with herself, had only gotten out of there alive thanks to some quick thinking on the Doctor's part and help from the psychic paper. Now she was known to her employer as Clara Oswald de Gallifrey, ward of Doctor Jean Lefebvre, duc de Gallifrey—an eccentric nobleman with a mind for the sciences and a wit that charmed the Queen Regent into allowing them to stay alive… provided they entertain her at court at certain times.
Why on Earth she put up with being thrown into noble courts as his ward, she had yet to understand.
After shopping around for some vegetables and bread, Clara went back to the small home they were renting close to the palace. It used to be someone's lavish city apartments, but now it was mostly empty and bare. The ability to rent it had been a gift from the Queen Regent, though a gift would have been more to furnish it; there had been some leftover pots and pans in the kitchen, and some errant pieces of furniture, but most of the bits that would have been useful had been taken.
"Afternoon, Doctor," Clara sighed as she walked into the kitchen. It was in the back of the house, and possessed the most natural light for the longest. The Doctor was sitting at the table, a large array of magnifying glasses fixed up on stands against one another as he carefully worked on something Clara recognized as one of the pieces he had pulled from the TARDIS earlier in the week.
"How was the Countess d'Charlevoix or whatever her name is?" the Doctor asked as he carefully tuned the device underneath the magnifying glasses. Clara sighed and put the basket on the table.
"She asked me my relationship to you today," she said. "I had to say I was your ward."
The Doctor lifted an eyebrow, though did not look up from his work. "Ward…? That's a funny way of putting it."
"We need to get out of here, Doctor," Clara frowned. "I don't know how long we can keep this up."
"Long enough, my dear, and then we can be back home with things like central heating and proper stovetops and paved streets and hot showers and a Sainsbury's just down the road."
"We better."
Clara began washing vegetables in the sink (the water quality being just above acceptable since none of them had gotten sick yet), killing time until Danny, beaten and caked in dust and sweat, trudged into the house. He slapped a package wrapped in brown paper on the table and sank down into one of the free chairs, groaning in discomfort.
"I want to kill them," he grumbled, eyes closed.
"Kill who?" Clara asked.
"Those men called Musketeers." Danny unstrapped his weapons belt and let it fall to the floor. "If I get one more lecture about something they think is beyond my comprehension…"
"Relax," the Doctor said. "You've got the job, right?"
"Only because Cardinal Mazarin took a liking to you," Danny frowned. He glared at the Doctor, still in his cardigan. "How come you don't have to do anything but we have to?"
"I'm an exiled duke, remember?" the Doctor said absentmindedly. "Dukes don't work. Adopted heirs and wards work, but dukes don't… even if they cannot return home. Can't go contradicting my story and get us in trouble with the Queen Regent, now can we?"
"No…" Danny muttered. Despite the fact he was sore—very, very, very sore—from training with the Cardinal's Musketeers, he willed himself to his feet in order to wash his hands in the sink.
"What are you doing?" Clara asked.
"I was going to help you with dinner; I got the lamb on the way home like you asked."
"At least let me take care of that lump on your head," Clara sighed, motioning towards the cut near his hairline. Danny touched it and curled his lip as he saw the blood on his fingers.
"Yeah, I guess." He sat back down at the table and waited for Clara to get the first aid kit from inside the TARDIS parked in the garden. It had only auxiliary power running, making it so that they really could not live in it while the Doctor was repairing whatever it was that broke, but had just enough going on in it so that Clara could still do things like find a box of bandages. She returned to the kitchen to find that Danny had shrugged out of his shirt, revealing more scrapes and nicks underneath.
"Do they just spend all day beating you up?!" Clara huffed. Danny remained graciously silent as Clara slathered him in hydrogen peroxide and put stick-on bandages over some of the less-scabbed-over wounds. "Now go put on a clean shirt or something before you start helping with the cooking; I don't need you spontaneously bleeding on the veg."
"Okay." Danny stood up and kissed the top of Clara's head in thanks before walking out.
A few minutes had passed, where Clara had cleaned up the makeshift surgery and gotten back to the potatoes, before the Doctor put down his tools and looked guiltily at her.
"Is that why you're my ward?"
"I think you have better things to do than worry about titles right now," Clara said brusquely. The Doctor looked down at the bit of TARDIS sitting on the table and sighed. He picked it up, gathered his tools, and left the room, passing Danny on the way out the door.
"What was with the owl? You tell him off or something?" Danny asked, now fully-clothed again. He popped into the larder for some butter and put it next to the package of meat on the table before getting wood for the stove.
"No, he's just being himself," Clara said. "Now come on; if you're going to help me with dinner, I need that stove to be plenty hot."
Later that night, after their awkward dinner of broiled lamb chops and potatoes and carrots, Danny decided it had been too long a day for him to do anything but go to bed. His clothes were at least clean, and he had washed, so he let himself simply fall prone on the best mattress they had been able to find in the house. It was a lumpy mattress, a little bit too short and a little bit too dusty for his liking, but after such a long day of being put through the motions of seventeenth-century soldiering it felt like a pillow of down.
He was almost asleep when he felt the mattress shift and a blanket was drawn up over him. Clara, he thought. The first night they had stayed there, the autumn air had proven to be too cold for either of them to sleep in without needing a fire in the room. Since neither of them had been able to keep a fire going without attempting to burn down the house (the Doctor had been rather cross about that), it had been quickly decided bed-sharing was the only option if they wanted to stay properly warm.
With his eyes closed, Danny rolled over and put an arm around Clara, drawing in her mass of body heat. "You smell extra-nice tonight."
"I smell like butter."
"Butter smells nice—better than me, anyways."
"Yeah, I don't need reminding."
Silence.
"Clara… why'd you have to go and make the owl angry?"
"He made himself angry."
"So then the looks he was giving you at dinner weren't about anything, right?"
More silence.
"Just him."
"Honestly… I don't understand the two of you in the slightest," Danny sighed. He tucked the top of Clara's head under his chin and let himself fall asleep for good this time.
He really was traveling with an interesting pair.
"I can't believe that this is one of the best an actual standing army had to offer," snickered the Musketeer. Danny spat on the ground and wiped his mouth on his sleeve—keep it together. It was only supposed to be a training exercise… a friendly boxing match.
"You're just jealous that I'm actually in line for something when my old man dies," Danny smirked as he pushed himself up to his feet. Yup, that ignited jealous fire in his opponent's eyes. As Danny dodged and blocked his punches, he could tell the man was a little more feral now… a little more predictable in his actions. Danny let the man get close and took him down, pinning an arm behind his back.
"Excellent, excellent," the Cardinal smiled as he clapped from nearby. Danny looked and saw that Cardinal Mazarin had somehow found his way over to the training ground during the boxing match. The man looked shrewd in his finger-twirling facial hair and a thin face topping a mess of red fabric that only seemed part-vestment. "You know, it's a pity you are eventually going to leave us. I do like a man as disciplined as yourself even if you are… foreign."
Danny bowed with the rest of the soldiers at their employer. "I thank you for the opportunity to train with your men, your Eminence. It is an honor to see the level of the French soldier for myself without being on the wrong end of a sword."
"Then may this be the start of a long friendship between France and the Duchy of Gallifrey, Monsieur Incarnat." Oh yeah, that's right. For some reason the TARDIS's translation mechanism was off, making him the Monsieur Daniel Incarnat de Gallifrey. It was something he was derided for from the moment he entered temporary service in the Cardinal's Musketeers and shattered any romantic notion he had about Musketeers beforehand. They really were quite rude, and elitist, and seemed to take much pleasure into knocking about his out-of-practice bones for the hell of it. Half the time it was as if he never exercised in his entire life and the other half he was just lucky.
"Forgive me, your Eminence, but have you seen the Duke around?" Danny asked. "I just remembered I have something urgent to discuss with him."
"I last left him in my study," Cardinal Mazarin said. "You may go find him, if that's what you need to do."
"Thank you." Danny bowed his head again and spun on his heel to collect his hat and uniform coat and weapons holster he had left on the edge of the crowd. He put them on and made to go, only to be stopped by the Cardinal again. He had come in closer to Danny this time, leaning in so that none of the Musketeers could hear them.
"You know," Mazarin said, "your eccentric benefactor does remind me greatly of my old mentor. Of course Armand was a bit more, well, pragmatic than your Jean but really…"
"Get to the point, please."
"I should watch yourself, if I were you, Monsieur," Mazarin warned. "Armand is not yet two years dead; there are bound to be some who have yet to hear of his passing, or believe his passing, that possess more than a little bad blood between them."
"I thought your mentor was also a Cardinal," Danny whispered. "Why would a man of God have mortal enemies?"
Mazarin did not answer back, with only the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Danny tried his best to not stomp away.
After wandering the palace ground for a while, he finally got directions from a servant and found the Doctor sitting in Cardinal Mazarin's office. He was dressed in clothes he had never seen before: lots of black and filigree and lace and… was that leather…?
"You like it? Mazarin said these used to belong to his mentor and forgot to get rid of them. He said I could have it for that costume ball we're invited to tonight."
"Did he warn you that you look a lot like his old mentor?" Danny asked. The Doctor shrugged and pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his cloak.
"Yes, but what he did not warn me about was the high amount of alien activity around here," the Doctor said waving the device around. "I knew there had to be a reason why the TARDIS sent us to this time instead of when we wanted to go. Unfortunately, we're going to have to make sure this is a benign presence before we take off—a threat to Earth's history could be costly."
"Yeah, as if you aren't," Danny quipped. The Doctor rolled his eyes and chuckled. He liked having Danny around, even if it was just for the reassurance that everyone was not Clara.
"Alright then Mr. Lightish Red, it's getting late and we have to make sure Clara got here alright."
"Clara's a big girl, I think she can take care of herself," Danny said.
"I don't know… the Cardinal just gave me the clothes of one France's most politically-upwards men in the past century as a costume, but failed to tell me that he was nothing more than an old friend and mentor to him," the Doctor said. He looked Danny in the eyes and narrowed his gaze. It was not threatening, but it was not carefree either. "Clara's a strong and clever person, I give her that, but something is happening here and my instinct says we've been flung right into the middle of it." He touched the sonic to his temple before pocketing it again.
This really was one of their more frustratingly delicate adventures, Danny decided.
For being an old dress of the Countess's, Clara thought it fit her quite well. It was a sort of yellow-gold color, with designs of a darker shade embroidered on. She stood awkwardly in the hall, with her hair done and a mask of feathers on and no sign of either Danny or the Doctor. It was not a matter of fear or nervousness that kept her hugging the corridor walls, but a need to observe while not standing out. Even in the early hours of a costume ball it was possible to stand out.
Unfortunately, Clara was noticed. Of course, she was noticed. A man, maybe a little bit older than her, dressed as a pirate came over to her spot and bowed slightly.
"I don't believe we've met," he grinned. "I am Louis-Auguste, the Comte de la Artois."
"Clara Oswald de Gallifrey," Clara said, giving a slight curtsey. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure's all mine," Louis-Auguste smiled. He took Clara's hand and kissed it. "Tell me, you wouldn't happen to be one of the curious people who arrived at the Palace by means of explosion a few weeks ago, would you?"
"Oh, and here I thought that was my secret," Clara smiled. Her eyes darted around the rest of the crowd; where were the Doctor and Danny? They had said they would meet her there.
"I do not know how it is in Gallifrey, but here in France, news does travel quickly when charming young ladies are involved. Is the Duke here? I'd love to meet another man of science like myself."
"Oh, you like science? He might like you then." Doctor, Doctor, where are you Doctor…?
"I also hear that his heir, although a soldier, excels at cutting-edge mathematics. Is this true?"
"Danny, oh, yeah, he's good at maths." Clara was beginning to get distracted.
"Are… are you okay…?"
"Oh, um, yeah. Yes, sir, I'm alright. Just, you know, admiring all the costumes about. Lots of pirates and magicians and faeries, wouldn't you say?"
"Fancy dress balls were never really my thing, I'm afraid, so I just pulled something from my father's old things. Rather silly that this is all for a four-year-old…"
"As a late birthday present for the young Prince, from what I hear," the Doctor chimed in. It was then that he finally showed up, coming up behind Clara and casually linking their arms together. She jumped slightly, her eyes going wide at the sight of the Doctor's new outfit.
"Where did you get that…?"
"On loan, from a friend, my dear," he smiled. "So, I see you've made a new friend as well?"
"Doctor, this is Louis-Auguste, Comte de…?"
"Comte de la Artois," Louis-Auguste said with another bow. "I have many, many things to ask you about, about your studies…"
"Not now; bug off," the Doctor growled, his personality doing a complete flip. Louis-Auguste, slightly shocked, slunk away in defeat.
"You didn't have to be so mean about it," Clara hissed low enough so only the Doctor could hear. They walked slowly through the throng of people, the Doctor holding onto his cape with his free hand so it did not billow everywhere.
"There is something amiss, Clara," he explained. "Pinkie and I don't know what yet, but there are traces of alien biology all over the place."
"Not yours?"
"It's as if I'm not clever enough to make sure to filter out my own readings, by the way the two of you go on."
They found Danny, standing awkwardly off to the side in the large ballroom where the main of the festivities were being held. He was dressed in his Musketeer outfit and looking like something out of a Dumas illustration.
"There the two of you are; I had to turn down four ladies and a man for company," he said through grit teeth. "It doesn't look like anything odd or alien is happening here. Are you sure something's wrong, Doctor?"
"I'm sure of it," the Doctor said. He passed Clara's arm to Danny and looked around to see who was watching. "Now stay together, alright? I need you both on your toes."
"Can I make a request?" Danny asked. The Doctor looked at him straight-faced. "Can we have our next historical adventure in a place where I can wear trainers? These heeled boots are killing me." Without dignifying that with a response, the Doctor turned to Clara.
"If I'm not back for you by nightfall, then go back home without me," he said. "There is a distress beacon in the first antechamber of the TARDIS. If you press it and go outside, one of my past faces will come for you."
"Then why haven't you done that in the first place?"
"…and ruin the surprise that I get an extra set of lives to fritter away? Where's the fun in that?" He kissed Clara on the forehead, patted Danny on the shoulder, and glided off into the crowd of costumed party-goers.
"You know, from what you've told me, I'm guessing his last face was much more agreeable," Danny sighed. "I'd have rather met him instead."
"He's the same man, just a different shell," Clara insisted. "Let's get going; if we're going to fake being nobility, the least we're gonna have to do is get in a dance."
The Doctor crept through the palace corridor, the only sound being that of the sonic screwdriver analyzing the area. It whirred louder at a painting than the surrounding area and the Doctor stopped. It was a simple landscape, unassuming and serene, and there was something about it that was off.
Carefully, he leaned close to the painting and sniffed; nope. Smelled like normal earthly painting materials. Nothing looked alien to it… was the sonic the thing that was off?
Just then, the Doctor heard the heavy sound of stone scraping against stone behind the painting and he scurried away to an alcove to watch the painting in secret. It creaked open, allowing someone to step out. They talked with someone on the other side of the painting in hushed tones before stepping back to watch the doorway close.
Cardinal Mazarin.
The Doctor moved further into the alcove and pondered. Mazarin was, for all intents and purposes, an actual human being. He had picked up a history book or five roaming the halls of Coal Hill, both this face and his last. He knew that the Cardinal was in only the second year of his office… one that would last almost two decades. There was nothing extraterrestrial about him, unless…
Maybe it was time to pay the Cardinal's offices another visit.
They had danced for arguably a long time. It was boring dancing too, for the time travelers. Ballroom dancing was fine, it really was, but when it was just minuet after minuet after minuet things began to get old very quickly.
"Why do I feel like instigating a waltz would be like starting a riot?" Danny whispered in Clara's ear. His coworker snorted into her hand; that was certainly not far from the truth.
"Oh, there you are," a familiar voice smiled. Danny and Clara turned to see the Queen Regent approaching them, her young sons at her skirts. "How has Paris been treating you?"
"Well, thank you your majesty," Clara said as they both bowed.
"I hear you have taken employment with the Countess d'Charlevoix?" the Queen Regent asked, her tone halfway between pity and apprehension.
"If only to learn skills in case the Duke's exile outlasts him," Clara lied.
"…and you, have you been learning much regarding how a modern, high-tiered soldier operates in nation as great as France?" the Queen Regent asked Danny.
"I learn more and more every day, and I hope to utilize this knowledge when we return home," Danny chuckled. He noticed the royal children, poking their heads out from behind their mother. Bending down, he looked them both in the eyes. "Hey there. Now which one of you lads is this party for?"
"Me," squeaked the smaller one.
"Really now? Here, let me teach you something from where I am from… come here."
The little boy looked up at his mother, silently demanding permission. She gently pushed him forward and he stood close to Danny.
"Okay, now make a fist. Good. Now, touch your fist to mine. Good! That is what is called a 'fistbump' in Gallifrey."
"What does it do?" the young prince asked.
"It's like saying 'good job', without saying anything. Friends use it. Maybe you and your brother can use the fistbump when you want to tell one another 'good job' but you have to be quiet."
"Okay!" The boy then turned towards his older brother and they bumped fists, giggling.
"You seem to have a way with children," the Queen Regent marveled while Danny stood up. "A soldier, a mathematician… are you a schoolmaster as well in your native Gallifrey?"
"Maybe in another time and place," Danny laughed nervously. Clara shot him a piercing glare that made him recoil slightly; don't blow our cover. She was so adamant on him not doing anything else that could tangle up their already-precarious situation that she took over the conversation entirely.
"Oh, your Highness, I'm sorry but I have a funny question."
"Go on."
"Have you noticed anything weird going on lately?" Clara asked. The Queen Regent thought genuinely.
"You know, not that I'm aware of, other than the three of you appearing. When I first saw the Duke, I had to say I was a bit frightened."
"I know he seems a bit scary, but the Doctor's not that bad once you get to know him," Clara laughed. The Queen Regent shook her head.
"No… it's just that he looks exactly like my late husband's old advisor, the Cardinal Richelieu," she said. "Anyone should be surprised when there is an explosion in their garden and suddenly a man two years buried comes popping out of a blue box alive and well, but for it to be Richelieu come again…"
"That is… something…" Clara wondered. She looked at Danny, who seemed to be just as interested in this development.
Suddenly, a soft rumble shook the nearby window. The young prince looked up at his mother in confusion. "Mummy, should it storm today?"
"It wasn't supposed to…" the Queen Regent said, looking out the window at a clear evening sky. The three adults snapped their heads towards the hallway when screaming began to filter in over the music. Danny nervously drew his sword and the wall exploded, sending wood and plaster everywhere.
There was no way French history was supposed to be this exciting.
The Doctor moved as quickly as possible through the stone corridor, cape billowing behind him as he stayed just below a panicked run and just over a powerwalk. He was glad that he had left Clara with Danny—this was something that was a little more cumbersome with two people.
He slipped into the Cardinal's office and looked around; it was getting dark and he had to move quickly. There had been fluctuations in the readings the sonic screwdriver had been picking up. Now where were they…? Ah-ha! This wall… this speck of wall… now what was so special about this speck of wall…?
Carefully the Doctor knocked on the stone, half expecting it to be hollow. When the knock did sound hollow, he leaned back and stared at it momentarily. Other spots on the wall proved to be solid stone, but this bit was hollow despite there being no crack to signal a door. He ran his hands over the wall, searching for a hidden handhold.
Sure enough, something clicked into place and the stone wall shifted, easing inward to make a doorway that led to a downward-sloping passageway. The Doctor took a deep breath and wrapped his cape around his shoulder to keep it from billowing incessantly and catching on anything. He then went in, not knowing what would be in store.
The passageway twisted and turned, taking him deep into the recesses of the castle walls. He felt as if he had just been suckered into a common servant's passageway, until he heard noise up ahead. Within moments the Doctor came upon a chamber filled with out-of-place tech manned by a score of Vinvocci. The spiky, green-skinned aliens were nearly all at monitors, all of which had images of the ballroom in real-time. One was even focused on Clara and Danny dancing, which sent rage rippling through the Doctor's veins. How dare they spy on his Clara.
"Cardinal, you've returned early," one of the Vinvocci said with a grin. He got closer to the Doctor and noticed that he did not look as he had expected. "Your shimmer… it's malfunctioning. That was your old alias."
"I know; I've been pulling double-duty claiming I'm a man from a different land thanks to this thing," the Doctor said, thinking quickly. The Vinvocci seemed to buy his story and nodded.
"The preparations are nearly complete," he said. "I know things looked bleak with the first Cardinal's death, then the King's, but soon we will have our new Vinvocci homeland."
"The preparations are coming along?" the Doctor asked, careful to sound natural. The Vinvocci nodded.
"Yes. With the healing devices set all around Paris and the settings reversed, the entire city will become so ill that a takeover does not need to be hostile in the slightest. You know just as well as I do that we don't want to kill these poor aliens… just stun them."
"True, true," the Doctor said. So far that was their only saving grace. "I forgot—you did test this thoroughly, correct?"
"Yes, on a village not too far away. We wiped their memories and covered our tracks, but they had ultimately been a pushover. The same principles apply here, just on a larger scale."
"Good, good. Just checking in; keep up the good work. I'm going to go and try to fix my shimmer before I need to make another appearance at the ball."
"Excellent idea, sir." The Vinvocci saluted the Doctor as he left.
'This is odd… I didn't think that the Vinvocci were in the business of taking over alien planets …' the Doctor thought as he ascended the staircase, trying not to rush himself and trip over the robes. 'Maybe they're a rebel strain… I need to investigate this further…'
The Doctor exited the passageway into the office and watched as the doorway closed. He had to get Clara and Danny out of Paris, and quickly. Maybe there was enough juice left in the TARDIS to get them to Nice… or at least Orléans. Then he'd worry about the child-king and his mother and brother. He was unaware of what level of force the Vinvocci were comfortable using, meaning that this could become very messy very quickly.
As the Doctor walked through the hallways cloaked in twilight, he almost ran into Cardinal Mazarin. Both men jumped in surprise at the sight of one another.
"Oh! Duc Lefebvre! I didn't expect you here at this time of day!" the Cardinal gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Just wandering," the Doctor said. "I never have been overly-fond of crowds and parties."
"Gallifrey sure is a funny place, isn't it?" Mazarin said. "You were once its ruler, yet you have no inclination to the life at court. It's a good thing your heir is better at it than you; maybe he will be allowed back one day to rule in your place… him and that lovely ward of yours."
The Doctor pulled his cape down from his shoulder and fluffed it out, his face stone-cold and dangerous. He backed Cardinal Mazarin into a pillar, towering over him menacingly.
"You asked me before where Gallifrey was, wondering if there was a coincidence between the place you knew and the place I am from, remember that?"
Mazarin squeaked, nodding his head.
"Remember how I avoided answering the question, saying that it was just an old, ancient duchy, not of note or much worth remembering to most? Well, I'll tell you where Gallifrey is." The Doctor leaned close to Cardinal Mazarin, close enough to whisper harshly in his ear, "Kasterborous."
Mazarin inhaled sharply and began shaking. The Doctor took hold of the crucifix around the Cardinal's neck and crushed it in his hand; it was the shimmer, which dissipated the disguise and showed another Vinvocci standing there in terror.
"Now listen here," the Doctor said, dropping his voice to a growl. "I am going to give you five minutes to make up your mind about what you're going to do from here on out. Make the good decision, and I might be merciful. Make the bad one and… well… you know why I'm an exile, now don't you?"
The Vinvocci gulped and slid away, breaking out into a run as soon as he was out of arm's length. The Doctor spun on his heel and began to quickly walk back towards the main ballroom. He went to go turn a corner and was met with a pair of Vinvocci popping out of the walls holding phaser guns. The Doctor inhaled sharply, realizing his miscalculation, and began to run awkwardly, shouting for everyone to leave. More soldiers began to pop out of secret passages in the walls and before long, they started to shoot. The Doctor dove, dodging one blast that tore through a wall.
This was not how things were supposed to go.
After the wall exploded, there had understandably been a lot of panic.
Danny had slid between the royal family and the direction of the blast, not knowing what the cause of the commotion was. Phasers quickly began to shoot blindly as the dust cloud crept over the rest of the ballroom. Clara almost immediately appeared at his side, holding a decorative shield she had pried from the wall.
"I think the Doctor found what he was looking for," she said, taking off her mask of feathers.
"Yeah, I think so too." As if on-cue, the Doctor emerged from the thinning dust and stumbled his way over to his companions.
"Pinkie, Clara, I need you two to leave now," the Doctor ordered, crouching down behind Clara's shield.
"Who did you tell to piss off this time?!" Danny asked. He looked through the dust and saw the Vinvocci soldiers, searching for the Doctor. "Cactus-people. As if Victorian lizard-people weren't enough, you had to piss off FRENCH CACTUS-PEOPLE?!"
"Don't call them that, Pinkie; it hurts their feelings," the Doctor scoffed.
"I don't care what hurts their feelings if they're going to be shooting at us any moment!"
"Well, of course they'll start shooting if you keep on shouting like that!"
"Boys! Stop it!" Clara snapped. She turned to the Doctor. "Now what's going on?"
"I don't know… Vinvocci aren't necessarily prone to the whole military thing. Something about a new homeland and it sounds like they've been doing this for a long time… since the previous Cardinal and King were in power."
"Wait, what have those creatures been doing since before my husband died?" the Queen Regent snapped.
"It's all very complicated stuff, ma'am. Now if you excuse me, I need to figure out how to stop this before they tear up this place."
The Doctor knew that before long, the dust would settle enough for the Vinvocci to catch him in his hiding spot. In the meantime, there were human soldiers running about, trying to cut down the alien invaders and run to aid the Queen Regent and her sons. With the rulers under control of their own guardsmen, he could leave them to their own devices for now. It was just a matter of getting his charges out of there; he didn't want to find out if Danny was any good with a sword, and he certainly did not need to have Clara die on him again.
"Clara, dear, can you run in that dress?" the Doctor asked.
"It's a little long, but I'm not…"
Without asking, the Doctor ripped the dress and took off all the fabric to the knees.
"Better?"
"Doctor, I…!"
"Listen you two—these are not normal Vinvocci, or of course I'd have you both here by my side. Instead I need you both to leave Paris, immediately. They're planning on incapacitating the entire population with things set up around the city and the last thing I need is you two caught up in it."
"Doctor, let us help you!"
"We really should listen to him, Clara…"
"There he is!" shouted a Vinvocci soldier. The three of them ducked behind the shield, thankful that the Royal Guard decided to engage and distract them.
"Clara, I need you to leave, now. Why are you being so stubborn?" the Doctor hissed.
"You said it yourself: you're not made of plans! We can help you!" Clara insisted. The Doctor groaned—Clara was going to need to be dragged from the palace kicking and screaming at this rate. It wasn't that he didn't want her help… he just knew that her help was best served elsewhere this time around. He then went and did the only thing he could think to do to put her in enough shock to make her stop griping and do as he said.
He kissed her full on the mouth.
"I, huh, whuh…?" she stammered, dropping the shield in her hands. The Doctor looked over at Danny, who seemed confused but in the mood to roll with the situation at hand.
"Take her, now, leave the city."
"You got it," Danny smiled. He sheathed his sword and gave the Doctor a fistbump before taking Clara by the hand and leading her along to the large glass doors in the back of the ballroom. The Doctor picked up the shield and cricked his neck.
This was going to be fun.
Any day in which stealing a horse was actually one of the more normal things one has done, in Danny's opinion, should not be the sorts of days one should grow accustomed to. However, he was traveling with Clara and the Doctor and traveling with Clara and the Doctor meant that some things he normally wouldn't do, such as stealing a horse, instantly became second nature to him. He knew he was riding the horse hard, especially for one that was carrying two people, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. They had to get out of there, and they had to get out immediately.
"Danny, you're going to trample someone!" Clara shouted at his face. That was really the only place she could shout at, since he had decided to ride behind her.
"We'll be fine just hang on!"
Danny pushed the horse harder until he was out along the edge of the city. The animal was glad to have a break and wandered off to the side to nibble on some grass.
"What are we going to do…?" Danny asked. "The Doctor's still in there, as well as the TARDIS. We can't go back home without either of them."
"Then why did we go outside the city?" Clara asked. "I hope you've noticed by now, but lately he's gotten really good at sending us off and playing hero."
"I don't know what you two need to do to make up, but obviously that kiss did nothing," Danny groaned. He was about to complain further when suddenly a flash of metal caught his eye. He looked and saw a horse-drawn cart up against the city wall, with something large and metallic poking out from underneath a tarp.
"What is it?" Clara asked. Danny chuckled.
"I think I found what we needed to in order to help the Doctor," he said.
Danny quickly dismounted the horse and helped Clara down. After tying the horse's reins to a nearby post, they crept up to the cart without being noticed by the nervous Vinvocci that was messing with its shimmer. With one punch the alien was on the ground, out cold.
"Ow… it really is like punching a cactus," Danny grumbled, shaking out his fist. Clara climbed up into the cart and uncovered the alien device in the back.
"We have to disable this thing," she said. Clara looked at the control panel and tried to decode it. She was about to attempt to override the computer when Danny drove his sword into the console, sending sparks everywhere. Clara jumped back in shock.
"There. Done," he said. Eyes wide, Clara was just about to ream Danny out when a familiar face came trotting up next to them.
"There you are," Louis-Auguste breathed. "I thought I lost you two; it's a miracle you got as far as you did, as fast as you di… wait a second. What in the world is that thing…?"
Danny and Clara both looked at one another for a moment and an idea came to both of them at once.
"Help us destroy these things around the city walls and Danny'll show you maths like you've never seen before," Clara said, pointing at Danny and how his sword was jammed in the control panel. Louis-Auguste paused for a moment and tried to assess the situation.
"…but what are those things?"
"Science, but not the good kind. You want science to be good, right?" Clara said. Louis-Auguste looked at Danny, who was shrugging his shoulders, and grit his jaw in determination.
"What can I do to help?"
What the Doctor knew had been only minutes, thirty of them at the most, had certainly felt like hours. He had spent that bit of non-TARDIS time warping mainly dodging Vinvocci phasers and making sure he was not in the way of any swords belonging to the Royal Guard. The entire palace was in a panic, and rightfully so. Before long all the nobility and other unarmed peoples had been evacuated, the human soldiers all stunned, and Vinvocci ready to bear down on him.
"I should have known it was not a coincidence, but there was too little evidence for me to base my claims on," the Vinvocci impersonating Cardinal Mazarin smirked as his soldiers ceased fire. He had not reactivated his shimmer, leaving him a sight in red vestments and green, spiked skin as he paced behind the front line. "You took your box away before I could see it, and that would have been all the proof I'd need. Instead, I had to slowly bide my time and get answers."
"This is not like the Vinvocci I've met before," the Doctor snarled, holding his shield at his side. "The Vinvocci I've met before are all peaceful, scientists."
"Weak-willed and a disgrace. We should not be taken advantage of for our advanced knowledge, nor shall we anymore. This city, Paris, is a perfect place to start the retooling of our species into a powerful one worth fearing. Don't worry; we won't kill your precious humans, Doctor. Enslave them, most likely, but kill them? Not unless they strike first." The Vinvocci nudged one of the unconscious human soldiers with a foot and looked at him with something akin to pity. "They really had no idea I've been impersonating one of their most powerful politicians for the past five years. Thick doesn't even cover them."
"Where is the real Cardinal Mazarin?" the Doctor asked.
"In stasis, underneath the Palace," the Vinvocci said. "It was the same with Richelieu as well, but he was in pretty bad shape when we took him. The stasis is what kept him living as long as he did, the pathetic thing. Humans can live through some disgusting conditions."
"Humans possess a resilience that you don't even know."
"You would know that, wouldn't you? All I'm asking for is one little city—isn't that more than reasonable? If they really want to, they can be resilient elsewhere."
"It's not a city for yours to take."
"…but is it yours? Do you have rights to go around, messing with this planet's timeline? For everything you preach, this rock should have been invaded and conquered at least a dozen times over already."
"…and it will stay uninvaded and unconquerable for at least a dozen times more," the Doctor said. He threw down the shield and pointed his sonic screwdriver at the Vinvocci. "You will release the Cardinal Mazarin, you will go back to Vocci, and you will leave this planet alone. Do I make myself clear?"
The Vinvocci imposter laughed. "Do you hear that? He's scolding us! The famous, legendary, feared Doctor is giving us a scolding! I don't know how old you Time Lords get, but obviously you've outlasted your expiration date."
The Doctor flashed a bored smile and scanned the row of soldiers in front of him with the sonic screwdriver. Their phasers sparked and crackled, causing them all to drop their weapons.
'Come on Clara, come on Danny, do me proud,' the Doctor thought to himself. With the amount of time it usually took to circle around the city on horseback, with stoppage, and assuming time felt different to him than it really was, then taking into consideration the time needed for them to pick up on the plan…
"You want me? Come and get me!" the Doctor shouted manically. The Vinvocci imposter officially had enough.
"That's it!" he sneered. "Activate the gates! We take over NOW!"
One of the soldiers nearby the imposter repeated the orders into an earpiece and they waited.
…and waited… and waited.
"It's not working as you planned, is it?" the Doctor grinned. "You thought I was supposed to be your opponent. I was pretty complacent for someone who you were ready to fight."
"If you're not our opponent… then who is…?" the Vinvocci asked. The Doctor grinned.
"Humans; the very beings you tried to take advantage of," he smirked. More members of the Royal Guard came in and surrounded the Vinvocci, who raised their arms in surrender. The Doctor chuckled to himself in satisfaction. Somewhere along the city walls, he knew Clara and Danny were finishing off the machines if they hadn't already—they were too weak to operate individually thanks to their size, foiling the Vinvocci's plans. Even if only half were destroyed, it would have been enough.
Humans really were the ones he had come to rely on the most.
After sending out a signal to the rest of the Vinvocci fleet proper, explaining their position and possession of radicals, the Doctor went back into the underground chamber and found where they were keeping the real Cardinal Mazarin. The man was understandably a bit confused at the whole situation, not to mention frightened at this man called the Doctor and how he looked remarkably like someone who used to mentor him. Coincidence, it really was.
A Vinvocci fleet ship came for the renegade faction a few days later. They came under the darkness of night, with every guard being sworn to secrecy about the fact that they witnessed a metal ship float down from the sky and produce more of these peculiar beings. The captain of the ship was highly apologetic and even had some of her most talented builders help patch up the demolished wall and seal up the hidden passageway. The work was finished before the following morning and the ship left with a bid of good will towards the Queen Regent and a slew of scrap mechanical parts left to the Doctor in order to repair his TARDIS. The Vinvocci really were a peaceful species at heart, which was why the Doctor was actually sad to see them go.
It took an extra week for the Doctor to finish fixing up the TARDIS. In the meantime, Danny was able to teach Louis-Auguste calculus to the nobleman's glee. He had the three over to his apartments for dinner every night, though they always went back to the cold and barely-there house with the bed Danny and Clara needed to share to stay warm and the kitchen table the Doctor repeatedly scorched with his non-sonic tools. The French count was eternally amazed by the TARDIS, even in auxiliary power mode, and did his best to tempt the time travelers to stay a while longer.
"You may stay here, in my care, you and your intended," Louis-Auguste had told Clara one day. "You can go back to your own time at your leisure."
"He's not my intended," she answered simply, ruffling the Doctor's grey fluff of hair. The Time Lord had grunted, but failed to look up from his work.
"Oh, but I meant… erm…" Louis-Auguste stammered, pointing down the table at Danny. Clara let out a laugh as Danny shrugged his shoulders and continued reading his book.
"You've still got a lot to learn," Clara smiled.