"Clara, it's me!"

She launched herself at the Doctor, relieved; arms wrapping around his shoulders, leaning her forehead into his cheek before dropping it down and sighing into the clothes that smelled lightly of sweaty linen and she whispered, "I thought it was going to be him."

When she dropped back down to look up at the Doctor, he was offering her a curious look. Of course he would, Clara knew – men didn't have to often worry about the possessiveness of a woman, nor the lengths they would go to prove their ownership. She imagined that man who'd just left her room wouldn't hesitate to pull her into a broom closet to reassert his dominance over her and she'd be resigned to playing along or risk having him hung or beheaded… or having herself discovered and hung and beheaded.

"Never mind," she hissed, "Have you found the machine yet?"

With a frown and a quick shake of his head, the Doctor admitted, "No, having a hell of a time just remembering the route to my bedroom."

"Mine's a straight shot… keep following stairs up until you hit a single door," she moaned with a roll of her eyes, realizing her hands were still on the Doctor's shoulders and dropping them to her sides as she suggested, "You suppose the dungeon's just… under the castle? Isn't that where it usually is?"

"Yes, but we're dealing with the Dironem," he sighed.

Clara tilted her head, "He says as if I understand."

With a small laugh, the Doctor pointed, "You," and then he nodded, "Dironem – humanoid, technologically advanced, good with hypnotics if memory serves. Be wary not to stare any of them in the eye too long." His hands came together in the small space between them, turning within each other just underneath her chin, "But they don't have castles – they have caves, caves they turn into defendable fortresses, so to them, dungeon could be attic or it could be the back end, or it could be the basement – all depends on how their fortress is designed, which all depends on the mountain."

Nodding, Clara replied, "So when they say 'dungeon', they could literally mean anywhere."

"Precisely," he pointed, finger poking her nose as his other hand dropped clumsily into her cleavage before he recoiled and winced, "Sorry, awkward space, bit of a pinch, but hang on – you thought I'd be another bloke? Pulling you into a storage closet?"

Clara's head hung slightly as she stared up at him, "Doctor, focus; where would they put a large machine – where could they fit a large machine, in a castle like this?"

"I would say," he toggled his head, staring up at the ceiling, "The most logical place would be the great hall, but obviously the Queen is trying to keep up appearances. Courtyard's being used for guard training. Tower wouldn't likely be a good spot as the closer they keep it to Clarice, the more she'd likely be affected by it and she didn't appear to be suffering from any sort of illness. So, you thought some other person would have yanked the princess into a closet; for what purpose," his nose wrinkled.

Clara sighed, "It's got to be a literal dungeon, beneath us somewhere – you just haven't found a door, or… if it would affect Clarice, then best to put it at the opposite end of the castle from her bedroom."

"But what would he do…" the Doctor began, still considering some other man pulling Clara into the closet, and then his eyes widened and he ducked his head, "Has he gone up to visit you?"

"If by he you mean the guard who met us at the gate, yes," Clara sighed.

"But did he try to," he made an awkward gesture that sent his crotch roughly into her stomach and Clara shifted backwards into the shelving behind her, knocking several buckets against one another as they both winced and the Doctor repeated, without the motion, "Did he try to…"

Rolling her eyes, Clara nodded, "Of course he tried – and I gave him the equivalent of not tonight, honey, my head hurts."

"Wait, that's what that…" he trailed when she landed her gaze on him. "You should go back to your room while I continue searching – just point me in the opposite direction to look for the machine."

"Actually, Doctor, it might not be a good idea to search tonight."

He bent slightly, whispering, "Why not? The longer we stay here, the better the chance we're found out and if we're found out," he slid his thumb across his neck.

Clara frowned, "I'm well aware of," she slid her own thumb across her own neck, "But the guard that'd been standing outside of my door all day has been sent down to guard the dungeon – specifically in case you go looking."

"Why would they think I would go looking?"

"Because you're new," she began before adding, "And you're weird."

"So you're saying we should just go to our rooms."

"As much as I hate to," Clara sighed, "Yes."

He frowned at the way her shoulders slumped in defeat and he lifted his hands to rub at them, watching the grin returning to her lips as her cheeks flushed. Her eyes came up to meet his and he assured, "Everything will be fine, Clara. Tomorrow I'll find a way to make them take me to the dungeon and we'll get this all sorted."

With a nod, Clara stepped out of the closet and took a long breath of the cooler night air. She gestured around the corner to begin explaining how to get to her room – should the need arise – when she turned and looked him over. "You've changed. Again."

He dropped his chin to his chest to glance over the darker suit, one pristine and, she admired, better fitting on his thin frame. The Doctor touched the small emblem of an alien sun, stitched in a slightly lighter grey thread at his chest and then smiled back up at her, "Ah, did I not tell you – I was made Strategist of the Queen's army, at least until she sees fit to put my head on the chopping block."

"Suppose that bloke made you…" she trailed and shook her head, beginning to turn before she whipped back and asked harshly, "What is his name?"

"The," he gestured again with his hips awkwardly as she smiled, "Guy?" Clara nodded. "Sloren." He pointed at her then, "And I wouldn't suggest you get your jollies off – he's looking to marry Clarice."

Rolling her neck, Clara sighed, "I know, Doctor." Then she snapped, "And I wouldn't be getting my jollies off with him anyways!"

He approached her again, pulling her into a hug she knew he felt she needed. An apology for whatever had happened today, an extra squeeze and a kiss to the top of her head for whatever she would incur tomorrow; and also an assurance – whatever did happen, he was merely a shout away. Clara lifted her arms to wrap around him, pressing her ear to the middle of his chest to listen to the double beats of his heart, sighing against him before reluctantly pulling away and moving back down the hall with one last smile back at him as he stood with his hands in mid air, clenched at his chest and waist.

Almost as if he was still holding her.

Clara waved him away just before she rounded a corner and made her way up a set of steps and then another, distracted by the notion that he was probably still there. Still considering their separation; considering the possibilities of what lay ahead of them – the dangers they could face. He was always thinking about the solutions, the variables, the ends. And, she thought with a shake of her head and an amused grin, he was always still flying off the cuff as their adventures went on.

Slowing, she looked around herself and frowned.

Somewhere she'd managed to take a wrong turn.

Looking back, Clara pointed and then snaked her hand, as if around the bend and down the stairs, and then she turned back and pressed a finger to her lips. Hand falling away, she plucked up her dress and took off down a hallway and then was faced with a downward set of stairs. Shrugging, she whispered to herself, "Down and then back up again; the right way around this time, Clara."

Some part of her imagined she'd find herself back in the hall she'd started in; Doctor leaned against the stone railing that separated the hallway from the courtyard below. He'd smile back at her and she'd have to admit she'd gotten lost. He'd offer to accompany her because as far as anyone knew, she was just the princess and this man was just the fellow who'd brought her back – it would be fitting, him escorting her to her room. Except she ended up in a darkened passage that made her somewhat claustrophobic.

No, she thought to herself, she was downright dizzy.

"What…" she started, giving her head a shake just before she felt her chest constrict painfully. Clara clutched at the top edge of her dress, fingernails scraping lightly at her skin because there was a sudden quick thumping in her chest she couldn't explain, as if her heart had suddenly tripled its rhythm.

Feet dragging slowly back, she tried to get back down the hall, but she stumbled, tripping over the stone steps beneath her and falling roughly onto her backside, head smacking the ground just before she cried out, "Doctor!"

It seemed ridiculous, she knew he couldn't hear her, but she heard footsteps approaching and there was a familiar sucking of teeth that made her grimace just before she felt someone kneel at her side, fingers pressing themselves into her neck to check her pulse. And then a male voice uttered, "That's odd."

The Queen stood with her arms crossed at her chest, looking down at Clara before she barked, "Well, what's odd?"

Gonther jumped, saw the princess beside him do the same despite the discomfort he imagined she was feeling, and he admitted, "Probably nothing, we don't have a proper documentation of the effects of the machine on her, so it's probably nothing…"

Bending slightly, material of her pants groaning in the quiet space, she asked patronizingly, "Gonther, what's odd?"

He gestured down at her, "The last time she got this close to the machine – well, the last time she'd gotten a lot closer; she'd been inside of the room – her pulse rate slowed." He checked the hard throbbing in her neck again and admitted, "This time her heart rate's quickened." The odd man then bent to look closely at her and Clara blinked up at him, trying to focus on his features, but finding a blur of flesh instead. "It's just odd – at this rate, she'll go into cardiac arrest within the half hour."

The Queen straightened and grunted, moving to lift Clara easily off the ground before smiling back at Gonther, "Well then, better get this little princess back up to her tower; wouldn't want her to die prematurely." She began to move, but stopped and nodded her head at the man, "And if you get any more word on the precise location of that Gallifreyan technology, you be sure to tell me – last thing we need is a meddling Time Lord."