I'm switching this to Wednesday updates because my schedule is so crazy I can never finish a chapter by Tuesday.

Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews!

Enjoy XD

~Threats~

Clara's starting to get really nervous. Her stomach is in knots and her palms are clammy just at the thought of eating dinner with the royal family. The King's obviously drugged or something and the Queen is - well she didn't actually have an f'ing clue what is up with the Queen. Clara's pretty sure the woman knows she isn't her daughter. But why hide that? Unless, Clara reasons with growing dread, she already knows what happened to Oswin.

Oh yeah that's a comforting thought.

The door across the room feels a million miles away. All she has to do is walk through it and head downstairs - assuming of course that she can find her way back down there. She just has to act natural and play along. Maybe then Clara can figure out what the hell's going on around here. Or at least a way out of here. Then she can go back to Jack and Alonso.

Clara swallows hard, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. It's a pointless notion to entertain. She doesn't even know where Violet City is in relation to the Lost Woods. The drive took them most of the day and she didn't really pay the closest attention to all the turns they made. Even if she gets out of this castle, getting back to Jack and Alonso will be next to impossible.

Stop stalling. Clara tells herself firmly. Her maids already think she's crazy and standing here staring at the door isn't helping. Just suck it up and get this over with.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself Clara marches across the bedroom. She's reaching for the doorknob when it turns and the door swings open. Clara nearly jumps out of her skin. She's wound so tight that little shock practically gives her a heart attack.

That is nothing compared to when she realizes who opened the door. The Queen with her short brown hair and pinched expression stands before Clara. Her mouth is so severe it looks as if she's been sucking on a lemon. As if her constant state is disapproval and distain for everyone. Her eyes are cold and calculating. They sweep over Clara's new and improved appearance making her feel like she's being x-rayed.

It takes all of Clara's willpower not to shiver or step backwards. She read somewhere that running or showing fear to a wild animal makes it more likely to attack. The Queen may not be a grizzly bear, but Clara feels the same rules applied. Show any weakness and she'll go for the throat.

"Leave us." the Queen says sharply to the three girls who are cleaning up.

Amy, Jenny, and Vastra leave quickly not wanting to incur any of her wrath. Vastra, Clara notices, walks more slowly than the others refusing to be pushed from the room. If only she could proudly saunter out of this situation. She wants to run after them or beg them to stay. But Clara isn't a coward and she meets the Queen's icy gaze evenly.

The moment the door swing shut behind them the Queen smiles. There was no warmth in it and her eyes remain hard. It's the smile of a cat whose cornered a mouse and is going to enjoy pulling it apart piece by piece. Clara swallows, choking down panic.

Don't blink, don't blink, don't blink. Whatever you do don't blink.

"Now I think we have a few things to discuss." says the Queen. "Namely, who are you?"

So she does know. "Clara Oswald, You're Majesty."

Keeping things polite is probably the best option. Maybe if she gets on the woman's good side there's still a way out of this mess. Clara holds her breath as the Queen circles her taking in every detail.

"It's uncanny. There isn't a single detail missing, you're her spitting image. How is that possible?"

The Queen's standing in front of her again. She squints at Clara trying to solve the puzzle of her existence. Something Clara doesn't have an answer for.

"I don't know."

"Well there's a difference," the woman says coldly, "My daughter is better educated. You were clearly raised in some backwoods bit of nowhere."

A spark of anger flares in Clara's chest. Sure her town maybe in no where's vile, but she isn't some corn-fed simpleton and neither are the rest of her family.

"Aww, touched a nerve there did we?" she laughs.

Clara bites back her retort which includes several four letter words. Instead she says, "If you know I'm not your daughter than why am I still here?"

"Your insolence is wearing on my nerves, girl."

She really doesn't fucking care, she's sick of being intimidated by this bitch. "What do you want with me?"

The Queen's eyes narrow. "Because I need a replacement and you just happened to fall into my lap."

"A replacement?" Clara gasps. Wow so much for motherly love. "I'm not going to do that."

There's that smile again. "If you value your life you will. Since my daughter decided to disappear in the middle of the most important peace negotiations in history, you're going to have to take her place. Or I'll have you executed as an imposter."

Cold dread runs down Clara's spine. She fully believes the Queen will do exactly as she promised and won't lose a wink of sleep over it either. It feels like the walls are closing in around her. She can feel the invisible chains twisting around her limbs and binding her to this beautiful prison. Clara doesn't want to die. She doesn't see a way out of this.

The Queen can see the defeat in her eyes. "That's a good girl."

"Queen Viola Kovarian and Princess Oswin Kovarian." announces the short man in a vest standing beside the doors to the dining hall.

It's a little redundant since presumably everyone inside already knows their names. Stepping through the large wooden doorway, Clara isn't sure if she's expecting Great Hall of Hogwarts or what. There are no sky ceilings or floating candles, but it's certainly no ordinary room. Purple silks hang from the ceiling swaying in a nonexistent breeze. And the long dark table sparkles with gold and cut-crystal dinnerware. However, the opulence of the polished floors and vaulted windows are not what makes the room unusual.

The black vine wisteria Clara saw outside grows along the stone walls and around the windows. The petals of the flowers glow softly casting the room in a warm light paired with the hanging torches. The plants can't possibly be real - there's nowhere for them to be growing from - yet they look very much alive.

The men at the table rise to their feet as Clara and the Queen walk in. They take the two empty seats beside the King. The only other people there are Prince Harold, who Clara ends up sitting across from, and the girl she saw earlier. That and the half dozen servants lining the room, which bothers her. She doesn't deserve to have people waiting on her, nor does she need it.

"Are you feeling better, sister?"

Oh that's not awkward at all. Clara was afraid of this, because no matter what she wanted to believe the girl looks way too much like her to be anyone other than Oswin's sister. Her only consolation is that the girl probably isn't allowed to ask where Clara's been in front of Harold. That gives Clara some time to think of a response to those future questions.

"Much, thank you." Clara says trying to sound proper. She sounds like an idiot to her own ears, but no one says anything at least.

A strange expression flickers over the girl's face. Any further discussion is diverted by the arrival of their meal. Clara wonders what the girl, whose name she's going to have to figure out eventually, is thinking. Can she tell that there's something off? Hopefully, because it would be sad if she couldn't. Clara looks down at her plate wishing she could disappear. This is so wrong.

There is strangely no meat among the dishes placed before them. Clara doesn't mind she just thinks it odd for royalty. Pretty soon she's going to have to stop thinking things are odd or she'll go mad. Everything about her life right now is fucking bizarre. Pushing it all from her mind, Clara focuses on eating. She's starving and it's a simple mundane task she can deal with.

"I'm glad you've returned safely, Princess." says Prince Harold suddenly with a shy smile.

Clara sets down her fork unable to help smiling back. For the first time she really looks at the man. From his fitted tunic, cropped blonde hair, and intelligent eyes, she has to admit Amy's right. He is handsome. Though Clara finds herself unconsciously comparing him to John Smith.

The Knight is attractive in an entirely different way and while Harold's smile is flattering it doesn't make her heart flutter in her chest. Not that Clara has any business having fluttering feelings over anyone. This is so not the time. It's just one more thing to bury.

"Thank you." she murmurs.

"And it's so fortunate since the Harvest Ball is tomorrow." says Queen Viola smugly.

"The Harvest Ball?" Clara asks.

"Yes darling the masquerade." Viola says pointedly, warning her to stop asking questions she's supposed to already know the answer to.

"You and Lavender have always loved the Harvest Ball." The King speaks for the first time. His voice is still monotone and there's no light in his eyes, like a sleepwalker. Does no one else find this weird? "When you were little you would stay up the whole night before." he continues.

Clara glances over at her "sister" who must be Lavender. It's a better name than Oswin at any rate except for the whole purple theme. Lavender doesn't look happy, her brows furrow as she stares at her father.

"Yes we remember." she says.

"Of course this will be the most exciting Ball we've had." grins Viola at the Prince, who flushes slightly. "We will finally be able to make the official announcement of your betrothal to Oswin."

By some miracle Clara doesn't choke on her mulled wine.

"What?" she coughs, carefully setting down her goblet.

She must have misheard the Queen, there's no way she just said that. No way she's expecting Clara to marry some stranger just so she can keep up appearances. Because that sure as hell is not happening. No freaking way! Clara doesn't care what Viola threatens her with she isn't going through with that!

Harold turns to her in surprise. "Did you think the agreement had been thrown out in your absence? You don't have to worry the arrangement still stands." He assures her as if that's what she wants to hear.

"Yes I was concerned about that. This is wonderful news." Clara hears herself say when she opens her mouth to object.

What the fuck?

She can't even freak-out, just smile lovingly at the Prince. Clara wants to scream. She has no control over what she's doing. Someone else is making her mouth move.

Harold's shy grin morphs into more of a smirk which she doesn't like. She doesn't want him to think of her that way. Much less does Clara want Harold to think she thinks of him that way. She literally just met the man.

The grip over Clara fades giving her back control over her own mouth. She immediately stops smiling trying not to jump to her feet and start running. Meeting the Queen's smug gaze Clara's positive she's the one doing this. No doubt that is what's wrong with the King as well. What else can Viola make her do? How can she get away from someone who can control her like that?

If Oswin ran away Clara wouldn't blame her one bit. Her family is insane.

The rest of dinner passes without incident though Clara loses any appetite she had. Realizing you're powerless against a force you don't understand will do that to a person. She hates feeling helpless, but without any other options Clara can only keep playing along.

Amy, Jenny, and Vastra are waiting for her when she gets back to Oswin's room. Her room now. As nice as the girls are she really wants to be left alone. That way she can go to pieces by herself. They see Clara's distracted and help her out of the dress before bidding her goodnight.

"Thank you." Clara whispers as they left. She means it; they're the only people who've been kind to her since she got to Violet City. Maybe under different circumstances they could even be friends.

Amy places a hand on her shoulder then slips out without a word.

Clara sighs, a tear falling down her cheek. Needing air she opens the French doors to the balcony. The cool evening breeze chills her skin under her thin dressing gown. Leaning against the carved stone railing Clara stares up at the moon. It looks the same as she's always remembered it. Is it the same moon she's knew as a child or merely an echo? She doesn't know.

Movement in the courtyard below catches her attention. It's the Gray Knight, John Smith. He holds a long stick in both hands and is moving between fighting poses. Clara recognizes it as some form of martial arts. He wears no shirt, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. The shiver runs through her again as she watches him. Sensing her gaze John looks up and their eyes meet.

Clara turns and runs back inside her heart pounding.