Hello my Dulcet Darlings!

Thanks once again for all your lovely comments! I'm having a lot of fun writing this story and it's always great to hear what people think of it :D So anyone who reviews this chapter will get a basket of imaginary cookies!

Enjoy XD

~Cold~

The palace is in a fervor in preparation for the Harvest Ball. They probably have been for weeks considering the amount of decorations which go up overnight. Pumpkins, gourds, wreathes, and blank candles cover nearly every surface. The whole building smells of apples and cinnamon. Servants rush back and forth carrying garlands and bouquets of black flowers.

"Are you even listening?" a voice breaks into Clara's inner musings.

"No."

Vastra sighs exasperated and sets aside her folders. "The Queen wants me to go over this with you."

Clara glares at the pile of papers. For the past three hours Vastra's been teaching her the names and occupations of every member of each royal family. It's exhausting and she's already forgotten half of them.

Vastra frowns thinking things over. "Clara." She sighs finally.

Clara glances up at the use of her real name. The woman is watching her sadly with understanding her eyes. Vastra is wasted as a maid. She can see right through to the heart of things. Under Vastra's scrutiny Clara feels like a puzzle being solved.

"I'm sorry for not believing you before. It's becoming increasingly obvious that you are not - or at least are not currently - Oswin. Your mannerisms, expressions, and ways of speech are all different. Not to mention the fact that this is all information you should have learned when you were three."

Clara blinks at her for a moment. A slightly hysterical giggle escapes her mouth before she can stop it. Its either relief or burgeoning madness and she isn't positive which. Clara's tempted to start crying but that would be ridiculous. Having someone actually believe her makes Clara feel as if a lead weight has been lifted from her chest. Just the idea that someone understands her situation is a powerful thing.

"The Queen won't let me leave."

"I figured as much." says Vastra, "She's very concerned with reputation and if word got out that the Crown Princess ran away rather than be married off Viola wouldn't know what to do."

"So that's what happened? She ran away?"

"I think so. I know she hated Prince Harold, though I'm not sure why. She refused to go through with the wedding. Oswin would never talk about it but I'm positive that the Queen made her unable to eat until she changed her mind."

"I would run away too." Clara says in horror. She is going to run. The moment she sees an opportunity she's going to run and never look back. Clara phrases her next question carefully unsure how much Vastra knows. "How does the Queen influence people?"

Vastra snorts, "You mean, how does she turn them into her dancing puppets?"

"Yeah. How can anyone do that?"

"She's a witch."

"A witch? Like with a broomstick and a cauldron and stuff?" Clara asks. Of course she would manage to piss off a witch. That is just Clara's luck. Because pissing off a crazy queen isn't bad enough, she just has to also be a witch. Right.

"Cauldrons maybe, I'm not so sure about broomsticks." Vastra says. "Viola left the Order to marry King

"The Order?"

"Order and Chaos. I guess you wouldn't know about that would you." Vastra says, "Ok I'll give you the brief overview. Shades, as you may have guessed, is divided into two kingdoms - Gray and Violet - separated by the Lost Woods. In each kingdom there is a coven of the most powerful witches. Not just your average potion maker, but people with who can weld serious damage. The covens are completely autonomous to the governments though they often work closely with the courts. Leaving either coven is a big deal especially to marry into a royal family."

Clara thinks this over. It helps give some context. Knowledge is always the best weapon and currently she's at a distinct disadvantage. But she doesn't have to be. Clara grins in determination making Vastra raise a delicate eyebrow.

"I need you to teach me everything you know about this place."

She is going to beat the Queen at her own game.

Vastra's eyes glitter mischievously, "Let's get started."

Clara studies maps and dates and names. She's determined to memorize everything; the littlest scrap of information could be what gets her out of this. Vastra, Jenny, and Amy spend the whole afternoon teaching her everything they know. Between learning geography, history, and politics, they teach her etiquette.

She knew vaguely that there were rules about knifes and which fork to eat with. It turns out to be exceedingly more complex than she guessed. Honestly in her opinion all the niceties served only to make it easier to offend people. Despite her disbelief that it could ever matter which hand you hold a soup spoon with, Clara takes it all in. She's not going to give Viola any reason to come after her.

The girls also teach her how to dance. Jenny brings in a tiny music box which plays a simple waltz and sets it on the vanity. Amy places her hand on Clara's waist and shows her where to step. She's terrible at first but soon gets the hang of it. After switching out the tumbler in the music box, Vastra and Jenny step in to help with the group dances.

They weave in and out trying not to step on each other's feet. It doesn't work. They end up a tangled laughing mess. Clara's actually having fun and it surprises her. As they right themselves she notices the way Vastra and Jenny's fingers linger on each other and their small smiles. She bites back her own grin because there's certainly something going on there.

That makes her think of something else. "So Amy is Rory going to be at this Ball tonight?" Clara says watching Amy turn red.

"He'll be stationed at the entrance."

"That's too bad," Clara teases, "You could show him your moves."

"I won't be at the Ball either." Says Amy sadly.

"What, why not? Don't you want to go?"

"The only servants allowed in will be the servers and a few guards." explains Vastra.

Well that's crap! Hanging out with them was the only way this would have been enjoyable. That's out the window. It's not fair, from the look on Amy's face she clearly wants to go. Why should they be prevented from having any fun? What made the blue bloods any better? She doesn't let her annoyance show on her face. She doesn't want Amy to feel any worse since she's already put her foot in her mouth.

"Well at least that means you don't have to hang with Her Majesty the Head Case."

With two hours until the ball Clara's maids leave to get her costume. They said it took them three weeks to complete it. Clara wonders why they even bothered with Oswin missing. At least this way their hard work isn't wasted even if it wasn't meant for her.

Clara is floored when she sees the thing. It's all black sequence and sheer fabric. It also looks really tight. Thank god Clara and Oswin have the same measurement because the dress is a second skin. The top is covered in black sequence with a plunging neckline. The dress itself only goes down to mid-thigh. A sheer cobweb-like skirt falls from the waist to her ankles paired with a web shaped collar to make Clara look like a spider goddess. It's accented by black satin armbands and dark crystal jewelry.

Amy rolls up her hair into waves which remind Clara of pictures she's seen of the 1940s. Oswin's silver tiara is placed on her head and it's heaver than she expected. Jenny paints her lips blood red while Vastra ties on her dark spider web mask. Glancing in the mirror Clara can hardly recognize herself.

"You guys are amazing." she says. She can't believe they did all this. "It's incredible."

"No one is going to top this." Amy agrees with a smirk.

"'choo better get goin'." Jenny says shooing her towards the door. "You're gonna be late."

Clara feels like she's shaken hands with everyone on the planet. The first half-hour of the Harvest Ball is nothing but introductions. She stands with the rest of the royal family to greet the guests as they arrive. Lavender is her exact opposite as a butterfly. Her dress is demur and as close to pastel colored as anything can be in Shades. For whatever reason it makes Clara think of catholic saints. Viola is a rose garden in a costume that's actually made up of thousands of tiny fabric roses. They range through every shade of pink growing darker as they go down.

The king is appropriately a jester.

The ballroom is huge. An orchestra on a raised platform plays on one end and on the other doors lead out into the palace courtyard. It's autumn, day of the dead, and old Hollywood all at once. Black tapers drip onto candelabras. Twisted dark trees rest in the corners filled with sparkling lights. Spiders and bats and skeletons hang around the room set against sequence and silk. Everything glitters and shines.

Clara is forced to smile and dance with a series of business men and politicians. They're often twice or even triple her age. She tries to make small talk but they mostly end up staring in opposite directions awkwardly. Without the girls' dance lesson it would have been a disaster. At least she doesn't have to lead though she would prefer not having strangers put their hands on her. Most of the men are nice enough but a few find their eyes drawn to Clara's low neckline. She has a tendency to 'accidently' step on those men's feet.

"Might I have this dance?" asks a voice she doesn't know.

Clara spins around and it's him. John Smith, dressed as some kind of highway vagabond, is standing there smiling shyly. She feels her cheeks flush but suppresses any other emotions. She's never been one of those girls who swoons over the hot guys in high school. Her reaction to the man yesterday makes Clara feel like an idiot. She almost wants to tell him to go away, but she doesn't.

"Alright." She says.

John's smile widens lighting up the room. The orchestra starts in on a slow waltz as he takes her hand. Clara feels warmth spreading across her skin where he places his palm on her waist. John's an even worse dancing than she is. Ungainly and awkward, but endearing. Clara wonders how he manages as a Knight with two left feet.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Clara asks. What a stupid thing to ask. It's as bad as talking about the weather.

"Yes." He nods, ears turning red.

She wonders why that would make him blush. His eyes shift between green and blue in the candle light. They appear too old for his young face, as if they've seen too much. A twinge of sadness curls in her belly. Unconsciously Clara leans closer to John. His eyes flicker to her lips.

"It's nice to finally meet you, You're Highness." John says. He really does look happy but also nervous. Though maybe that's part of his personality.

"Clara." She corrects without thinking.

John blinks, "Clara?"

Realizing her mistake too late, Clara bites her lip. Freezing in place she still has her hand on his shoulder. Shit she just blew everything! If word gets back to the Queen she's screwed. John watches her panic with growing concern on his face.

"Please don't tell anyone I said that." Clara whispers glancing around. The fact that they've stopped dancing is starting to attract attention.

"I promise." he says. It looks like he really means it. He also sees the eyes in their direction, "Why don't we step outside?"

Clara tries her best to act natural as she follows him through the open doors. Several couples stand just outside talking and drinking. The night breeze is refreshing and helps calm her nerves. They wander down one of the gravel paths without speaking. Clara isn't sure where this is going, but she isn't compelled to leave. There is something strangely magnetic about John.

They come across a circular clearing with a stone bench. John sits down, gives her a crooked smile inviting her to sit too. That smile makes her heart do funny things which her head doesn't like. Yet she still sits down.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Clara frowns, "Why should I tell you anything?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I'm good listener. Plus it doesn't take a genius to see that something's on your mind."

She doesn't say anything for a long time then it all just comes tumbling out. Clara can't stop talking. She tells John everything from Broken Bridge to the Queen's threats. He sits there just watching her while she gets it all out. Finally Clara stops and waits for John to say something. To call her crazy and leave or get the Queen.

Instead he says, "They have brighter colors where you come from?"

Clara's mouth falls open. "That's your takeaway? Brighter colors?"

"Yeah…" he raises an eyebrow. "You thought I wouldn't believe you."

"You have no reason too."

John says, "I have no reason not to. When you've spent as much time as I have in the outer districts strange starts to sound normal."

Clara finds herself leaning towards him again. "Thank you."

The corner of his mouth pulls up in the ghost of a smile. "I didn't do anything. You should talk to the Oracle, she might know something."

"Who?" Clara breaths.

"The Oracle. She can see the future." John mutters.

His eyes drop to her lips again. Clara's breath hitches in her chest. Her heart flutters as he leans forward. John is so close she can feel the heat of his skin. It's blistering in the autumn chill. Clara closes her eyes. There's a chime of a clock.

"There're about to announce your betrothal." John says and then he's gone. Leaving Clara sitting on the stone bench in the now bitter cold.