Greetings Lovelies!

nanowrimo is kicking my ass but i got this chapter done!

So without further ado...

Enjoy :D

~Date~

Harold is taking Clara on a carriage ride through Violet City. Parading off their love for the happy masses. She marvels at the idiocy of them all, how can they actually think forcing their princess into marriage will make her happy? Life isn't a Disney movie -not that they have any idea what that is. Just because Oswin was a princess and Harold is a prince doesn't mean they will live happily ever after. It doesn't mean anything.

The girls out do themselves getting Clara ready for the occasion. Amy's a firm believer that even if she hates going out with Harold a great dress will make it better. It makes her happy so Clara doesn't argue when Amy drags her into the closet.

The gown is outstanding, she isn't going to lie. It just doesn't improve her mood. It's cream silk with an overlay of light lilac lace which hangs in strips from her waist to the floor. A pearl encrusted bodice, with off the shoulder sleeves, hugs her frame making it difficult to breathe. Vastra says she will get used the constriction but in the mean time Clara always feels short of breath. Yes, Oswin's' clothes are beautiful but sweaters are a lot more comfortable.

She meets Harold outside on the steps leading up to the main entrance. It seems so long ago that the guards were dragging her up those stairs in a borrowed nightgown. Her life has become a fairytale in those few weeks and like all classic fairytales this one is just as dark and twisted.

Harold bows formally and kisses the back of her hand. Clara smiles inclining her head politely. He takes her by the arm leading her to the open topped carriage waiting at the bottom of the stairs. In her mind it is John touching her exposed skin; it's his lips on the black of her hand. She tries to block out reality in favor of her beautiful dream. The dream where he can take her on a ride through the city, where they don't have to hide.

Clara allows Harold to help her into the coach. She tries to keep their physical contact to a minimum but there's no way to avoid sitting next to the man. There is only one cushioned seat in the carriage and it's unfortunately small. She sighs internally. She's dealt with worse situations on public transit she can get through this evening without incident.

She is wrong.

"Have you had a pleasant afternoon, my dear?" Harold asks slipping his arm over her shoulder to rest against the back of the seat.

Clara very nearly blushes while anxiety curls in her belly. He's just making conversation, he isn't insinuating anything. There was no one in the library; no one could have seen her with John.

"Fairly uneventful." She relies lightly, folding her hands in her lap.

He nods a slight smirk about his lips. Clara feels trapped. There isn't enough room in the confining carriage to avoid toughing Harold with at least some part of her anatomy. It makes her skin itch unpleasantly. When his fingers brush the nape of her neck it takes all of Clara's not considerable willpower not to flinch.

She shrugs him off as subtly as she can, but it isn't like he won't notice. They haven't made it down the hill into the city and this is already shaping up to be the worst date of her life. Of course when you are fanaticizing about someone else that tends to be inevitable.

"Do you really want to marry me?" Clara says without warning. She isn't sure what makes her ask it, but she needs to know.

Harold's gaze openly roves her face, lingering on her mouth, before trailing down the rest of her body. His hand stretches out to touch the ends of her brown hair. "Why would I not? You are royal blood and you are beautiful."

Clara is torn between flattery and disgust. There's no hint of respect or even duty in Harold's words. He makes her sound like a piece of art he plans to hang on his wall. The disgust wins out and she is actually tempted to hit him. He looks at her like property not a human being.

"Though your temperament could do with some work." He chuckles humorlessly at Clara's blatant glare. "We can work on that after the wedding."

"I'll save you the trouble." Clara spits practically vibrating with suppressed rage. "I will never marry you."

"And just how are you planning on getting away with that, my dear?"

Clara clenches her jaw and turns away from Harold's smug face staring straight ahead. The coach reaches the main road at the base of the hill. A small crowd lines the cobble stone path, cheering and waving and even throwing flowers. Their homespun clothing is frayed and faded in many cases displaying their poverty, yet they seem so happy to see the royal carriage. Are they only pretending?

"I thought not." Harold says the smirk clear in his voice. He slides a hand to her thigh leaning closer. "And what about them? Do you think they will be cheering when you bring a war down on them?"

"Don't fucking touch me." Clara hisses through gritted teeth.

She shoves his hand off working to keep the hatred from her face. These people - her subjects in a weird sense - can't see her true emotions. They can live happily in their ignorance that she isn't about to ruin all their lives. Because she is selfish.

"Fine." He waves to the crowd smiling brightly. There's no hint of his word in his expression. "I will let you keep your delusions. But just know, my dear, that when you are my wife you will be expected to act like one."

Clara doesn't respond. What can she even say?

They stop at the main market of Violet City. It is large and crowded with merchant stalls lining a hexagonal shaped forum. A grand marble fountain stands in the center. Its beauty contrasts sharply with the simplicity of the buildings around it. A swan rears up, marble wings flaring wide, water spouting from its beak.

Clara wishes she could explore, this place is unlike anywhere she has ever been. She is a long ways from her village's supermarket. The guards who followed behind them prevent her from leaving Harold's side. She knows they are only doing their jobs but Clara still resents it.

"Miss Princess." Says a small voice somewhere around her knees.

Clara looks down into a pair of large blue eyes. A little girl about 4 or 5 is standing before her holding out a white daisy. She has dark curls, rosy dirt stained cheeks, and a wide smiling mouth. She reaches up to give Clara the flower.

Judging by the small gasps that go around the forum when Clara kneels down so that she's eye level with the girl this isn't typical royal behavior. Sure the ground is probably going to damage her dress; she'll apologize to Amy later. It is more than worth it to see the little girl's face light up.

Clara takes the daisy and gently tucks in behind her ear. "What's your name, Sweetie?"

"Olive." The child whispers timidly, her tiny fingers twisting in her brown frock nervously.

"That's a lovely name."

Olive turns cherry red. "Thank you Princess."

Clara's smile widens. "You can call me C - Oswin." She catches herself at the last moment. Harold is standing only a few feet away and she has no doubt he will use anything to gain the upper hand on her.

Hard as it is to move in a bodice, Clara leans forward and gives the girl a hug before getting to her feet. She feels a little like one of the actors at Disneyland. Her parents took her there once and honestly she's always dreamed of going again. This isn't what she had in mind though.

Olive ran back to her waiting, wide eyed, mother who is staring at Clara in awe. She glances around uncertainly and finds a strange form of newfound respect in the faces of the onlookers. They look proud and she is going to destroy everything for them.

Can she really place herself over all of these people?