Hello My Lovelies!

Sorry about the delay with this chapter I got really, really sick last week. But hey, I'm still breathing!

Thank you to everyone for their wonderful support on this story. You all make my day brighter!

Reviews are always welcome

Enjoy :D

~There Is More Than One Of Everything~

A healer is called in to calm her down since Clara refuses to stop fighting the guards. They are clearly trying to prevent her from injuring herself. She doesn't care, she claws at eyeballs indiscriminately. John is in danger and she has to save him.

This is her only purpose in life: save John. Save the silly man who has stolen her heart with his kindness and awkward mannerisms. Her life has come to this. She was born to save the man Martha calls the 'Doctor'.

Clara almost breaks free of one of the two men holding her bruised arms, when the door swings open. The young hedgewitch standing framed in the entrance looks utterly terrified. Seeing the Crown Princess raving like a crazed feline is enough to alarm anyone. The girl looks about twelve with long dirty blond hair and large eyes. She is dressed in layers of soft brown fabric and a leather cincher with bronze buckles which makes her look even smaller than she is.

"Giver her something to calm her down." Demands a guard, dodging Clara's nails.

The hedgewitch hesitantly comes forward clearly afraid she will attack her too. Holding out a shaking arm she extends a finger towards Clara. Despite her better instincts she goes still when the little girl touches her. Unbeknownst to the rest of the room Clara still has her protection amulet on under John's faded tunic. She can feel the spell rolling over her body in waves, calling out to her, pulling at her senses. It can't take hold however and Clara pretends to relax letting them think it's working.

"It's okay, Princess." Says the girl soothingly. "My name is Marry." She smiles though her nerves sweetly.

God, she is just a child. Marry doesn't even know how big of a lie she's telling. She doesn't know how fucked up the world is. Clara, used and exhausted, stands in the middle of the pathetic room shivering as the cold freezes her exposed legs and watching the girl apathetically.

Sure everything is fine.

The guards hold her loosely now, perhaps to make sure she doesn't collapse or something. The taller of the two starts to check Clara over for injuries. His eyes freeze on her neck. He moves the hair out of the way, eyes widening in alarm.

"Sweet Darkness. Look at this." He breathes, gesturing to the other two.

Clara keeps still, her face neutral and impassive. She's pretty sure she knows what they're looking at.

"Those are handprints." Exclaims the shorter guard in horror. "He tried to strangle her."

Marry twists her fingers in a strange gesture as if to ward off evil.

"It was Harold." She says quietly startling all three of them. "He attacked me. John saved me."

Clara can tell they don't believe her and it turns her stomach. How could anyone think John capable of this?

"I think she might be under the influence of a love potion." Says Marry in a tiny voice as if Clara can't hear her. "It would explain her behavior. People act highly irrational and even violent. And they will believe anything the subject of their infatuation tells them, even if it directly conflicts with their own memories."

"That's sick."

"That is why love potions are outlawed." Marry replies sounding more mature now.

It's useless to argue so Clara keeps her mouth shut.

Clara is taken directly to the great hall on the Queen's orders. They don't even let her get dressed. The tunic covers everything important but it still leaves her feeling open and vulnerable. Though that probably has nothing to do with the clothing.

All the while her mind is racing. Can Harold really be dead? And did John kill him? She doesn't care if he did; the man was a rapist, thug who deserved what he got. John seemed genuinely surprised to hear he was dead though. Either way they can't kill him for protecting her.

This damned situation gives Viola the perfect excuse to punish him for ruining her plans without starting an international incident by killing a respected member of the Gray Court. There is no way she will waste such a golden opportunity. She won't hesitate to execute John.

The real question is, Clara thinks as the guards open the glass inlayed doors to the great hall, if John didn't kill Harold Saxon then who did? Who gained from assassinating the would-be future King?

Clara knows the answer to that immediately.

Nearly everyone in the palace is in the hall when she steps in. it's an obsence number considering all the guests who stayied overnight after the wedding. They all turn to stare at her. Whispers and cries of outrage move through the crowd like the buzzing of a horrents nest. This particular public humilation was obviously Viola's intent. None of the horrified or sympathtic faces effect her because Clara's eyes are on John.

He is bound and shackled before the throne in a circle of empty space occupied only by the royal family. Blood drips from his lips and his face is black and swollen. Still John's eyes light up when he sees her. The King stands over him eyes burning in rage. The Queen is making a beautiful performance of weeping. And Lavender.

Lavender is triumphantly calling out her own damning evidence in a ringing voice.

"I saw Sir Smith leaving the marriage chamber carrying my sister, unconscious, in his arms. She was covered in nothing more than a blan-"

"Oswin!" The King cries cutting off Lavender when he sees Clara. The crowd parts as he rushes to fold her into his arms face distraught with real concern that tugs at her heart. "Dear Gods! You shouldn't be here, not in this state."

She pushes out of his arms, eyes focused only on Lavender.

"You! You did this!" Clara screams in front of everyone. Playing along doesn't matter anymore, this ends now.

"Oswin, what -?"

"I'm not Oswin. My name is Clara Oswald, I was born in England and I AM NOT THE PRINCESS!" She levels a finger at Lavender, who is frozen before the stunned onlookers. "She got rid of the real Oswin so she could inherit the thrown but she fucked it up!"

"YOU BITCH!" Lavender screams suddenly shocking the room into silence. Rage twists the younger girl's face into a hideous mask. "How was I supposed to know getting rid of her would open the portal for you?"

Before Clara can process anything Lavender slashes her arm though the air sending a tongue of jet-black flame straight for Clara's heart. Adrenaline slows the moment down as the fire slices through the air. Instinctively she throws up her right hand, palm out, and stops the fire in its tracks with a wall of blue energy.

For a moment no one moves.