Chapter 1
“The ceremony held in Westminster Abbey today was a truly beautiful sight to behold. Where, the future Queen of England, Princess Mirilla Meadows, Duchess of Cambridge, Married her partner of nearly six years, Thomas Greengrass. Thousands came to appalude the royal couple, or possibly to get a glimpse of the beautiful Princess Dorcas, known also as ‘England’s Emerald’. And of course seeing the royals, along with their close friends and relatives, the Black, and Rosier families was a joyous sight. Though the grand reception hosts an array of sparkling international guests. Most notably Miss Marlene McKinnion, daughter of President Camille McKinnon of the United States. This is a particularly interesting appearance seeing as Miss McKinnon is often called ‘The Cowgirl Princess’. Also in attendance is Remus Lupin, son of Vice President-”
The TV in the limo is cut off by Marlene’s well manicured hand clicking the remote.
“Hey! Why’d you do that?” Remus whines from the seat next to her, “They we’re just starting to talk about me.”
“God not everything’s about you Lupin.” Marlene grabs a champagne glass out of the armrest between her and Remus and fills it to the very top and proceeds to drink it as quickly as humanly possible.
“Jesus McKinnon, we’re going to a royal wedding not having Thanksgiving dinner with your Me-maw.” Remus laughs,
“We might as well be.” Marlene finishes off the glass reaching for the champagne bottle again.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Remus takes the glass and bottle out of her hands, “slow down there cowgirl.”
“I hate it when you call me that. I hate it when the BBC calls me that, and I don't wanna go to this damn wedding.” Marlene mutters. A few moments of pouting later she turns back to Remus,
“Why don’t we just ditch this fancy gala or whatever,”
“Marlene-” Remus looks at her amused but sympathetic,
“No, Remus c’mon! We ditch the royals and we go to some pub and - and get drunk out of our minds and eat weird British foods!”
“As much as I’d love to do that, we really have to represent the White House. And you know that.” Remus says,
“And we also both know just how much you love an open bar so why are you really being this difficult?” Remus nudges her,
“It’s the “Cowgirl Princess” thing.” Marlene grumbles, as Remus snorts at her answer.
“Really? That’s your big problem? It’s just some gossipy journalist giving you a funny nickname.”
“It’s not even that funny!” Marlene protests,
“Ok, ok. It’s not funny.” Remus snickers.
“Besides it’s not even just the ‘Cowgirl blah blah’ thing, it’s the whole ‘She’s the American Dorcas Medowes’ thing.” Marlene crosses her arms,
“It’s so stupid! They can’t in any way, shape, or form compare me with- with- with that proper, rich, entitled, literal Princess! And I don’t mean that in a good way!” Marlene huffs and Remus raises his eyebrows at her rant,
“You really aren’t a Princess Dorcas fan are you?” He keeps his amused expression,
“Oh really? Did you guess that all on your own Sherlock?” Marlene says sarcastically.
“I think the entire world knows you’re not a Dorcas Medowes fan.” Remus smirks at her.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll work on it.” Marlene rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what Remus was hinting at. Ok, she did admit that she wasn’t particularly shy about not worshiping the ground Princess Dorcas walked on. Even when she probably should be. But that wasn’t her fault, her parents had always taught her to question authority, and Dorcas Meadows was part of the British royal family, making her the epitome of authority. But she couldn’t let that show, not tonight, this was an important event. And her Mom could not afford an international incident right now, not when she was going to start campaigning again soon. Not when 2024 was the election year. Not when the press had the audacity to call her ‘The Cowgirl Princess’. Not when the world had the balls to compare her to ‘England’s Emerald’, Princess fucking Dorcas.
The car rolled to a stop and Marlene straightened the silk skirt of her crimson dress. Remus smiled at her.
“Ok, don’t screw up.” Marlene muttered to herself.
“You won’t. You look amazing. You’re great. People know that, you have nothing to prove Marls.” Remus nudges her playfully,
“Right, I’m relatable and hot. People like that.” Marlene takes a breath and nods at the chauffeur who’s standing outside of the door, holding the handle, waiting for Marlene’s signal. She nods at the man and the door opens revealing the path up to Buckingham Palace. Marlene takes the chauffeur’s hand as he helps her out of the car as her golden heels clink against the cobblestone. Marlene starts walking up towards the palace as cameras flash around her and reporters call her name asking her questions. She smiles and waves at the people kept from the path behind a velvety rope. As Remus steps out of the car behind her and she loops her arm through his, thankful for his support. Marlene looks around her as she walks through the massive palace doors and can’t help but think, god this is overkill. And wasteful, she’d like to add, this was a wasteful way to spend money. Especially money that the royal family could be spending on making sure the people are happy and healthy. Marlene rolls her eyes and whispers to herself,
“Damn royals.”
“Nearly a hundred thousand pounds! On the cake alone!” Dorcas hisses as she makes her way down the hall.
“I know, I know. It’s a waste of money.” Her cousin, Regulus rolls his eyes, having heard Dorcas’ rant more than once today.
“It’s just so much money. Do you know what the average British citizen could do with a hundred thousand pounds?” Dorcas walks through a doorway and into a hall where the entire royal family, cousins included, is lined up to greet the international guests.
“A lot. They could do a lot.” Regulus mutters.
“Exactly.” Dorcas grumbles, as she goes to stand next to her older sister and her sister’s husband since that is where she ranks in the line of succession. Regulus rolls his eyes, clearly aware of the fact that he has not heard the last of the whole cake debacle and stands next to his own brother at the end of the hall. At the end of the hall the doors swing open now that the nobles are all ready and prepared to host. The doors open and what feels like thousands of Prime Ministers and government representatives walk down the hall. At the end of the line, Prime Minister Crouch along with his family walk through the door and directly after him is - great, Dorcas thinks to herself. Right behind the British PM she sees Marlene McKinnion walk through the door. Dorcas needs to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the President’s daughter and the Vice President’s son. Dorcas can't help the little twitch in her eye as Marlene walks down the hall elegantly. She looks like a proper lady, a dark red floor length dress held up with straps of gold chain, the slit on the right side of the dress making it flow elegantly behind Marlene showing off dark gold - no, bronze, Dorcas can see they’re bronze, platform heels. The way Marlene walks down the hall coupled with that dress and the diamond pendant that hangs around Marlene’s neck, Dorcas could almost be convinced that Marlene was a serious daughter of a politician here to represent The White House. Almost, that is, Dorcas knows the kind of person Marlene is, and a silk gown and expensive jewelry won’t make Marlene any less the trashy, vulgar, radical Dorcas knows her to be. Dorcas’ thoughts are interrupted by her sister,
“Don’t make that face.” Mirilla mutters,
“What face?” Dorcas whispers, fixing the judgmental expression her sister has clearly noticed,
“Better.” Mirilla nods slightly at Dorcas’ change in face,
“Just do what you’re supposed to. And don’t make a scene.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Dorcas returns to her sister as Prime Minister Crouch bows slightly in front of her and then shakes her hand. After him Dorcas shakes his wife’s hand and then his son’s,
“You look content.” The Prime Minister’s son, Barty, smirks at Dorcas.
“Go do your job Crouch and I’ll do mine.” Dorcas smirks back at him as he moves down the hall to greet Mirilla and her husband. Up next is Remus, the son of The Vice President, he bows, shakes her hand politely and then…Marlene.
“Princess Dorcas.” Marlene curtsies and holds out her hand for Dorcas to shake, a very obviously forced smile plastered on Marlene’s face. That’s it, that smile. God it makes Dorcas so unbearably angry, and that stupid sparkle in Marlene’s blue eyes. Marlene has to know exactly what she’s doing, has to know this makes Dorcas angry. That’s it. Dorcas isn’t going to stand here and be provoked, and by Marlene fucking McKinnion no less. So, despite knowing she most certainly shouldn’t, Dorcas turns on her heel and, without shaking Marlene’s hand, catches up to Barty making his way out of the room and loops her arm through his.
“This your job Princess?” Barty smirks at her.
“Yes, right now it definitely is.”