Cake-gate
Dorcas is exhausted. And annoyed, she’s exhausted and, oh so annoyed. Princess Dorcas has spent the last two hours talking to representatives and government officials, two long, annoying hours. Dorcas likes to think she did a good job masking her annoyance, what is she talking about, of course she did. Dorcas has always been a marvelous actress and an even better liar, particularly when it comes to conversation making. Dorcas is finally able to claw herself away from a discussion about tea with some portuguese diplomat and quickly hurries across the room.
“Pardon me.” Dorcas hurries her way over to her friends and gently elbows her way between Evan Rosier and Regulus Black.
“Lovely to see you too, cousin.” Evan snickers at her.
“Cas!” Pandora, Evan’s twin sister, pulls her into a hug, surging away from her spot next to the Prime Minister’s son.
“Pannie.” Dorcas smiles at her cousin,
“My god you look fabulous! How have you been? Is that your mother’s necklace? Oh right! You’re twenty one now! You have access to the royal jewels! How exciting!” Pandora smiles at Dorcas excitedly, still gently holding Dorcas’ hands in her own.
“I’m well, I’m doing well. And you?” Dorcas smiles.
“I’m doing splendidly! Oh, and did you hear the Malfoys are expecting a baby? Though I do hope they don’t choose a garish name for that poor child -”
“Pannie, I think Dorcas might need a second.” Evan gently cuts his sister off,
“Right, sorry. I forget that this is more work than it is a wedding for you.” Pandora smiles sympathetically at Dorcas. Dorcas had always appreciated Pandora’s understanding of her position as princess, something not many else around her even tried to understand.
“It’s alright, I don’t mind really.” Dorcas shrugs it off and Barty snorts across from her. Dorcas shoots him a dirty look.
“We all know you’re about as jazzed about speaking to all those emissaries as a kangaroo is about hugging a cactus.” He rolls his eyes.
“What is that even supposed to mean?” Regulus gives Barty a quizzical look.
“It means Reggie,” Barty nudges his friend, who glares at Barty at the use of his nickname,
“That England’s Emerald, needs to loosen up and take a damn break.”
“I don’t need to ‘loosen up’.” Dorcas huffs,
“You do just as much political heavy lifting as I do so don’t act like you don’t have a stick up your arse at UN conferences.”
“Oh sweetie. I may show up when I’m needed but I’m not ‘The PM’s son’ when I don’t feel like being it. Besides I’m in politics, not the crown.” He smirks.
“And what difference does that make?” Dorcas crosses her arms.
“It means the people are allowed to know that I’m a mess, makes me relatable.”
“Mess is a bit of an understatement isn’t it?” Evan grins smugly at Barty. Both Regulus and Pandora snicker at the comment, Dorcas smiles slightly but she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t bother her that Barty was right. Firstly because he was an idiot, or at least acted like one, which is worse in Dorcas' opinion because being a literal genius and acting like you're mentally deficient is just annoying. Second because it wasn’t her job to be ‘relatable’. She was the Princess. For god’s sake she was England’s bloody Emerald! She was a literal jewel in the crown of the royal family and that was how she liked it, ok! Dorcas doesn't see Barty being the pride of the nation so he should back off!
“I’m gonna get a drink. Want anything?” Dorcas asks and is met with a chorus of ‘No thanks’ and ‘I’m alright’ from the other four. Dorcas walks across the room to the bar. As she picks up a glass of champagne she can't help but stare up at the truly massive cake next to it the bar. The cake is probably one of the most gaudy and excessive wastes of money Dorcas has ever seen. Its seven tiers of cake, that look to be at least half a meter in depth, each. So that's an almost four meter wedding cake, with edible gold dusted roses trailing down the sides, white frosting piped into ribbons and frills all around the edges of each tier. Not to mention the cake topper, a small custom statue of her sister and her new husband, that looks to be made of solid fucking gold. Dorcas rolls her eyes at the statue and takes a few substantial sips from her glass when someone clears their throat next to her and - great. This is just great.
Marlene wasn’t drunk. She would like to make that fact clear. Alright so maybe she had a few drinks. And maybe they were pretty strong ones. But Marlene can handle her liquor so at most she was tipsy. She was minding her business, chatting with Remus and one of the royal family’s relatives, Sirius, she’s pretty sure his name was.
“So, technically, you outrank me?” Sirius smirks at Remus,
“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Remus teases.
“That hardly seems fair doesn't it?”
“Oh, I think it’s very fair. I had to do more than be born to get where I am.” Remus raises his eyebrows playfully,
“Harsh Lupin. So unnecessary.” Sirius says playfully. Marlene is just observing the whole conversation with a grin at this point. It’s almost painful to watch these two men so obviously pining for each other. Marlene takes a sip from her glass and thinks she hears Sirius ask her a question but she can’t seem to tell what it was because, who of all people has made their way to the bar, and alone for the first time this evening no less? Dorcas ‘stick up her ass’ Meadows.
“Uh huh.” Marlene responds to Sirius, her gaze still fixed on Dorcas. The audacity of that woman is unbearable, Marlene thinks to herself. Dorcas is standing there, posture straight, her braids pinned up half-up-half-down, silver clasps and charms adorning the braids that flow down her back. The dark green sleeves of the satin gown she’s wearing hang off her shoulders and a small cape trails down behind her stopping at her waist. The skirt flows elegantly around Dorcas snitching around her legs and fanning out at her calves. Marlene would love nothing more than to call Dorcas gaudy and tacky looking, especially with that massive sapphire and diamond necklace resting on her otherwise rather exposed neckline and shoulders. But she can’t. God she can’t call Dorcas tacky because she simply doesn't look tacky. She looks like a fucking princess. Which is unsurprising considering she is one. It pisses Marlene off. To an impossible degree. Dorcas has the nerve to ignore Marlene and the just prance around looking like a damn goddess? Marlene has half a mind to -
“Here, hold this.” Marlene shoves her glass into Remus’ hands and starts walking towards the bar.
“Marls-” Remus sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as Sirius takes the glass out of Remus’ hands and takes a few sips, giggling at the impending chaos. Marlene stops right in front of the cake and clears her throat from behind Dorcas.
“You have to wonder how many people you could feed with that damn cake.” She says, rather smugly
“Miss McKinnon.” Dorcas turns around and gives Marlene a sarcastic smile.
“Your majesty.” Marlene says dramatically, and Dorcas’ eye twitches slightly. Oh she’s under Dorcas’ skin. Marlene can’t help but smile at that.
“Your majesty is reserved for the king and queen. You address me as your royal highness or your grace.” Dorcas says shortly,
“That's the most stuck up thing I’ve ever heard.” Marlene snorts.
“It’s proper etiquette, smoothing you are clearly lacking.” Dorcas shoots back,
“Yes I suppose not all of our families can waste money on frilly french boarding school can they?”
“Swiss, boarding school. Not that your school system can tell the difference.” Dorcas snarls. Oh that pisses Marlene off. She can handle being told that her ‘etiquette is lacking’ but Marlene McKinnon will not stand to be called uneducated!
“That -” Marlene stumbles a little, as Dorcas turns back around beginning to walk away, and catches herself on- Oh shit. Yeah Marlene might be a little drunk, considering the print that her hand has left in the bottom layer of the formerly pristine and smooth cake. Marlene hides her frosting covered hand behind her back before she retorts,
“At least I know what my country’s school system is. That’s what happens when you actually spend your time serving your people instead of wasting their money on sapphires and cake.”
That makes Dorcas stop in her tracks.
“That is uncalled for. I suggest you try a bar of soap. I hear it does wonders for the filth people like you spew.” Dorcas starts to walk away again, Marlene can’t help but surge forward and grasp Dorcas’ hand.
Dorcas feels a hand grasp her wrist, only it’s wet and.. fluffy? Dorcas looks down at her wrist and her eyes widen. There is Marlene’s hand clenching her’s, covered in pearly white frosting. Dorcas turns and glares at Marlene who still has a tight hold on her.
“I am so sorry-” Marlene actually looks apologetic for once in her life, and lets go of Dorcas’ hand,
“I’ll just-” to Dorcas’ utter shock and disbelief Marlene starts actually scraping the frosting off of Dorcas’ arm which causes it to only land on the skirt of her dress.
“Marlene.” Dorcas hisses, looking behind her to see half the room staring at them eyebrows raised. Dorcas shoves Marlene’s hand away, maybe a little harder than necessary.
“What was that for?” Marlene sounds angry now, the southern accent in her voice giving it a bite, that makes Dorcas turn back towards her.
“You aren’t helping.” Dorcas snarls.
“I am trying not to cause a scene.” Marlene flicks her hands effectively spraying frosting onto both of their dresses.
“You’ve failed miserably at that haven’t you?” Dorcas tugs Marlene by the arm a little closer to the cake, hoping to get them out of the view of the ballroom, which has its entire attention turned to Dorcas and Marlene. Dorcas sees the sharp gaze of her sister flick between her and Marlene.
“Hey, let go-” Marlene yanks her arm out of Dorcas’ hand as hard as she can.
Marlene feels the aggressive pull of her hand out of Dorcas’ send her and Dorcas stumbling in the direction of the table. Marlene sees Dorcas trip and grab onto the nearest thing she can, which just so happens to be the table that the massive royal wedding cake is sitting on. Marlene has enough time to let out a quiet,
“Oh shit-” Before Dorcas effectively trips Marlene sending her into the cake’s table and flying onto the ground, Dorcas landing on top of Marlene in a very un-princess-like fashion.
Dorcas falls onto Marlene and the two barely have time to look up before the gigantic wedding cake comes crashing down onto them in what feels like slow-motion. Dorcas and Marlene sit up, their dresses ruined from the frosting, bits of cake sticking out of their hair. The pair look up at each other, glaring so intensely at the other it could make the buttercream smeared on their faces curdle. Marlene spits out a piece of cake that landed in her mouth and Dorcas brushes her braids out of her face. The ballroom is quiet except for the snickers coming out of the corner of the room where Barty, Evan, Pandora and Regulus have joined Sirius and Remus. The six of them are red in the face making obscene pig-like noises in an attempt to cover their laughs. A shrill voice cuts through the hall.
“DORCAS!” Standing in the center of the room is Mirilla, her bridal makeup not able to hide the horrified and enraged expression on her face as she stares at her destroyed wedding cake plastered over Dorcas and Marlene.