The things we do for hate

He finally gets it

He ignored the whispers from the partiers as he stepped up onto the platform with his advisor, the guests confused as to his new appearance, but he bowed respectfully and thanked everyone for their attendance. Tumultuous applause met his ears and the Acerbian Prince cynically thought that he could be speaking an entirely different language, cursing each and everyone of them and they would still applaud. These were the well-off ambassadors, dukes, lords ladies and the like that would agree to anything he said in order to get on his good side and or try to set one of their daughters up with him.   

Derek accepted the sharp knife from the man and faced the magnificent dessert before him, ‘It seems harmless enough. The roaring applause from the revelers soon gave way to the orchestra belting out the birthday song, so the Prince had no choice to paste on a fake smile.

“Now, dear Prince Derek,” The Advisor placed a warm hand on his shoulder, “Make a wish and cut your cake.” For the first time, that tone seemed more sinister than usual, the Count seemed to exhibit a strange glee in watching him do so. He did so, and slid the blade through the bottom tier, like butter, catching some of the flowing icing on the cake as he drew a slice from it.

Placing it on a plate, he watched the pastry, as if it was about to attack him. But Derek wasn’t as unperceptive as he seemed, “Why, Count, you’ve been there for me since day one, since my father passed away and left me in charge. You’ve advised well and tolerated my moods. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Therefore, I’d like you to take the first slice.”

He could almost double up in laughter as the Advisor tried to come up with the most polite way to avoid doing so. But he couldn’t outright refuse a request from the Prince especially when it was so rare for him to ask. “That’s alright, Your Highness. It’s your cake, the honor of the first slice should go to you.”

“I insist.” He all but shoved the cake into the blubbering Count’s hand.

Derek watched with ill-disguised pleasure, as his Advisor held the cake as if it was going to burn him, before he pressed it back into his own hands, “Really, my Prince, the pleasure would be too much for me. Please take it.”

“Are you sure? Because I would really love for you to have it. Unless you want to go against your prince.” He never found himself using the title card, but to see the almost fear-ridden face of the count was worth it.

The man needed to work on schooling his emotions.

As the slice passed between the two at least 3 more times, the entire ballroom watched with rapt anticipation and whispers began spreading around the room, ‘Was there something wrong with the cake?’ ‘Why doesn’t he want to eat it?’ ‘It’s so rare for the prince to request something, he should just do it.’ Even Count de Quions realized what a position he was in.

After another forceful ‘I insist,’ the offending pastry was left in the Count’s hands without an inkling as to what to do. “Unless, of course, something is wrong with the cake?”

“Why of course, not, and if it there is it’s probably the fault of that wretched brat Kit and his sisters, you know how he hates you so. Or it could be the fault of that Catastrophe!”

“Well it sounds to me like it is definitely poisoned, Count, but let’s make sure.” An unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the ballroom and as if on cue, a cold wind and spray of water followed, extinguishing all the lanterns and candles within it. Leaving the entire party cloaked in darkness.

Albeit, except for the glowing purple cake on the platform.

Many people oohed and aahed at the sight, however, Derek found himself narrowing his eyes at purples spots left near the Count’s wrists, “What a catastrophe, don’t you agree?”

“Well, Your Highness,” This time his voice was laced with disgust and even in the darkness of the room could he feel the glare that he sent in his direction. Derek smiled almost sadly, though he hid it with his usual disinterest. “You just had to be a thorn in my side once again, didn’t you?” The cake dropped from his hands, proving Katarina’s and thus Kit’s theory right. Dammit. He had a lot of apologizing to do.

Derek heard the metal steps of armour clunking their way behind him, now let’s see if they were right about this too. “Guards, arrest this man for treason and attempted murder.”

“I’m sorry Prince,” Came Gilden’s gruff baritone, a collective gasp ran through the room as the slink of an unsheathed sword vibrated through the previously silent room. “But you’ve been fired.” He had no time to block the blow that came from behind.

 It never came, “Well, aren’t you all bold? Attempting to kill your Prince while in the presence of an entire party of people. I wish I had your courage.” The unfamiliar teasing voice came again. The room was suddenly filled with searing hot light, the many candles in the room being ignited at once; barely craning his head around, the Prince saw a flash of red and black parrying the blow intended for his neck with sheer professionalism. Those guests who didn’t try to escape, found themselves even more shocked by these dramatic events.

The person swiftly pushed aside Gilden’s weapon, before delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the man hurtling into the other crooked foes, leaving all who watched flabbergasted. “W-who are you?” The advisor barely managed, fear evidently creeping into his voice. He had stepped back discreetly, unsure of what to make of the situation.

Finally, facing his savior, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he discovered it was his dance partner, wielding his sword with the same precision as she played piano.

“I’m afraid your advisor doesn’t recognize me like this, Your Highness, as I haven’t been exactly truthful with you.” With a swift pull of her skirt, she revealed a sleek black jumpsuit, before wrapping the remains of the dress around herself as a cloak. To add the finishing touches, the filigree mask disappeared to make way for a full smiling black cat one.

The few remaining onlookers gasped.

The Advisor shook,

Derek smiled.

 She was the Catastrophe.