A/N: This was originally a one-shot that I wrote in honor of Platinum's birthday, but it was very well-received and before I knew it it had become my first-ever multichapter fic and my most popular story on Ao3. Enjoy a little bit of Commoner fluff and drama :)

It was a pure stroke of luck, really, that I ever saw her at all.

A self-righteous customer had been complaining to Pearl about how his cake hadn't been made to his expectations, and demanded to speak to the baker. (That's me!) Pearl fetched me and I had to endure a few minutes of the customer's tirade myself, attempting to placate him while he ranted about how "that's not how cheesecake is made" and "you didn't follow my exact specifications for this cake". (Although those, I've double-checked, had contained all the problems he was complaining about.)

Finally, the customer stormed out, declaring he'd never buy a cake from our bakery again. I was disappointed that he didn't like my cake, but I guess I can't please everybody. Pearl muttered that he'd have to keep an eye out for a negative review from him online and headed back behind the register. I started to head back to the kitchen, but then the bell above the door rang again. I glanced over my shoulder - was the angry customer back for another round of ranting?

Instead of an infuriated young man, I saw her.

She walked with confidence and poise, her head held high and each footstep purposely placed. Her thin lips were set in a firm line, and her golden eyes glittered with determination. Her hair fell in indigo-blue waves around her face, pulled back by two barrettes that matched her eyes. She held her arms behind her back while she walked, but she uncrossed them and placed her hands on the edge of the counter when she approached it. She had perfectly manicured nails, painted a rose pink.

She was like a real live princess…and she had come to my bakery.

(Well, technically it's mine and Pearl's, but…I do all the baking. People don't come to a bakery just because they have a good manager.)

I stood there in awe of her for a few moments before Pearl hissed in my ear, "C'mon, Dia, get back to work. Those cookies won't bake themselves."

I started and ran back into the kitchen. Pearl was right about me having cookies to bake. (They're for a little girl's birthday party tomorrow.) But, I wouldn't be able to hear what was going on in the main room if I was baking cookies. Instead, I grabbed some cookies I had already made and began to frost them near the doorway, all the while listening in on the conversation between my friend and our newest customer.

Pearl must have just asked her a question about flavor, because she hummed for a moment before saying nonchalantly, "Strawberry."

(It's a type of line delivery I hear all the time from people who've meticulously planned everything they want to order already, but don't want it to seem that way. They're the type of consumers who'll spend an hour comparing reviews and prices before they pick the business they trust to do the job right. I love those consumers.)

Her voice was a little haughtier than I expected, but on second thought, I shouldn't have been too surprised. Her designer clothing, while contributing to the regal air that she gave off, also suggested considerable affluence. I had missed the beginning of her order while I was assembling my supplies, but it sounded like she was ordering a custom cake. The thought made me rather giddy - she'd have to give a name to put on the order, and I could only imagine what refined name an elegant girl like her would have.

But by the time I started frosting the fourth cookie, I was getting frustrated. Did we really need that much information to make a custom-order cake? (Well, maybe Pearl didn't, but I did.) I was starting to think that I had missed the piece of information that I was so eager to learn when finally, Pearl finally asked, "What's the name on the order?"

There was a pause, a long silence that seemed to stretch into an eternity. I didn't dare to breathe, afraid I would exhale too loudly and drown out her reply. Finally, she replied, "Missy."

Missy? What an odd name. (But very cute nonetheless.)

"Last name?"

"Berlitz."

Berlitz!? Did she really say-

"Berlitz?" Pearl repeated, his incredulous tone echoing my own thoughts. "Did I hear that correctly?"

"Yes," she responded. "I am a member of the noble Berlitz family."

Pearl remained in a stunned silence for a few moments before I heard his pen scratching her name on the order. "It is an honor to do business with you, miss," he said. "By when do you need this cake finished?"

"This evening," she said.

I could practically hear his eyes roll. "Priority orders are more expensive," he sighed.

(Pearl doesn't like customers who priority order. They're usually the rich ones with no concept of how long it takes to make quality baked goods.)

"Money is hardly an issue."

"In addition," he continued, as though he hadn't heard her, "there is no guarantee that a priority order can be completed in such a short amount of time."

"I can handle it," I piped up, poking my head out of the kitchen. "If I start now, that is. I don't have any other urgent orders for today."

"Dia-!?"

When Pearl whipped his head around to stare at me, I couldn't tell if he was more surprised or angry to find me eavesdropping. But the girl - Missy Berlitz - had a smug grin on her pretty face. I gave her a little smile myself, and maybe it was just my imagination, but I swore her smile softened a little when she made eye contact with me.

"Well, I believe it is settled, then," Missy declared. "I shall return around 7:00 this evening to pick up the cake."

Pearl moped the whole time it took him to finish the transaction, but I just waited giddly for him to be done with the order form so I could take it and get to work on Missy's cake right away. It would be difficult to make it in a day, I was sure, but I could manage it. This cake was for Missy, after all. Somehow, I knew I could find it in myself to get the cake done by that evening - I would give her nothing less than perfection. She deserved it.