The Crimson Crown

I smoothed my gown, fingers grazing the rich fabric that billowed around me like a midnight sky. Deep blue with silvery undertones, it flowed like water, wrapping me in a tapestry of twilight. The bodice hugged closely, adorned with lace and embroidery that mimicked the soft curl of leaves, a subtle nod to my kingdom's heritage. My red hair tumbled across my shoulders, vivid against the dark fabric, a crown of fire in a life I felt smoldering into something I barely recognized. Around my waist, a sash of royal purple was tied, a final tether to the world I was leaving behind, a life I no longer owned. With each turn of the wheels, I’m drawn closer to my fate and the castle on the hill that waited like an unspoken promise. My heart, a tumultuous storm of fear, anger, and resignation, beat a frantic rhythm against my chest, a constant reminder of the life I was about to leave behind.

As the carriage finally came to a halt within the castle walls, the doors swung open, and a flurry of movement surrounded me. I barely had time to gather myself before I was ushered down from my plush ride, my feet touching the cold stone floor as I stepped into the towering shadows of the castle. My gaze darted around, taking in the vastness of the courtyard, the towering walls adorned in crimson, and the floors of my new life, of a kingdom I now belonged to.

A cluster of attendants surrounded me, their hands gentle yet unyielding as they guided me further inside. I’m led down echoing corridors, through archways draped in banners that rippled slightly in the breeze, like silent witnesses to my arrival. The scent of rose and sandalwood filled the air as we passed. Massive doors swung open before me as I was ushered inside, and I halted momentarily, overwhelmed by the magnitude inside. 

I had been prepared for such an event, and yet, being naked before so many left me flush with shame; the only reprise I had was that the attendants were all female. My toes curled in surprise as they broke the water's steaming surface, nearly scalding temperatures surrounding me as I descended into the depths of the tub, coming up to my waist. The attendants, still clad in simple ivory colored dressed, followed me in, clothes and all. I refused to give them the benefit of seeing me cringe beneath their stairs as they studied my body, bringing forth a plethora of sponges, scrubs, and powders. 

The bathing attendants wasted no time shaving, scrubbing, and cleansing my body free of any hair or grime that may have been there from the previous years. I wanted to cry in agony, but I kept a strong, stoic face, determined to get through this, the scalding water surely burning away any spots they missed. My hair was lathered several times over, and a multitude of floral-scented powders scrubbed deeply into my pores. Surely, anyone would be able to smell me from a mile away. My body felt like that of a newborn babe as I was led from the waters. The attendants surrounded me with crimson-colored towels, drying every drop of water. I glanced down at myself; the attendants had shaven me clean, leaving only the hair on my head, “Why was I shaven?” I asked.

The attendants froze as if I had chastised them, one finally speaking, “It was per the orders of Prince Dorian, my lady.”

Of course, my mysterious husband, who was this man? I had yet to meet him, but even now, he was already dictating my life. But what man whose aspirations were as high as being king wouldn’t expect complete control over their life and those around them? I gave the attendants a curt nod, and they finished drying me. A cursory glance around the room told me my traveling clothes had been taken away. In fact, I noticed a distinct lack of any clothing at all.

“Where are my clothes?” I asked, my voice level yet firm, a queen's voice, one my mother had drilled into me over countless years.

The attendants didn’t stop this time, “The Prince requested he be the one to dress you, my lady.” another attendant replied. 

I ground my teeth, anger flaring across my face. Not only had I been shipped off across the lands, but now, my husband-to-be was playing with me as if I were some toy. My fists clenched, knuckles growing white before I forced myself to relax. 

“And where is my husband?” I asked, my words cold and sharp. 

The bulk of the attendants had finished their work and retreated with sort nods. I was ushered from the room through a separate set of doors from which I entered, my naked shame for all to see. I had yet to receive an answer as the doors swung open. I kept my chin high; I would not let this kingdom's odd customs get the better of me despite their seeming lack of etiquette or decorum. 

The room beyond was a bed chamber, a place I imagined would soon be mine, shared with a man I had yet to meet despite his apparent control of my wardrobe. The air felt heavier here, filled with anticipation and scented faintly of lavender. The room was lavish, and every detail was carefully chosen to speak of wealth and comfort. Rich tapestries hung along the walls, and a grand canopy bed draped in silk sat in the center like a throne. But my gaze was drawn to the room’s most unexpected feature, a large ivory table set with a padded top. The table was carved with ornate detail, wide and sturdy, and the surface was smooth and polished, lower to the ground, and large enough that I could lay upon it. The sight of it sent a flicker of unease through me.

Then I noticed him.

As our eyes met, I sensed the subtle power he carried, not merely as a prince but as a man prepared for the responsibilities of rule and marriage. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging me, and I felt my heart quicken. I turned my body to face him, my chin elevated as the doors behind me closed, leaving me alone with the man. I refused to cover myself; I refused to give him the inclination of discomfort as I felt him studying my body. This, perhaps, was one of the most important moments in our relationship, one that would set the tone for our marriage and our lives together, and of course, it was one that I needed to do while completely naked. 

“You must be Prince Dorian,” I stated firmly, my voice level and in control, contrasting the anxiety that filled my every pore. 

“Princess Liliana.” the man spoke, his voice warm yet firm; he was someone who was used to being in charge, “The scribes talked at length of your beauty, and yet, mere words fail to encompass your true elegance. It’s an honor to meet you at last,” he said with a half bow.

I felt my heart flutter, a warmth blossoming deep within me at the compliment, yet I couldn’t help but feel a deep-seated annoyance at being forced to meet him for the first time without a thread of clothing. 

“It seems you took an interest in inspecting my entire beauty before we’ve even properly met,” I stated, forcing my hands to stay at my side. I would not show weakness now, not when I’ve come this far.

Prince Dorian smiled, the slightest chuckle escaping his lips as he slowly strolled toward me. “My father has spent the last few years sharing in intricate detail his process of breaking mother for the purpose of turning her into a proper queen. I have no doubt I will have equal success in educating you.” 

I could see a glimmer in his eye as he approached, now standing only a foot away, the way the edges of his lips curled up in amusement at some untold joke. “I think you’ll find me well-educated,” I stated, my face devoid of emotion. Without the etiquette of proper clothes, being laid bare before this man, my mannerisms and emotions would speak volumes about my character instead of relying on an elegant dress to speak for me.

“I’m sure you are.” Prince Dorian said, running a finger across my cheek, his touch surprisingly delicate, as if he were touching a fine porcelain doll he was afraid of breaking. “As with mother, you will start from the ground up; you will learn your place here as my wife.”

I felt a heat wash over me, an anger I had to quell. Who was this man to tell me my place? Marriage was about partnership, love, and passion, but no, this wasn’t a true marriage. This was a political move carefully orchestrated well before my birth. As long as a king reined, a queen wasn’t the authority figure she was made out to be in stories. A queen's role was to support the king and his decisions, as well as to facilitate and administrate his rulings. No, I would not be in charge even when I became queen. A part of me knew this deep down, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel a nauseating anger at being made someone’s tool, someone to be used and put away, to groom and look pretty before being forced to cater to the whims of countrymen’s wives while the men talked politics. 

“And what is that place, my Prince,” I asked, a danger to my words, a sharpness that would prick curious fingers.

Prince Dorian’s finger fell from my face, his chin lowering slightly, his eyes boring into my very soul before turning on his heels and striding to the table sat in the center of the room. “You will be my wife. I will teach you the ways of our society, you will listen to what you are told, and most importantly, you will obey me. I will start by taking control of you; I will govern your day, your wardrobe, your meals; you will be mine until I deem you fit to carry those burdens yourself.”

I could feel the heat radiating from me, a mixture of shame along with a wave of simmering anger, a pot about to boil over, my fists clenching tightly at my sides as I forced myself to keep control. His eyes were studying me again, glancing from my face to my hands, waiting to see if I would snap. I would not be so easily goaded; I was stronger than that. I had trained for years in the courts of my kingdom, forced to endure the sternest of tongue-lashing; I would not be so easily broken. 

“That will require a great deal of work on your behalf,” I said, my level voice surprising even myself, the storm of emotions threatening to burst free if I gave its leash even an inch.

“It is.” Prince Dorian said, “It’s one of many sacrifices I am willing to make to ensure a proper transition of power, to ensure our kingdom reigns for many years to come. You will come to love your place as my Queen in time.”

My teeth ground against one another so hard I thought they were going to crack; I could practically hear them grinding. Taking away my freedom was a sacrifice he was willing to make? I had barely met the man, and so far, the only meaningful emotion he’d been able to foster within me was anger. I was forced to stand before this man; my feelings and body laid bare before him as he insulted me. I would not go down without a fight, and I would not show weakness before his callous nature. 

“I’m certain that your training doesn’t include me tromping around the kingdom without something to cover myself.” I said, the word ‘training’ dripping with sarcasm.

Prince Dorian stood by the bed, his posture relaxed yet undeniably regal. He had a quiet intensity about him, a figure cloaked in shadows and light as he watched me enter. His dark hair was thick and neatly groomed, falling just past his ears in soft waves that framed his face, and his eyes were a striking shade of gray like storm clouds caught at twilight. His jawline was strong, and a slight shadow of stubble lent him a touch of ruggedness that concentrated with his composed demeanor. He wore a tailored coat in deep gold and blue colors embroidered with intricate designs that shimmered in the dim light. There was a weight to his gaze, one that felt both curious and calculating, as if he was trying to discern something from me just from this first impression.

Prince Dorian smiled, shaking his head no as he rested against the ivory table, the one I was beginning to recognize as an oversized changing table. His hand brought out a garment from beneath the table’s surface. “Of course not.” he said, “But you needed to be made ready, and you will need the assistance of the attendants frequently. You will be dressed as a lady of the court, a proper princess, but beneath the lace and frills, you will be mine.”

The garment Prince Dorian pulled from below shocked me to my core, the anger in my face draining away as surprise took its place, my face taking on an ashen look. The table was indeed a changing table, as I had surmised; the item he held before me, a smile on his face, was a thick, pink diaper.

“Now, come lay down so I can get you changed, or do you need a spanking beforehand?” Prince Dorian asked, cocking an eyebrow, challenging me, practically begging me to misbehave. “Come be a good girl.” 

End of Chapter 1