The Crimson Crown

In the center of the room stood a grand crib carved from pale wood, its spindles shaped like delicate branches, and a canopy draped in sheer, flowing fabric. The bedding inside was plush and soft, made of fabrics in hues of cream and pastel green, embroidered with leaves and blossoms. Above the crib, a mobile of intricate glass figurines spun slowly. A plush rocking chair with cushioned arms sat in the corner, covered in a pale yellow fabric and adorned with sunflowers. Beside it, a small wooden table, as well as shelves lining a wall filled with books, stuffed animals, and hand-carved toys. A soft run covered the floor, thick enough to cushion knees and embroidered with scenes of nature. The room was kept warm by a stone heart, its mantle decorated with small trinkets and protective charms. Near the far end of the nursery, a changing table made of the same pale wood as the crib was equipped with neatly arranged linens, diapers, and powders stored in decorative jars. 

What immediately struck me, however, was the fact that each piece of furniture was scaled up to accommodate a larger occupant, one such as myself or the queen. The queen was also there; she sat on the floor, her hands occupied by a series of dolls. She sat criss-cross, dressed in a flowery dress that was far too short, her thick diapers poking out from beneath it, her mouth occupied by a pacifier not unlike my own. She glanced up, her eyes meeting mine and blushing as deeply as I felt I was. She, too, had a pacifier in her mouth, although it seemed to be glowing softly; what was that about?

Morris stepped forward, curtsying to the queen, which, given the circumstances, felt ridiculous. “Your grace, the prince requested a playdate for you both; he suggested it would be a good idea for the Princess to understand her position better.”

The Queen stared at Morris, the pacifier bobbing between her lips. Morris awkwardly stepped back towards the door, gently pushing me into the room, “Sit and play.” she whispered under her breath as my attendants turned to leave the room.

The door shut behind them, leaving the Queen and me alone. Not knowing what else to do, I awkwardly took a seat, hoisting a doll between my hands, putting on a show. The Queen nodded, her cheeks still burning brightly. I was beyond mortified, more so that neither of us could talk, the pacifiers doing well to keep us quiet; I was too nervous to remove it, especially if the Queen wasn’t going to either. The only sound in the room was the sucking of pacifiers and the crinkle of our clothes. That is until I heard a faint hissing sound. A glance toward the Queen told me its source, the Queen’s face blushing as the wetness indicators of her diaper faded.

As I was coming to terms with the fact that the storming Queen sat before me in a diaper and babydoll dress and had just wet herself, I heard footsteps outside. I cast a nervous glance at the door, my eyes wide with fright as the doors opened. Dorian stepped in, a wide smile on his face, “There is my sweet princess! It looks like you two are getting along like peas in a pod!” he said, strolling towards me.

I stretched my jaw as the pacifier was removed, enjoying the sense of freedom once more. “How did you enjoy your afternoon, little one?” he asked, standing tall, looming over us.

“It was good,” I said softly, embarrassed. It hadn’t been bad, mostly boring, but the idea others were listening in on intimate moments made me scared, and on top of that, not being changed was humiliating, to say the least.

“Only good?” he asked incredulously, “I heard you had a lot of fun all day! Did Morris and Elera give you your afternoon bottle?”

I paused for a moment; I did not want to throw the girls under the bus; I truly did not. I shook my head no. I felt absolutely horrible doing so, but I remembered their conversation and realized that they would likely say so as well. Dorian pursed his lips, shaking his head, “Shame that, let’s get you fed then.” he said, standing. “You’ll have to drink from the Queen’s supply, but I’m sure you will not mind.”

I gave him a quizzical look, not that he was looking; why would using the Queen’s bottle bother me? I glanced at the Queen, who was pointedly avoiding my eyes, her cheeks burning red in shame. What was I missing? Dorian returned, sitting beside me and pulling me into his lap; a similar white, creamy-looking liquid filled the bottle he offered me. “What is it?” I asked, opening my mouth.

“Your lunch,” Dorian stated, pushing the nipple into my mouth. “Something babies don’t have to worry about.” His eyes were pleading, and he mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

I squirmed, a nervous look crossing my eyes as he pulled me in. A few drops hit my tongue; it was a similar, sweet-tasting liquid, a bit watery but otherwise fairly bland. I gave the bottle a careful suck. While it wasn’t as flavorful as whatever I had been fed before, it certainly wasn’t bad either. I couldn’t stop the feeling that something was off about what was in the bottle; however, Dorian didn’t deem it necessary to clue me in on what it may have been.

I finished the bottle, my tummy comfortably warm, as Dorian pulled me up and over his shoulder, burping me. He wiped away spittle before sitting me on his lap, bouncing me on his knee, much to my distress as I felt my diaper squishing beneath my rear. “How was lunch?” he asked.

“Fine,” I responded, feeling my tummy gurgle.

“Just fine?” he asked, shaking his head, “Silly girl.”

What was he expecting? A report that I’d prefer this over a 5-star restaurant? It had been fairly bland and flavorless, truly boring. I shrugged, and he shook his head. “How do you like the room?” Dorian asked.

I shrugged, blushing, “It’s cute enough; it seems like the queen likes it.” I responded.

“What would you change about it?” Dorian asked curiously, his knee still bouncing me, making me squirm in discomfort.

“Change about it?” I asked, giving him a quizzical look.

“Well, yeah! Once it becomes yours.” Dorian responded with a grin.

I felt a cold chill through my bones, “What do you mean?” I asked, a look of concern crossing my face.

“This is the queen’s nursery.” Dorian explained as if talking to a child, “Once you become queen…” he trailed off, my eyes going wide. “You can change it however you want, my future queen,” he added with a wink and a small smile.

The Queen herself gave me a look of sympathy, clearly already well ahead of me. “I… I don’t know.” I admitted, my voice suddenly hoarse.

Dorian shook his head, “Think about it, then. Once you ascend to the throne, you’ll be asked to change it to your liking.”

I blushed deeply, feeling him scoop me up and carry me towards the changing table. “Let’s see how you like the changing table!” he said with a grin, laying me down. He leaned down, whispering, “I’m sorry, my love, they are watching and listening, you are doing amazing, please, I’ll explain.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by the comment as I felt the soft padding of the table resting against my back. He pulled a strap across my chest, preventing me from rolling away from him as he hiked up my dress, pulling at the tabs of my diapers. I laid back, humiliated to be changed like a baby, as he opened my diapers; my naked shame laid bare for all to see. Dorian continued to praise me, much to my utter shame, as he quickly cleaned me and dressed me in a fresh diaper. I had come to terms with not being able to force this man to do anything or to give me any freedoms he had no intent on giving me. It didn’t stop me from feeling deep-seated resentment as he pulled the fresh diaper into place.

“There we go!” He said in a cheerful tone. “How does that feel?” Dorian asked. 

I blushed but I had to admit, a fresh diaper did feel far better than the one I had been wearing. “Better,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“Only a little better?” Dorian asked with a grin, leaning in, “Surely you can do better than that; thank me for getting you into a clean, dry diaper.”

“It feels much better; thank you for changing me,” I said, blushing.

Dorian nodded, “Better; we will work on your manners yet. For now, we need to work on your other training. We have much to do and prepare for.” He said, unstrapping me and helping me down from the changing table, giving me another look that clearly said he was sorry for his treatment of me.

Dorian glanced at the Queen, who still sat on the floor, clearly bored but making a show of playing with the dolls. “Good to see you, mother.” He said with a chuckle, “Enjoy playtime; I'm sure Father will be along soon.”

Dorian took my hand, pulling me from the room, my attendants taking up flanking positions as we left the Queen alone. Both Elara and Morris refused to meet my eyes as we walked, and I was curious to know why, but now wasn't the time to ask. We continued through the castle, arriving back at the library, where Dorian led me into a small private reading room. 

Scholars asked if we needed assistance, but Dorian waved them off, “We need privacy to study; we will contact you if we need assistance.” The scholars bowed to us and left us alone.

The reading room was a small chamber set with lounge chairs and a few small tables. It was well-lit and had large stained glass windows that looked out onto the gardens. Dorian took a seat in one of the lounge chairs, waving a hand for me to take the other, my attendants seating themselves next to the door. 

I gave Dorian a curious glance as I sat, “What is this?” I asked.

“It's time for you to study; I'll help guide you. As a queen, you'll be expected to be well-invested in the Four Winds. You'll visit hospitals to help the sick; you'll visit the town to help aid the townsfolk and their crops; you'll bring life-supporting rain to arid lands.” Dorian explained, sitting back.

I sat up at this, finally! Something tangible and real! That didn't involve me playing with stupid baby toys. I grinned, suddenly excited, “Oh storms yeah! How do we do it? Where do we begin?” I asked. 

Dorian grinned at my enthusiasm, sitting forward as well. He told me to close my eyes, to sit back and relax. He took me through a guided meditation that took the better part of an hour. He said it would help center myself, to align myself with the winds themselves. 

I felt like a fool, but there was something there. As I centered myself, he explained that as I grew more invested, I would be able to feel the winds, like pools of energy lingering just beyond my consciousness. I got a vague impression of what he was talking about, and I could reach out and touch each pool in turn.

“Hold those pools in your mind; they should give you impressions of what they are: hot for summer, cold for winter, warmth for spring, and chill for fall; it takes some getting used to. You should also have an impression of color if that helps.” Dorian explained. 

“I can feel it.” I said, embracing a well of power, “It feels… Green?” I said hesitantly. I wasn't sure what color felt like, but it just had the impression of it.

“Good!” Dorian exclaimed happily, “That's spring, the wind of growth and renewal. Focus on it, embrace it, and open your eyes.” He said. 

I did so, relishing in the feeling of power that coursed through me as I touched the very wind itself. I opened my eyes to see Dorian a foot or so away with a knife in his hand. With a flick, he spun the knife and cut a thin slit across his palm, instantly drawing blood. 

“What are you doing?!” I shrieked, horrified. 

“Are you still embracing Spring?” Dorian asked, “Take my hand, touch me, and try to push that power into me, focusing on my palm.”

I blinked, confused and nervous, as I reached out, taking his unblooded hand and closing my eyes. I could feel his hand; I could feel the well of Spring within me, its warmth enveloping me as I reached out to touch it, like a thick syrup that clung to me. 

I hesitantly took it and imagined pushing it into Dorian through our physical touch. The pool responded, flowing from me and into him. I gasped as it made contact, I could feel Dorian's body through the connection; I could feel the pain in his hand. 

The energy flowed into him, and I guided it towards his palm, encircling the wound. I could feel the cells in his body responding, growing at a rapid rate, the energy seeming to pull the wound close, filling his veins with fresh blood. The wound closed, and I let go of the pool, letting it slip away as I opened my eyes. Dorian clenched his hand, the blood and wound completely gone. 

“Impressive.” Dorian said with a smile, “Truly impressive, that's not easy to do; well done, my princess.” He said.

I smiled, letting his hand go as I sat up. “Only thanks to your guidance,” I responded in kind.

“Well, of course.” He chuckled, “But you followed my lead, and it worked.”

I felt butterflies in my tummy from his compliment and a silly grin on my face. “You never did explain what exactly is going on,” I said, changing the topic.

Dorian nodded, sighing, “I do owe you an explanation, don’t I?”