The Crimson Crown

I knew what Dorian was doing; I had seen these antics before, especially with children. Positive reinforcement was a strong training tool caregivers used, rewarding children who had good behavior. Dorian was employing much the same tactics on me, rewarding me for using my diapers, for nursing bottles, or sucking on pacifiers. 

What I hated most about the treatment was the fact that it was working. I still didn’t care for the treatment, the infantile garments, or the behaviors, but I was slowly coming around if nothing else than for the fact that Dorian rewarded me for doing so. I was starting to associate these behaviors with pleasure, or at least his praise. Each time he found that I wet myself, he’d heap praise upon me. Each time I pooped myself, he made certain to reward me, going as far as making me orgasm sometimes. What girl wouldn’t start enjoying the treatment? 

Still, I was not too fond of the feeling of using diapers; that was one of the biggest challenges Dorian was working to overcome, but I was also starting to associate using them with his attention. We weren’t always in a spot for him to go down on me or to play with me, but even then, he would ensure I felt his love and attention. When people weren’t looking, his hands found their way under my skirt, feeling an excitement to his touch. To me, diapers were not sexy, and I doubted I ever would find them that way. However, the way Dorian made me feel in them made me feel sexy regardless. 

I found myself wanting to tease him, to play with him. I knew deep down that I was being forced to use them, and I hated that fact, but if I could lessen the pain by leaning into it with Dorian, it would be worth the humiliation and shame. During our trips between towns, I had started to shift my view of diapers, if nothing else, than for Dorian. I tried to change my perspective from ‘I’m being forced to do this’ to ‘I’m doing this to make him happy.’ 

That subtle shift in mindset made it a lot easier of a pill to swallow. I found teasing him was a fantastic pastime and helped ease the shame of being forced to use diapers. Instead of wallowing about when I needed to pee, I’d take his hand and bring it to my crotch or even whisper in his ear that I was about to go. The first time I did it, I thought I was going to die with shame, but Dorian had called for an emergency meeting, stopping our work to take me in the tent, fucking me till I was limp from orgasming so much.

Dorian didn’t do that each time I teased him, but the thought of turning him on to such an extent with so little effort on my part appealed to me. I loved that such a simple gesture could enrage his hormones and drive his lust to do all sorts of wonderful things. I was far from the perfect little docile princess the King wanted, and if I had my way, I would never meet those expectations. That being said, as much as I hated to admit it, I was slipping further toward his ambitious goals for me. Had I not been with Dorian, had I been with just about anyone else, I wouldn’t have fallen so quickly, if at all.

I knew that if it were simply myself and my attendants or the King forcing babyhood upon me, I wouldn’t have bent the knee. No, if the King wanted that, he would drag me kicking and screaming. Dorian wasn’t the king. However, Dorian was kind and loving; he genuinely cared for me, my health, and my well-being. He was fully aware of my feelings towards diapers and the baby treatment, which was partially why he made sure to reward me. As much as I never saw myself as being easily manipulated like the children in the nursery, promises of sweets turning even the unruliest kid good, in the end, I was as susceptible to it as they had been. 

Over the next few days, we traveled from town to town. As with Insbrook, each was afflicted with hardships. Some were as menial as a lack of rainwater to keep their crops alive; it had been a harsh summer, to plagues or other natural disasters that wrought havoc upon the town. I slowly became numb from the experience. The first town that we couldn’t truly rescue, one that had been devastated by wildfires that took the lives of many townspeople, had crushed me. We could heal wounds; we could qualm the smoldering embers of what remained of the fire, but we couldn’t bring back the dead.

I had stood over the mass graves that were used to store the bodies of those who fell fighting the fires that consumed their home; the smell of the blackened bodies nearly made me puke; I had never smelled anything as vile. I wept that night, and Dorian held me as I cried. It was that night I realized that as much as I had grown to see these villagers as my people, it was important for a queen not to get attached.

A queen needed to understand the effects her commands would bring, the lives it would affect, to understand that even those she couldn’t see would feel the weight of her orders. But, the queen was equally responsible for every person in the kingdom. She would see the good times and the bad, and as much as it hurt, she needed to be strong in the face of destruction. The people would look to her for help and aid. I was forced to stand there amongst the fallen, the townspeople looking at me with sadness in their eyes as we blessed the fallen for their sacrifice, unable to bring their loved ones back.

Dorian was the strong, stoic one of us. While it was difficult for me to maintain face, he was as strong and as sturdy as a rock. He hurt; I could see it in him when we were alone, but he had explained some of the horrors he had been subjected to in the army. It wasn’t that Dorian didn’t care; he did deeply; he felt for the people of each town; he loved them as a King loved his people, and Dorian was simply numb to the pain. Dorian told me of some of the stories from his time on the front line, and I felt awful for him. I wanted to cry for him, but Dorian had just shrugged, seemingly detached. 

I wanted to comfort Dorian, to help him with the pain that he had to be masking; how could someone not see death and destruction around them and feel nothing? I knew better; I knew Dorian cared, I knew he loved and felt compassion, but he kept a brave, smiling face for those to look to in their times of need. Storms, I could learn a lot from this man, and of what it meant to be royalty. 

We had finished with the last town and had begun the long trip home. The first town we had visited had been close to our home, but the longer we went, the further we got. What started as a week-long trip turned into nearly three weeks. 

I sat in the carriage, resting against Dorian as we rode, his fingers playing with my hair. I had grown so used to being in that carriage that even when we weren’t moving, I could feel the rocking of the vehicle, the steady clomp of horse hooves on dirt haunting my dreams. 

“How do you handle the pain?” I asked, the memories of the past few days still plaguing me. 

I could feel Dorian stiffen behind me, “I’m not sure.” he answered after a few silent moments, “I suppose I just keep moving forward because it’s what I have to do. A king has to remain strong no matter what.” 

“It doesn’t catch up with you?” I asked, “Surely, the longer you go, the more you experience, the more it hurts, doesn’t it?”

Dorian nodded slowly, “I suppose so; I think I’m just used to it; I’ve grown accustomed to the pain, to the horrors around me. I try not to think about it if I can. I know if I focus on it, if I truly remember, I’ll break. It’s too much for me to handle; if I take that lid off and see what’s inside, I’m worried I’ll never be able to put it back on.”

I felt a shiver travel down my spine, his words daunting, “That sounds awful.” I said softly, “It sounds like a horrible way to live.”

Dorian shrugged softly, “I’ve managed for years this way. As much as my father is a thorn in our side, he does have wisdom in him. The way he helped me deal with it is to devide my thoughts into good and bad, light and dark. If you spend too much time remembering the bad, you become swallowed in darkness; you can no longer see the light. If you only remember the good, you are consumed by the light, doomed to repeat mistakes that lead you to the bad. You have to find a balance and never let either side consume you. My life has always been challenging to find that light in the darkness. But even in the worst of times, there’s always something to be happy about.” Dorian explained.

“Give me an example; take the last village as an example; where was the lightness there?” I asked.

“Well, there was plenty of darkness, but did you see the hope in the people's eyes when we arrived?” Dorian asked, “They had seen their loved ones burn, their livelihoods destroyed, their family homes reduced to ash. But they weren’t done; there was a spark of tenacity in those people; they wanted to quit, they wanted to give up, but they knew if they did, they were giving up on life. We were the catalyst for that spark, my Princess; I realize it was hard on you, storms, it was hard on me, but we serve a greater purpose now.

“We served as a reminder of what once was and what will be again. We brought them renewed hope and helped give them a leg up on rebuilding. They will grow back stronger than ever, but without people like us, they may have given up completely. Their entire town would have been left abandoned, the family refugees to other towns and cities, burdening them. Instead, we ignited in them a will to live, to regrow. You are right; it’s not easy, it’s downright difficult, but I know we served as that first step to rebuilding their lives. In a few months, we’ll see that town start to flourish once more; we’ll see families regrow, and we’ll see joy return to the faces of the townspeople there. That is the light; that is what I chose to focus on despite the horrors around us.” Dorian said, smiling.

I pondered that for a long moment, thinking about it. I had noticed that spark Dorian mentioned, although the experience of the fires had been too overwhelming for me to realize exactly what it meant at the time. Perhaps Dorian was right; I had allowed myself to become enshrouded in darkness, to the point I couldn’t see the light right before my eyes. Dorian had noticed, he was of stronger character than me. I would need to learn from him if I wanted to be a good queen. I vowed to be the best queen this kingdom had ever seen, to squash the rumors and rotten history it had with female monarchs. 

“That makes sense; you are wise, my prince,” I said with a smile.

Dorian shrugged sheepishly, “Sorry, I get passionate about that kind of stuff.”

“Don’t be sorry!” I chastised, “You will make a fantastic king.” 

Dorian gave me a goofy grim, “I will certainly try to be.” he said in a playful tone. “You did well, my princess.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh please, you wouldn’t be so impressed if you knew how close I was to puking.”

Dorian chuckled, “Well if you really were, you fooled me.” 

“I just about puked my guts out all over.” I admitted.

“When they were distributing gifts to the fallen,” Dorian said, “I don’t think that’s what they were talking about.” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, “No, duh, why do you think I kept it in?”

“To make sure you didn’t ruin your dress, obviously.” Dorian laughed.

“Oh, obviously, that was the only reason; it wasn’t to prevent looking like an utter fool before the entire population of the town,” I responded.

“Even while puking, my princess, no one with your grace and elegance could look like a fool,” Dorian said.

His comment caught me off guard, and I found myself blushing. “Well, thank you,” I said, embarrassed. You are too kind to me; I’m sure you would think differently if that had actual happened, it’s hard to look graceful while puking your guts out.”

“I don’t know…” Dorian teased, “I’ve seen your backside cacked in mess, my princess, a little puke doesn’t sound so bad.” 

I playfully punched him in the arm, shaking my head as he laughed, “Honestly, I have to put up with the King’s crap. Do I have to put up with yours as well?”

“Well, I mean, I have to put up with your-” Dorian started as I cut him off.

“I swear if you make another poop joke,” I warned, wagging a finger, “You’ll walk the rest of the way home.”

Dorian grinned, shutting his mouth and settling back, “Fine, I will not; you look beautiful, my princess.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying him as he batted his eyelashes. I shook my head, “Honestly, you men. You are probably the real reason the queen went mad; I know the king died, but did anyone record how mad he was?”

Dorian chuckled, “If men are what drive women mad, the kingdom is indeed doomed.” he glanced out the window, “Oh, thank the storms, we are nearly home.”

I glanced out the window, seeing the edges of town rolling past, “My butt is killing me.” I said, shifting in my seat.

“And you got extra padding; imagine how I feel,” Dorian said woefully.

I pinched his arm playfully, earning a chuckle, Dorian rubbing his arm as I studied the town. Something felt off. I had only ridden through town twice thus far, but each time, the town had been bustling with activity, people milling about, stores open and bright. It seemed like a ghost town, windows pulled tight, doors shut and locked, barely a soul along the once-bustling streets. 

I frowned, looking around, “Does something seem off to you?” I asked.

Dorian frowned, glancing out the window again with a more quizzical stare, studying the streets. He leaned out and barked an order, “Keep the men on high alert; something is wrong.”

“Yes, your grace.” came the quick and practiced response, “Men, on guard!” came the order, and I heard lances and swords shift from their sheaths, the men studying the town around them, closing in tightly around the carriage.

“Is there any indication of something wrong?” Dorian asked the man.

“Non, your grace.” The man responded through the window of the carriage, a concerned look on his face, “The castle and town both appear normal apart from the lack of people.”

Dorian nodded, looking concerned. 

“This isn’t normal, then, for your town?” I asked nervously.

Dorian shook his head as we rolled through the keep’s gates, a mysterious lack of guards there to greet us although the banner of the Four Winds flew true. “No, not normal at all; something is wrong.” 

As we rolled up to the castle itself, the gates to the keep dropped behind us, locking our precession in. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as men clad in yellow tunics and bearing yellow painted shields emerged from doorways in the castle walls surrounding us, bearing spears tipped with yellow flags. 

Our precession came to a halt, and the guards of our escort surrounded us immediately, pikes at the ready, their crimson and gold a stark contrast to the harsh yellow of the men surrounding us. “What is the meaning of this!” The lead guard yelled.

A man in regal-looking yellow armor stepped up behind his men, a massive two-handed sword held point down as he stepped forward, “Your graces, the kingdom is ours; you both are under arrest.”