The Crimson Crown

I finished my bottle, my tummy full of the sweet milk, as Morris sat me up and patted my back, burping me. I always felt ashamed at being burped like this, but she had shushed me and told me it was better out now than having an uncomfortable tummy later. I had to take her word on it as I wasn’t versed in what would happen after an un-burped bottle. Morris wiped any spit up from my chin and helped me stand; still dressed in my nightgown, I glanced to the Queen, who was already dressed for the day in a simple maid gown.

“What’s with the outfit?” I asked the Queen with curiosity, “And did you get something for breakfast?”

The Queen blushed, glancing away, not meeting my eyes as I asked my second question. Why was that? She had just seen me fed a baby bottle of formula, and we had both seen each other naked while we were changed; what could she possibly be embarrassed about? “Yes, I ate, thank you,” she said as Morris stepped up to me, holding a similar outfit.

“If you two end up getting captured again,” Morris explained, lifting my arms and pulling my nighty off, “The last thing we want is for them to immediately realize they have the Princess and Queen in their grasps again.” 

I nodded as Morris pulled the dress over my head. It was a plain beige dress that stretched below my knees, with simple white trim and buttons to keep it in place. It was boring, no doubt, but if the goal were to lay low, this would certainly do it. The outfit was well worn, used countless times by girls before me to scrub floors, pots, or dust webs from the corners of rooms. It was designed to be simple but practical and easy to wash. Unlike many outfits I had worn before, this dress moved with me and felt lightweight, perfect for performing chores around the castle.

Dressed, I take a seat on my bed with a sigh. There wasn’t much for us to do, trapped in the confines of the castle walls. The tension in the room grew heavier with each passing moment, the confined space amplifying every sound. The flickering light of the lanterns cast long shadows on the stone walls, their wavering shapes mirroring the unease that hung in the air. I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, my thumbs nervously tracing the edge of my dress. Across from me, the Queen maintained an air of calm, but the tight line of her mouth and the way her fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of her chair betrayed her inner turmoil. 

The guards stationed just down the hall moved in and out periodically, their footsteps echoing softly down the tunnels. Each time one entered, the room seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting for news. Their updates were curt but laced with urgency. “The enemy is moving room by room,” one guard said, his voice low but firm. “We’ve reinforced the entrance to the lower tunnels, but it won’t hold indefinitely once discovered.”

Morris, ever attentive, moved quietly around the room, adjusting the lanterns and ensuring both myself and the Queen were as comfortable as possible given the circumstances, checking out diapers regularly despite my assurance I’d tell her when I needed a change. Morris offered me a cup of cool water, murmuring, “Drink, your grace; you’ll need your strength.”

I accepted with a faint smile, but my throat was too tight to sip more than a small mouthful. I stole a glance at the Queen, whose poised demeanor both reassured and intimidated me. The Queen met my gaze and spoke, her tone steady. “We must remain composed, Liliana. Panic will not serve us now.” Her words were practical, even sharp, but her eyes softened slightly as she added, “You’ve shown great strength today.”

I hadn’t felt like I showed great strength. Despite the derogatory nature of our treatment, the Queen seemed to be taking a stoic stance toward our occupation, maintaining a level of decorum I dreamed of being able to achieve. She seemed so composed and in control, even when she was on her back, having her diaper changed like a baby. Before I could respond, another guard entered, his face pale with exertion. “There’s movement near the west passage,” he reported, his voice strained. “They’re getting closer; we may need to relocate soon.”

The room fell silent, the words settling like a weight over everyone. I felt my pulse quicken, my thoughts racing with images of capture and chaos. The Queen leaned forward slightly, her expression grave, “How long do we have?”

“Minutes, perhaps, hours or even days,” the guard replied with a shrug, his gaze flickering to Morris before ducking out once more.

The oppressive silence was broken only by the distant sound of the voice and the faint scrape of boots against a stone. Each sound seemed amplified in the quiet that pressed on my nerves. My hands trampled slightly, and I clenched them tighter to still their movement. The Queen noticed and placed a hand on my arm, her touch firm yet surprisingly gentle. “We will get through this,” she said, her voice low but persistent.

The guards began murmuring plans among themselves, their tones clipped and purposeful. Morris approached me, crouching slightly to meet my eyes, “When the time comes, stay close to me,” she said, “We’ll move quickly and quietly. Trust me.”

The flickering lanterns cast soft, dancing shadows on the stone walls as the guards stepped outside to confer quietly, leaving our room momentarily silent. I glanced at the Queen, and despite the narrow confines of the room, I felt a distance between us, a gulf shaped by the circumstances of our relationship and the heavy expectations I’ve carried since marrying into her family. Finally, unable to bear the silence, I spoke, my voice quiet but trembling.

I’m sorry,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to her lap, “I’ve only made things harder for you. If it weren’t for me, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. I’m sure the enemy saw my marriage and knew their time to strike was coming, capturing not one but two generations of royals in their nets.”

The Queen turned her head sharply, her expression softening as she studied me. She leaned forward slightly, her voice low and firm. “Liliana, stop that nonsense. You are not a burden. You are the future of this kingdom, as much as Dorian is. The enemy was bound to strike regardless of you coming here or not, they’ve been planning this for a long time. Do you think I would leave you behind? You are my family.”

My eyes widened at the words, my breath catching, “I just feel so useless. I’m not like you, or Dorian, or even the guards. I don’t know how to lead, I don’t know how to fight, all I’ve been is a subservient little girl to this kingdom. Despite our disadvantages, you sit there like a Queen, you command the room, you make changes, you are a leader, I’m playing pretend, I’m a fool.”

The Queen rose from her seat and crossed the room to sit beside me. Her presence was steady, reassuring, yet commanding. She placed a hand gently over my trembling fingers. “You may not see it, but you’ve shown more strength during this occupation than you realize. Leadership isn’t just about standing on a battlefield or giving commands. It’s about endurance. It’s about doing what needs to be done, even when it terrifies you.”

I hesitated, my voice wavering, “But what if I’m not enough? What if I fail? What if I take the throne and lead the kingdom to ruins as your ancestors did?”

The Queen squeezed my hand, her tone softening. “Liliana, we all feel that fear. I have felt it more times than I care to admit, when Dorian went to war, when the kingdom faced famine, even now as we sit here in the dark, unsure of what’s to come. But strength isn’t about never feeling fear. It’s about moving forward despite it.”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I wiped them away with haste, embarrassed, “I don’t feel strong.”

The Queen smiled faintly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “And yet, here you are. You’ve kept going. That is strength. You freed not only yourself but me as well. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for. You didn’t break down when we were being tortured; you didn’t let yourself succumb to the enemy; you showed strength and resolve even I wasn’t able to match.”

For a moment, I simply stared at the Queen, my heart aching with a mix of gratitude and longing. I had never had this kind of relationship with my mother, and hearing these words from my mother-in-law felt both comforting and bittersweet.

“I’ll try,” I whispered, my voice steadier now.

The Queen nodded, her gaze filled with a quiet pride. “That’s all anyone can ask. And you will not face this alone. We will find a way through this together.”

The door creaked open, and Morris stepped in, her face etched with worry but resolute, “Your Graces,” she said softly, “The guards are ready; we need to move.”

The Queen rose, her composure slipping back into place like armor. She offered me a hand, “Come, my dear. There is work to be done, and we need every ounce of strength we possess.”

I took her hand, my heart a little steadier, my resolve a little firmer. For the first time that day, I felt not like a frightened girl but like someone who could rise to the occasion. The moment between us lingered as we exchanged a final glance, one of mutual respect and understanding, before following Morris into the uncertain darkness of the tunnels.

Before we could leave the room, a guard burst in, his face pale but determined. “They’ve breached the outer passages,” he said, his voice firm but low, “They’re searching every corner; we don’t have much time.”

The General stepped in behind him, concern edging the corners of his grizzled face as he glanced between us. 

“What do we do, General?” The Queen asked, keeping her chin high.

The troop leader stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, “We’ll divide; some of us will stay here to slow them down buy you enough time to get to the deeper tunnels and out of their reach.”

My breath caught, my heart hammering in my chest, “Stay behind? But-”

“There’s no other way,” the General interrupted gently but firmly. “The enemy will come this way. If we all go, they’ll overrun us. This is our duty, your graces; it is our honor to protect and serve you.”

The Queen placed a hand on my shoulder, her voice steady. “We must trust them, Liliana; they are giving us a chance.”

Morris, already moving to gather what little they had, stepped to my side, “We must move quickly, your Grace,” she urged, her tone calm but urgent.

The guards formed a tight formation as they led us into the tunnels. The flickering torchlight cast shadows that lept and twisted along the walls as we walked briskly, our footsteps soft but purposeful. Behind us, a smaller group of guards remained at the entrance to the bunk room, their weapons drawn. The Genera’s voice echoed faintly as he issued orders to hold their ground. The sound of clashing and shouting erupted in the distance, echoing through the narrow tunnels. I glanced back, my stomach churning, but Morris gently tugged me forward, “Don’t look back, Princess. They are doing this for you.”

We navigated a series of twists and turns, the air growing colder and more damp as we descended further into the labyrinth of the tunnels. The guards ahead moved swiftly but cautiously, pausing at each junction to listen for enemy movement. The Queen’s face was set in a mask of determination, but her hand rested lightly on my arm, a silent gesture of reassurance. 

Suddenly, a shout rang out from a passage behind us, followed by the unmistakable sound of pursuit, boots pounding against the stone floor. “They’ve found us,” one guard muttered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, the tip wagging back and forth as his eyes darted around the tunnels.

“We split again,” the General said, “We’ll take the left passage and lead them off; you take the princess and Queen to the servant quarters. If they come, try and blend in; it’s the best chance we have.”

The Queen nodded, her voice calm, “Go, and may the winds guide you.”

The guards saluted quickly before peeling off, their footsteps fading into the distance. The remaining guards pressed in around us, pushing further, pushing us into a narrow, unmarked corridor. The sound of pursuit grew fainted as the guards who split off engaged the enemy, their shoulds and the clash of blades reverberating faintly through the stone halls. Finally, we emerged into a quieter section of the tunnels. A faint breeze carried the scent of wood smoke and bread, a sign we were close to the servant's quarters. The lead guard paused, his breathing heavy but controlled. “This is as far as we go,” he said, his voice firm. “The servants will know how to hide you.”

Morris nodded, gripping my arm gently but firmly, “Come, your Grace, we’re almost there.”

The Queen turned to the guard, her expression unreadable, “You have my thanks. My son and husband will hear of your loyalty.”

The guards bowed deeply, their eyes reflecting the unspoken gravity of the moment, before disappearing back into the darkness of the tunnels. As the Queen, Morris, and I stepped into the faintly lit servant quarters, the distant sounds of battle echoed behind us, only cutting off once the secret passage closed behind us, trapping us in enemy-controlled territory once more.

The servant's quarters were dimly lit, the faint glow of oil lamps casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. The faint hum of activity from the castle above vibrated through the air, but at this moment, it felt eerily quiet. A calm before the storm. I took a seat on a low, wooden stool in the corner of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. The Queen stood nearby, her posture rigid yet composed, while Morris quietly checked the door, her face a mask of determination.

The brief calm was shattered by the sharp sound of heavy boots echoing down the tunnel. The Queen’s eyes met mine, and for the first time, the composed mask faltered, replaced by something raw: fear.

“They’ve found us,” Morris whispered sharply, her hand darting to a concealed blade at her waist.

The door burst open, slamming against the stone wall, and the enemy soldiers flooded into the room. Their presence was overwhelming, their black and yellow uniforms stark against the dim surroundings. They shouted orders, their voices harsh and clipped as they searched the room, overturning creates and peering into darkened corners.

“Seize them!” one of the soldiers barked, pointing to the Queen and Morris.

I thought for certain I was a part of that group, but only two guards stepped forward, their grips firm as they seized the Queen and Morris. Morris struggled against the soldier, her movements swift and desperate, but the numbers were too great. Within moments, she too was subdued, her blade clattering to the floor.

I watched, frozen, my breath caught in my throat. The guard who had ordered their seizure studied me with a critical eye before waving me off. I watched as a powerful dread filled my chest as the Queen and Morris were dragged toward the door.

“Find the princess,” one of the soldiers commanded, his voice like steel, “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

The room felt suffocating. My hands trembled violently, my fingers digging into the rough fabric of my dress as I shrunk into the shadows of the room. The clamor of the soldier’s boots, the rough shouts, and the echo of the Queen’s voice, calm yet filled with unspoken urgency, overwhelmed my senses. My heart raced, my chest tight and constricted as though I could not draw enough breath. 

As the soldiers dragged the Queen and Morris from the room, my stomach twisted painfully. I was utterly alone. The realization slammed into me like a physical blow, there was no one left to guide me, no familiar face to look for reassurance. My family was gone,  my new home taken, and now the only two people who had stood with me in this nightmare were being hauled away, leaving me trapped in the heart of enemy-controlled territory.

Tears blurred my vision, but I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay silent in case they returned. I knew I could not try out, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t risk being discovered by someone who would recognize me. The cold stone of the wall pressed against my back, grounding me only slightly as the weight of the situation threatened to crush me completely. My mind raced a torrent of fear and desperate thoughts. What do I do? Where do I go? How can I survive this? I felt so small, powerless, and exposed, like a candle flickering in a storm, moments from being extinguished.

Yet, deep within the fear, a flicker of resolve stirred; I couldn’t let them find me; I couldn’t let their sacrifices be for nothing. It was a faint ember, born from the Queen’s earlier words of strength, but it was enough to keep me rooted in the present, enough to keep me from crumbling entirely. As the noise of the soldiers faded and the room fell into an eerie silence once more, I remained still, my breath shallow and my body trembling. I knew I couldn’t stay, but the thought of stepping into the halls alone filled me with dread.

I had to move; I had to think if I was caught, it was over. I forced myself to my feet, clinging to the shadows, the weight of isolation pressing in on me like never before. I was terrified, utterly lost in a foreign castle, but I took my first tentative step forward, the echo of the Queen’s strength faintly guiding me through the darkness.