The Crimson Crown

The hours dragged on like an unrelenting tide, each minute stretching into what felt like an eternity. The monotonous rhythm of scrubbing floors filled the empty corridors, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet or a soft sigh from Clara. Dorian worked beside us, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated, but he was trying. I could see the effort in the way he mimicked Clara’s techniques, even if his arms trembled from exertion.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the stone walls as the day wore on. My muscles ached, my knees sore from hours of kneeling on the hard surface, but I kept moving. We couldn’t afford to draw attention by leaving the job half-finished.

Dorian let out a soft groan as he sat back on his heels, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “How do you two do this every day?” he muttered, his voice low but tinged with frustration.

“It’s not about how,” Clara replied, her tone brisk as she rinsed her sponge. “It’s about surviving. You learn to push through.”

I glanced at him, offering a small, sympathetic smile. “It gets easier,” I lied softly. “You’re doing fine.”

He didn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he returned to his scrubbing. Despite his discomfort, he didn’t complain again.

By the time we finally finished the section of the wing, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the castle in the dim orange glow of twilight. My body felt like lead as I climbed to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my legs. Clara stretched beside me, her back cracking faintly as she groaned.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, grabbing her bucket and heading toward the cleaning closet.

We followed in silence, the weight of the day pressing down on all of us. When we reached the closet, we returned our buckets and sponges to their proper places, the faint scent of soap clinging to the air. Dorian hesitated by the door, his gaze flicking between us.

“What now?” he asked, his voice cautious.

Clara and I exchanged a glance, the unspoken answer passing between us. “Now,” Clara said, her tone tight, “Liliana and I report to Mistress.”

Dorian frowned, his confusion evident. “Again? Why?”

“Diaper inspections,” I said quietly, my cheeks flushing as I avoided his gaze. “It’s... part of her control.”

His expression darkened, a spark of anger flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll wait for you in the dining hall,” he said finally, his tone reluctant.

I nodded, offering him a faint smile. “We won’t be long.”

As Clara and I made our way toward Mistress’s room, my stomach churned with a familiar mix of dread and humiliation. Each step felt heavier than the last, the memory of the previous inspections fresh in my mind. Clara walked beside me, her posture stiff but stubborn, and I envied her ability to mask her emotions so easily.

When we reached Mistress’s door, Clara knocked sharply, her hand steady despite the tension radiating from her. The door swung open, and Mistress stood there, her sharp eyes scanning us with a look of smug satisfaction.

“Come in, girls,” she said smoothly, stepping aside to let us enter.

We filed in silently, standing side by side as she closed the door behind us. The air in the room was heavy and oppressive, and Mistress’s presence only amplified the feeling.

“Let’s see how obedient you’ve been,” Mistress said, her tone almost playful as she stepped closer, her hands already reaching for the hem of my dress.

I held my breath, my cheeks burning as the inspection began, bracing myself for yet another reminder of the power she held over us.

Mistress’s sharp eyes glinted with amusement as she stepped closer, her hands poised with deliberate precision. “Let’s see, then,” she said smoothly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Lift your heads, girls. I want to see those obedient faces.”

Clara and I exchanged a glance before standing straighter, though my cheeks burned with humiliation as Mistress reached for the hem of my dress. She lifted it without hesitation, exposing the thick padding beneath, her fingers pressing firmly against the front of my diaper before moving to the back. The soft crinkle seemed to echo in the silence of the room, each sound magnified by my shame.

“Good,” Mistress said with a smirk, letting the fabric fall back into place. “Very good, Liliana. You’ve been an obedient girl, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned her attention to Clara. Without missing a beat, she repeated the process, lifting Clara’s dress and giving her diaper the same thorough inspection. Clara stood rigidly, her face a mask of stoic endurance, though I could see the faint flush creeping up her neck.

“Excellent,” Mistress said, stepping back with a look of smug satisfaction. “You’ve both done well. Obedient girls make my job so much easier.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, her sharp gaze flicking between us as she continued. “You may go. I’ll see you both in the morning for your next inspection. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” we replied in unison, curtsying slightly before turning toward the door.

“And Liliana,” Mistress said, making me pause in the doorway, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the… cleanliness… of your diapers thus far.” she said with a smirk, “You will not be disappointment tomorrow, will you?”

I blushed madly, realizing exactly what Mistress was saying. I shook my head, “No, Mistress, I will not.”

She nodded curtly, waving me from the room.

As we stepped into the hallway, the door closing behind us, I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling at my sides. Clara walked beside me in silence, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture mirrored my own. The weight of Mistress’s control lingered heavily in the air, a reminder of the power she held over us.

But even as we made our way toward the dining hall, a faint flicker of defiance burned within me. For now, we would endure. But one day, Mistress’s reign over us—and this castle—would come to an end.

As Clara and I entered the dining hall, the warm hum of quiet conversation and the clatter of dishes enveloped us. The tension that had gripped me moments ago eased slightly, though the lingering embarrassment of Mistress’s inspection clung to my thoughts like a stubborn shadow. We joined the line for food and quickly had ourselves served piping hot bowls of the bland stew.

We quickly spotted Dorian sitting at the far end of our usual table, a bowl of stew in front of him. He looked up as we approached, his expression softening when he saw us. “There you are,” he said, his tone low but welcoming. “I was starting to wonder if I’d have to eat alone.”

Clara and I slid into the seats across from him, exchanging a glance. The awkwardness between us was palpable, but we both knew better than to address it outright. I reached for my spoon, hoping to dive into my meal before Dorian could ask—

“So,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “how did it go?”

My stomach clenched, and I froze mid-reach, my cheeks flushing as I struggled to find an answer. Clara stiffened beside me, her spoon pausing halfway to her mouth as she shot me a look that clearly said, Handle this.

“Fine,” I mumbled, avoiding Dorian’s gaze as I stirred my stew. “It went... fine.”

“Fine?” Dorian repeated, his brow furrowing. “What does she even do during these inspections? I mean, you’ve mentioned diapers, but—”

“Dorian!” I hissed, my face burning with mortification. Clara groaned softly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered something under her breath.

“What?” he said defensively, though his voice was quieter now. “I’m just trying to understand. If we’re going to survive here, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

I sighed, glancing at Clara, who gave a subtle nod. “She checks them,” I said reluctantly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Our diapers. To make sure they’re, um... used.”

Dorian blinked his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “She... checks? As in—”

“Physically, yes,” Clara cut in sharply, her tone clipped. “Front and back. And she likes it, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Dorian’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. “That’s... vile.”

“Welcome to servitude,” Clara said dryly, taking another bite of her stew. “It’s not exactly a picnic. She didn’t take kindly to them at first, punished us for them actually. But then saw how docile it seemed to make us and has been leaning into it ever since.”

I focused on my food, my appetite suddenly waning as the conversation hung awkwardly in the air. “Can we not talk about this right now?” I muttered, glancing around nervously to make sure no one was listening.

Dorian hesitated, his expression softening slightly as he nodded. “Alright,” he said quietly. “But I still think it’s wrong. She won’t get away with this forever.”

Clara smirked faintly, her gaze flicking to me. “That’s the plan,” she said, her tone laced with a mix of determination and bitterness. “But for now, we eat. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and we lapsed into silence, the tension easing just enough to focus on finishing our meal. Despite the lingering embarrassment, a faint flicker of hope burned within me. We were still here, still fighting, and together, we would find a way to overcome.

Finishing our meal, we stand and bus our dishes with practiced ease. I could feel a tension in the air between us, knowing what was about to happen when we returned to our room. Dorian was clearly still uncomfortable in the servant’s dress he was wearing; I could see it in the facial features of his disguise. But, to his credit, he didn’t complain. 

We walked in silence back to our room, the clatter and chatter of the dining hall fading into the distance behind us. The hallways were dimly lit, the soft glow of torches casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. My body ached from the day’s work and the familiar weight of my wet diaper pressed against me. Clara walked beside me, her movements brisk but subdued, while Dorian lagged slightly behind, lost in his thoughts.

As we stepped inside, Clara wasted no time heading toward the basin to wash her hands. I moved to the side, preparing the supplies for her change; the routine was now second nature to us both. Clara stood silently as I gestured for her to lie down, her expression unreadable as I peeled back the hem of her dress and exposed the sodden padding beneath.

Neither of us spoke as I worked, the quiet punctuated only by the faint crinkle of the diaper and the occasional rustle of fabric. The intimacy of the act was no longer as jarring as it had once been, but tonight, something felt different. Clara’s eyes lingered on me as I fastened the fresh diaper in place, her expression softer, almost hesitant.

“Thank you,” she murmured as I helped her sit up, her voice unusually tender.

I nodded, offering her a faint smile. “Of course.”

As I began tidying up, Dorian cleared his throat, drawing both of our attention. “Liliana,” he said cautiously, his gaze steady but unsure. “I could... help you if you’d like.”

My cheeks flushed at the offer, and I glanced at Clara, whose expression immediately tightened. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flicking between Dorian and me. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—something I couldn’t quite place.

“It’s fine,” Clara said quickly, her tone brisk. “I’ll handle it.”

Dorian frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been doing everything all day. You deserve a break, too.”

Clara opened her mouth to respond, but her words faltered. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick as she looked away, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“It’s up to Liliana,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.

I hesitated, glancing between the two of them. The thought of Dorian changing me was a welcome one after days of having Clara change me. Yet, Clara’s reaction gave me pause. She’d been the one to care for me all this time, her touch gentle and reassuring in a world that often felt cold and cruel. The bond we’d formed was fragile but deeply personal, a small comfort in the face of everything we’d endured.

“If you don’t mind,” I said softly, my gaze settling on Clara, “I think I’d like you to do it. Just for tonight.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she nodded, her lips curving into a faint, almost grateful smile. “Alright,” she said, her tone steady as she moved to prepare the supplies.

Dorian stepped back, his expression unreadable as he watched Clara help me onto the bed. I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, his jaw tightening slightly before he turned away, giving us a semblance of privacy.

As Clara worked, her touch was as gentle as always, her movements precise but unhurried. The silence between us felt heavier tonight, the unspoken emotions lingering in the air. When she finished, she helped me sit up, her hands lingering briefly on my shoulders.

“We’re all tired,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting mine. “But... I’m glad I could do this for you. It’s... nice. To feel needed.”

Her words hung in the air, and I offered her a small, reassuring smile. “You are needed,” I said softly. “More than you know.”

Clara’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but her eyes held a hint of sadness. As we settled into our nightly routine, the weight of the day began to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding. In a world that sought to strip us of our humanity, moments like these were a reminder of what we still had—and what we were fighting for.

The room was quiet as Clara settled into her bed, the soft rustle of blankets the only sound as she turned away, giving Dorian and me a semblance of privacy. My heart pounded in my chest as I sat on the edge of my bed, watching Dorian with a mixture of relief and longing. The day had been exhausting, physically and emotionally, but now, in the stillness of the night, I allowed myself to see him truly—the man I thought I might never see again.

As I recalled the illusion I had woven around him, the disguise shimmered faintly before dissolving, his true form emerging. His broad shoulders, his strong jawline, the quiet intensity in his eyes—all of it was Dorian. My Dorian.

He crossed the small space between us, his steps careful but deliberate. When he reached me, he knelt slightly, his hands resting gently on my arms as he looked up at me, his gaze soft yet filled with an unmistakable intensity.

“Liliana,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion. “It feels like a lifetime since I’ve held you.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I reached up to touch his face, my fingers brushing against the rough stubble on his cheek. “It’s been too long,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Far too long.”

Without another word, he pulled me into his arms, his embrace warm and unyielding. I buried my face against his chest, breathing in the faint, familiar scent of him as tears slipped down my cheeks. It felt as though the weight of the world melted away in that moment, leaving only the two of us.

We climbed into the bed together, the narrow space forcing us to stay close, not that either of us minded. Dorian wrapped his arms around me, his body solid and reassuring against mine, and I clung to him as if letting go would mean losing him all over again.

“For tonight,” he murmured against my hair, his lips brushing my temple, “nothing else matters. Not the castle, not the kingdom—just us.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak, and we lay there in silence, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me into a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. The world outside could wait. For now, in this small, stolen moment, we were simply husband and wife, two souls reunited after far too much time apart.

“I love you,” I whispered finally, my voice barely audible.

Dorian tightened his hold on me, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice steady and full of promise. “Always.”

We drifted to sleep like that, tangled in each other’s arms, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the cold reality of the world beyond our door. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever battles we would have to face, we would face them together. For now, though, we had each other, and that was enough.