The Crimson Crown

I stirred in the dim light of the early morning, the gentle warmth of Dorian’s embrace anchoring me in a rare moment of peace. His arms were wrapped securely around me, his breath soft and steady against my hair. For a brief, fleeting moment, I allowed myself to forget everything—the castle, the war, the pain. In his arms, I was safe. I was home.

But the bliss didn’t last. My body reminded me of its needs, and a sharp cramp rippled through my abdomen, making me squirm involuntarily. My bladder was full, the pressure growing unbearable, but it was the mounting weight in my stomach that truly filled me with dread. My face flushed as I clamped my legs together, trying to stave off the inevitable.

Dorian stirred behind me, his hold on me tightening slightly as he shifted. His groggy voice broke the quiet. “Liliana?” he murmured his tone soft but laced with concern. “Are you alright?”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. “I-I’m fine,” I stammered, though my voice trembled with discomfort.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at me, his brows furrowing as his eyes searched my face. “You’re squirming,” he said, his voice sharper now, fully awake. “What’s wrong?”

My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t meet his gaze, the humiliation too much to bear. “I... I need to...” I trailed off, unable to say the words aloud.

Understanding dawned on his face, his expression softening. “Oh,” he said simply, his voice calm and even. He shifted again, his hand resting gently on my arm as he offered me a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, Liliana. That’s what your diapers are for.”

I turned my face away, the tears of embarrassment stinging my eyes. “I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Liliana,” he said gently, his hand moving to my chin to tilt my face toward him. His gaze was steady, filled with warmth and love. “Listen to me. It’s okay. You’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I love you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But—” I started, but he shook his head, silencing me with a soft kiss on my forehead.

“No buts,” he said firmly. “Just relax. Let it happen. You’ve been through so much, and the last thing you need to do is hold onto this. Let go, Liliana. I’m right here.”

His words, his tone, his unwavering presence—it was enough to break through the wall of shame I’d built around myself. I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath as I willed my body to relax. It was difficult at first, every instinct screaming against it, but Dorian’s hand on my back, his steady, comforting touch, eased my resistance.

As my body finally gave in, I buried my face against his chest, the warmth of his embrace grounding me as the humiliating act unfolded. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. If anything, he held me tighter, his hand gently stroking my hair as he murmured soothing words of encouragement.

When it was over, I felt utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. The tears came then, silent and unrelenting, but Dorian held me through it, his presence a constant reassurance.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my temple. “And no matter what happens, we’ll get through this together.”

At that moment, I believed him. Despite the humiliation, despite the weight of everything we faced, his love was unwavering. And as I clung to him, I realized that I could face another day.

The soft rustle of blankets and faint creak of the bed stirred Clara from her sleep. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes before stretching, her bare shoulders catching the pale light filtering through the narrow window. Dressed in only her diaper, she yawned softly, the crinkle of the padding faint as she moved. Her gaze drifted toward Dorian and me, her brow arching slightly as she noticed Dorian leaning over me, his hands reaching for the edge of my blanket.

“What’s going on?” Clara asked, her voice heavy with sleep as she climbed out of bed.

Dorian glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression calm but focused. “Liliana needs a change,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact.

Clara’s brow furrowed as she moved to her wardrobe, pulling out a fresh servant’s dress for the day. “You’re up early,” she muttered, slipping the dress over her head and adjusting the hem. “I figured you’d sleep in after yesterday.”

“She stirred; I woke up,” Dorian replied, turning back to me as he reached for the supplies we kept by the bedside. “And I figured I’d help.”

I flushed, grabbing his wrist to stop him before he could pull back the blanket. “Dorian, wait,” I said quickly, my cheeks burning. “You can’t.”

He frowned, confusion flashing across his face. “Why not? You shouldn’t have to stay in that any longer than necessary.”

Clara, now fully dressed, gave a soft snort as she busied herself, fixing her hair. “Mistress,” she said simply, the single word carrying all the weight of her reasoning.

Dorian blinked, his gaze flicking between us. “Mistress? What does she have to do with this?”

“She inspects us every morning,” I said reluctantly, my voice low and hesitant. “She checks to make sure we’ve... followed her instructions.”

Understanding dawned on his face, his jaw tightening as his hand fell back to his side. “That’s barbaric,” he muttered, his voice sharp with anger.

“It’s her way of keeping control,” Clara said, her tone brisk as she adjusted her apron. “Humiliating, yes, but effective. And if we show up freshly changed when she expects us to be... otherwise, it’ll raise questions.”

Dorian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fists clenching at his sides. “That woman is vile,” he said bitterly. “How can she get away with this?”

“Because she has power,” Clara said simply, meeting his gaze with a hardened expression. “And until we take it away from her, we have to play by her rules.”

I reached out, placing a hand on Dorian’s arm. “I know it’s awful,” I said softly. “But we can’t afford to slip up, not now. Just... trust me, alright?”

Just as Clara finished tying her apron, a sharp knock echoed through the room, sending a jolt of panic racing through me. My heart leaped into my throat as I turned to the door, dread pooling in my stomach.

“Mistress,” Clara hissed under her breath, her eyes wide with alarm. She whipped around to Dorian, who was still standing in nothing but his underclothes, holding his servant’s dress half-on. “Hide. Now.”

Dorian blinked, startled, before the urgency of her tone registered. He dropped the diaper he had been holding for me and scrambled toward the corner of the room, ducking behind a wardrobe just as another, more impatient knock rattled the door.

Clara’s hands flew to my shoulders, spinning me toward my bed. “Sit,” she ordered, her voice low but firm. “Stay quiet.”

I dropped onto the edge of the bed, my cheeks burning as I realized I was still dressed in only my diaper, feeling the contents of my diaper squishing between my legs as I sat. There was no time to change, no time to fix anything—Mistress was already at the door.

Clara smoothed her skirt hastily before stepping forward and pulling the door open, her face carefully composed. “Good morning, Mistress,” she said, her voice calm but polite.

Mistress swept into the room without waiting for an invitation, her sharp eyes immediately scanning every corner. Her gaze lingered on me, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she took in my state of undress. “Late to get ready, are we?” she drawled, her tone dripping with mockery.

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes downcast as I fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Apologies, Mistress,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mistress chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill down my spine. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” she said dismissively, turning her attention to Clara. “And you, girl? Ready to present yourself?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Clara replied smoothly, stepping forward and standing tall. Her hands rested neatly at her sides, her expression neutral as Mistress’s sharp eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail.

Mistress leaned closer, lifting the hem of Clara’s skirt to inspect her diaper. She gave it a firm squeeze, front and back, before letting the fabric drop with a satisfied nod. “Good,” she said. “Obedient as always. Let’s hope your little roommate follows your example.”

She turned her attention back to me, her smirk widening as she crossed the room. “Stand up,” she ordered, her tone commanding.

I hesitated, my cheeks flushing as I glanced at Clara. She gave me a small, encouraging nod, and I rose slowly to my feet, my hands fidgeting nervously at my sides. Mistress’s gaze swept over me, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“You’re quite the sight,” she said, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. “Let’s see if you’ve been as obedient as your friend.”

She reached out, her fingers curling under the waistband of my diaper as she gave it a thorough inspection. I bit my lip, my face burning with humiliation as she squeezed the front, then the back, her smirk never faltering.

“Well done,” she said finally, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

I lowered my gaze, biting back the tears that threatened to spill. Mistress turned toward Clara, her expression shifting into one of mock approval. “Make sure she’s dressed properly before breakfast,” she instructed. “And don’t dawdle—I expect both of you to be on time.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Clara replied, her tone steady.

With a final, disdainful glance at me, Mistress swept out of the room, the door closing sharply behind her. The silence that followed was deafening, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I sank back onto the bed.

Dorian emerged from behind the wardrobe, his expression tight with anger. “That woman...” he began, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

“Don’t,” Clara said sharply, cutting him off. “She’s gone. We survived. Let’s leave it at that.”

With Mistress gone, the room felt momentarily lighter, though the tension of the morning still hung in the air. I sat on the edge of the bed, my cheeks burning as Dorian approached, his expression softening as he knelt in front of me. His hands reached for the changing supplies without hesitation.

“Dorian, you don’t have to,” I said softly, my voice filled with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Yes, I do,” he replied firmly, his eyes meeting mine. “Let me do this for you.”

I relented, lying back as Dorian carefully unfastened my diaper. His movements were tentative but gentle, his brow furrowed with concentration as he worked. Despite the humiliation of the situation, his tenderness made it bearable, and I felt a strange sense of comfort in his care. Once he had me cleaned and taped into a fresh diaper, he helped me sit up, offering me a small, reassuring smile.

“There,” he said quietly. “All set.”

I nodded, my cheeks still warm as I glanced at Clara. “Your turn,” I offered, gesturing to the supplies.

Clara hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her expression surprisingly neutral. “Alright,” she said, lying back on her bed with a sigh. “If you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

I moved quickly, grateful for the distraction as I worked to change her. Clara’s composure was admirable, her usual sharpness giving way to a quiet acceptance. When I finished, she sat up and offered me a faint smile, her gratitude unspoken but clear.

As the three of us settled, Dorian glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the bed. “Maybe I could just stay here,” he suggested, his voice tentative. “While you’re gone. It’s safer than wandering around the castle.”

“No,” Clara said immediately, shaking her head. “It’s too risky. What if someone comes in while we’re gone? Mistress or another servant? You’d be caught in an instant.”

Dorian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So what am I supposed to do?” he muttered, his frustration evident. “Keep scrubbing floors?”

“Yes,” Clara said bluntly, her tone firm. “It’s the best way to blend in. If you stay hidden here, you’ll just look suspicious when someone inevitably notices you’re not where you’re supposed to be.”

He opened his mouth to argue but stopped, his jaw tightening as he seemed to realize she was right. “Fine,” he said after a long pause, his tone resigned. “But I need something to wear.”

Clara smirked faintly, motioning toward the wardrobe. “Then you’d better pick out a dress.”

Dorian’s face turned a deep shade of red, his discomfort palpable as he moved toward the wardrobe. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the simple servant dresses hanging inside. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, pulling one out reluctantly. “Yesterday was an illusion. At least then I didn’t actually have to... wear it.”

“Well,” Clara said dryly, “welcome to our world.”

Dorian shot her a glare but said nothing as he began to dress. The sight of him struggling into the simple gown was almost comical, though I bit my lip to keep from laughing. His broad shoulders and muscular frame made the dress fit awkwardly, the fabric straining slightly in places.

“This is humiliating,” he muttered, fumbling with the ties at the back.

“It’s survival,” Clara said, her tone softening slightly. She moved to help him, her hands deftly adjusting the fabric and securing the ties. “And you’ll get used to it. We all had to.”

Dorian stood awkwardly in the ill-fitting servant’s dress, his discomfort palpable as he fidgeted with the hem. His broad frame and strong jawline made the disguise laughable at best, and I could see the apprehension in his eyes as he glanced at the door, clearly dreading the thought of stepping out into the castle.

“This isn’t going to work,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “I look ridiculous.”

Clara snorted softly, folding her arms. “You don’t just look ridiculous—you look like a man in a dress. Mistress will spot you from a mile away.”

“Hold still,” I said, stepping closer to him. He blinked, confusion flickering across his face as I raised my hands, the faint hum of the Winds stirring in my chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

“Trust me,” I said softly, closing my eyes as I focused on the Winds. The air around us seemed to shift, the faint scent of summer flowers mingling with the musty scent of the room. My fingers tingled as I guided the energy, weaving it carefully around Dorian.

The illusion began to take shape, softening the harsh angles of his face and reshaping his strong jawline into something more delicate. His shoulders narrowed slightly, his frame taking on a more feminine curve. The transformation wasn’t perfect—he still appeared as a rather large and broad serving girl—but it was convincing enough to pass under casual scrutiny.

When I opened my eyes, I stepped back, my breath catching slightly at the sight before me. Dorian’s face had been replaced by that of a young woman, his features unfamiliar but entirely believable. His figure, while still imposing, carried a subtle femininity that made the servant’s dress fit far more naturally. Dara blinked, looking at me, the masculine face that had made up Dorian’s strong figure gone.

Clara’s mouth fell open, her eyes widening as she stared at him. “Well,” she said after a moment, her voice filled with grudging admiration. “That’s... impressive.”

Dorian touched his face hesitantly, his fingers brushing against his now softer features. “This is still... strange,” he murmured, his voice still his own but tinged with awe.

“It’s just an illusion,” I said, my voice quieter now as I steadied myself. The effort of weaving it had left me slightly breathless, but the result was worth it. “It won’t hold up under scrutiny, but it should be enough to fool anyone who isn’t paying attention.”

Clara clapped her hands, her usual sharpness returning. “Alright, lovebirds,” she said briskly. “Let’s get moving before Mistress decides to come looking for us.”

With that, we stepped out of the room, the oppressive corridors of the castle greeting us once more. The farce was far from over, but as I glanced at Dorian’s now-feminine figure, a flicker of hope stirred within me. I knew he had spent all day yesterday dressed as a servant girl, yet the sight still made me grin, especially knowing he was actually wearing a dress today. 

His movements were awkward, and I knew it would take some getting used to; I just hoped Dara could keep up the act long enough for us to make our move, whatever that may be. With the city under siege, I knew our time was coming; I knew we could break free and get our kingdom back to save our people. I needed to keep my eyes peeled and wait for that opportunity to present itself.