The Crimson Crown

The three of us moved quietly through the dimly lit halls, our steps echoing softly against the stone floor. Dorian walked slightly behind Clara and me, his movements stiff and awkward in the servant’s dress. The illusion I had woven still held strong, masking his true features and lending him the appearance of a broad but passable servant girl. Even so, I could sense his discomfort radiating off him in waves.

Clara glanced over her shoulder, giving Dorian a pointed look. “Relax,” she whispered. “You look fine. Just keep your head down and follow our lead.”

Dorian muttered something under his breath, but before any of us could say more, the sharp clack of heels echoed from ahead, freezing us in place. Mistress stepped into view, her sharp gaze immediately locking onto us. My stomach dropped, and I felt Dorian stiffen beside me, his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

“Well, well,” Mistress drawled as she approached, her lips curling into a smug smile. “What have we here? My diligent little servants.”

Clara and I dipped into quick curtsies, our heads bowed respectfully. “Good morning, Mistress,” Clara said smoothly, her tone polite but devoid of warmth.

Mistress’s eyes flicked over each of us in turn, her expression sharp and appraising. “Let’s see if you’ve managed to keep yourselves presentable,” she said, her voice laced with condescension. Her gaze settled on Dorian, and she raised an eyebrow. “You,” she said, gesturing for him to step forward. “Come here.”

Dorian hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, his movements stiff as he stepped in front of her. Mistress circled him slowly, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of his appearance. She tugged at the hem of his dress, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle before lifting his hands to inspect his nails.

“Clean,” she remarked with mild approval, letting his hands fall. “And your dress is in order. Good. Perhaps you’re not entirely useless after all.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened, but he kept his head bowed, his silence speaking volumes.

Mistress turned her attention to Clara next, gesturing for her to step forward. Clara complied, standing straight as Mistress lifted her skirt to inspect her diaper. A firm squeeze to the front and back satisfied her, and she let the fabric fall with a nod.

“Good girl,” Mistress said, her tone dripping with condescension. “You’ve learned your place well.”

Finally, Mistress’s gaze fell on me, her smirk widening as she beckoned me closer. My heart pounded as I stepped forward, my cheeks burning with humiliation as she lifted my dress. The familiar crinkle of the diaper filled the silence, and I bit my lip as she conducted her inspection, her hands pressing firmly against the front and back.

“Impeccable,” she said, her tone almost mocking. “It seems you’ve been following my instructions. Well done.”

She stepped back, her sharp eyes sweeping over the three of us one final time. “Remember,” she said, her voice cool and commanding, “I expect nothing less than perfection from my servants. You may go to breakfast. And don’t keep me waiting for your next inspection.”

“Yes, Mistress,” we replied in unison, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

As we made our way toward the dining hall, the tension between us was palpable. I risked a glance at Dorian, whose face was flushed with embarrassment beneath the illusion, his hands clenched tightly at his sides.

“She’s vile,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

“Welcome to the club,” Clara replied dryly, though her tone carried a note of sympathy. “Keep your head down, and you’ll get through it.”

Dorian didn’t respond, his gaze fixed ahead as we entered the dining hall. I reached out, brushing my hand against his arm in a silent gesture of reassurance. Together, we would endure this. For now, all we could do was survive.

The dining hall was alive with the low hum of conversation and the clatter of utensils against bowls as we entered. Dorian walked beside me, his steps still slightly awkward in his borrowed guise. Clara led the way to the serving table, where we each collected a modest bowl of gruel and a piece of bread before finding an empty spot at our usual table.

The three of us sat down, the wooden bench creaking softly under our weight. Dorian glanced around briefly, his shoulders tense, before leaning closer to Clara and me.

“What’s the plan?” he asked in a hushed tone, his eyes flicking between us. “We can’t just keep scrubbing floors and pretending nothing’s happening. We need to act.”

Clara took a slow bite of her bread, chewing thoughtfully before responding. “We don’t even know where to start,” she said, her voice low. “The castle is crawling with guards, and everyone is on edge after what happened yesterday. If we make one wrong move, it’s over.”

“We have to do something,” Dorian pressed, his tone sharper now. “Thryne is planning to starve out the people, execute anyone who defies him, and tighten his grip on this kingdom. We can’t just wait for him to crush us.”

I swallowed a spoonful of gruel, my mind racing as I considered his words. “We need to be smart,” I said quietly. “Rushing in without a plan will only get us captured—or worse.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. “So what do we do?” he asked, his voice softer now. “How do we free the people?”

Clara leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table as she lowered her voice further. “The army outside is key,” she said. “They’re trying to starve out the castle, but they won’t succeed if the people inside are too scared to rise. We need to give them hope—something to rally behind.”

“The Winds,” I murmured, the thought forming as I spoke. “If we can channel them again if we can show the people that the Winds haven’t abandoned them, it could turn the tide. They need to believe that we can fight back.”

Dorian frowned slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. “But how do we do that? Channeling the Winds isn’t exactly subtle. Thryne will notice the moment we try something, and he won’t hesitate to act.”

“We don’t have to channel them here,” Clara said, her tone more certain now. “If we can find a way to reach the townspeople in secret, to show them even a flicker of the Winds’ power, it might be enough to spark something.”

Dorian nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “And what about the guards? The council? If we can sow doubt among them, it could weaken Thryne’s control.”

“It’s a risk,” I said, my voice firm. “But it’s one we may have to take. For now, we keep our heads down and gather information. There’s still so much we don’t know about the castle’s defenses, about Thryne’s plans. We need to be prepared before we make our move.”

Dorian’s eyes met mine, a flicker of determination in his gaze. “Then we start today,” he said. “We do what we need to survive, but we keep our eyes and ears open. The sooner we act, the better.”

Clara set her spoon down, leaning forward with an intensity that caught both Dorian and me off guard. Her sharp gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, the noise of the dining hall seemed to fade into the background.

“I think it’s time,” Clara said firmly, her voice low but unwavering. “Time for people to see the Princess for who she really is.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt Dorian stiffen beside me. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, the servants,” Clara said, her tone brisk and decisive. “They’re scared, yes. But they’ve also been beaten down, humiliated, and treated like nothing for too long. If they had a reason to fight—someone to rally behind—they’d rise.”

Dorian frowned, his brow furrowing as he glanced between us. “Are you suggesting we try to turn the servants against Thryne’s forces?”

Clara nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. “Exactly. But it has to start with you, Liliana. You’re the rightful princess, their true leader. If they see you standing strong, they’ll follow.”

The weight of her words settled heavily on my shoulders, and I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. “But what if they don’t?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “What if they turn me in? What if they’re too afraid to fight?”

Clara reached out, her hand gripping mine firmly. “Then we do it anyway,” she said, her voice softening but losing none of its determination. “We don’t need all of them. Just enough to make a difference. Enough to strike when the time is right.”

Dorian’s expression remained guarded, but I could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes. “She’s right,” he said finally, his voice steady. “If we can rally even a small force, it could tip the scales. But it’s a dangerous move, Liliana.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my resolve hardening as I looked between them. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. For the kingdom. For our people.”

Clara smiled faintly, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s start today. We work, we listen, and we speak to the ones we trust. If we can gather even a handful of allies by the end of the day, it’ll be a start.”

Dorian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll need to be careful. The guards are already on edge after yesterday. If they catch even a whiff of rebellion—”

“They won’t,” Clara interjected firmly. “Not if we’re smart about it.”

I took a deep breath, the weight of what we were about to do pressing down on me. But beneath the fear and uncertainty, a spark of hope burned bright. This was our chance to take the first step toward reclaiming the kingdom, and I wouldn’t let it slip away.

“Alright,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s do it.”

Clara’s smile widened, and Dorian gave a small, approving nod. As we finished our meal and prepared to return to our duties, the plan began to take shape in my mind. It wouldn’t be easy, and the risks were enormous, but for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of purpose. This was just the beginning.

We left the dining hall in silence, the weight of our newfound resolve pressing heavily on all of us. Clara led the way, her steps purposeful, while Dorian and I followed close behind. The dim corridors felt suffocating, their narrowness amplifying the tension in the air. My mind raced with possibilities, fears, and the faintest glimmer of hope.

We arrived at the cleaning closet, a place I was growing painfully accustomed to. Clara moved with practiced ease, gathering supplies for the day while Dorian stood awkwardly to the side, his borrowed servant’s dress still ill-fitting despite my illusion.

I lingered near the doorway, my heart pounding as I debated the risk I was about to take. My fingers brushed against the edges of my dress, my thoughts swirling. If I was going to rally anyone to our side, they needed proof—proof that the Winds hadn’t abandoned us. But it had to be subtle, something small, something that wouldn’t draw attention from the guards.

Clara turned, catching my eye. “You’re stalling,” she said quietly, her tone sharp but not unkind. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

I glanced at Dorian, then back at her, lowering my voice. “If I’m going to convince anyone, I need to show them that the Winds are still with us.”

Clara’s brows knit together, a flicker of concern crossing her face. 

“I’ll be careful,” I promised, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “But they need hope. They need to see something real.”

Dorian stepped closer, his expression serious. “What are you planning?”

I took a deep breath, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the Winds, their familiar hum stirring in my chest. “Something small,” I said softly. “Just... watch.”

I closed my eyes, focusing on the Wind of Spring, its gentle energy filling me with warmth and renewal. The air around me shifted subtly, the faint scent of fresh blossoms mingling with the damp, musty smell of the closet. I opened my eyes, my gaze fixed on a small, withered plant sitting on the edge of the shelf—a forgotten remnant of some long-abandoned attempt at decoration.

Raising my hand, I extended my fingers toward the plant, channeling the energy carefully. A soft green glow enveloped it, the withered leaves trembling as new life coursed through them. Before our eyes, the plant began to bloom, its stems straightening and leaves unfurling, vibrant and full once more.

Clara let out a soft gasp, her eyes wide with astonishment. 

Dorian’s expression was a mixture of awe and determination, his gaze flicking between me and the plant. “This,” he said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “This is what will give them hope.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of channeling the Wind tugging at me as I let my hand fall to my side. “We show them,” I said, my voice firm despite the weariness. “In secret, one by one. We remind them that the Winds haven’t abandoned us—and neither will I.”

Clara placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip steady and reassuring. “Then let’s make it count,” she said. “We’ll find the right people, the ones we can trust. And when the time comes, they’ll be ready.”

I smiled faintly, the hope I’d felt earlier growing stronger. 

We walked in silence toward the East Wing, the weight of the day pressing down on all of us. Buckets in hand and sponges at the ready, we moved as if on autopilot, the routine now second nature. Clara led the way, her steps purposeful and brisk, while Dorian followed close behind, his awkward gait still betraying his discomfort in the servant’s dress.

But as we approached the usual corridor, I slowed my pace, glancing down an adjacent hallway. Something tugged at me—a quiet resolve that couldn’t be ignored. Before Clara could notice, I stopped altogether and turned sharply, heading in the opposite direction.

“Liliana?” Clara called out, her tone sharp with confusion. “What are you doing?”

I turned briefly, offering them a playful wink. “I’m going to help some of the other servant girls,” I said with a sly grin. “I’ll meet you both later.”

“Liliana!” Clara hissed, her voice filled with exasperation as she set down her bucket. “You can’t just wander off! If Mistress catches you—”

“She won’t,” I interrupted, already moving away. “Trust me. This will be worth it.”

Clara groaned audibly, muttering something under her breath as Dorian shot her a questioning glance. But neither of them followed me. I could feel their eyes on my back as I disappeared down the corridor, my heart pounding with anticipation.

The halls were quiet, the muffled sounds of scrubbing and the faint clink of tools echoing softly in the distance. It didn’t take long to find a group of servant girls bent over the floors, their sponges moving methodically as they cleaned. They didn’t notice me at first, their heads bowed, faces set in expressions of tired resignation.

Quietly, I approached my bucket in hand and knelt beside one girl without a word.

She shot me a questioning glance, her brow furrowing as her sponge paused mid-swipe. “What are you doing?” she asked softly, her voice cautious but tinged with curiosity.

“Helping,” I replied simply, dipping my sponge into the soapy water and pressing it to the floor. My tone offered no further explanation, and though she hesitated, she eventually returned to her work.

We scrubbed side by side for several minutes; the only sound between us was the gentle scrape of sponges on the stone. The girls cast occasional glances my way, the suspicion clear, but I ignored them, focusing on the task at hand. When the moment felt right, I reached into my apron, my fingers closing around the small, withered flower I had tucked there earlier.

I leaned closer to the group, speaking just loud enough for them to hear. “Watch.”

Their eyes darted to mine, then to the flower as I drew it from my apron and held it out before us. It was dry and brittle, its petals shriveled and brown. Brows furrowed in confusion, but before they could question me, I closed my eyes, focusing on the Wind of Spring.

A soft warmth spread through my chest, and the faint scent of blooming flowers filled the air. The withered flower in my hand trembled, its stems straightening, its petals unfurling with vibrant color. Within moments, it had returned to full bloom, a tiny beacon of life in the cold, lifeless hall.

Their mouths fell open, their sponges dropping from their hands as they stared at the flower in astonishment. “How... how did you do that?” one whispered, her voice barely audible.

I met her wide-eyed gaze, my voice steady as I spoke. “Because I am the rightful Queen of the Four Winds Kingdom,” I said, my words heavy with both conviction and purpose. “And I need your help.”

Her astonishment deepened, her lips parting as if to protest, but she stopped herself, her eyes flicking back to the flower in my hand. “You’re... the Queen?” she asked, her tone skeptical but not dismissive.

I nodded. “I am. And I need you to believe in me, in us. The Winds haven’t abandoned this kingdom. They’re still with us. But we can’t do this alone.”

They stared at me for a long moment, their expression a mix of fear and awe. Finally, she nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “What do you need us to do?”

“For now, nothing,” I said gently, tucking the flower back into my apron. “Keep your head down. Do your work. But when the time comes, I’ll need you to be ready. Can I trust you?”

They nodded in turn, more firmly this time, their hands clenching into fists at their sides. “Yes, Your Grace.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips, and I reached out, placing a hand on one girl’s shoulder. “Thank you. Stay strong. We’ll get through this together.”

With that, I rose, picking up my bucket and sponge as if nothing had happened. As I walked away, I could feel their gaze lingering on me, the spark of hope I had ignited flickering to life. It was a small victory, but it was a start. And I knew that one by one, I would rally them all. The Winds were on our side, and together, we would reclaim the kingdom.