The Crimson Crown

The dining hall buzzed with the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clatter of bowls and spoons filling the air as we stepped inside. But something was different. The moment we crossed the threshold, a hush began to fall over the room, one table at a time. Heads turned, eyes glancing toward me—not with suspicion or disdain, but with something that made my breath catch.

Respect.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as I met the gaze of a young girl at one of the nearest tables. She paused mid-bite, her expression softening as she gave me a small, deliberate nod. I blinked, my cheeks flushing as I quickly looked away, only to find another pair of eyes meeting mine. This time, it was an older woman, her hands weathered and calloused from years of hard labor. Her nod was subtle but persistent, a silent acknowledgment that sent a shiver down my spine.

Clara noticed, too, her steps faltering slightly as she glanced around. “Seems like word’s spreading,” she muttered under her breath, her tone carefully neutral.

Dara, still disguised and doing his best to stay inconspicuous, leaned in slightly. “They’re looking at her,” he murmured. “At you.”

I couldn’t respond. My throat felt tight, my chest heavy with the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t judgment or curiosity that filled the room—it was something far more profound. A flicker of hope, a spark of defiance, and the faint, unspoken understanding that change was coming.

By the time we reached our usual table, I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on me. As I sat down, the familiar crinkle of my diaper beneath me, I realized something strange: for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I wasn’t ashamed. I wasn’t embarrassed or humiliated. I was proud.

I straightened my back, lifting my chin as I took my seat. The weight of my meager meal in front of me felt inconsequential compared to the realization that was dawning in my heart. These were my people—servants, laborers, individuals who had been beaten down and stripped of their dignity. But they were still here, still standing, and now, they were looking at me.

Clara sat beside me, her usual guarded expression softening as she studied my face. “You feel it, don’t you?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I nodded slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Dara leaned forward, his eyes flicking between us. “What’s the plan?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I let my gaze sweep across the room, taking in the faces of the servants around me. Some were still eating quietly, their heads bowed, but others were watching, their eyes filled with quiet determination. They weren’t just servants anymore. They were my people, my army, and they were ready.

“We eat,” I said finally, my voice steady as I picked up my spoon. “And then, we plan.”

For the first time since stepping into this castle as a servant, I felt like a queen. And I wasn’t going to let them down.

The dining hall was alive with a quiet hum, the low conversations of servants blending with the clinking of dishes. Yet, as we ate, there was an undercurrent of something different—something palpable. More than once, a servant girl passing by leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“For the Winds,” one murmured, her voice barely audible, her eyes flicking around nervously before she moved on.

Another, a girl I didn’t recognize, placed a hand briefly on my shoulder as she passed. “We’re with you,” she said softly, her words lingering in the air like a promise.

Each whispered word, each stolen glance, filled me with a sense of purpose that dulled the aches in my body and the weight of my humiliation. These people, my people, were beginning to believe in something again. They were beginning to believe in me.

By the time we finished our meal and bused our dishes, I felt a strange mix of pride and responsibility swirling in my chest. The murmurs of support, the respectful nods—it was all building toward something bigger. Something I couldn’t afford to fail.

We made our way back to our room in relative silence, the weight of the day pressing down on us. Once the door closed behind us, Clara immediately began gathering the supplies for our nightly routine, her movements efficient and familiar.

“Alright,” she said, gesturing for Dara to lie down first. “Let’s get this over with.”

Dorian hesitated, his face flushing slightly, but he obeyed. As Clara began changing him, I moved to the corner of the room, tidying up the small pile of folded servant dresses to give them some semblance of privacy.

Once Dorian was changed, he stood and smoothed down his dress, avoiding Clara’s gaze as he made his way over to me. “Your turn,” he murmured to me, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took the supplies from her.

I lay down again, my cheeks warming as Dorian knelt beside me. He worked with care, his hands gentle as he untaped my diaper and began cleaning me up. Clara busied herself tidying the room, her back turned to us, giving us the illusion of privacy.

“You’ve been so good today,” Dorian whispered, his voice low and filled with warmth. His eyes flicked to Clara, ensuring she wasn’t listening, before leaning closer. “Such a good little girl, just like I always knew you could be.”

His words sent a shiver through me, and my face burned as I bit my lip to keep from smiling too widely. Despite everything—despite the castle, the rebellion, the sheer weight of the day—his quiet praise filled me with a strange comfort, a momentary escape from it all.

“You’re doing so well,” he continued, his tone soothing as he taped the fresh diaper into place. “I’m so proud of you, Liliana. I know it isn’t easy, but you are adapting well; I can’t wait to have our kingdom back so I can properly praise you for being such a good girl.”

I nodded faintly, my voice barely above a whisper, my cheeks burning red. “Thank you.”

Dorian smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face before helping me sit up. “Always,” he said softly.

As Dorian helped me stand, we glanced toward Clara, who stood, fidgeting before sighing and lying down. I took a step toward her, but Dorian stopped me with a wink, “I got this one.” he said, stepping over and gathering the changing supplies.

I rolled my eyes, “Oh, sure, offer to change a wet diaper, will you? Where was that enthusiasm when she was messy?”

Clara blushed deeply, but Dorian only laughed as he made quick work of changing her, helping her to her feet. 

As the room settled into a more comfortable silence, Clara finished tidying up and finally turned to us, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. “Alright,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Lights out?”

“Not yet,” I said quickly, sitting up straighter in my bed. Both Clara and Dorian turned to look at me, their expressions curious. “We need to talk first.”

Clara sighed, her hands dropping to her sides. “Liliana, it’s been a long day. Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “It can’t. We’re running out of time. If we’re going to take back the castle, it’s not just about rallying the servants. We need to do more.”

“More?” Clara echoed, frowning. “Like what?”

I glanced between them, my mind racing. “The servants can help let the army in through the escape tunnels, but that’s not enough. We need the people in the town on our side, too. We need to show them that the Winds haven’t abandoned them, that they can fight back.”

Clara hesitated, her frown deepening. “And how do you plan to do that? The townspeople are scared out of their minds. They’ve seen what happens when you defy Thryne.”

“That’s why we need a symbol,” I said, my voice growing more urgent. “Something powerful, something undeniable that will give them hope. And not just them—our army, too. We need to let them know the Winds are with them.”

Dorian, who had been silent up until now, cleared his throat. “There might be a way,” he said slowly, his expression thoughtful. Both Clara and I turned to him, waiting for him to continue.

“There’s a chamber in the castle,” Dorian said, his voice low. “It’s called the Hall of Relics. It holds artifacts—old, powerful ones, tied to the Winds and the kingdom’s history. My parents always said they were more than just symbols. Some of them are said to hold actual power.”

My breath caught, hope flaring in my chest. “Power? Like what?”

Dorian hesitated, his gaze flicking to Clara before settling on me. “It depends on the artifact,” he said. “One of them is a horn, said to summon the Winds themselves when blown. Another is a banner, said to imbue those who fight beneath it with the strength of Summer. There’s even a chalice that’s rumored to heal wounds and illnesses. But... I’ve never seen them used. They’ve been kept locked away for as long as I can remember.”

“Do you think they’re still there?” Clara asked, her voice cautious but tinged with curiosity.

Dorian nodded slowly. “If Thryne knew about them, he would’ve destroyed them, but the Hall of Relics isn’t easy to find. It’s hidden, and only the royal family knows how to access it.”

“Do you know how to find it?” I asked, my heart pounding.

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with determination. “I do. But it won’t be easy. The hall is deep within the castle, and if anyone sees us heading there...”

“We’ll need a plan,” Clara interjected, her voice sharp. “A way to slip past the guards without drawing attention.”

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. “If we can get to the Hall of Relics and retrieve one of the artifacts, it could change everything. It could rally the town and the army, show them that the Winds are still with us.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Clara asked, her tone pointed. “What if the artifacts are just old relics with no power at all?”

“Then we find another way,” I said firmly. “But we have to try. We can’t just sit here and do nothing while Thryne destroys everything.”

Clara sighed, rubbing her temples before nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” she said. “But we need to be smart about this. If we’re caught...”

“We won’t be,” Dorian said, his voice steady. “We can’t afford to be.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as the weight of what we were planning settled on all of us. But beneath the fear and uncertainty, there was a spark of something stronger—hope.

For the first time in days, I felt like we had a real chance. And I wasn’t going to let it slip through our fingers.

With our plan set, the weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on all of us. Clara extinguished the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. The faint creak of beds and the rustle of blankets filled the silence as we each found our places for the night.

I climbed into the narrow bed, Dorian following close behind. The mattress sagged slightly beneath our combined weight, and the familiar warmth of his body against mine sent a wave of comfort washing over me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close until I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with tenderness. “Holding you like this... it feels like a lifetime ago.”

I smiled faintly in the darkness, my hand covering his where it rested on my hip. “I’ve missed it too,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “More than I can say.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “Even with...” He hesitated, and I could feel his cheeks flush against my shoulder. “Even with this ridiculous diaper.”

A soft laugh escaped me, though it was more wistful than teasing. “We’ve both endured worse,” I said, my fingers lightly brushing his. “And if this is what it takes to keep us together, then I can handle it.”

Dorian tightened his hold on me, his embrace both protective and reassuring. “You’re stronger than you know,” he said softly. “Stronger than I ever imagined. I’m proud of you, Liliana. So proud.”

His words warmed me, easing the tension in my chest. For a moment, the castle, the rebellion, and the weight of the kingdom all faded away, leaving just the two of us in the quiet of the night. I closed my eyes, sinking into the safety of his arms, my heart swelling with love and determination.

As Dorian held me close, his warmth and steady presence soothing my frayed nerves, a thought I hadn’t considered in weeks suddenly bubbled to the surface. The darkness cloaked us, making it easier to speak the words lingering in my mind.

“Dorian,” I whispered, my voice hesitant. “Has... has your opinion changed? About the diapers, I mean. Now that you’ve had to wear them too?”

I felt him stiffen slightly, his arm tightening around me as he considered my question. For a moment, the silence stretched between us, and I wondered if I had crossed a line. But then he let out a soft sigh, his breath tickling my ear.

“It wasn’t me, Liliana,” he said quietly, his tone laced with regret. “It was the king—my father. He... insisted on it. He believed it was a way to keep you humble, to prepare you for the role you were meant to play in our kingdom.”

His words sent a pang through my chest, a mixture of anger and sadness swirling within me. “The king is gone,” I said softly, my voice firmer than I expected. “And once we reclaim the throne, I don’t have to wear them anymore.”

Dorian was silent for a long moment, and I could feel the tension in his body as he weighed his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost dreamy. “You’re right,” he said. “Of course, you’re right. You’ll be free to decide how you present yourself as queen.”

But there was something in his tone, a faint sadness that made my heart ache. I turned slightly in his arms, looking up at him even though I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. “Dorian,” I whispered, my voice gentle. “What is it?”

He hesitated, and I could feel him struggling to find the right words. “I...” He sighed again, his hand brushing lightly against my hair. “I’ve grown to... appreciate it, in a way. Not because of the humiliation, but because it made you... more vulnerable, more open. It’s hard to explain, but it’s something I’ll miss.”

His admission sent a flush of warmth and shame through me, a strange mix of emotions I couldn’t fully untangle. I had expected him to celebrate the idea of casting off the humiliation, but instead, he seemed genuinely saddened.

A lump formed in my throat as I realized the weight of his words. Dorian’s praise and his gentle guidance had been a source of comfort and connection for me, even in the darkest moments. And while I had longed to shed the diapers and the humiliation they represented, I found myself hesitating. The thought of taking that away from him—and from us—filled me with an unexpected sense of guilt.

“Dorian,” I said softly, my voice trembling. “I... I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin. “You could never disappoint me,” he said firmly. “I love you, Liliana, no matter what.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I pressed my face against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe me. “I just want to make you happy,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

“You already do,” he replied, his words wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

As the quiet settled between us, I resolved to think more deeply about what I wanted—and what we wanted together. For now, I let myself sink into his arms, the complexities of our reality fading into the background as sleep began to claim me. Whatever the future held, we would face it together, with love guiding us through the darkness.