The Crimson Crown

The first thing I noticed as I drifted into wakefulness was the warmth of Dorian’s arm draped over me. His presence was comforting, grounding me in a way that made me reluctant to open my eyes. But the gentle stirring of his body against mine, the slight shifting as he moved, slowly pulled me from my slumber.

“Mm,” I murmured, blinking against the faint morning light filtering through the cracks in the shutters. “Good morning.”

Dorian’s response was a soft, sleepy groan as he buried his face against my hair. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

I smiled faintly, savoring the moment, but another sensation quickly drew my attention—the growing ache in my bladder. I sighed quietly, shifting slightly in his embrace, and let myself relax. The familiar warmth spread through my diaper, the sensation both relieving and, in its strange way, comforting. I felt the padding swell against my skin, the faint crinkle almost inaudible in the quiet of the room.

A playful thought crossed my mind, and I gently took Dorian’s hand, guiding it under the blankets. His fingers brushed against the front of my diaper, and I pressed his hand against it, letting him feel the growing warmth and dampness.

His breath caught slightly, and I could feel his body tense before relaxing again. “Liliana...” he murmured, his voice a mix of surprise and affection.

I turned slightly to look at him, a soft blush warming my cheeks as I met his gaze. “It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice gentle. “You can let go, too. Just relax.”

Dorian hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he shifted uncomfortably. I could tell he was fighting against himself, the remnants of his pride warring with the strange intimacy of the moment. I placed a hand on his cheek, brushing my thumb gently against his skin.

“It’s just us,” I said softly, my tone soothing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

He stared at me for a moment longer before letting out a quiet sigh. Closing his eyes, he finally allowed himself to relax. I felt his body shift subtly against mine, and then the faintest warmth seeped through his diaper, the tension in his frame melting away.

“There,” I said with a small smile, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “See? It’s not so bad.”

Dorian opened his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he gave me a sheepish smile. “You have a way of making everything seem... okay,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “That’s what love is for,” I said simply, my heart swelling as I felt him relax even further, pulling me closer into his arms.

For a moment, the weight of the world outside our little room faded away. There was no castle, no rebellion, no Mistress. Just us, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, finding solace in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

Dorian and I lingered in the quiet intimacy of the morning, his arms wrapped tightly around me. Our lips met in a gentle kiss, the world outside our embrace feeling far away, almost unreal. For a fleeting moment, it was just us—no castle, no rebellion, no burdens. Just Dorian and Liliana, a husband and wife, rediscovering the simple joy of being together.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against my lips, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and I smiled softly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. “I’ve missed you too,” I whispered. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Our foreheads rested against each other, his hand gently stroking my back as we reveled in the comfort of each other’s presence. But just as I started to lose myself in his touch, a faint rustling broke through the quiet. 

Clara stirred in her bed, her movements sluggish as she began to wake. Dorian sighed softly, his forehead pressing briefly against mine before he shifted away.

“Duty calls,” he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I nodded reluctantly, watching as he climbed out of bed, his movements slow and careful so as not to disturb Clara further. He reached for the changing supplies and returned to my side, a warmth in his eyes that made my heart ache.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

I lay back as he worked, his hands deft and practiced despite the awkwardness of the task. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on me, even as Clara began to stretch and yawn behind us, her presence a constant reminder of the world outside our small bubble.

“Good morning,” Clara mumbled sleepily, her voice still thick with sleep as she rubbed her eyes.

“Morning,” Dorian said casually, not missing a beat as he finished securing the fresh diaper in place and helped me sit up.

Clara blinked at us, her gaze flicking between the two of us before she raised an eyebrow. “You two always this chipper in the morning, or is there something I should know about?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” I said with a faint smile, pulling the covers around me as I shifted to the edge of the bed.

Clara rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she swung her legs over the side of her bed. The moment between Dorian and me was gone, shattered like glass, but the warmth of his touch and the memory of his embrace lingered, carrying me through the start of the day. We had work to do, and with him by my side, I felt ready to face whatever came next.

Dorian returned to my side, the faint rustle of the diaper and changing supplies in his hands bringing a small smile to my lips. His touch was gentle as he helped me lie back, his movements practiced and efficient as he untaped my diaper. I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of comfort and embarrassment as he worked, his expression calm and focused.

“You’re all set,” he said softly, taping the fresh diaper snugly into place before helping me sit up. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, pulling the blanket around myself for a moment longer, savoring the fleeting warmth of his care.

Dorian turned his attention to Clara, who was still sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes half-lidded with grogginess. “Need me to change you too?” he asked, his tone casual but kind.

Clara flushed immediately, her hands tightening around the edge of her blanket. “I—” she began, hesitating. Her cheeks burned brighter as she shifted slightly, a faint crinkle filling the air as she relaxed. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and the color in her face deepened as her diaper began to swell.

Once she was done, she nodded reluctantly, avoiding his gaze. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “But don’t make this a habit.”

Dorian chuckled softly, taking her words in stride as he approached. Clara lay back, her face still flushed with embarrassment as he changed her with the same care and efficiency he’d shown me. When he finished, she sat up quickly, smoothing down her dress with a huff.

“Your turn,” she said pointedly, standing and gesturing toward the bed.

Dorian’s smirk faltered slightly, his cheeks coloring as he looked between Clara and me. “I can handle it myself,” he protested weakly.

“Not a chance,” Clara retorted, crossing her arms. “If you don’t want Mistress on our case, you’ll let me do it. We both know she’d notice if it’s not perfect.”

Dorian sighed, resigning himself to his fate as he lay back on the bed. Clara worked quickly, her movements brisk but careful as she changed him, her lips pressed into a thin line. Despite her initial protests, I could see a flicker of understanding in her eyes—she knew the importance of maintaining appearances, even in something as humiliating as this.

“There,” Clara said finally, stepping back and tossing the used diaper into the bin. “All done.”

Dorian sat up, his expression a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. “Thanks,” he mumbled, smoothing down his shirt.

The three of us busied ourselves with getting ready for the day, slipping into fresh servant dresses and tying our aprons neatly. The familiar crinkle of our diapers was a quiet reminder of the strange, humiliating reality we found ourselves in, but none of us dwelled on it. There was too much to do, too much at stake.

As we fastened the last buttons and adjusted our skirts, I glanced between Clara and Dorian, a spark of determination igniting in my chest. Together, we were stronger, and no matter what the day held, I knew we would face it head-on. This was just the beginning. With that, the three of us left the room, passing by Mistress’s office with held breaths, but she wasn’t in.

As we stepped into the dining hall, the usual hum of quiet conversation stilled, the clatter of spoons and bowls fading into silence. A ripple of movement swept through the room as the servants turned toward us, their faces cautious but intent. My chest tightened, my steps faltering as I tried to understand what was happening.

Then, one by one, they began to stand.

It started with a young girl near the front, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed her apron and offered a low curtsy. Another servant followed suit, her movements more deliberate, and then another, and another. The sound of shifting chairs and rustling skirts filled the air as more and more servants rose to their feet, each offering a silent curtsy in my direction before settling back down.

My cheeks burned, and a mix of embarrassment and awe coursing through me. I glanced at Clara, who stood frozen beside me, her eyes wide with disbelief. Even Dorian, usually so composed, seemed momentarily stunned, his gaze darting around the room as if to confirm what we were seeing.

“They’re... bowing to you,” Clara whispered, her voice barely audible.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I forced myself to step forward. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the quiet hall. As I walked past the rows of tables, the servants who had not yet curtsied quickly stood, their gazes filled with something I hadn’t expected to see—hope.

When we reached our usual table, I turned to face the room, my hands trembling slightly as I clasped them in front of me. “Thank you,” I said softly, my voice carrying in the stillness. “But please, sit. Eat. We have a long day ahead.”

Slowly, the servants returned to their seats, the quiet hum of conversation resuming as spoons clinked against bowls. The tension in the room lingered, but it was no longer the oppressive weight of despair. Instead, it felt like the calm before the storm, a collective breath held in anticipation.

Clara and Dorian followed me to our table, their expressions still marked by shock. As we sat, Dorian leaned in, his voice low. “Do you realize what this means?” he asked, his tone a mixture of amazement and urgency. “They’re rallying behind you.”

Clara nodded, her eyes scanning the room. “Word’s spreading faster than we thought,” she said. “They’re looking to you, Liliana. You’re not just a servant to them anymore.”

The weight of their words settled heavily on my shoulders, but alongside it was a flicker of something else—determination. These people, my people, were counting on me. And I would not let them down.

Breakfast passed in a blur, the weight of the servants’ curtsies still heavy on my mind. A young servant girl approached our table, her hands trembling slightly as she placed bowls of porridge and slices of bread before us. She didn’t speak, only nodded briefly before retreating, but the respect in her eyes was unmistakable.

Clara leaned in as we began to eat, her voice low and tinged with wry amusement. “So much for keeping a low profile,” she muttered, glancing around the hall.

I followed her gaze, my stomach tightening as I noticed the furtive glances cast in my direction. Whispers rippled through the room, too quiet to hear, but the weight of their attention was unmistakable. Everywhere I looked, someone was watching—eyes filled with hope, curiosity, and reverence.

“They’re looking to you,” Dorian said softly, his spoon pausing mid-air as he studied my face. “You’re becoming a symbol for them, Liliana.”

Clara huffed softly, shaking her head. “A dangerous symbol,” she said. “The more people know, the harder it’s going to be to stay hidden. And if Mistress, or worse, Thryne, finds out...”

I nodded, swallowing hard as her words sank in. She was right. The whispers, the glances, the quiet gestures of respect—they were all signs that the servants were rallying behind me. But the more people who knew, the more likely it was that word would slip to the wrong ears. And if that happened…

“We don’t have much time,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “If we’re going to act, it has to be soon.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Then we need to start planning. No more recruiting, no more waiting. We’ve got enough servants on our side to start making moves.”

Dorian nodded in agreement, his expression grim. “The longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes.”

I glanced around the room one last time, meeting the gazes of the servants who had quietly pledged themselves to me. Their faces were tired worn, but filled with a flicker of hope that hadn’t been there before. It was a fragile thing, that hope, and it rested squarely on my shoulders.

“We’ll make our move soon,” I said firmly, setting my spoon down. “But we need to be smart about it. We can’t afford to fail.”

Clara and Dorian both nodded, their expressions resolute. The time for waiting was over. It was time to reclaim what was ours—before it was too late.

As we finished our meals, I leaned closer to Dorian, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Where is it?” I asked. “The Hall of Relics?”

He glanced around cautiously, ensuring no one was listening, before turning back to me. “It’s not far from the East Wing,” he murmured. “I’ll take you there when we start our shift. But we have to be careful. If anyone sees us heading that way, they’ll ask questions.”

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation and nerves. This was it—the next step in reclaiming our kingdom. Clara, seated beside me, listened intently, her expression a mix of curiosity and resolve.

With our plan set, we rose from the table, but before we could bus our dishes, a young servant approached. She gave a small curtsy, her eyes flicking to me before quickly looking away. “I’ll take care of these for you,” she said softly, gathering our bowls.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice kind but tinged with surprise. The girl nodded quickly and hurried away, leaving us to exchange glances.

“They’re treating you like royalty already,” Clara muttered, though there was no malice in her tone. “Better hope Mistress doesn’t notice, or she’ll have your head.”

I managed a faint smile, but the weight of her words lingered. We couldn’t afford to draw any more attention, not yet.

We made our way to the cleaning closet, the familiar scent of soap and damp cloths greeting us as we stepped inside. Buckets and sponges were gathered, each of us moving with practiced efficiency, though the tension in the air was palpable.

Once we were ready, Dorian took the lead, his expression serious as he stepped out into the hallway. “Follow me,” he said quietly.

Clara and I exchanged a glance before falling into step behind him, the faint slosh of water in our buckets the only sound as we moved through the corridors. The castle seemed quieter than usual, the weight of the previous day’s events casting a somber pall over everything. Now and then, a passing servant would glance our way, their eyes lingering on me with quiet curiosity or respect, but no one stopped us.

Dorian led us deeper into the East Wing, his pace measured but purposeful. As we turned down a dimly lit corridor, the air seemed to grow heavier, the walls lined with old tapestries depicting the kingdom’s history. It felt as though we were walking into the heart of the castle itself.

“It’s just ahead,” Dorian said, his voice low.

My heart raced as we approached a plain, unassuming door at the end of the hall. It looked like any other door in the castle, but there was an almost imperceptible hum in the air around it, a faint energy that sent shivers down my spine.

“This is it,” Dorian said, stopping in front of the door and turning to face us. “The Hall of Relics.”

Clara and I exchanged a look, our nerves and determination mirrored in each other’s eyes. Whatever lay beyond this door could change everything—or seal our fate. With a deep breath, I nodded to Dorian. “Let’s do this.”