The Crimson Crown

Clara hummed softly as she helped me out of my outfit from the night before, her movements brisk but gentle. The fabric slipped off my shoulders and pooled around my waist. Her fingers pulled down the bloomers as well, leaving me in just my diaper. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, my cheeks flushing as she turned to the wardrobe to select something for the day.

When she finally turned back, holding up a dress, my heart sank. It was undeniably adorable, with pastel pink fabric trimmed in white lace and a bow neatly tied at the chest. The skirt flared out in layers, lined with ruffles that practically screamed childish innocence. It was the kind of dress one would see on a doll—or a baby girl.

“Clara,” I said, my voice laced with dismay. “You can’t be serious.”

She raised an eyebrow, unfazed by my tone. “It’s what was in your wardrobe,” she replied, holding it up as if to inspect it further. “Trust me, I looked. There’s not much else in there that doesn’t have a similar... vibe.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at the offending garment. “This is ridiculous. I’m a Queen, not a child.”

Clara gave me a sympathetic smile, setting the dress down for a moment. “I get it, Liliana. I do. But whoever stocked your wardrobe clearly had other ideas. It’s not like we have a lot of options right now.” She motioned to the neatly organized array of clothes behind her, every single piece unmistakably designed to keep me firmly in the role someone wanted me to play.

I sighed, the fight draining out of me as I realized she was right. “Fine,” I muttered, reluctantly sitting down on the changing table. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Clara chuckled softly, lifting the dress again and slipping it over my head. The fabric settled around me, soft and light, but the ruffles and bows made me feel like a walking caricature of the Queen I was supposed to be. Clara adjusted the skirt, smoothing out the fabric and tying the bow at the back with practiced ease.

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “You look... adorable.”

I shot her a pointed look, my cheeks burning. “That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

Clara just shrugged, clearly amused. “Well, you’ll turn heads, that’s for sure. And isn’t that part of being a Queen?”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. The humiliation was almost too much, but deep down, I knew Clara was trying to make the best of the situation. And as much as I hated to admit it, the dress did fit the role I’d been forced to play for so long. For now, I would endure. But I silently vowed that one day, I’d reclaim my dignity—and my wardrobe.

As Dorian stirred, his groggy movements drew our attention. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, his gaze settling first on Clara and then on me. A slow smile spread across his face as he took in the sight of me in the frilly, pastel dress.

“Well,” he said, his voice warm but teasing, “don’t you just look precious, Liliana? Clara, you’ve outdone yourself.”

I groaned softly, my cheeks flushing with mortification as I avoided his gaze. “Don’t start, Dorian,” I muttered, tugging at the ruffles on my skirt in a futile attempt to make them less noticeable.

Clara, however, grinned as she crossed her arms. “Adorable, isn’t she?” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “I told her it suited her.”

Dorian chuckled, sitting back against the headboard. “It does. And if you really want to complete the look, Clara, you could help feed her.”

I froze, my eyes snapping to him as Clara raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Feed her?” she echoed, glancing between us.

Dorian motioned toward a cabinet on the far side of the room. “There should be a supply of baby bottles and formula in there,” he explained casually. “It’s part of the tradition, after all.”

Clara’s brow furrowed, her gaze following his gesture. She hesitated for a moment before standing and making her way to the cabinet. Pulling it open, she froze, her expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment as she took in the neat rows of bottles and formula containers.

“You’re joking,” she said, turning back to us.

Dorian shook his head, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Not at all. It’s part of the role she’s expected to play. And after everything she’s put you through, isn’t this the perfect chance for some lighthearted payback?”

Clara’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she grabbed a bottle and a can of formula and set them on the counter. “You know,” she said, her tone thoughtful, “I was annoyed about the whole diaper situation, but this... this might just make up for it.”

“Clara, don’t,” I started, my voice tinged with panic as she began preparing the bottle. But she ignored me, humming softly as she worked.

“I’m not hearing any protests, Your Majesty,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder with a sly smile. “Dorian’s right—it’s part of the tradition. And after everything we’ve been through, I think I’ve earned this.”

I turned a pleading look to Dorian, but he simply smirked, clearly not inclined to come to my rescue. “Relax, Liliana,” he said softly. “Clara’s just helping. You’ll be fine.”

Before I could argue further, Clara returned with the warm bottle in hand. She sat down beside me, patting her lap with a grin. “Come on,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

I hesitated, my face burning with humiliation, but the expectant looks from both Clara and Dorian left me with no choice. Reluctantly, I climbed onto Clara’s lap, avoiding her gaze as she cradled me with surprising ease.

“There’s a good girl,” she said teasingly, holding the bottle to my lips. “See? This isn’t so bad, is it?”

As the first taste of the formula hit my tongue, I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing for the ground to swallow me whole. But beneath the humiliation, there was an odd sense of comfort—Clara’s hold was steady, her tone light and teasing but not cruel. And as much as I hated to admit it, a small part of me felt... safe.

Dorian watched the scene with obvious amusement, his laughter soft but genuine. “You two make quite the pair,” he said warmly. “And Clara, I have to say—you’re a natural.”

Clara grinned, her fingers gently brushing through my hair. “Thanks, Dorian,” she said, her tone light but sincere. “I think I could get used to this.”

I groaned softly, hiding my face against her shoulder. “I hate both of you,” I muttered, though my voice lacked any real malice. And as the bottle emptied, I realized that, in some strange way, this moment—humiliating as it was—felt like a small victory. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t just enduring. I was surviving.

As the last drops of formula disappeared from the bottle, I let out a quiet sigh of relief, glad the ordeal was over. Or so I thought.

Before I could even shift off Clara’s lap, Dorian’s voice broke through the brief silence. “Clara,” he said, his tone light but commanding, “at least when others are around, you should start addressing us as Your Grace. It’s important to keep up appearances, especially now that things are settling back into place.”

Clara glanced between us, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and resignation. “Your Grace,” she repeated, trying the title on for size before giving a wry smile. “Got it. Though I don’t think this little one here is feeling very... queenly at the moment.”

I shot her a glare, my cheeks flushing. “Clara—”

But before I could protest further, Dorian interrupted with a mischievous grin. “Oh, one more thing. Babies need to be burped after their bottles, don’t they?”

My stomach dropped as Clara’s eyes lit up with renewed amusement. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, but the grin on her face said otherwise.

“Sorry, Your Grace,” she teased, already shifting me slightly on her lap. “Can’t ignore the rules, can we?”

“Clara—no!” I exclaimed, trying to wriggle free, but her hold on me was firm.

“Relax,” she said with a soft laugh, patting my back gently. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

Dorian chuckled as he stood by the wardrobe, pulling out his attire for the day. “She’s a fast learner,” he remarked, clearly enjoying the scene.

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands as Clara continued patting my back with deliberate care. To my utter humiliation, the pressure in my stomach eventually gave way, and a quiet but undeniable burp escaped my lips.

“There we go,” Clara said cheerfully, her tone laced with mock pride. “Such a good little girl.” She reached for a cloth from the nearby table, dabbing at my face as if I had formula dribbling down my chin, though I was certain there was none.

“Clara, stop,” I hissed, my face burning hotter with each passing second.

“All clean,” she said with a grin, completely ignoring my protests. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Dorian, now halfway dressed in a crisp shirt and breeches, chuckled softly. “Thank you, Clara,” he said, his tone warm. “It’s good to know she’s in capable hands.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms as I finally slid off Clara’s lap, though my knees felt weak from the sheer mortification of the moment. “I’m never letting you live this down,” I muttered, earning another laugh from both of them.

As Clara adjusted her dress and stood, I couldn’t help but notice the satisfied smile on her face. And while I hated every second of the experience, I knew she was growing more comfortable in her role—just as I was finding ways to endure mine. 

As I smoothed the front of my dress, still feeling the residual heat of embarrassment from the morning’s events, I glanced at Dorian. “What should we do now?” I asked, trying to focus on the day ahead rather than the humiliation still fresh in my mind.

Dorian, now fully dressed in regal attire that only emphasized his commanding presence, folded his arms thoughtfully. “We should head to the throne room,” he said. “Anyone of importance will be there. It’s time to take stock of what’s left of our kingdom.”

Clara, standing off to the side, adjusted her apron with a reluctant nod. “Back to the center of chaos, then,” she said dryly, though her eyes betrayed a spark of curiosity.

With that, we left the room, Clara trailing behind Dorian and me as we navigated the castle’s winding corridors. The damage from the battle was still evident, though servants were already hard at work repairing and cleaning. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the siege that had only just ended.

As we approached the throne room, the atmosphere shifted. The once-opulent space, which had been the heart of our kingdom, was now a chaotic flurry of activity. Servants and soldiers bustled about, clearing debris, scrubbing bloodstains from the stone floor, and repairing broken furniture. The remnants of battle were everywhere, from shattered banners to upturned benches.

At the center of it all stood Morris, her posture straight and commanding as she directed the cleanup efforts with a practiced hand. Even amidst the chaos, she radiated a calm authority, her sharp eyes catching every detail. When she turned and saw us entering, her stern expression softened, and a genuine smile broke across her face.

“Your Grace,” Morris said warmly, dipping into a respectful bow before straightening. “It’s a relief to see you both safe and well.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for her presence. “Morris,” I said, my voice steady despite the lingering exhaustion in my body. “It’s good to see you too.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to Clara, who lingered a step behind me, her expression unreadable. “And your new attendant, I see,” Morris said with a raised brow, a hint of amusement in her tone. “You’ve been busy, Your Grace.”

Clara flushed slightly, but she managed a polite nod. “I do my best,” she said lightly, though I could sense her discomfort under Morris’s scrutiny.

Dorian stepped forward, his gaze scanning the throne room. “How goes the cleanup?” he asked, his tone brisk but not unkind.

Morris’s expression sobered as she gestured to the bustling room. “Slowly but steadily,” she replied. “The castle took quite a beating, but the throne room will be restored to its former glory soon enough. We’ve prioritized clearing the space and assessing the damage. The rest will follow.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the throne itself—still standing but marred with scratches and scuffs. It was a stark reminder of what had been lost and what still needed to be reclaimed.

Morris stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly. “There’s much to discuss, Your Grace. The servants are rallying, and the people outside the castle walls are restless. They’ll be looking to you for guidance, for reassurance.”

The weight of her words settled over me, but I squared my shoulders, meeting her gaze with determination. “Then we’ll give it to them,” I said firmly. “One step at a time.”

Morris nodded approvingly before turning back to her duties, barking out orders to a nearby group of servants. As she moved away, Dorian placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“This is just the beginning,” he said softly, his voice steady. “But we’ll rebuild. Together.”

As the weight of the moment settled over us, I could see the resolve in Dorian’s eyes. His hand tightened briefly on mine, grounding me as he spoke. “Liliana, it’s not just about us anymore. We are the seat of power now—the kingdom depends on us. The people need to see their King and Queen, to hear that their struggles haven’t been in vain.”

I nodded, my heart racing with the enormity of his words. “You’re right,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves bubbling inside me. “We need to address them, to show them that we’re here and ready to lead.”

Dorian turned toward the nearest servant, his tone calm but commanding. “Ring the castle bells. Let the town know their King and Queen will speak.”

The servant’s eyes widened briefly before she bowed deeply. “At once, Your Grace.” She scurried off, the sound of her hurried footsteps echoing through the corridor.

As the three of us—Dorian, Clara, and I—made our way toward the platform overlooking the town square, I felt the gravity of what was to come. The halls seemed quieter than usual, and the distant hum of the castle bells began to sound, their deep tolls reverberating through the stone walls. Each ring felt like a heartbeat, steady and unrelenting, calling the people to gather.

We emerged onto the platform, the cool breeze tugging at my dress as I stepped forward. The town square below was already coming to life, the citizens of the Four Winds emerging from their homes and shops, their faces upturned with a mixture of curiosity and hope. Soldiers stood at the edges of the square, their armor gleaming in the midday sun, a protective circle around the growing crowd.

Dorian stood tall beside me, his presence steady and reassuring. Clara, now the picture of decorum, remained a step behind, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her gaze lowered as befitting her role. The bells continued their somber toll, the sound weaving through the air like a call to unity.

As the last bell rang out, silence fell over the square, the anticipation thick enough to touch. I glanced at Dorian, who gave me a faint nod, his hand brushing mine briefly. Taking a deep breath, I stepped to the edge of the platform, the entire kingdom seemingly holding its breath as I prepared to speak.