The Crimson Crown

As I finally managed to gather my wits, still burning from Clara's soft praise, I turned to her with narrowed eyes, my voice wobbling despite my attempt to sound stern. “Clara... what was that all about?”

Clara straightened, brushing her hands against her apron as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. “Oh, that?” she replied nonchalantly, flashing me a small, knowing smile. “Dorian and I had a nice little chat while you were asleep. He’s a firm believer in positive reinforcement.”

I blinked, stunned into silence. Positive reinforcement? I glanced toward the door as if Dorian might appear with a grin, confirming this ridiculous statement. “Positive reinforcement for what exactly?” I demanded, my voice high and indignant, though it cracked at the end.

Clara shrugged, entirely unbothered by my tone. “For being a good girl, obviously.” Her teasing edge returned, but her eyes held a surprising level of seriousness. “Dorian believes that if you’re going to embrace the traditions of this kingdom, you need support and praise. A queen isn’t just someone who wears a crown, Liliana. It’s someone who can carry burdens—no matter how humiliating they may be—with grace.”

I gaped at her, my mind scrambling for words, but Clara pressed on before I could interject. “And, honestly?” Her voice softened, though her amusement lingered. “While I do find it funny that a queen is toddling around in diapers, I also understand the purpose behind it. You probably don’t want to hear this, but…” She leaned closer, her expression surprisingly thoughtful. “It is humbling.”

“Humbling?” I echoed, barely above a whisper, my cheeks heating again.

Clara nodded firmly. “Think about it. How can a queen ever be cruel or dismissive to her people if she knows firsthand what it’s like to rely on them for the most basic needs?” Her eyes searched mine, almost daring me to argue. “It’s hard to act high and mighty when you’ve had to look a servant in the eye and ask them to clean you up after you’ve soiled yourself.”

The words struck me like a physical blow. My mouth opened, but no words came out. She wasn’t wrong—those first days in the castle, before I reclaimed the Winds, had shattered my pride and reduced me to something far smaller than myself. It was humiliating. But the way Clara framed it made me falter.

She sighed and softened further. “I’m not saying it’s fair, Liliana. I’m just saying I get it now. The tradition forces a queen to stay grounded, no matter how high above the rest of us she sits. And while Dorian clearly enjoys the… other side of it,” she smirked knowingly, “he’s right about one thing. You carry yourself differently now.”

I bit my lip, the sting of her words undeniable. “So… what?” I mumbled, hating how small my voice sounded. “You think I deserve this?”

Clara shook her head. “No. But I think it’s made you stronger. And if nothing else,” she added with a faint grin, “it’s made you a little less snobby.”

The jab stung, but I couldn’t deny the truth behind it. Clara’s words swirled in my mind as I looked down at the very diaper she’d just teased me about. Humbling? Yes. Mortifying? Absolutely. But if enduring this ridiculous tradition meant I could rule with compassion, then maybe—just maybe—it was worth it.

I sputtered, my cheeks burning hotter than ever. “I wasn’t snobby!” The words tumbled out, sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help myself. The accusation stung like a slap to the pride I still had left.

Clara raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted her head. “Oh, really?” she drawled, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “So you weren’t the princess who thought scrubbing floors was beneath her? Or the one who nearly fell apart when she realized she’d have to wear a diaper in front of someone?” She paused, letting the words hang in the air before adding with mock sweetness, “Would you like me to go on, Your Grace?”

I opened my mouth, desperate to fight back. Still, the memory of those days in the castle came rushing back—the tears, the indignation, the utter humiliation I’d felt when I was reduced to nothing more than another servant girl. I had been snobby, hadn’t I? My shoulders sagged slightly as I scrambled for a defense. “That’s… that’s not the same! Anyone would’ve reacted like that!”

Clara shrugged, her grin softening into something far more understanding. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But not everyone learns from it. You did. And look at you now—scrubbing floors, rallying servants, saving kingdoms.” She gestured to me with both hands. “All in a soggy diaper, no less. Quite the legacy.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands as Clara laughed softly. “You’re insufferable,” I muttered through my fingers.

“I’m helpful,” Clara corrected with a smile, stepping closer and pulling my hands away gently. “Listen, Liliana, I’m not saying you’re the same girl you were back then. You’ve changed. You’ve grown. But you can’t deny that this—” she patted my diaper for emphasis, making me squirm—“has humbled you in a way nothing else could. And maybe… just maybe, that’s a good thing.”

I sighed, the fire of my indignation slowly dimming as her words sank in. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong. I had changed. And whether it was the diapers, the servitude, or everything in between, I wasn’t the girl I’d been before. I looked at Clara, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Fine,” I grumbled. “Maybe I was a little snobby.”

Clara’s grin widened triumphantly. “See? Progress. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I rolled my eyes, but even I couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that escaped me. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable,” she shot back with a wink. “Now, come on. Your kingdom isn’t going to run itself, Your Grace.”

I remained where I stood, feeling the mess caking my rear, my cheeks flushing at the idea of having to go out while in a poopy diaper. “Can’t I get a fresh change before we leave?” I whined, sounding more like a whiny child than I had intended.

Clara paused at the door, turning back to face me with an all-too-familiar smirk. “Oh, I’d happily change you, Your Grace,” she teased, her voice lilting with mock sweetness. “If I had the supplies with me, that is.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown, my cheeks flaring pink again. “What do you mean you don’t have them?” I asked, incredulous. “You just changed me earlier.”

Clara shrugged innocently, her grin stretching wider. “Yes, but that was after I had everything prepared. Right now, we’re in the middle of the castle with no supplies in sight. And you…” Her eyes flicked down pointedly to my obvious predicament. “…are just going to have to get used to it.”

“Get used to it?” I repeated, aghast, my voice rising with indignation. “Clara—this is…” I glanced down at the bulky, warm mess that squished between my legs with every small movement. “This is… humiliating!”

Clara laughed softly, her arms folding across her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. “Well, isn’t that the point? You’re the Queen, Liliana. A baby Queen, at that. And real babies don’t always get changed right away, do they? Sometimes, you’ll have to wait your turn. Call it… another lesson in humility.”

I opened my mouth to protest further, but Clara wasn’t done. Her grin turned mischievous as she added, “Besides, you’ll need to practice being patient. I doubt this is the last time you’ll be stuck in a dirty diaper, especially with the kinds of wonderful ideas Dorian keeps having.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh, don’t tell me this is another one of his bright ideas,” I grumbled, the words muffled by my hands. “Is there anything he doesn’t come up with?”

Clara laughed outright this time, her voice echoing warmly through the quiet space. “You’d be surprised. I think he enjoys making sure you’re kept in line.” She straightened her tone, light but carrying a teasing edge. “Come on, Liliana. Being a baby Queen isn’t all baths and bottles, you know. You’ve got to take the good with the messy.”

I shot her a glare from between my fingers, but all it did was make her chuckle again. Reluctantly, I dropped my hands and stood, grimacing at the unmistakable squish between my legs. Every movement sent another humiliating reminder of my situation, and I couldn’t stop the blush that spread across my face. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” I muttered darkly.

“Maybe a little,” Clara replied with a wink. “But don’t worry, Your Grace. I’ll get you cleaned up eventually.” She turned on her heel, gesturing for me to follow. “In the meantime, consider this a part of your training. If you’re going to reclaim the throne, you’ll need to endure far worse than a messy diaper.”

I grumbled under my breath as I fell in step behind her, the crinkle and squish accompanying every step. “I swear,” I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else, “I’m going to have words with Dorian about this.”

Clara snorted, clearly overhearing me. “Good luck with that,” she called back cheerfully. “You know he always gets his way in the end.”

I sighed heavily, my cheeks burning as I followed her down the corridor, trying to ignore the uncomfortable bulk between my legs. It was going to be a long day.

The moment Clara and I stepped into the sitting room, the murmur of voices and quiet shuffling of papers came to a halt. Dorian sat at the head of the room, dressed in clean, regal attire that starkly contrasted my humiliating outfit. His face turned toward us, but before he could speak, several of the generals and advisors turned sharply, their attention locking on me instead.

“Your Grace!” one of the older generals exclaimed, stepping forward so swiftly I nearly stumbled back. “We hadn’t expected to see you so soon.” His voice carried a mix of relief and urgency, and I could feel the weight of his gaze, sharp and assessing.

“Your Grace,” another chimed in, a thin, bespectacled man clutching a scroll in one hand and an ink-stained ledger in the other. “The state of the kingdom requires immediate action. The people are celebrating the victory, yes, but the reality is we’re dangerously low on supplies. The army has burned through much of the grain reserves, and there are whole towns cut off due to the battles—”

“And there’s the question of rebuilding the walls,” interrupted another advisor, his deep voice booming as he stepped into the fray. “We’ve secured the castle, but parts of the outer defenses are rubble. If another assault were to happen—”

“Not to mention labor forces,” someone else added, a woman this time, holding a map rolled out on her forearm. “We need able hands to start clearing debris, but the peasants are wary. They’ll need assurance that the kingdom can support them.”

A flurry of questions erupted all at once, the voices overlapping like a cacophony of birds squawking for attention. Every one of them seemed to expect me to have an immediate solution, the words “Your Grace” tumbling from their mouths like a volley of arrows. Supplies, labor, trade routes, fortifications—each question struck harder than the last, and for a moment, I just stood there, frozen.

Me. They were asking me. I was the Queen.

Clara nudged me gently, breaking through my daze, and I straightened up, my cheeks flushing slightly as I tried to suppress the growing discomfort of my soiled diaper. I forced my focus back to the men and women before me, drawing in a shaky breath.

Dorian was watching me from across the room, silent but steady, his eyes gleaming with quiet encouragement. I swallowed hard, the gravity of the moment pressing down on me. This was what being Queen meant—no hiding, no deflecting. These were my people, and they were looking to me for answers.

“Well…” I started slowly, my voice soft but steady. “We must prioritize the most immediate needs first. You said the grain reserves are low. Can you divert some of the rations from the castle stores to the towns most affected? The people need to see that their Queen will not let them starve.”

The room quieted as they listened, and I pressed on, growing a bit bolder with each word. “And send a call to the surrounding villages—able workers will be compensated for helping rebuild the castle walls. Food, shelter, and pay. They’ll come if they know their efforts will be rewarded.”

A few of the generals nodded, murmuring to themselves as they scribbled notes. I saw their eyes flickering between me and Dorian, and I could feel the faintest stirring of confidence deep within me.

“And,” I added, looking to the map still held out before me, “ensure that the trade routes are protected. We can’t afford to lose what little supplies are still coming in. Post soldiers at the vulnerable crossings.”

The bespectacled man adjusted his glasses, scribbling furiously as he muttered, “Yes… yes, Your Grace. A reasonable course of action.”

The older general, who’d first approached me, offered a slight bow of his head. “It is clear that you are prepared to lead us, Your Grace.”

I blinked, momentarily stunned by his words, but the weight of the moment felt lighter somehow. I turned toward Dorian, who was smiling now, a quiet pride radiating from him. It gave me strength, even as the exhaustion and lingering embarrassment weighed me down.

Clara stepped subtly closer, her voice a whisper meant for only me. “Not bad for someone in diapers,” she teased, though her tone carried a note of genuine pride.

I shot her a sharp look, my face flushing deeper, but I couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. I was humiliated, yes. But I was also Queen. And, for once, it felt like I was starting to believe it.

I reluctantly took a seat, feeling the mess squishing about, but I had a feeling this would take a while, and it did. The questions for Dorian and I always seemed to continue, but we did our best to answer them. One by one, the leaders and generals left, the room slowly growing empty. 

The last general bowed deeply before turning to leave, the heavy doors of the sitting room closing behind him with a muted thud. After hours of relentless questions, frantic planning, and ceaseless discussions, the silence that followed was almost deafening. It was as though the very air itself had exhaled, releasing the tension that had lingered since the morning.

I sank back into the cushioned chair with a long sigh, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion. Dorian mirrored me from across the room, letting out a breath he’d clearly been holding. His posture, so upright and commanding mere moments ago, softened as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. For the first time all day, his mask of composure cracked, revealing just how drained he truly was.

“We survived,” I murmured, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at my lips as I looked toward him.

Dorian chuckled; the sound was tired but warm. “Barely,” he teased, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet, shared understanding. “I think I aged ten years sitting in that chair.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was soft and weary. “If that’s the case, then I must look ancient.”

Clara, who had perched herself near the door during much of the meeting, finally broke her silence, rolling her eyes as she stretched out her arms. “You two act like you’ve just fought a battle.”

Dorian tilted his head, his lips curling into a grin. “In a way, we did. A battle of words, questions, and far too many maps.”

I nodded, closing my eyes for a brief moment as I tried to summon some energy. “It wasn’t a war of swords, but it was a victory nonetheless.”

The three of us fell into a brief, companionable silence. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to relax, the tension slowly melting from my body. I turned my head toward Dorian, finding him watching me with that same soft, affectionate gaze. My heart swelled just looking at him—this man, my husband, who had stood steadfastly beside me through every hardship.

“It was only the first step,” he said quietly, as though reading my thoughts. “There’s still so much to do.”

I nodded, my smile small but determined. “We’ll do it. Together.”

The words felt simple, but in that moment, they were everything. Dorian reached for my hand, his fingers threading through mine, and I squeezed gently, grounding myself in his warmth.

Clara smirked faintly from her seat, watching us with a mix of amusement and pride. “Well, if you two are done congratulating yourselves, maybe we can move somewhere a little less formal? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Dorian laughed softly, releasing my hand and leaning back in his chair. “You’re right, Clara. I think we’ve earned a proper meal.”

I smiled at both of them, the weight of the day settling into something quieter, something more manageable. It may have been a small victory, but it was ours—a step forward, a promise that we could do this.

Together, we would rebuild. Together, we would restore the Kingdom of the Four Winds.

And, for the first time in weeks, as Dorian smiled at me and Clara teased us with her lighthearted quips, I truly believed that we could.