The Crimson Crown

As I poked at the remaining food on my plate, the faint clatter of silver against porcelain broke the quiet lull of the dining hall. A thought crossed my mind, and before I could stop myself, I said it aloud.

“I’m surprised this meal didn’t come in a bottle.”

The words hung in the air, almost playful, but I felt my cheeks burn even as I said them. I didn’t dare meet Dorian’s eyes, but I could hear the low rumble of his chuckle before he answered.

“Don’t tempt me, Liliana.” His tone was warm and teasing, and his smile was unmistakable.

I glanced up to find him grinning, his expression both affectionate and mischievous. He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on my arms, and regarded me with that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“There will be time for that later,” he added with a small, knowing smile. “As much as I love babying you, I’ll always want to do right by you, Liliana. You’re my wife, my queen, and your happiness will always come first.”

His words, so full of love and sincerity, made my heart flutter despite myself. For all his teasing, I knew he meant it, and it made the warmth in my chest grow stronger. But before I could fully absorb the moment, his grin widened, and he added with a playful wink.

“That being said, if you’d prefer to keep eating meals like this with me—like a proper queen—then I’ll just have to start incorporating bottles into your meals. Can’t have you getting too high and mighty, after all.”

I nearly choked on a bite of bread, glaring at him as he laughed softly, utterly pleased with himself. “You wouldn’t,” I muttered, though the heat rising to my cheeks gave away how much the idea rattled me.

“Wouldn’t I?” Dorian replied, raising an eyebrow, the playful lilt in his voice undeniable.

“You’re impossible,” I grumbled, shaking my head as I focused on my plate, though I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back smoothly, his smile softening into something gentler. “Bottle or no bottle, you’ll always be my little queen.”

His words lingered in the air, the teasing balanced by the quiet affection in his tone. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my heart betraying me with another flutter. No matter how mortifying his words might be, no matter how much they rattled my pride, there was no denying the deep love that wove through everything he did.

And, in spite of myself, I couldn’t help but feel safe in the center of it.

As the final remnants of our meal disappeared, I felt it—a nagging pressure deep in my bladder, the telltale ache that I knew all too well. I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together in a feeble attempt to alleviate the discomfort, though I knew it wouldn’t help for long.

Dorian, ever perceptive, caught the subtle movement almost immediately. His gaze flickered to me, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “Something wrong, my love?” he asked casually, though the glint in his eye betrayed his amusement.

I froze, trying to play it off, but my face was already growing warm. “No,” I muttered far too quickly.

Dorian tilted his head, that smile only deepening. “Liliana,” he said softly, his tone the same as when he coaxed a secret out of me, patient but persistent. “You’re squirming. Do you need to go?”

I stiffened, glaring down at my empty plate as though it could save me from answering. My cheeks burned furiously, and my silence was enough to confirm what he already suspected.

“Liliana,” Dorian pressed, his voice gentle but teasing. “What are you waiting for, hmm? Go on.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat to my face, and I clenched my fists beneath the table. I hated how easily he could disarm me, strip me down to my most vulnerable self with just a few soft-spoken words. “I—I don’t want to,” I whispered, barely audible.

He chuckled softly, his voice filled with affection. “You don’t want to? Or you’re just embarrassed?”

I flinched, shrinking into myself, avoiding his gaze entirely. He already knew the answer, but hearing it aloud felt like too much.

Dorian leaned forward slightly, his voice dipping into something tender and coaxing. “It’s okay, Liliana. I’m right here. Just let go. You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do, like the good girl you are. Don’t worry; your diapers will keep you safe and dry; you don’t have anything to fear or worry about. Let it go, relax, don’t fight it.”

The words struck me, melting my resolve as they always did. Despite myself, my heart fluttered, and with a deep breath, I relented. Slowly, I let myself relax, my body giving in to the inevitable.

The warmth spread through me, a humiliating but undeniable sensation as my diaper swelled beneath me. My cheeks burned hotter than ever, the shame of it settling deep in my bones. Yet through it all, Dorian’s voice surrounded me, soothing and praising.

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine, his tone filled with pride and affection. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’m so proud of you, Liliana.”

I bit my lip, the mixture of emotions swirling inside me almost too much to bear. I was humiliated beyond words, my soaked diaper a tangible reminder of my submission to this role, to him. And yet… his praise filled me with something else entirely. Warmth. Comfort. Love.

I glanced up at him, just for a moment, and found nothing but adoration in his gaze. The shame didn’t vanish, but it softened, replaced with the strange, reluctant pleasure of knowing I had pleased him.

“Th-thank you,” I mumbled, my voice small, my hands trembling faintly in my lap.

Dorian reached across the table, his fingers brushing gently against mine. “Always, my love,” he said softly, his smile gentle and full of affection.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle around me. Humiliated or not, I couldn’t deny that his attention, his love, made everything else fade—if only for a little while.

As the final scraps of our meal were cleared away, Dorian pushed back his chair and stood, stretching with the grace I’d come to expect from him. I remained seated, still acutely aware of the swollen, soggy diaper beneath me, my cheeks warm with lingering humiliation.

Then he looked at me, that same teasing glint in his eye that sent butterflies swirling in my stomach. He extended a hand, and as I hesitated, he smiled knowingly. “Liliana,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “if it helps ease your embarrassment, you should know something.”

I blinked, cautiously placing my hand in his as he helped me to my feet. “What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, unsure if I truly wanted the answer.

His smile widened, equal parts affectionate and mischievous. “I find you sexy,” he said, his tone dropping into something deep and intimate. “Wet diaper and all.”

My entire face ignited as the words hit me like a thunderclap. “Dorian!” I gasped, mortified, my voice an octave higher than I intended. I swatted his arm, but he only laughed, the sound rich and warm filling the dining room.

He took my hand firmly, his thumb brushing across my knuckles as his laughter softened into something more tender. “It’s true,” he said simply, his expression earnest now. “You’re mine, Liliana. And I love every part of you.”

I couldn’t meet his gaze, my cheeks blazing as I looked anywhere but at him. The words—those utterly shameless, scandalous words—swirled in my head, leaving me flustered and speechless. How could he say such a thing so effortlessly, so unabashedly?

Still chuckling softly, Dorian gave my hand a gentle tug, leading me toward the door. “Come, my love. The throne room awaits.”

I followed him reluctantly, my heart pounding in my chest, my head spinning, and my mortification burning hotter than ever. And yet… beneath it all, there was something else—something that made me feel strangely light and warm inside.

He was impossible. Absolutely impossible. And still, I wouldn’t have it any other way. We made our way to the throne room; stepping through the grand entrance, Clara left behind for the moment to finish her meal.

The throne room was far more intact than the day before, and the signs of the battle were now mere echoes. Repaired banners hung proudly along the stone walls, and the shattered remnants of furniture had been replaced or swept away. The golden crest of the Four Winds had been polished back to its former glory, its familiar shimmer catching the morning light and filling me with bittersweet pride.

Morris was at the center of it all, a commanding figure directing workers and servants as they scurried to finalize every detail. When her sharp eyes found Dorian and me, she broke away from her tasks, approaching with the same respect and grace she’d always carried.

She dipped her head. “Your Grace,” she greeted, her voice calm yet resolute. Then, her gaze turned to me, softer but equally composed. “It’s good to see you both here. I trust the morning has treated you well.”

“Thank you, Morris,” I replied softly, though my tone still carried the faint hum of exhaustion.

Morris’s gaze lingered on me a moment before she smiled faintly, the expression warm but tempered with duty. “I wanted to address something, Your Grace,” she said, her focus turning formal once more. “While it has been an honor to serve as your attendant—one I will always cherish—my duties to the castle and its restoration are many.”

She paused, choosing her words with care. “Given recent days, it seems young Clara has proven herself more than capable of serving you personally. If you’ll permit me, I would like to step aside from my role as your attendant so that I might focus entirely on the kingdom’s needs.”

Her words struck me with an odd pang of sadness, though I knew her reasoning was sound. Clara had taken up the role seamlessly—sometimes embarrassingly so—and Morris’s expertise was clearly needed elsewhere.

I glanced at Dorian, who nodded almost imperceptibly, silently encouraging me to trust the decision. Taking a breath, I nodded as well. “You’ve served me with nothing but loyalty and care, Morris,” I said sincerely. “And I won’t forget it. You are needed elsewhere now, and Clara… well, Clara has been a tremendous help.”

Morris inclined her head gracefully, her expression softening as if in gratitude. “Thank you, Your Grace. It’s what is best for the castle and the kingdom.”

Her next words, however, caught me off guard. “Speaking of the kingdom,” Morris continued, a rare flicker of urgency passing through her voice, “the council has determined that your coronation must take place immediately. Tomorrow, at first light, we will crown you and His Grace as Queen and King of the Four Winds.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with importance. My breath hitched as the reality settled in. Tomorrow. I would no longer be a princess in waiting, hiding behind expectations and traditions. Tomorrow, the kingdom would truly belong to me—and to Dorian.

The room suddenly felt larger, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on my shoulders like an unseen force. I looked at Dorian, and though his face remained composed, I could see the flicker of determination in his eyes.

“The kingdom has been without its leaders for too long,” Morris added firmly. “We cannot afford to wait any longer.”

“I understand,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered slightly. “Tomorrow, then.”

Morris smiled softly as if sensing my trepidation. “You will both do us proud, Your Grace,” she assured me before turning back to her duties. Her presence once more commanded the throne room.

As she moved away, I looked at Dorian, seeking his strength as I always had. “Tomorrow,” I repeated quietly.

He took my hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll face it together, Liliana,” he said, his voice calm and resolute. “The kingdom needs us now. And we will not fail them.”

I nodded faintly, letting his words steady me. Tomorrow, everything will change. The kingdom would look to us for hope, for strength, for leadership. And though doubt still lingered at the edges of my mind, I knew I couldn’t let it win.

For the Four Winds. For Dorian. And for myself.

Hand in hand, Dorian and I moved through the throne room, its familiar grandeur gradually returning as the workers moved with purpose. The golden banners of the Four Winds once again hung proudly from their hooks, their fabric rippling faintly in the afternoon breeze that filtered through the high windows. Sunlight poured in, casting soft pools of gold across the polished stone floors, now nearly free of the grime and destruction that had plagued them just days before.

The repairs extended into the neighboring rooms, spaces that had once been left shattered and bare but now hummed with quiet activity. As we passed, Dorian greeted the laborers and craftsmen with genuine gratitude, his presence a steadying force that brought smiles to tired faces.

I squeezed his hand softly as we moved deeper into the castle, my gaze wandering as we entered one of the smaller adjacent halls. There, tucked in the corner, a lone servant girl knelt on the floor, her head bowed as she scrubbed at a stubborn stain with the same monotonous movements I knew all too well.

The sight hit me harder than I expected, and my breath caught in my throat as my steps faltered. Dorian paused beside me, noticing my shift in demeanor. My mind spun, torn between the here and now and the haunting memories that surged forward unbidden.

I was her once.

The realization twisted in my chest as I stared at her—her simple dress, her tired posture, the streak of sweat on her brow. I knew that strain, the ache in her arms, the bruising on her knees. I knew the shame of bending low while others passed you by, not sparing so much as a glance in your direction.

My heart pounded, and for the briefest moment, I could almost hear Mistress’s sharp voice ringing in my ears, ordering me to scrub harder, faster. My skin prickled with remembered humiliation.

I tore my eyes away, swallowing hard, and scanned the hall, half-expecting Mistress herself to emerge from a darkened doorway. The thought sent a chill down my spine, but it didn’t linger long. This was my castle now. My throne. And Mistress, if she were still here, would soon understand the change in leadership.

“Liliana?” Dorian’s voice was soft, gently pulling me back. His hand squeezed mine reassuringly.

I shook my head slightly, forcing a small smile to my lips. “I’m fine,” I said, though my voice trembled faintly. “I just…” I glanced back at the girl, who still hadn’t noticed us. “I see myself in her.”

Dorian followed my gaze, understanding flashing in his eyes. “You don’t have to carry that anymore,” he said quietly. “You’re not her.”

“No,” I agreed softly, though a resolve was already forming deep in my chest. “But I was. And so are countless others.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed slightly as I pulled my hand from his and took a step toward the girl. Sensing someone’s presence, she paused and glanced up. Her eyes widened immediately as she realized who I was, and she scrambled to her feet, curtsying low, her hands trembling slightly.

“Y-Your Grace,” she stammered.

“Please,” I said softly, holding up a hand to stop her frantic bowing. “What is your name?”

Her eyes darted nervously to Dorian, then back to me. “Margaret, Your Grace.”

“Margaret,” I repeated gently. I glanced at the bucket of soapy water beside her, the frayed edges of her sponge still dripping. “How long have you been at this today?”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Since dawn, Your Grace.”

I felt my fists clench at my sides, though I kept my voice calm. “And how often do you get to rest?”

The girl looked utterly perplexed by the question as though rest was a concept foreign to her. “Only when I’m done, Your Grace.”

Dorian shifted slightly behind me, but I didn’t need to turn to know he was watching me closely. My pulse quickened, a quiet fire kindling deep inside. I had suffered this. I had endured it. And as Queen, I would see that no one—no one—had to suffer that way under my rule.

I reached out and touched Margaret’s shoulder, startling her slightly. “You’ll rest now, Margaret,” I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Leave the rest of this to others. Go and get some food, some water, and rest. That is a royal order.”

Her eyes went wide, shimmering with disbelief, but she managed to nod before scurrying off down the hall. I exhaled deeply, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Dorian moved to my side, his voice low and steady. “You can’t fix everything in one day, Liliana.”

“I know,” I murmured, staring after the girl as she disappeared from view. “But I can start. Mistress and her rules have had free reign for too long. One of my first acts as Queen will be to ensure that the lives of the servants are bettered. They deserve dignity, not exhaustion and humiliation.”

Dorian’s hand found mine again, and I turned to look at him. There was pride in his expression and something else—a quiet admiration. “You’re going to be a great Queen,” he said softly.

I let his words settle into me, drawing strength from them as I straightened my shoulders. “Not just a great Queen,” I replied, my voice firm. “The kind of Queen this kingdom deserves.”

And with that, we turned, moving hand in hand once more through the castle halls that would soon, finally, be ours.