The Crimson Crown

A story by SolaraScott

Chapter 4: Cherry Blossoms

As we stepped away from the lake, I found myself in an enchanting section of the garden, feeling as if we had stepped into a dream. The concerns I had felt regarding my soiled undergarments quickly faded as the sheer beauty of the garden surrounded me. Sunlight filtered softly through the delicate pink blossoms overhead, casting a warm, ethereal glow across the path. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and fresh earth.

The stone path beneath our feet winded gracefully through a bed of low, pastel-hued flowers, which seemed to bloom solely for their beauty. Ancient, gnarled trees with thick, twisted trunks stood guard, their branches stretching protectively over us, sheltering us in a canopy of pink and white. Soft shadows danced upon the ground, mingling with patches of golden light that highlighted the delicate petals scattered along the path. A stone archway rose from the heart of the grove as though marking the threshold into a secret world meant only for us. Vines and tiny blossoms clung to the pillars, weaving up toward the open sky.

Prince Dorian seemed content, letting me absorb my surroundings as we walked. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, our fingers still intertwined.

“It truly is,” I said with a hint of whimsy.

“Did you have anything like this back home?” Prince Dorian asked.

I shook my head, “We had orchards that bloomed in a plethora of different colors,  but nothing like this.”  I said, motioning to the beauty that surrounded us. 

“Well, good news, it’s yours now.” Prince Dorian smiled.

I had momentarily forgotten that I wasn’t just here to visit; I was here to stay. The idea made my heart flutter; apart from the oddities in the family’s behavior, the experience thus far had not been a bad one. My mind whirled with questions regarding my treatment here, regarding his family, regarding the kingdom, but I felt as if I barely knew my husband-to-be. “This tradition your family has regarding their queen, do you agree with it, or was there a time you didn’t?” I asked.

Prince Dorian lifted his chin, his eyes studying the paving stones as we walked, “I spent my entire life with it; I was raised from a very young age that it was expected of women in general. I was shocked when I found out it was only our queen, my mother. When I asked my father, he said it was something his father had done, whose father before him did; it was tradition.”

“Didn’t you ever ask why it was tradition?” I broke in to ask.

Prince Dorian nodded, “I did, as had my father before him.”

“And?” I asked curiously, probing him onward.

Prince Dorian smiled, “Well, it was said generations long ago, my great, great, great… I don’t know many greats, had a small bladder, and the king was annoyed that she had to relieve herself as often as she did, so he forced her into diapers.”

I gave him a puzzled look, “One annoyed king led to an entire tradition that has spanned centuries?” I asked.

Prince Dorian chuckled, “That it was and has. It has some merit; I mean, you barely last an hour after I diapered you; could you imagine having needed to go and how you would have dealt with it?” he asked, turning to me.

I felt my cheeks burning brightly at the question, “I mean, I would have gone back inside to use a restroom.”

“And your attendants would have presumably been there to help you undress and then have to redress you after. Do you see how time-consuming that would be? Assuming you even lasted that long.” Prince Dorian said, dodging my question about how he felt about the tradition.

That said, with his new line of questioning, I could infer how he truly felt; this family seemed to think women were subhuman in a way, or, at least, when it came to going potty. I blushed at his comment regardless, “I could have felt it just fine, thank you.” I said defensively. 

Prince Dorian took a half step toward him, his hand now cupping my soggy diaper, making me chirp in surprise, “Could you have? Truly? No, I don’t think so; I think you are just a little girl.” he said, my cheeks flaring in shame, as he leaned in and planted a kiss atop my lips. “My, sweet princess,” he said, releasing me.

As our lips met, I felt the tempest of emotions storming through my veins come to a halt, momentarily leaving me stunned as Prince Dorian began walking again with a self-serving grin on his face. This storming man and his ability to play with my emotions! I felt myself shifting between emotional states, from shame to happiness to anger, leaving me in a confused state of insecurity. I finally narrowed my eyes, grumbling as I started after him, my attendants trailing behind us.

“You don’t get to just saunter away after a comment like that,” I said, clearly unamused.

Prince Dorian chuckled, his hand taking mine again, “I’m enjoying our time together.” he said, deflecting my next jab.

I groaned inwardly as I felt myself enchanted by his words, diffusing my anger. I bit my tongue, wanting to give him a lashing, but I was no longer powered by the emotional storm I had been brewing. I glowered at him, his ever-pleasant expression never leaving his face. “I’m not a storming baby.” I finally said a low blow compared to the harsh words I had wanted to use.

Prince Dorian smiled, his hand patting my padded bum before retaking my hand, “You're a princess, silly.” he said with a wink as we circled a fountain.

The circular fountain dominated the center of the space we found ourselves in. The fountain was grand and yet elegant, with water cascading gently from the top basin, catching the sunlight in sparkling arcs that shimmered like liquid jewels. Statues of mythical creatures stood in proud poses around the fountain- regal birds with sweeping feathers, their heads healthy and high as if watching over the serene oasis. The sculpted animals were lifelike, carved with exquisite detail that made them seem as if they had stopped in time. Around the fountain, a large array of flowers bloomed in carefully tended beds. Large, delicate blossoms in shades of pink and cream open wide, their petals unfurling in gentle arcs. Smaller purple and lavender blooms weaved among them, creating a tapestry of colors and scent that perfumed the air. Above, vines with clusters of local flowers drooped over pergolas, casting soft shadows and lending shade. The canopy of flowers created an intimate, almost secretive ambiance.

I found myself annoyed at him but more so at myself. Despite my best efforts to remain frustrated and angry, Prince Dorian continuously found a way to defuse my anger, making me blush and feel like a little schoolgirl rather than a queen-to-be. I glanced up at the sun, which was just dipping below the horizon.

As the sun began its final descent, the garden seemed to transform. Soft, golden light and deep shadows formed across the beds, buds settling in for a night of slumber. The once brilliant colors of the flower took on a rich, more subdued hue; roses and locals appeared deeper, almost velvety, under the warm glow of the evening. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting long, dappled shadows across the paths and bathing everything in honeyed light that felt both serene and magical. The fountain glistened in the sunset, the cascading water catching the last rays of sunlight and scattering them like tiny, dancing embers. The statues of the mythical birds around the fountain appeared almost alive in the amber light, their sculpted feathers catching the glow as if touched by fire. The sound of water blended with the gentle rustle of leaves as a cool evening breeze stirred through the trees.

Above us, the sky shifted from blue to a canvas of pink, orange, and soft lavender streaked with delicate wisps of clouds. As we resumed our stroll, Prince Dorian took the opportunity to learn a bit more about me. “I assume from your initial reaction coming here, your family doesn’t practice the same tradition?” he asked.

I was momentarily caught up, picturing my mother in such ridiculous garments as the one I wore now, and couldn’t stop from giggling, shaking my head, “Oh gosh, no. The only time I saw diapers was when I visited the nurseries to bless the children there, to help them in their time of need and ensure the caregivers had everything they needed.”

“Don’t you think that aspects of your life would be easier if you didn’t need to deal with using the restroom while you were out and about? Especially with a bulky dress.” Prince Dorian asked, his hand still holding mine.

I blushed, taking a moment to imagine just that, “I suppose it depends on what I was wearing. My mother wore more elegant outfits than mine, which made it easier for me, but you do have a point.” I begrudgingly admitted, “That doesn’t mean I agree with it.” I was quick to add.

Prince Dorian chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure; what do you have against them?”

I gritted my teeth, blushing in shame at having to even think of a good excuse. Why didn’t I want to wear them? “Well, only babies wear them, and they can’t be hygienic,” I stated.

“Ohh? Then why do they make diapers to fit you?” Prince Dorian shot back.

I opened my mouth to respond and found myself unsure suddenly as he continued instead, “Apart from them, what about your outfit, or my mothers would indicate that either of you is a baby? She carries herself as a queen should; you saw that as well as I did; what does it matter that she has different undergarments from a child? No one apart from family knows, and it offers her several conveniences that commoners simply can’t afford.” 

Despite myself, I agreed with him; as much as I wanted to counter his arguments, he truly did have a few points. “If they are so convenient, why don’t you wear them? I shot back, a sly grin on my lips.

Prince Dorian stopped, turning to me with a smile, “Because, silly, I’m a man. I don’t have the restrictions of your outfit, nor do I have the bladder of a child.” he said, his fingers undoing a button on his trousers, unstrapping a belt, and allowing his pants to drop low enough for his undergarments to come into view.

I blushed deeply, forcing my eyes back to his as he pulled his pants back into place, “Point made.” I said begrudgingly. 

I had to bite the inside of my cheek as he retook my hand. Prince Dorian wasn’t the most beautiful man I had seen, but he had my heart fluttering. I found myself genuinely attracted to the man; now, if only I could get him to stop belittling me and treating me like an infant. 

“When will I… uhh…” I let the words drift, unable to complete the sentence.

“Be changed?” Prince Dorian asked with a grin; he always seemed to be able to know exactly what I was thinking.

I nodded sheepishly as his hand felt my crotch again, making me squirm and yelp in surprise; my hands were going to defend myself, but he had already let go, my cheeks burning, “Stop that!” I squealed.

“I have to know when you need to be changed.” Prince Dorian shot back, “You will get used to me checking you before long; your diaper will be fine for a bit longer; I will change you before bed.”

I glowered, mortified at how little control I felt in the moment. Every time I felt as if I were gaining a slight edge in our relationship, he went and did something like this, completely shattering any illusion I had been harboring. “We’ll see about that,” I grumbled, making him turn to me, raising an eyebrow.

“You seem to forget who's in charge here.” Prince Dorian said, snapping his fingers as my attendants stepped forward, bowing their heads, “Would you both inspect my bride's diaper and tell me if she needs to be changed?” he asked.

My mouth was left agape as the two ladies stepped up to me, an apologetic look on their faces as they knelt, lifting the layers of my dress and poking their heads under. I was too stunned even to do anything; on top of that, if I moved, I’d end up kneeing one of them in the face, and while they were the ones currently invading the depths of my gown, it wasn’t their fault my husband-to-be was a malicious monster. I felt hands poking, probing, and squeezing the crotch and rear of my diaper, checking the leak guards and feeling up my rear before both girls unborrowed themselves from my outfit, standing once more.

“She is wet, your highness, but clean. Her diaper can hold upwards of two more wettings before needing to be changed.” Elera reported.

Prince Dorian waved them off, both girls curtsying and giving us space. “You see?” Prince Dorian said with a smile, “Would you prefer me to check you or them?” 

I was red from head to toe, completely mortified at the invasion of privacy. “I would rather check myself, thank you,” I said, snapping at him, glaring with a stare that could melt steel.

“Not an option.” Prince Dorian said, turning and heading off down the path once more, “Girls like yourself have poor judgment of the status of your diaper; you’ll think you are dry when you aren’t or will think you aren’t going to leak before ruining your gown. If you prove to me that you can do it yourself, then I will relinquish that right. Come, we should be heading back.”

I growled, even more so as I found my feet treading after him. I wanted desperately to disobey him; I wanted to prove I was far more than what he thought I was. Prince Dorian seemed intent on forcing me to prove myself. I felt as if I had been brought back to the nursery; every child was treated the same until they proved they were capable of more. Why was this family intent on forcing this treatment upon me? They had to be aware of the fact that other women had no such issues that they seemed to think plagued their queens and princesses.

I caught up with Prince Dorian once more, glowering, my entire face still as red as a tomato. Around us, fireflies began to emerge, tiny flickering lights that added to the enchanting ambiance, floating like miniature stars among the flower beds and along the pathways. The shadows grew longer, and the garden took on a dreamlike quality, wrapped in the gentle embrace of dusk. Prince Dorian’s hand found mine once more, and despite the embarrassment he had caused me, despite the simmering hatred, I found myself clutching his hand as if it were a life raft. I shouldn’t be going to him for comfort; he was the one causing me such distress! Yet, among the shifting colors of the garden, I found I didn’t hate him. Despite his callous nature and disregard for my feelings, he was just a man trying to do what was right.

End of Chapter 4

All chapters are posted in full to this subreddit per community guidelines. However, if you'd like a sneak peak at the next chapter, it's available right now on my website: solarascott.com

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