Chapter 22 — Uneasy Freedom

Elara sat at the long wooden table in the dining hall, the morning light filtering through high windows and casting golden streaks across the room. Without the runes’ invasive magic twisting her emotions and urges, the day felt… mundane. Almost disappointingly so.

She glanced at Quinn beside her, both of them digging into breakfast—a plate of simple finger foods like cut-up fruit, small sandwiches, and little cubes of cheese. It came with a sippy cup of juice, still childish, but after endless bottles of formula, Elara savored every bite. The flavors felt vibrant on her tongue, real in a way she hadn’t noticed before, even if it was basic kiddie fare.

“I can’t believe it actually worked,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth, her voice low but tinged with a mix of relief and disbelief.

Quinn grinned over her own sippy cup, taking a quick gulp before setting it down. “I’m just as surprised as you. I fully expected them to take out their wrath on us.”

Elara shrugged, picking at a tiny sandwich triangle, her fingers sticky from the juice dribbling down the side of her cup. “There’s still time. Maybe they’ll find a way to hide whatever we’ve got on them. Or, knowing Mommy, they’ll come up with some way of revealing it on their own terms—strip away our power before we can use it against them.”

Quinn hummed thoughtfully, her brow creasing as she bit into a piece of apple with a loud crunch. “Possible for sure. I’d be surprised if they let us hold this over them for long. Which begs the question—what do we do while we’ve got this freedom?”

“Well…” Elara trailed off, her gaze dropping to her plate as she toyed with a cheese cube between her fingers. She’d been mulling this over all morning since waking up without that familiar heat from the rune pressing into her core. “The last thing we should do is antagonize them or try to force more privileges out of them. That’ll draw unwanted attention and force their hand early. We should—as much as it sucks—keep our heads low and keep playing the game.”

Quinn nodded slowly, her expression shifting to one of reluctant agreement as she leaned back slightly. “Makes sense. Storms, I wish I could get out of these stupid diapers, though.” She muttered under her breath, shifting uncomfortably.

Elara grimaced, feeling the same clammy bulk around her own hips under her uniform skirt. “Yeah, me too. But one small step at a time, right?”

“Guess so,” Quinn sighed, grabbing another piece of fruit and popping it into her mouth with a resigned chew. “Still feels weird not having… y’know, that pull messing with my head every second. I keep waiting for some urge to hit me outta nowhere.”

“Same,” Elara admitted, sipping from her cup and wrinkling her nose at how juvenile it made her feel despite everything. “But boring is better than being puppeted around by magic. Let’s just lay low for now—stick to classes, follow their dumb rules enough to avoid suspicion.”

“Agreed,” Quinn said through a mouthful of sandwich, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning closer with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “Still… we’ve got something on ‘em now. Even if we’re playing nice for a bit, we gotta keep our eyes open for any chance to dig deeper—or protect what we’ve already got hidden.”

Elara nodded, her mind flicking back to those plain white diapers stashed under dusty books in their dorm. “Yeah. We play along, but we don’t forget what we know. If they try anything sneaky to turn this back on us, we need to be ready.” She pushed her empty plate aside.

She shifted in her seat at the dining hall table, her stomach churning with an insistent pressure that refused to be ignored. Despite the switch from a liquid diet to solid finger foods this morning, her body’s demands hadn’t eased up. She sighed under her breath, having hoped to hold off until after breakfast, but breakfast hadn’t finished yet, and the discomfort was becoming unbearable.

Quinn caught the subtle squirming and leaned in slightly, her voice low. “You too?”

Elara nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she avoided meeting her friend’s gaze.

“We should have enough time to get back to the dorm and get changed,” Quinn murmured, glancing away toward the hall’s exit as if calculating their odds. “If they’ll take mercy on us, that is.”

“What do you think?” Elara asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Risk it?”

Quinn shifted in her own seat, clearly wrestling with the same urgency, before giving a small, resigned nod. “Risk it. Better than sitting through another class, messy.”

Their eyes met for a brief, awkward moment before both looked away, surrendering to nature’s call. Elara lifted her rear slightly off the bench. With a soft push, she began filling the seat of her diaper, her eyes closing instinctively as she braced for what usually followed.

She waited for the rune’s influence to kick in, that invasive wave of forced pleasure or the odd compulsion to praise Quinn, but nothing came. No strange attraction to the act, no artificial urge twisting her emotions.

Just… blissful nothingness.

Well, not complete nothingness. She was still pooping herself like a toddler, the warm weight spreading in her diaper with each passing second, the faint crinkle and smell a stark reminder of her situation. But compared to the past few weeks of being puppeted by magic, this felt almost insignificant.

It was just a physical act now—no emotional strings attached. A strange brew of feelings stirred in Elara’s chest as she sat there, finishing. Without the rune’s manipulation forcing pleasure or shame into every moment, it was almost… liberating. Yet there was a quiet hollowness too—a piece of something she’d grown accustomed to had vanished, like a restless part of her mind had finally gone to rest. And she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that absence.

She opened her eyes, settling back onto her seat with a soft squish that made her wince inwardly. Glancing sidelong at Quinn, she could tell from her friend’s tense posture and faint grimace that she’d done the same. The silence between them hung heavy for a beat before Quinn broke it with a mutter. “Guess we’d better move fast if we wanna avoid more attention.”

“Yeah,” Elara agreed quietly, pushing her empty plate aside and standing carefully, hyper-aware of the mess beneath her skirt. “Let’s hope they’re in a generous mood.”

Together, they shuffled out of the dining hall among the other students still finishing their meals, keeping their pace slow to avoid drawing eyes. The weight in Elara’s diaper shifted with each step, but without the rune’s influence clouding her head, it was just that: uncomfortable. Not degrading, not arousing, not anything beyond the physical.

As they made their way down the corridor toward their dorm, she couldn’t help but wonder how long this fragile sense of normalcy would last before Selena or Darian found a way to tighten their grip again.

Elara and Quinn stepped into the corridors of House Ruby, the stone walls echoing with the distant chatter of other students. Almost immediately, their eyes landed on Mommy and Daddy, standing off to the side near a shadowed alcove, their voices hushed but intense.

Elara couldn’t make out the words, but the tension was palpable—shoulders stiff, brows furrowed, their bodies angled too close together as if guarding some secret. Whatever they were discussing, it was clear they were worried, and that sent a flicker of unease through Elara’s chest.

Mommy’s gaze snapped up first, catching sight of the girls. She nudged Daddy with a sharp elbow, and in an instant, both their expressions smoothed out, masks of calm slipping into place as they turned to face them.

Normally, Mommy would’ve been on Elara in a heartbeat—lifting her skirt, cooing over her diaper, asking if she’d been behaving. But today… there was a beat of hesitation. A crack in the proud, commanding facade she always wore. For a split second, Mommy looked almost uncertain, and that rattled Elara more than she cared to admit.

Neither girl dared to ask for a diaper change outright. They knew better than to push at the moment. After an awkward stretch of silence, Mommy finally stepped forward. Without a word, she reached for Elara’s skirt and tugged it up, exposing the sagging, messy diaper beneath for anyone nearby to see. Not that it was anything new—half of House Ruby had seen her like this at some point—but the heat still crept into Elara’s cheeks as her vulnerability was laid bare.

“My, it seems someone’s been a good girl,” Mommy mused, her tone carrying that familiar teasing lilt as her hand pressed against the squishy bulk.

Her fingers explored deliberately, squeezing between Elara’s legs, patting her rear, mushing the warm mess around inside the diaper. A smirk played on her lips as she did it, her touch lingering just a little too long.

“Yes, Mommy,” Elara murmured, keeping her chin low and her eyes averted. Blackmail or not, she wasn’t about to risk antagonizing her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before class,” Mommy said after a moment, her voice softer than usual as she took Elara’s hand. She tugged gently but firmly, guiding her down the hall toward their dorm. Behind them, Daddy mirrored the action with Quinn, his own check having confirmed a similar state.

As they walked, Elara felt a brief flicker of hesitation ripple through her at the contact. Was Mommy being nice because she knew they had dirt on her? Was this sudden gentleness just a calculated move to keep them placated? Or—stranger still—was she genuinely feeling kind today?

The uncertainty gnawed at Elara’s already shaky confidence. Her diaper shifted uncomfortably with every movement, the mess inside smearing further against her skin.

They reached the dorm door, and Mommy pushed it open with one hand while keeping hold of Elara with the other. “In you go,” she said lightly, guiding her toward the changing table. Her tone was neutral enough, but there was something unreadable in her eyes as she glanced at Elara—a flicker of something that could’ve been wariness or calculation.

Elara climbed onto the table without protest, lying back as Mommy began to untape the soiled diaper. The cool air hit her skin as the mess was peeled away, replaced by the clinical swipe of wipes cleaning her thoroughly. She kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling, trying to ignore the intimacy of it all—the way mommy’s hands moved with such casual ownership over her body.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Mommy remarked suddenly, breaking the silence as she powdered between Elara’s legs before reaching for a fresh diaper from under the table. “Something on your mind?”

Elara’s heart skipped, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. “Just… thinking about classes,” she lied softly, hoping it sounded convincing enough.

“Hmm,” mommy hummed noncommittally, sliding the new diaper under her hips. Her fingers lingered on the tabs for a moment longer than necessary before pulling back. “Well, keep focused. We wouldn’t want any distractions now, would we?”

Elara nodded her head faintly as Mommy secured the tabs of the fresh diaper into place, the crinkle of the material echoing in the quiet dorm.

She wasn’t sure why she did it—maybe some subconscious urge to placate Mommy, to show she was still playing along, still aligned with their twisted goals for the House Cup—but her thumb found its way to her mouth. It slipped between her lips almost instinctively, a small, childish gesture of submission.

Moments later, as Mommy tugged the diaper snugly up between Elara’s legs, adjusting the fit, Elara nursed her thumb contentedly. The act felt oddly soothing, even without the rune’s influence forcing emotions into her head. It was just… something to do, a way to ease the tension knotting her insides.

Mommy paused, her fingers lingering on the leak guards as she looked up at Elara. A smirk curled her lips, sharp and dangerous, as she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “If you think even for a second that this innocent little act is going to get you out of trouble, you are very, very mistaken.”

Elara’s blood ran cold, her thumb freezing in her mouth mid-suck as the words sliced through her. Shame burned hot in her chest while Mommy finished the change, her movements brisk and impersonal now. With a curt nod toward the floor, she signaled for Elara to get down.

Swallowing hard, Elara slid off the changing table, pulling her thumb from her lips with a quiet pop, the wet digit hanging awkwardly at her side as embarrassment prickled her skin. Quinn took her place on the table without a word, lying back as Daddy began to untape her soiled diaper with the same mechanical efficiency.

Elara stood off to the side, shifting uncomfortably in the fresh diaper. Uncertainty churned in her gut, growing heavier with each passing second. She felt like she’d woken a dragon—a seething, vengeful force that had been slumbering until now. And that dragon was stirring, ready to abandon its hoard of gold and strike at her with claws bared. Every interaction with Mommy now felt like tiptoeing through a minefield, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“Is there… anything I can do to better prepare for the House Cup?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, tentative and small, driven by a desperate need to smooth things over or at least gauge where she stood.

Mommy’s head snapped toward her so fast it made Elara flinch. Her brows were knitted tight with raw anger, eyes blazing as if Elara had just thrown fuel on an already raging fire. “If you think you can worm your way out of what you’ve done—what you’re doing—you are mistaken,” she spat, each word dripping with contempt. “No. I’m going to let you sow your own bed, and I’ll make damn sure you lie in it too. Let’s see how well you fare without the guidance of a caregiver.”

With that, Mommy turned sharply on her heel, her boots clicking against the stone floor as she strode out of the room without a backward glance. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding thud, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Elara stood frozen, heart pounding in her chest as the weight of those words settled over her like a suffocating blanket. Her gaze darted to Quinn, still on the table under Daddy’s hands, but there was no reassurance to be found there, just the same tense uncertainty mirrored in her friend’s tight expression. Daddy didn’t comment on the outburst, finishing Quinn’s change in silence before helping her down with a gruff nod.

“Get yourselves to class,” he muttered, wiping his hands clean and heading for the door himself. “Don’t test anyone’s patience today.”

As he left, Elara adjusted her uniform skirt over the diaper’s bulk, feeling more exposed than ever despite being fully dressed. Her mind raced—Mommy’s threat lingered like smoke in the air. Without guidance? Did that mean complete abandonment, or something worse—a test designed to make her fail spectacularly? She glanced at Quinn again, who gave a small shrug as she smoothed out her own skirt.

“Guess we’re on our own for now,” Quinn whispered, keeping her voice low as they grabbed their things for class.

“Yeah,” Elara breathed, though dread coiled tighter in her stomach.

Elara and Quinn made their way to class through the winding corridors of House Ruby. The room buzzed with the low murmur of other students settling in, flipping through worn textbooks and scratching notes on parchment. The professor, a stern older woman with a sharp nose, began droning on about the history of elemental runes, her voice a monotonous hum that should have been easy to focus on.

But no matter how hard Elara tried, no matter how much she stared at the diagrams scrawled across the blackboard or gripped her quill to jot down key dates, she couldn’t shake the unease coiling tighter in her gut.

What was Mommy planning? What could she possibly do to make good on that venomous promise—to let Elara “sow her own bed” and force her to lie in it?

The words replayed in her mind on a loop, each repetition sharpening the edge of her fear. She’d seen glimmers of Mommy’s anger before, but never like this. And now, without the runes dulling her emotions or guiding her actions, every worry felt amplified, stark, and unfiltered.

She glanced sideways at Quinn, who sat hunched over her notebook, pretending to scribble something while her jaw clenched tight. Her friend’s face was a mask of forced concentration, but Elara could see the same tension in the way her fingers gripped the quill too hard, nearly snapping it.

They had dirt on Mommy and Daddy, but would it even matter? A sickening thought burrowed into Elara’s mind: what if their leverage was nothing compared to the wrath waiting to be unleashed? Mommy wasn’t just a caregiver; she was a fourth-year, steeped in magic and power far beyond anything Elara could grasp. If she decided to strike, really strike, a hidden secret about diapers might not be enough to shield them.

Her leg bounced under the desk, a nervous tic she couldn’t stop as her mind raced through worst-case scenarios. Would Mommy sabotage them in front of the whole house, or humiliate them during the House Cup preparations until they broke? Or worse, would she find a way to twist their blackmail against them, expose it as defiance, and rally others to punish them for stepping out of line?

The uncertainty was suffocating. Every creak of the classroom door made Elara flinch, half-expecting to see Mommy standing there with that icy smirk, ready to drag her somewhere private for whatever punishment she’d concocted.

“You okay?” Quinn whispered suddenly, barely moving her lips as she kept her eyes forward on the professor, who was now sketching a rune matrix with aggressive chalk strokes.

Elara swallowed hard, shaking her head just enough for Quinn to notice. “Can’t stop thinking about… you know. What if what we’ve got isn’t enough?”

Quinn’s expression darkened, her hand pausing mid-scratch on the parchment. “Then we fight dirty too,” she muttered under her breath. “We’ve got something—she knows it. She’s scared, even if she won’t show it. We just gotta hold our ground ‘til we figure out her next move.”

“Easier said than done,” Elara hissed back, gripping the edge of her desk as another wave of dread washed over her. “She looked at me like I’d already lost—like she’s got something planned I can’t even imagine.”

Quinn didn’t reply right away, chewing the inside of her cheek as the professor turned to glare at a student dozing off near the front. After a moment, she leaned closer again, voice barely audible over the scratch of quills around them. “Then we watch closer than ever. Every word, every look. If she’s planning something, there’ll be signs. We’ve got time to brace ourselves.”

Elara nodded faintly, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen. Time felt like both an ally and an enemy—every passing hour without retaliation only heightened her anxiety about when it would finally hit.

She forced herself to look back at the blackboard, tracing the lines of the rune matrix with unseeing eyes. The history lesson dragged on, each minute stretching into eternity while fear gnawed at her insides. No amount of dirt could protect them if Mommy decided to unleash hell—and deep down, Elara knew that dragon was already stirring, its claws itching to tear through whatever fragile safety they thought they’d claimed.