The Crimson Crown

Lost in the intoxicating moment, I hadn’t realized the bottle was empty until a harsh gulp of air jolted me back to reality. Prince Dorian, ever the opportunist, swiftly claimed the empty bottle, his touch lingering on my lips as he wiped away the residue. A warm smile graced his features as he inquired, “How was that?”

I found myself blushing. Here I lay in the lap of an attractive man, naked apart from a pink diaper, and he had just fed me a baby bottle. I felt utterly ashamed of myself, but even more so for the fact that I had found I enjoyed the moment. As much as it was humiliating and demeaning, his gentle nature, the rhythmic nursing, and his ever-loving embrace had left me feeling relaxed. “It wasn’t too bad,” I answered weakly, mortified at how submissive I had been and how easily I had broken.

Prince Dorian smiled, helping me sit up. “How about we get you dressed? We can explore the grounds a bit before we turn in for the night.” 

I nodded weakly; I’d do anything to get out of this bedroom. I hoped that with some decent clothing, I could regain my composure and gain control over the situation. Prince Dorian smiled, standing and clapping his hands several times. The doors to our room swung open. I let out a yelp of surprise, rolling to kneel behind the changing table, covering myself. “What are you doing?” I demanded, “I’m basically naked!”

Prince Dorian chuckled, “It’s your attendants, my lady. They will help you with many things, especially getting dressed. Your gowns are far too elegant for me to dress you properly.”

My cheeks burned brightly as I glanced towards the doors, which had swung shut, two attendants standing there. They were dressed in crimson and gold. The first was a petite woman with soft, honey-colored hair, neatly braided and pinned, giving her an air of gentle grace. Her dress was a deep crimson, fitted with subtle gold embroidery along the sleeves and hem. Her warm brown eyes were downcast, and she moved with a practiced grace as both girls curtsied before me. The other woman was tall and poised, with dark hair swept back in an elegant chignon. Her dress was similar but with more elaborate gold detailing around the bodice and cuffs. I could imagine she was a senior attendant, and she carried herself as one.

“This is Elara, and Morris.” Prince Dorian said, motioning toward the honey-haired girl first and then the dark-haired.

“Your grace.” Both girls said in response, offering another curtsy.

“They will be your attendants through your time as a Princess and as a Queen. We’ve found keeping the same attendants, ones who teach you intimately, grow to be the best servants. Ladies, if you will, my soon-to-be wife needs to be dressed.” Prince Dorian said.

The girls bowed slightly; Elara turned and left the room for a moment before returning with a dress in hand. The dress was made of a soft, shimmering fabric in a shade of pastel blue, delicate yet vibrant. It had a fitted bodice adorned with small, sparkling gemstones that caught the light with every movement, forming intricate floral patterns. The neckline was scalloped, with tiny pearl accents that added a touch of sweetness. The skirts flared out into layers of tulle, creating a playful, cloud-like effect that swayed with each step. It was a full skirt designed for twirling, with subtle hints of pink and lavender peeking out from below. The hemline was embroidered with tiny silver stars and flowers. 

I found my mouth agape, staring at the dress as the two attendants approached me. “I can’t go out in that thing!” I squeaked, “I’m eighteen, not eight!” 

The attendants looked to Prince Dorian, who held up a hand, halting their progress. “My lady, you are a princess, and this is befitting of a princess within our kingdom. You do not know our customs or our traditions; you wouldn’t want to stick out, would you? Or, even worse, make the wrong impression? Besides, you aren’t going out to be seen by the public yet.” he said, waving the attendants forward.

I felt arguments die on my lips as they stepped around the changing table from which I cowered behind, my padded shame on full display for them. Neither girl said a thing as they gently pulled me to my feet. They were gentle and clearly practiced, and while I could have pulled away and made their lives challenging, I didn’t need guards in here seeing me like this to hold me down as I was dressed. I blushed deeply as the gown was brought over my head, the petticoats smoothed out, and the bow was tied before me.

I stared down at myself as the attendants drew brushes through my hair, pulling them into twin braids affixed with small, pink bows. I felt ashamed dressed as I was; while I had felt embarrassed and childlike before, in just a diaper, this was almost somehow worse. Any idea I had of regaining my composure before this man evaporated away like a puddle in the mid-day sun.

Prince Dorian stood before me, a sly grin on his face as he took in my outfit, and I found myself blushing. It felt as if I were a doll before this man, as if he were playing dress-up with me and would decide exactly what I would wear. “Or, would you rather go without any dress?” he asked.

I felt a blush form on my cheeks, “I could do without the bows.” I grumbled, knowing full well I was entrapped. 

Either response I gave, either to confirm his suspicions or to deny them, would leave me even more vulnerable and exposed. I had to begrudgingly admit that while the dress was intoxicatingly childlike, it was better than nothing.

Prince Dorian took a brain in his fingers, toying with it, the pink bow flashing in the light, “I think it’s cute; it completes the look, my sweet princess.” 

I glowered but felt that same warmth blossom in my chest at his praise. The attendants helped me step into white slip-ons, more storming pink bows attached to the lace of either, before I was fully dressed. “I can’t go out like this.” I whined, feeling like a toddler more than the princess I was supposed to be, “This is ridiculous; it isn’t fitting of a princess.”

Prince Dorian's smile faded, and I felt my heart sink. I wanted to snatch the words from the air, to swallow my tongue. His fingers flicked the braid he had been playing with away, “You can and you will. For a princess of our kingdom, it is fitting.” he stated firmly. “I believe it would be in our best interest if you and my mother had a chat so you can better understand your place among the royal family.”

Prince Dorian turned and strolled towards the doors, my attendants taking up flanking positions on either side of me. “Come, she should be in the royal gardens at this time of day,” he said, the doors swinging open for him as he approached.

My attendants stood by my side, waiting for me. I sighed, lifting my chin in as dignified of a position as I could be given the situation, and followed after the prince. Both attendants followed behind, closing the doors to the bed chamber as we strolled down the hall. Thankfully, Prince Dorian was in no rush, for as I walked, I found each step rather difficult with my bulky undergarment. The fluffy diaper between my legs pushed outwardly, preventing me from walking naturally and forcing a slight waddle. It was unlike anyone would notice or know the true source of my waddle, but it made me blush madly regardless.

The trip to the gardens was thankfully a short one; servants held massive, intricate gold doors as we approached and passed out into the gardens. What I saw beyond took my breath away.

The royal gardens were a breathtaking expanse designed to showcase both natural beauty and meticulous craftsmanship. As I stepped through the arched stone entrance, we were greeted by a world of vibrant color and fragrant blooms. Paths made of smooth, polished stone winded through the gardens. To the left, a rose garden bloomed in shades of crimson, blush, and ivory, the air thick with their heady fragrance. The roses climbed over arched trellises and stone walls, forming natural alcoves. Further down, fountains gently trickled, creating a peaceful melody. Statues of past royals and mythical creatures were nestled among the flower beds, adding a touch of history and mystique.

A secluded grove toward the back was home to fruit trees, apple, peach, and cherry, all currently in bloom, their delicate petals drifting like snowflakes. In a nearby herb garden, rows of lavender, rosemary, and mint released their calming scents, blending in with the fresh, earthy aroma of the garden. 

I followed Prince Dorian deep into the garden, eventually finding the Queen. She stood in a patch of sunlight near the pond, framed by the delicate blossoms of a nearby flowering tree. The queen was the very image of regal composure, her presence radiating both grace and quiet strength. She stood with her hands lightly clasped before her. Her hair, a rich chestnut with hints of silver, was elegantly swept up, with only a few soft strands framing her face. The queen’s gown was a deep crimson, embroidered with intricate golden patterns that shimmered subtly with each movement. The fabric flowed gracefully around her, the hem brushing the grass as if she belonged as much to the earth as she did to the crown. Her posture was upright, yet there was a warmth to her expression as she gazed upon the garden, a softness in her eyes, a quiet love for the natural beauty surrounding her.

As she noticed us approaching, the queen’s eyes shifted, a slight smile touching her lips. Her gaze was calm and steady, yet there was an intensity there, a wisdom that seemed to see beyond mere appearances, to look deeper. The queen carried herself with dignity, but there was a gentle kindness beneath her composed exterior, a compassion that reassured those around her. She was a woman of strength, tempered by grace, her presence as soothing as it was commanding. She was the embodiment of what a true queen should strive to be, riveling the grace and control of my mother. Somehow, this woman managed such a regal appearance while also thickly diapered beneath the royal tulles. 

“Mother.” Prince Dorian said, bending his head subserviently.

“My queen,” I said, offering a shallow curtsy befit of my station.

“Son, my new daughter.” The queen responded, offering a hand to Prince Dorian, who took it smoothly, planting a gentle, practiced kiss upon her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you; how was your journey.”

“It was well, Your Grace,” I said smoothly, my head titled subtly downward, ever-present of my needed subservience to a higher station. 

“Please, you will be my daughter before long; you may call me mother,” the queen said, turning to Prince Dorian, “Leave us,” she said, turning away from him and motioning for me to follow.

Prince Dorian bowed and retreated as I took a hurried step to keep up, “Yes, Mother.” I responded. 

“How are you finding your accommodations?” The queen asked.

“If I’m being honest, mother.” I started.

“Please do.” The queen jumped in, cutting me off.

“I find them rather odd,” I said as we strolled through the gardens, birds chirping warm greetings as we passed.

The queen chuckled, “As every new queen does. Did you show any resistance to the treatment?” she asked.

I felt my cheeks blushing, and I shook my head, “No, Mother, despite the humiliating treatment. I kept my head on straight.”

The queen whistled appreciatively, “Impressive, I certainly didn’t.” she chuckled, her chin still held high, both our attendants trailing behind, out of earshot range, “I assure you, the spanking is not worth it.”

I nearly choked on my tongue at the admission. Here this woman was, the very essence of what a queen should be, how one should act, and she had admitted to me that she had been spanked like a naughty child. I blushed madly, keeping my eyes ahead, afraid I’d be unable to meet the woman’s eyes if our gazes met. “I can imagine that would be rather traumatizing, mother.” 

“That’s one word for it.” The queen said dryly, “Tell me, have you needed to utilize your new undergarments?” she asked.

I felt my face turning several shades of crimson, shame overtaking me like an avalanche. Did this woman truly just ask me if I had soiled myself yet? A piece of me had known that they would force me to use these diapers, and yet, I had been in denial. Prince Dorian had even directly referenced his mother getting good use out of them while having to deal with unruly outfits. Yet, somehow, I hadn’t put the pieces together, or perhaps I was suppressing the idea altogether.

“I have not, no,” I said, my voice small and weak once more, the poise I had developed gone once again. 

“I would suggest not resisting it; it will only make things worse for you, my child. The sooner you grow accustomed, the easier it will become.” The queen explained, my entire body turning red in embarrassment at her suggestion.

I was desperately trying to guide the conversation away from myself, “Do you still wear them, Mother?” I asked. Prince Dorian had said so, and yet, I needed to know for myself.

I caught the queen smiling out of the side of my vision, “Of course, as every queen has before me and every queen after. It’s a part of the royal heritage and an honor. The royal diapering of the queen is as much a family tradition as the bedding ceremony on a wedding night.” she chuckled, turning to me, halting our progress through the garden, “I would suggest fostering good connections with your attendants; they will be as apart of your life as your future husband will. They will often know your body better than you. Alast, I must be leaving you; I have matters to attend to. Be well, child.” she said.

I made a hasty curtsy as she turned to leave me, “Yes, Mother, thank you.” I responded as she disappeared further into the gardens, her attendants making haste to catch up to her.

Prince Dorian rejoined me shortly, “How did it go?” he asked, turning to gaze upon the lake’s water as I had been.

“It went well.” I responded, my cheeks still flush, “Your family is full of unique experiences.” 

Prince Dorian laughed, a hearty laugh, as he stepped up close beside me. “That it is, my future queen,” he said, smiling at me.

I found myself returning that smile, his hand meeting mine and our fingers intertwining. Despite the intimacy of our first encounter, this somehow felt different. The simple act of holding hands had my heart aflutter; perhaps it was because it was something I wanted, something I could control; I had willingly taken his hand and continued to hold it. I felt my heart flutter, ripples spreading across the lake's surface as we stared out at it.

Perhaps it had been the queen's speech, maybe it was the lake, or perhaps it was my subconscious playing with me. But, gazing out on those waters, I became acutely aware of the fact that I needed to pee. I shifted uncomfortably, the queen’s words reverberating suddenly through my mind. 

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Prince Dorian asked.

I blushed, shaking my head, unable to meet his gaze, “No, thank you.” I responded.

Prince Dorian cocked his head slightly before his eyes once again went out to the lake. “My father said my mother would say the same thing, the subtle shifting from foot to foot, the inward turn of your legs, the look of concentration on your face. You need to go, don’t you?”

How had this man figured me out so quickly and easily? He had read me like a book; I felt like a child before him, unable to hide even the most basic of secrets. I nodded, completely mortified. 

I felt his hand squeeze mine, “Relax, let it go, don’t fight it. I promised to keep you safe, and I will always keep that promise. Those diapers will keep you safe, and you will not embarrass yourself; I promise.” he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead and off of me.

The humiliation was all-consuming. He’d seen through my facade in mere moments, and now, with chilling audacity, he commanded my degradation. A wave of shame threatened to drown me, and I longed to vanish into the very earth beneath my feet. To disappear, to cease to exist. But there was no escape. Confined within the gilded prison of this foreign kingdom, I was a puppet on a string, a captive audience to their cruel whims. Every breath, every movement, every thought was subject to their scrutiny. I was trapped, a solitary figure adrift in a hostile sea.

“Please, don’t make me,” I whispered.

His fingers squeezed mine once more, “Do you trust me?” Prince Dorian asked softly.

I had barely met the man, and he was already asking about trust? Something about the way he carried himself, the way he treated me, the delicate touch and kind words, I found that I did trust him. It could be his persona, or it could be something more. I sheepishly nodded my head.

“Then trust me now,” he whispered.

A cold dread settled over me, my limbs heavy and unresponsive. Trapped in this suffocating silence, I was a helpless captive. The weight of his demand pressed down on me, a crushing burden. I yearned to defy him, to resist his cruel order. But the stark reality of my situation was undeniable. A prisoner of circumstance, I was forced to make a choice. The queen’s chilling words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of my fragile existence. With a trembling hand, I returned Prince Dorian’s grasp, a silent surrender. As despair consumed me, a wave of relief washed over me, a bittersweet victory in the face of defeat. A quiet, involuntary confession, a final act of defiance against the tyranny of my predicament as I soaked my diaper.

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 unburrowed 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.