[Standard Content Warning: This is an ABDL story blog, that means stories on this page contain diapers, diaper usage (like, lots of it), infantilism and the like! In addition, mental and physical manipulation, bondage and nonconsensual or dubiously consensual employment of all of the above themes and many others may also apply. Viewer discretion is advised.]
Dame Madris looked to her left.
Dame Madris looked to her right.
Dame Madris stared forward, out the window, for a second.
Dame Madris reached a hand up and scratched her nose. Then she let out a little groan and leaned backwards against the wall.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand the importance of this duty. Dame Commander Artemis explained it and she listened and…did her best to internalize it. It was pretty logical and straightforward. The vault held the Queen’s greatest treasures. Those treasures had not only been invaluable in her ascent to her crown, but with her Kingdom still being so young, so nascent, the impression of her power was necessary to keep would-be usurpers and neighboring conquerers at bay. It would take time for her to forge alliances. She first had to convince people it was more trouble to contest her rule than to simply acknowledge it. Then she could convince them that the latter had something in it for them. That was how she would gain allies and that was how they would keep this piece of the country, not only for the rest of their lives, but afterwards. If she lost even one piece of her power, it would damage her ability to keep her crown. If anybody heard she’d lost a piece of her power, it would be devastating.
Madris understood all of that. She truly did. And she hadn’t taken an oath to protect and obey the Queen for life just to turn around and question her. But…none of that changed the fact that this was all really quite boring, wasn’t it?!
She just stood in front of the vault all day. That was it. Nobody came up here, except when it was time for another guard to relieve her. When she made this oath, she imagined she’d be doing things like standing by the Queen’s side, listening in on her meetings with her councilors, giving her advice, watching her during her studying and spellwork, being sent on missions, things that were exciting….! Those were her duties, most of the time. But then, once a week, she had to stand in front of this vault. Then there was that time Sir Barhom had been sent away on a mission and Dame Urgok had fallen ill, so she’d had to stand in front of the vault three days in a row!
She didn’t complain. She didn’t object. She was a Queensguard and this was her duty. She accepted that. The point to all of this was not to complain. It was simply to explain why she did things like….see how long she could go without scratching her nose. She simply had to kill the time and amuse herself somehow. Other methods included how long she could balance on one foot, how long she could hold her breathe, thinking of the longest song she knew and murmuring it to herself beginning to end…
She was thinking about resorting to that last one when she heard something coming from the stairs. The only person that would have reason to come up here was another Queensguard to relieve her or the Queen herself, if she had need of something in the vault. It wasn’t close to time for her shift to be over, so she doubted it was another Queensguard. Unfortunately, that meant she had just long enough to get her hopes up that it was the Queen, just for her hopes to be thoroughly dashed when she was it was one of those red-cloaked spellcrafters instead.
“Oh,” she murmured and let out a sigh. “What are you doing up here, crafter? This is a restricted area.”
“Uh. Ah. Yes. Yes. Very careful. Very restricted,” the crafter murmured in a quiet voice. Their hood was pulled forward as far as it would go and their head was down, hiding their face. “Dame Commander requests presence downstairs in Queensguard’s chambers. Very important. Very necessary. Sent me to deliver message.” Madris quirked an eyebrow.
“Commander Artemis sent for me?” She asked. “Why?”
“Hm. Yes. Yes. Very secret. Do not know. Do not ask. Just. Ah. Uh. Said ‘bring her down immediately’. Sent me away. No details. Did not ask.” Madris gave the crafter a scrutinizing stare.
“Alright. Come here,” she beckoned. “Stand here. Don’t move. I’ll go see what it is, but I’m coming right back. Don’t mess with the vault door or anything while I’m gone, just stand here until I get back. Alright?”
“Yes. Yes. Just stand. Nothing else. Just stand.” The crafter nodded repeatedly and shimmied towards Madris. She took one step away from the door.
Then she spun in place. Her rapier came out like a flash of light. Its point was an inch away from the neck of…. someone wearing the red cloak of a spell-crafter. That had been standing behind her the entire time.
“You almost had me there for a second,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “But it’s going to take more than a basic illusion like that to fool Dame Madris of the Queensguard.”
“Ah….ah….” The cloaked figure held their hands up. Not wanting to move an inch, standing as they were at the edge of Madris’ blade.
“Well said.” She pulled the blade back then swung her arm, smacking them across the head with her armored wrist. They went down in a heap. She then drew a pair of circles through the air with her blade and pointed it. A pair of shackles appeared around the would-be illusionist’s wrists. Madris sheathed her rapier and put her hands on her hips. Well, she’d finally gotten a little bit of excitement while guarding the door, but it was already over! She wondered if she was allowed to leave the door to report this or if she had to just stand here with this unconscious dope next to her all night.
“Who is this, anyway?” She murmured, turning them over and pulling the hood back….to see nothing. No face. No head. The hood and the cloak were just empty. Madris’ eyes widened. She dropped them. They just kind of - poofed into nothing when they hit the ground.
“What — what?” Madris’s brow furrowed. “A second illusion layered inside the first? How did I not notice--” She stopped and looked behind her. Her eyes got big and her blood went cold. The vault door was open. She put her hands down to her belt for - oh no.
Her key was gone.
She almost went inside, but she stopped when she heard steps racing down the stairs. They had caught her in that double-illusion and were already making their getaway.
“STOP!”
She ripped her rapier from its sheath and gave chase down the stairs.
…
…
“Urf.”
You put your hand on the windowsill and pull yourself up. You spare a quick glance to make sure she’s gone, then clamber in.
“That took longer than I thought it would,” you mutter as you walk over to the vault door. You reach into your belt and pull out a key. You take a deep breath before you slide it into the lock. With your hand on the large vault door, it unlocks and opens up in silence, just as it does when it closes behind you.
You let out your breath once you’re inside and allow yourself just a second. The immediate danger has passed with the guard running away, but you’re not out of the woods yet. You only have so much time before she figures out what’s wrong and when that happens, she’s not going to be the only one coming back in this direction. You take out the princess’ notes and immediately start checking them against the contents of the vault.
There are rows of artifacts, each sitting on a small plinth, illuminated by a small sphere of enchanted light hanging above. You walk past one after the other. You see stuff you’ve heard of, from songs and legends, and stuff you don’t recognize but still know to be wary of. Dragon fangs, enchanted swords, sealed tomes, a golden gauntlet with a purple gem and blue gem inlaid in it. It does in fact briefly occur to you that you’re standing among some of the most legendary artifacts in the entire world. A single one would make you fabulously wealthy or immensely powerful for the rest of your days. Theoretically, you could take as many as you could fit in your arms and your satchel.
And yet. You walk past all of them. Until somewhere in the middle, slightly to the right, you come to one plinth in particular with one particular treasure sitting atop it.
A white tiara, with glittering silver stones inlaid in it. You compare it to the page you took from the princess’ notes. This is definitely it.
You stare at it for a moment. Then, you reach a hand out and lightly touch it, as if you’re making sure it’s real. You pull your hand back, then reach forward and snatch it, as if worried it’ll run away if you don’t catch it. Once it’s in your hand, it feels significantly more real. The reason you came here. In your hand. You pull your hood down and bring it towards your head.
She said all it required was a thought.
You close your eyes tightly…
…
…
You curse and throw the tiara into your satchel. Then you turn and head back towards the door to the vault, the same hand rooting through the bag for something else on the way. You pull the cloak you took from the spellcrafter out and start throwing it on.
You don’t know what kind of side-effects it’ll have. You just need to get out of here before you can feel comfortable putting it on.
Yeah. That’s it.
‘So you’re putting it on now?’
You shake your head as you pull the hood up, making sure your satchel and all of your gear are tucked away under the cloak. You lock the vault again once you exit and immediately start down the stairs. All of your climbing gear is still attached to the window, which you already cut the security charm out of. They’ll think the thief went back out the window. And all you have to do is get a few floors down and lose yourself among the rest of the crafters. The front door, another window closer to the ground. It doesn’t matter. The rest of the tower should be in chaos by now. All you have to do is blend in until you get out.
You’re practically home free…
…is the last thought that goes through your head before a magic missile hits you right between the shoulder blades. You pitch forward, the wind knocked out of you and go tumbling down the stairs. You’re pretty sure you hit your head a couple times on the way down before you land on the next floor with an ugly thud.
Your vision is blurring and your legs are barely moving. You look around as best you can. You see a pair of black high-heeled boots in front of you. You tilt your head up and see a woman in dark robes, with a gold and purple crown atop her head, arms crossed. You hear the sound of armor clinking and shifting as more footsteps approach.
“Well done, Urgok,” the woman says. “You’ve gotten much better at that spell, lately.”
“By your guidance, your grace,” a rough, hoarse feminine voice says. You look back and see an orc in finely polished armor, the same kind Madris wears. You also see Madris and an elf flanking this woman….
This woman…is the Witch Queen.
You swallow. You look around on the floor and see it. You arm snaps out and grabs the tiara. You try to pull it back. A foot comes down on your arm to stop it. You look up and see the elf standing on your arm. He pulls out a longsword.
“If you would step back, your grace. I would not want to stain you with this burglar’s blood.”
You try to pull your arm. It doesn’t budge.
It’s over. It’s completely over. You messed up, the Queensguard caught you. They’re going to kill you. They’re going to kill you.
You have to put it on. Before you die, you have to put it on.
‘I thought you just wanted to steal it for spite?’
You suck in a breath, it wavers and your voice cracks. Some words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“I have to know. I just have to know.”
The Witch Queen holds a hand up.
“Stop.” The elf stays his blade. You don’t see the appraising look the Witch Queen is fixing you with, but you do hear the noises of consideration.
“Bring me that,” she eventually says. “I want a bit of time before I deal with this. Put the burglar somewhere. Alive.”
“The dungeon, your grace?” The elf asks. You hear the sound of that longsword being put back in its sheath.
“We still have that?” The Witch Queen asks back, sounding genuinely surprised. “Well, might as well, I suppose. Madris, come with me, I want to….” Her voice gets quieter and trails off as she walks away. Several arms grab you and haul you up. You don’t resist them, but when the elf tries to pull the tiara from your hand, you hold on for dear life.
“No…no…” You murmur, trying to pull back. You step into a punch and manage to catch the elf in the cheek. He lets out a loud exhale through his nose that indicates a great deal of growing annoyance with the fact that he’s not allowed to use that longsword on you. He shoves you back. You get spun around, now face-to-face with the orc, who rather than casting another spell on you, simply grabs you by the shoulders and pulls her head back.
She drives her head forward into yours and you’re unconscious before you hit the ground.
—
The irony that you came into this tower through the dungeon and now you’re occupying it is not lost on you, for the record.
You came to, you’re not sure how much later, in one of the dungeon cells. You’ve got shackles on, keeping you attached to the wall and one of the Queensguard, the orc, is posted outside your cell. You think the shackles and the guard are a bit overkill, personally.
“Can you take these off?” You ask. “Without my gear, I’m not going anywhere.” And they relieved you of your gear while you were unconscious. The orc turns her head to look at you.
“Don’t believe you,” she says flatly. “Even if I did, you’re kept secure. Queen’s orders. Allowed to stand here and give water. That’s it.”
“….actually some water would be nice,” you murmur. She shoves a waterskin in between the bars. You reach for it and squeeze some into you mouth. She takes the waterskin back and drinks a bit herself.
“Now, quiet.”
You can’t really argue with that, you suppose. You sit down against the wall. You try not to think about what’s going to happen to you, because really, what other penalty can there be for breaking into the Queen’s tower and trying to steal from her? At a certain point, you start wondering if it might not’ve been better to just let that elf put his sword through your heart and get it over with.
You try to think of an escape plan, but you’ve got nothing. Even if you got out of this tower, there’d be wanted posters with your face on them everywhere. And that assumes you can even get out of this tower in the first place, which feels pretty impossible, given they took all of your gear. There’s exactly one thing you can think of that might get you out of here and besides the fact that it would never work, you don’t even want to think about it.
So you just sit there. And you don’t say anything and neither does the orc. Eventually, you see her stand at attention and hear footsteps coming from the stairs. You swallow your breath as you see the Witch Queen entering the dungeon, flanked by Madris and the elf.
She approaches your cell. She takes one look at you, then addresses the orc.
“Has our thief said anything?”
“Chatty thief,” the orc responds. “Asks to be let out of shackles.” The Witch Queen turns to look at you again. It takes you a second to find your voice.
“You have all my tools. I can’t do anything to escape this cell without them,” you say simply. “…I also don’t know if that necessarily qualifies as chatty,” you add on. The orc grunts.
“Is that so?” She asks. “No in-born magic? You won’t simply turn invisible or teleport away the second those shackles are gone?” You furrow your brow.
“If I could teleport on my own, how were some shackles gonna stop me?” You ask. A couple of the Queensguard share a look. The Witch Queen rubs her chin. She gives a nod to one of her guards. The elf holds up a hand and a green glow surrounds it. Madris and the orc pull their swords out.
Then the Witch Queen flicks a hand. The shackles all unsnap from your body and vanish into dust. You pat yourself and look around. Within a second, there’s no trace left of them.
“You really couldn’t tell that those were mana constructs?” The Witch Queen asks. You pat your neck a couple times and shake your head.
“No, I’ve never been able to just…” You shrug your shoulders. “Sense things like that. I always have to use my gear to find it.”
“Have you.” The Queen taps her cheek with one finger. “I found several of my windows with the charms cut out of them, I assume thanks to you. You didn’t sense them?” You don’t answer immediately, your eyes finding their way to the ground. The Queen makes a gesture with her hand and you find yourself pulled across the ground until you unceremoniously bonk into the bars. She reaches in between them and touches your chin with the tips of her fingers, tilting your head up, forcing you to look into her eyes. You can’t help but notice that they’re purple.
“My dear burglar. As of this moment, the only thing you have that I want is your words, as long as those words are true. You will tell me every detail of your incursion and answer ever question I ask. Do you take my meaning?”
You swallow and look at the three Queensguard surrounding her. You keep your hands firmly where they are and don’t move an inch.
You slowly nod your head.
“That’s a good burglar.” She pats your cheek and waves you back. You take a couple steps back into the cell and fall into a sitting position. “Now. You teleported into this dungeon?”
“Yeah.” You - very slowly - raise a hand and point. “…that cell over there. The rest of the tower was covered in security charms, except the dungeon. It’s the only place you can teleport in.”
“So I’ve learned,” the Queen says somewhat wearily. “I thought once I stopped using this dungeon to hold anybody, I would no longer need to order upkeep on its charms, because if nobody’s in the cells, nobody’s trying to escape through the walls. Somebody trying to break in through a dungeon cell never occurred to me,” she explains with a huff. “Certainly not by digging a hole.” The idea that you, however briefly, outsmarted a Queen would normally feel nice, but given that you’re currently sitting in her dungeon, it’s a weak salve. She considers for a second, then continues.
“We found the spellcrafter you waylaid, the windows you climbed through. We believe we’ve almost pieced together your entire heist, there’s just a couple more details and these are the important ones, so think carefully before you answer.” She gives you a hard stare for a moment. “Accomplices. How many?”
You stare back at her. You swallow and shake your head.
“Just me.” Your stare at each other in silence for a moment, before you add. “Picked up some info about the tower here and there. But that was just. People talkin’. Nobody else had any hand in the job itself.” One of her brows quirks up.
“Just you.”
You nod. It doesn’t look like she believes that, but she doesn’t push on it yet.
“And who sent ‘just you’?” Oh. You suddenly understand why she hasn’t killed you yet, she wants to know which of her enemies is trying to rob her. Now you really wish you had the names of some of them. You think about just naming a random famous witch or royal you think might hate her, but you’re coming up blank. And given what she said about telling the truth, you don’t think taking a blind shot on what you know would be a lie would be a very good idea. So you let out a breath and repeat yourself.
“Just me.”
A couple of the Queensguard let out derisive noises. The Queen silences them with a gesture.
“You’re telling me that a single thief devised and executed a plan to break into my keep, waltz into my vault and leave with one of my treasures?” She asks.
“Well right now, it doesn’t seem like I did so good on the executing…” You murmur.
“To what end,” she says flatly. “Why did you do this?” She asks. You stare at the ground for a moment, then you look up at her, flashing her a grin.
“I’m a thief. I steal stuff. You royals always got the most valuable stuff.”
“So you stole it to sell it,” the Queen said. “To whom?”
“Whoever was willing to pay me the most for it,” you say simply.
The Queen’s eyes narrow a bit. The Queensguard all share a look amongst themselves. The Queen lets out an unimpressed sound through her nose.
“I see.” She sounds, in a word, dubious. “Just one more question, my burglar.” She steps forward and taps a finger on the bar. “How exactly did you get inside the vault?”
“Well.” You let out a humorless laugh. “That was the hardest and most expensive part, by a lot.” And there, the Queensguard you tricked, Madris, steps forward and grabs the bars of your cell.
“How did you get me with that illusion?! How did you get my key?!” She demands. You’re kind of glad these bars are in between you and her. She looks….really mad. To be honest, you can’t blame her, you did pull a pretty mean trick on her. You look at her, then look at the Queen. This time, you can’t help but smile. The Queen rubs her temple.
“Madris,” she says, addressing her guard. “Have you checked yourself in the last few moments?” Madris looks confused, then she pats herself around her waist, reaching into her pocket and pulling out….a key to the Queen’s vault.
“What the?!” She exclaims.
“That was the illusion,” you explain. “All of the rest of it with the door and the fake spellcrafter was the cheapest one-off crap I could buy from a street magician. You were supposed to see through all of it so y’didn’t catch the really expensive illusion I bought to make you think your key was gone, when it was still in your pocket the whole time.”
“Make cheating with dice obvious, so they never see your hand pick their pocket,” the orc murmurs.
“Of all the dishonorable underhanded tricks…” the elf grumbles, a hand on his forehead. “Then how did you get into the vault if you didn’t steal Madris’ key with your sleight of hand?” He demanded.
“You guys keep ‘em on you when you’re on duty, but, you keep them in your quarters when you’re not. Your quarters are two floors down from the vault.” You shrug. “I used the window.”
“You snuck through the Queensguard’s quarters and pilfered our belongings?!” You shrug and nod again. The elf lets out another frustrated, scandalized gasp. “I feel so violated.” Personally, you think he’s laying it on a little thick at this point. Madris, for her part, is just standing there, arms down, mouth agape. The Queen, for hers, actually seems a bit amused.
“I see. That does seem to explain everything, then.” You can only assume she figured most of this out already and was just asking you for confirmation. Which, hopefully, means she believed you. “So one burglar broke into my keep, entered my vault, left with one of my treasures and almost escaped notice entirely, all as an individual, self-motivated endeavor.” And if you didn’t know better, you’d think she sounded impressed. “It still doesn’t explain the matter of why you took what you took, though.”
“What?” You look at her, confused. You could’ve swore she already asked you that. “I told you that already.” And any look or sound of being impressed with you instantly fades from her face.
“I’m sorry, I suppose I wasn’t clear. I should’ve said, why did you take what you took, really?” She asks, tilting her head forward a bit. You avoid her gaze, then shake your head.
“I told you. I took it so I could sell it.”
The queen looks at you. Then she looks at her Queensguard. Madris still looks stunned. The elf just lets out another haughty huff. The orc shrugs.
“I did try,” she says with a sigh and begins to walk away. Her Queensguard all make to leave with her. You look around, confused at the conversation’s sudden end. You stand up and walk up to the bars of your cell.
“Hey, what’re you — hey!?” You grab the bars. “What?! Did I say somethin’ wrong?!”
“All the treasures in my vault and I’m expected to believe this one was picked to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.” The Queen lets out a sigh. They all have their backs to you as they leave.
“Couldn’t even come up with fake name for buyer,” the orc grumbles.
“It’s an insult to you is what it is, your Grace. I’m offended on your behalf,” the elf says.
“I can’t believe I got tricked by somebody so goofy, this really burns me up!” Madris has recovered from her stunned silence and also seems very put out by your explanation. You bite down on your lip. You almost say nothing and let them leave, but you bang you fist on the bars
“I was gonna use it!”
They all stop. The Queen turns around first. She takes a couple steps back towards your cell. Her hand comes up and there it is, resting in her fingers. The tiara.
“You were going to use this,” she says. “Do I have that right?”
You can’t bring yourself to say it again. You give a curt, short nod. The Queen looks like she finally believes you, but not particularly like she understands. She looks at the tiara. Then at you.
“You want to become a woman?”
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