A/N: I've chosen to continue this story because I like the plot very much; out of all my MCD fics, this was the main one I wanted to finish. However, I will not be writing any more for MCD after this story is done.
That being said, thank you for reading and enjoy the story!
Warnings: None
It was raining outside, hard by the sound of it beating against the window. Opening her eyes, it confirmed her suspicions.
Raising herself up, she realized she must have fallen asleep while lying there after her confrontation with Zane. It had been so bright outside when she laid down.
It was then the sound that had woken her from her slumber made itself known again, a knock at the door. Scrambling off the comforter and straightening her clothes, she called out, "Er- Come in."
The handle turned and in stepped a guard, dressed in silver armor with a red cross adorning the front. Not the same guard as before; she could tell by the way the man carried himself.
"The High Priest requests your presence in the dining hall. He wishes to speak with you." The guard's voice was gruff, annoyed; not wanting to be troubled with fetching the priest's little prisoners. Aphmau blinked at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, not quite sure how she should respond.
"He's letting me out of this room?"
"I'm letting you out of this room." Before she could protest, the knight had taken a tight grip on her upper arm that was sure to bruise. She let out a startled sound, but she was no match for his strength as he hauled her out of the room and into the hall.
It looked like a castle. There were red rugs running down the halls, grand chandeliers hanging from the gilded ceilings, but it was painfully empty besides the guards standing directly outside her room.
Is this really how Zane chose to use his manpower? Two guards to make sure she didn't sneak out of her room?
The lord's arm was aching as she was more-or-less dragged down the hall before she finally squirmed and wrenched herself out of his grasp.
"I know how to walk!" she snapped. The guard looked angry, somehow evident even with the helm on, a hand slipping down to rest of the handle of his sheathed sword.
"Move along then."
Aphmau paused before turning around and continuing in the direction they had been heading.
She thought it was odd, how empty the place was. Cold as well. A cool draft made her hair stand on end, feeling somewhat embarrassed she was out in the open in little more than underclothes.
As they neared the dining hall, she could hear various noises and several servants skittered past her as she entered the archway, looking in. In the middle of the room was a large dining table, far too big for the only person that occupied in at the head. Zane seemed to be picking at what was on his plate before he raised his head to look at his guest.
"Ah. I'll be honest," he stated, "I'm amazed you didn't refuse to come." The smile was evident in his voice and it made her ill. Aphmau hugged herself uncomfortably, letting out a sharp gasp when the guard behind her nudged her forward.
Stepping closer to the table, Zane stood and pulled out the chair beside his own, motioning for her to sit. She could say she was surprised as he pushed it in for her before taking his seat again.
"Why did you call for me?" she questioned quietly.
"It's time for dinner. Aren't you hungry?" She lowered her gaze to the table where there was a plate of what looked like roast with some vegetables. Her stomach growled at the thought.
Well...it wasn't as if she hadn't already eaten food he had served her. If he intended to poison her, it would have kicked in long before now.
The woman hesitantly picked up a fork and began to eat, keeping her gaze averted from the priest beside her. At least, she thought, he bothered to give her good meals.
She didn't realize she had eaten so quickly until she put her fork down and looked up to see Zane wasn't nearly done with his meal. She couldn't help, but stare now, because he had his mask pulled down to eat and she could see the reason he wore it now.
Scars, none new, but there nonetheless, littering his lower face, one prominent one even slicing through his bottom lip. They were jagged and long; deep.
"Curious?"
His inquiry snapped her out of her trance, eyes wide as she peered owlishly back at him.
"I- Um." She frowned, folding her hands on her lap. "What happened to your face?" It was a rude question, one she would never normally ask someone so bluntly, but she couldn't bring herself to care about his feelings since he had been so cruel to her.
The man leaned against the edge of the table with one arm, the other holding the fork up in the air. "Not a story I care to recount at the moment, but just know it involves your dear guard."
"Garroth?" she asked, perking up.
"Yes. Perhaps one day I'll tell you, but not now." He reached for a chalice full of some liquid as dark as blood and brought it to his marred lips to drink from it. The smell of alcohol offended her nose.
"Aren't you supposed to resist temptations as a priest? Isn't indulging in alcohol against your oath?" She would admit, she knew little of priests, but she was always under the impression they couldn't do such things.
"Indulging in you is against my oath." The deadpan glare he gave her was noticeable even with his one eye covered.
"What?" she hissed.
"I'm not supposed to take a wife. I took a vow of abstinence when I accepted this position and yet, here I am." Zane smiled to her and she felt herself bristle. "Having dinner with my fiancée."
"I'm not you're fiancée," Aphmau snapped in reply. He only chuckled and tilted the chalice back to finish off the wine within.
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, Aphmau fidgeting nervously in her seat and looking around the room. She had been given the same beverage as Zane, but she refused to drink it. Irene knew what he would do should she get the slightest bit inebriated in his presence. She was thirsty, but not quite enough so for that.
"Tomorrow," Zane sat the chalice down on the table with a thump, "you'll be fitted for some new clothes. I have a tailor coming early to do so. I presume purple is your favorite color?"
Despite being correct in his assumption, she only scowled and didn't confirm or deny it. She wouldn't give him any pleasure in torturing her like this.
But the priest didn't seem too bothered about it. He shrugged it off and sat there for a moment before rising to his feet. "Well, I think it's time for us to part ways for the night. My guard will escort you back to your room."
Casting a glance over her shoulder at the bulky knight that stood against the wall behind her, Aphmau wished someone else, even Zane himself, would do it.
She jumped as Zane pulled her chair out, quickly standing and straightening the purple underclothes she wore. She stared at him for a moment, sickened by his smile as if he was expecting something.
"No 'thank you'?" his expression didn't change, feigning offense in his voice, "After the lovely dinner I just treated you to? Ah, well." The lord let out a sharp huff, folding her arms as another cold draft hit her bare skin.
She didn't even have time to react to him leaning in before his lips were pressed against her bruised cheek, causing her to jerk away with a startled mix between a gasp and a cry.
Despite all his chivalry thus far, he seemed a bit annoyed with her reaction, the smile turning into a small frown just before he took the hem of his mask and pulled it back up over his face.
"Goodnight, Aphmau."
His robes flying behind him, he turned sharply and exited through another doorway than the one she had entered through. She didn't have time to contemplate what had just happened before the guard was already on her, urging her to start walking.
The guard didn't speak on their way back to the bedroom and she had no qualms with this. But the isolated feeling came rushing back like a wave once the door was locked and she was back in her confines.
The room was dark, sparing an oil lamp on the vanity. Beside it sat a bucket of soapy water and a cloth.
Oh, right. She hadn't been able to bathe since she had been brought here. Her hair was greasy, her skin oily and dirty after the battle that had transpired not 3 days ago. At least, she noted, Zane hadn't taken it upon himself to bathe her when he changed her clothes.
Nearing the bucket, the woman slowly began to take her clothes off, leaving them in a crumpled mound on the floor before she took the cloth and soaked it in the hot water.
She felt filthy, in more ways than one, especially after the kiss that had been pressed to her face against her will. Zane was foul, vile; a poor excuse for a human being. He was evil.
Staring at the cloth, she raised it to her face and raked it down her cheek where he had dared put his lips, so hard it left irritation in its wake and caused her skin to turn red.
Her eyes were burning and she sank down onto the floor, gripping the vanity with a rigid hand as she choked on a sob.
She hated him. She hated him.
