A/N: Just to clear it up, this story will not have Aphmau being involved romantically with Laurance or Aaron.
Garmau is the only romantic relationship that will be acknowledged here, minus all the twisted Zanemau. The Aphmau portrayed in this fic doesn't have feelings for anyone, but Garroth.
I won't be taking any suggestions on the pairing(s) of the story, sorry.
Warnings: None besides Zane being creepy I GUESS
Warm.
"Aphmau."
There was wind on her face, her hair tickling her cheek.
"Aphmau!"
The voice got louder and she finally opened her eyes to blinding light, so white she immediately shut them again. Her head hurt.
She felt hands on her arm, then her face, a warm palm pressed to her cheek and this roused her fully, eyes opening wide to see who was touching her. A blonde man stared down at her, blue eyes peering at her with much concern.
Everything around him was white.
"...Garroth," she whispered quietly, eyes softening at the familiar face. The name brought a quick smile to his lips; she saw his shoulder release the tension.
"You scared me," he started with a sigh, "You wouldn't wake up." Aphmau slowly sat up, propping herself up on her elbows and quickly accessing herself in the process. She still wore the lilac colored pajamas Zane had given her.
It was so warm, almost sultry, but there was a breeze, like in the beginning of summer. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she could see grass and flowers. Behind Garroth stood a tall oak tree, its leaves slowly waving in the wind.
"Where are we?" she mumbled. The knight sat back on his knees, his armor clinking.
"I don't know. I woke up here like you did." He paused, biting his lip, then he moved forward and put his arms around her much smaller frame. The lord jumped a bit, hesitating before she put her arms around him as well.
"G-Garroth... Zane."
"I know," he frowned, unwilling to release her just yet. For all he had known, she might have been being tortured in O'khasis or even dead. He had no idea with Zane. "We've been looking for you."
Aphmau finally slid away from the hug, leaning back with her hands in the grass. Garroth looked weary, she noted; his eyes were dark and heavy, hair matted. He didn't look well.
"I didn't know if you were alive," she replied.
"I could say the same about you." At that, he offered a smile, a gloved hand raising up to rub the back of his neck.
The urgency of this hit her suddenly, causing a shiver to go down her back. This didn't feel like a dream; it didn't have the same floaty feeling it should have. What was this?
If she was truly communicating with Garroth, he needed to know what was happening to her.
"Garroth," she gasped, shifting so she was on her knees, "I'm in O'khasis. Z-Zane. He said I have to marry him."
"What?" Garroth hissed. He slowly rose to his feet, extending a hand to help her up.
"He's keeping me prisoner until I accept his proposal of my own accord. If I don't, he'll force me," the woman explained, wrapping her arms around herself and gripping her shoulders. Her head was pounding now, aching behind her eyes.
"I-" Her knight opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud clap of thunder rattling the sky. Looking up, she saw dark storm clouds moving in overhead. The wind was picking up, causing her long hair to fly around wildly.
Garroth looked back at her, a look of slight panic in his eyes and his hands in fists.
"I'll find you," he said, "I promise."
The man leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, holding a tight grip on her arm for just a moment before she didn't feel anything at all.
She woke to knocking at the door, but this time it jolted her out of a much deeper sleep, jumping at the sudden noise in her bed. Her skin felt hot under the covers and a quick glance out the window confirmed the pouring rain hadn't stopped overnight. The garden below looked nearly flooded.
There was knocking again.
With a deep groan, she sat up on the mattress, running a hand through her hair to straighten it out.
"What?" she snapped. A voice beyond the door answered a second later.
"It's time for your appointment with the tailor. Please ready yourself." She could hear the door unlocking, but no one entered. It appeared that was her cue to make herself look at least a bit presentable.
Aphmau slid off the bed and went over to the vanity, almost horrified at her own appearance. Her hair looked twice its size, tangled and not parted correctly. She supposed at least she was clean. Though it wasn't a warm bath, being offered some means of cleaning herself was better than nothing.
She opened one of the drawers in the vanity, hoping to find a brush. There laid one in the middle drawer, amongst compacts of makeup and lipstick. She had never been one to wear makeup and she wasn't sure if Zane was expecting her to, but unless she was forced, she wasn't touching it. The woman opted for the silver-handled brush instead.
After a few minutes of primping herself, she fluffed her hair, fixed her clothes, and went to the door. Outside in the hall stood a guard, dressed in the same getup as the last, but their demeanor was different. They glanced at her, then offered their arm.
"A tailor?" she asked. At least one had the slightest shred of decency. She took their arm carefully, but didn't get too close.
"The High Priest wants to have clothes made for you," they commented. Aphmau raised an eyebrow at the knight's voice, frowning.
"Was it you that came to me the first day?"
There was a small stutter in their step, confused and surprised by the accusation, then they resumed, walking down the hall beside her.
"Yes, it was."
This knight had seemed much nicer than the rest of the guards, who seemed either rude or passive; this one actually had manners. Aphmau pursed her lips, but didn't say anything else as she was led.
She was taken to a brightly lit room that looked like a fancy parlor, inside a woman with a measuring tape and ridiculous heaps of purple fabric strewn across all the available furniture, minus a tiny stool before her and a sofa. And on the sofa sat the priest himself.
Aphmau stared, standing in the doorway before she was urged to enter by the nameless knight, who quickly excused themselves once she was safely in the room.
"What is this?" she asked softly. Zane was slouched on the couch in a very informal fashion, sipping something from a glass with the most nonchalant expression she could imagine.
"Did you forget so soon? You need new clothes and I can't simply guess your size."
"No," her brow furrowed, her fists clenched at her sides, "Why are you here? These are normally done in private."
Being fitted for clothing was going to be annoying enough; she didn't need the prying eyes of the evil priest on her during it. But the man seemed all too content to stay right where he was.
"There's nothing I'll see today that I won't see later on, so it doesn't matter." He smiled quickly before tilting the glass and swallowing the rest of its contents.
Her expression changed to that of disgust, but her thoughts were quickly derailed when the woman began motioning for her to come over.
"I'm not undressing with him here," she growled, taking a step back to the surely locked door.
She would rather be doing anything other than standing in this room being told to undress in front of Zane, even if it meant sitting through that terrible dinner with him again. Even if it meant him kissing her face again.
The tailor looked impatient, casting a glance to Zane as if silently asking him to deal with the fussy client. The visible blue eye looked annoyed and coupled with the tight frown on his scarred face made her feel a bit intimidated.
Zane was scary, that she knew, but standing up to him was frightening in its own right. She didn't have a village and guards to back her up this time and thus would stand no chance. Her headache was starting to come back.
He nodded his head at her, as if to say 'I'm waiting'.
A moment of hesitation later, she raised trembling hands up to slip her top off as slowly as she could. Next came the matching shorts, dropping them in a pile on the floor. She felt exposed and humiliated standing there in her underclothes, her face hot and tears brimming her eyes as she inhaled slowly and walked over to the tailor.
She was told to stand on the stool while a measuring tape was wrapped around her waist and arms and she couldn't help, but feel like she was on display for the priest. Was he enjoying this view? Or was it just getting enjoyment out of terrorizing her and making her uncomfortable?
Aphmau wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. She might just be ill if it was the former.
"So, Lady Aphmau," Zane started. The lord cringed at the sound of her own name rolling off his tongue. "Have you thought anymore about my proposal?"
The tape was pulled tight around her abdomen and she wobbled a bit, finally averting her gaze from Zane's.
"I won't marry you," she said calmly, though a bit under her breath. The man didn't look too troubled by her statement, shrugging and standing up to go examine some of the assorted fabrics laid out.
There was a few minutes of wonderful silence and Aphmau almost found herself relaxing as the tailor pinned fabrics around her, but it was quickly broken when Zane walked over and held some lacy fabric to her chest, causing her to instinctively lean away.
"What do you think about this for your dress?" he asked, as if he actually valued her opinion on the material. She scoffed and in an act of defiance, took his hand and pushed it away.
That seemed to be the moment he snapped. He paused, almost in disbelief, before he drew his hand back and slapped her. The force of the blow caused her to stumble and she fell off the stool, startling the tailor, and landed on the carpet with a loud thud.
He hit her?
Her face was burning and the tears came back suddenly, spilling down her hot face, a strangled sob caught in her throat.
"What did I tell you?" the snarl in the priest's voice was deep and she could feel his presence looming over her, "You'll listen to me as long as you're here. You don't get to defy me."
She stayed there, too stunned and too frightened to do anything or even look at him. She would have loved to thrust her sword right through him then and there, but without backup, she stood no chance. She would have to deal with it, even if it meant enduring this.
Garroth was coming for her.
"Get up."
She slowly rose to her feet, realizing her whole body was shaking just the slightest bit, and got back up onto the stool.
The humiliating process dragged on for a while longer, but eventually the tailor had enough measurements and choices of fabric to work with, all of which chosen by Zane. He didn't direct another word to her throughout, not looking at her.
When the tailor said she could step down, she practically ran to get her clothes, pulling them on as quickly as possible. Zane was standing beside the sofa, glowering at her lowly before he fixed his mask and straightened his robes.
"My guard will accompany you today. You can explore the castle, but not without supervision. Do you understand? Or you can expect that tenfold."
She nodded.
