Impeccable (Zayn Malik AU)

xvii. Eli

Buckingham Palace, England

Rain drizzled outside in a mad storm, dark clouds blocking out the sunlight that should be shining. A hunched figure sitting in a chair behind a desk was the only one in the study, the servant with the news having been dismissed seconds before. The man tried his best to control his breathing as best he could, if she was here with him, she would be holding him tight, whispering to him. Whispering it wasn't his fault, whispering there was nothing that could have been done at all. It was nature's course, she would have said.

The young man got up from his leather chair, shaky hands moving like his shaky legs to the window pane behind him. He clenched his fists together before screaming and running to his desk, throwing papers and books anywhere, everywhere. He couldn't think straight, his chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes.

The young man froze. He had had the same exact shade of hair. The same exact shade of blue for his eyes. The man's anguish and anger was long forgotten, tears now streaming down his pale face like the English showers outside. He suddenly felt dizzy and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor, hearing the door to his study creak open slowly, more whispers filling the room as several people rushed over to him, grabbing his shoulders, his arms, his hands. They all whispered the same thing in hushed tones.

"Anxiety attack...get the royal medic...needs a transfusion...no, get iron therapy...move him to his bedroom...find a vein in his arm..."

His breathing became shaky again as he realized how close everyone was, his claustrophobia setting in. They were too close, he couldn't breathe, he was going to die--

And then warm arms wrapped around him, a familiar scent of lilacs calming him down as she shoved everyone away. A soft kiss was pressed to his temple before the soft voice he craved whispered something different then he expected into his ear.

"Come to bed, my brave king. You must be exhausted."

♡ Odette's POV ♡

Zayn seemed troubled by something as we sat on the porch of the beach house outside our bedroom eating breakfast, a newspaper in hand, not from the Empire, but from England. His brows were creased, his mouth frowning as his eyes quickly read an article from the front page. I reached over the table to grab the small pot of sugar for my tea, adding a small cube before slowly stirring the drink.

I did the action with my left hand, and Zayn's eyes watched before starting to turn back to his paper. However, his eyes soon locked on my wrist, immediately dropping the newspaper. My wrist was taken in his grip, and my heart stuttered when I saw what he was looking at.

Seamus' spade hadn't completely washed off yesterday.

"What the hell is that?" Zayn asked, his grip on my wrist tight and his eyes glaring at me. I didn't answer right away, fearing his response.

"Marker. Seamus thought it would be a good way to disguise me since the real me isn't Marked." I bit my lip, waiting for Zayn's angry reaction.

I waited, but it never came. Zayn seemed to scrunch his eyes closed, mentally reminding himself of what frightful things had taken place to me yesterday. He took a deep breath before looking at me again. It surprised me how he could control his temper so well.

"Why is it Deeney's Mark?" He seemed disgusted to even speak Seamus' name.

"Because he was with me, and I couldn't go around with a crown on my wrist, now could I?" I jokingly remarked, and Zayn's lips formed a hard line.

"I don't like him. Make sure you wash that off." He muttered, releasing my wrist to return to his paper.

"You don't like anyone who isn't Zayn Malik or me." I joked with him, but Zayn was in no mood for it.