The Divine Beauty-Apsara {Zayn Malik} AU (Under Editing) #MissionDesi

1. Zayn Malik Abdul Shah, The King Of Lahore

"Long live the King of Lahore,

Long live the Ruler!"

The man who the subjects of Lahore, cheered for, walked into the palace court. The sound of his footsteps, were distinctly heard, even in the loudness of the cheers of his eager subjects. The Grand Entrance of the hall, welcomed the Lahori ruler, the people's King, King Zayn Malik Abdul Shah, under whose name the Land of Lahore, rested. His name already held the hint of a King; he was born to be one.

The commoners who were made to stand on both the sides of him, to welcome him, chanted his praises like a prayer, which weren't sincere.

If you would ask the other Kings of various provinces, whether they were his allies or not, would all give a similar answer, they would call him a 'ruthless beast'. Although the size of his province would make everyone judge Lahore to be insignificant, it was anything but that.

His lineage had gained fame for having millions of land and wealth under their account. Their strategies and plans for ruling such a vast stretch of land was what made his forefathers rule a success in the present day Pakistan, Afghanistan and India.

His Mughal ancestry, made him the most liked and the most hated, and that was proven by the fact that anybody was ready to declare a war with him, but he also had a long list of people throwing themselves at him so that they could provide him ammunition, and most importantly, their daughters or wives for him to wed.

Being turned twenty- seven, a few weeks ago, the King didn't have a female counterpart, yet. It did raise a lot of questions among his subjects, and his ministers, but all their curiosity died down upon reminding themselves, that he was their King... and no questions should be asked to their supreme leader.

As he was a powerful ally for many rulers, which wasn't possible without his Father Abdul Shah's rule, Zayn was also considered to be a man of undeniable good looks. Under his Turkish turban, where jewels of all names were studded, was his raven- black hair, which was brushed regularly with a comb made of silver. The texture of his hair felt and glossed like silk. The length was slightly longer than what a man would usually keep or consider suitable, and one could see its ends behind his neck, tucked by his crown, the turban.

His face resembled a carved sculpture of a Greek god, a tiny yet sharp nose, and a firm jawline, peppered with a subtle stubble. His eyes, albeit small, were framed by a thick set of lashes. Anyone who'd have a nice look into his eyes could effortlessly track his Persian, Afghan and Mongol routes.

His eyes were coloured, unlike his people's; his eyes were the colour of molten jaggery, his skin, olive- toned, like his Afghan forefathers.

His thick eyebrows, peacefully stayed, which would usually be furrowed in anger, or confusion. But today, he smiled at all the women, who he had ordered to be within the boundaries of his vision. The women kept their faces, veiled, keeping their eyes down, in shyness or embarrassment, as the King ogled at them.

If his subjects had to point out one thing, among a long list of others, that they abhorred about his personality, would be his approach towards the lower gender, which was a term which he'd often use to refer to a woman.

His arrogance and his short temper would be the other picks.

King Zayn was a man of the present, at least that's what he told himself. He would never dwell on the past, and because of that he's never looked back in his life.

At a tender age of three, he was betrothed to be the ruler. His father, called a brave warrior, passed on the title to his son. And unknown about the perks, the perils and duties that come along with being a leader, he was forced to live up to the legacy, and maintain the strong empire, that his father had once built.