Impeccable (Zayn Malik AU)

By JerrytheGiraffe

813K 37.9K 10.3K

"Skin like porcelain, hair silky and long, manners be perfect, or you'll surely be gone." (cover by moonxrive... More

Impeccable // Zayn Malik AU
Prologue
i. Crown
ii. Swans
iii. Allergies
iv. Royals
v. Cousins
vi. Nightmare
vii. Just Girls
viii. A Perfect Portrait
x. Coronation Day
xi. Howling Ghosts
xii. Shadows of a Family
xiii. An Empty Throne
xiv. The Royal Beach House
xv. Anchor
xvi. Day Out
xvii. Eli
xviii. Storm
xix. Scotties and Slow Dances
xx. The King's Speech
xxi. State of the Empire
xxii. Women
xxiii. Lunch Date
xxiv. Party Planning
xxv. Vows
xxvi. Power of One
xxvii. Fix You
xxviii. Preparations
xxix. Seventeen
xxx. Fury
xxxi. Burns
xxxii. Sacrifices
xxxiii. Pressure
xxxiv. Escape
xxxv. Facedown
xxxvi. Menswear
Epilogue

ix. Manners

17K 943 139
By JerrytheGiraffe



♡ Odette's POV ♡

I hadn't seen or spoken to Zayn since the incident in the drawing room, which was several days ago. A part of me was still mildly disappointed in myself, especially when I would pass the art room and see the blank easel on the stand, still awaiting its master to start his next masterpiece.

I wasn't too sure if his next masterpiece was going to be me anymore.

But I was getting off topic, there were bigger things to worry about now. Like the fact that Delia's coronation was getting close, and apparently I was unworthy of being at the ceremony until I learned proper royal manners. I thought that was rubbish, I had been a perfectly well-mannered young lady my whole life.

So here I was, in my manners lessons with quite possibly the most stuck up lady I had ever met in my whole life.

Her name was Miss Rita, and she probably had the biggest ego out of the entire female population in the empire.

I wasn't kidding.

"ODETTE! You're slouching! No royal ever slouches, you look like an old hag!" Miss Rita would screech at me as I sat in what would be my chair for the ceremony. Her voice was high-pitched and annoying, and it was really starting to hurt my head.

Miss Rita was a skinny older woman who looked to be barely tipping the one-hundred tick on the scale. She was practically a skeleton, with an obvious boob job, that is. Her hair was dyed a deep red color to accentuate her bright green eyes. She must have been pretty when she was younger, but all the cosmetics on her make her look just terrible.

I froze in my chair. I sounded like a hypocrite, especially after how Zayn had reacted in the drawing room.

So I sat up taller, my back beginning to ache from the hours of manner lessons. I kept my hands relaxed and folded in my lap, my chin raised high as a sign of superiority. I thought I looked foolish, but I must have looked like a true royal because Miss Rita praised me greatly.

Zayn's sisters were present at my lessons as well, probably to either poke fun at me or to in fact get a refresher on their manners. I assumed the former, they were princesses after all. They had probably learned this by the time they could walk.

I had learned quite a lot from Miss Rita, often with books on my head to keep my balance. I didn't even know princesses did that in the real world, I had always thought it was something fictional, made up for fun.

Needless to say, those books fell quite a lot. My body was in the huge ballroom of the Malik Manor, but my mind was elsewhere, in a certain prince's room, laughing and having a good time. My mood just couldn't be lifted, no matter what I did.

We practiced for hours, and just as I felt my legs were about to give out from my high heels, my mood worsened.

"Alright, let's get the boys and Lady Malik in here to practice the official lineup for the coronation." Miss Rita clapped her hands together in excitement, her voice high-pitched and squeaky. My heart skipped a beat, Zayn was coming. Whether this was to be a good thing or something that I would dread, I didn't know. I hoped for the first one, but with my recent luck, who knew.

Us girls waited for a few minutes while several servants left to fetch Zayn's mother and father, as well as the prince himself.

We ended up waiting for fifteen minutes before the servants came back, but only with Lady Malik and her husband. No Zayn.

"Where is the prince?" Miss Rita huffed in annoyance, an older servant stepping forward, making a small bow before speaking.

"His Highness the prince claims to be suffering from a serious migraine, he said he isn't to be disturbed."

I mentally scoffed at that remark. Zayn was pulling excuses now, there's no way he could have a headache several days in a row. I tried not to let my disappointment get to me, but it must have been too easy to see through me. I was never good at hiding my emotions.

"Odette, are you alright?" Lady Malik asked, a worried look evident on her pretty face.

"Yes, I'm fine." I quickly assured her, my mind reeling with an excuse to come up with. I had already upset one member of the Malik family, I didn't need to upset another one. "It's just Zayn claimed he wasn't feeling very well yesterday as well, I was just getting worried about him."

But Lady Malik took my excuse the wrong way.

"Why don't you go to him, try and convince him to at least try to practice for a few minutes?" She offered, and I couldn't turn down the look on her face. I may be pretty, but I'm not stupid, at least when it comes to Zayn. He was upset with me, and I really shouldn't disturb him. It would be like poking a starving lion locked in a tiny cage with a stick.

But this could be my much needed opportunity to make up with him, and I definitely couldn't pass that up.

So I began walking down to Zayn's room, my heart pounding with each step I took. I finally reached his room, the huge maroon door daunting to me. This was it, I could leave now or face Zayn. I wasn't scared of him, just worried he was upset with me, and my future here was ended.

I knocked lightly on the heavy door, waiting for my prince to answer the door. Minutes passed, and he never did open the door. I sighed in annoyance before testing the door handle, surprising myself when it smoothly moved down, opening the door. I held my breath as I slowly peeked inside, the sight surprising me.

Zayn was sitting on his bed, shirtless, with his back facing me. The lights were off, only a faint glow of sunlight struggling to make it through his curtains that were pulled shut. I didn't know if he had heard me come in, but I closed the door a little louder than normal to alert him he had a visitor. He didn't move.

I opened my mouth to say something to him, only to start coughing. I hadn't noticed the cloudy smoke in the air before, but as Zayn turned around, I found why. There was a lit cigarette in his hand.

"I didn't know you smoked." I mumbled, the smoky air still causing me to stifle small coughs.

Zayn's eyes were dull, no emotion visible as he stared at me.

"I believe I told Thomas no one was to disturb me." He blankly stated before taking a drag off the cigarette. "And I don't smoke. Not unless I have to." He turned back around, a shard of ice piercing my heart as he closed me off again.

"You shouldn't do that, you could get cancer." I told him, but he only laughed.

"Do you think I don't know that? I'm not stupid, I just need something to relax my nerves."

"Well find something else other than smoking." I raised my voice at him, he was being stupid and idiotic. I stormed over to him, grabbing the cigarette and quickly putting it out.

Zayn's suddenly emotionless eyes became alight with anger, abruptly from his bed, his hand gripping the wrist of mine which held his now cold cigarette.

"You have no say in what I do. I'm the prince of this empire, you are simply a wealthy city girl clinging to the possibility of being a royal by marrying me. I bet mommy and daddy planned this whole thing, poisoning your mind by making you desperately search for perfection." Zayn's words burned me, almost like he was pressing the lit end of the cigarette into my skin.

"I bet they planned our little meeting at that Christmas ball, mommy and daddy would have benefitted so much from the cash they would have received at our wedding." Zayn spat at me, his words hurting like daggers. This wasn't the Zayn I knew, what had happened?

My vision was going blurry, falling to the floor where I saw an empty bottle of alcohol. I couldn't make out what it was, but I was fairly sure I recognized the bottle designs as a type of vodka. This was bad, Zayn was drunk and was smoking.

"You don't know anything about my mother and father, don't talk so badly about them." I barely whispered. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying. Come to the ballroom with me, we need to practice for the coronation." I gently grasped his hand, only for Zayn to yank his out of my grip.

"I don't want to, I wanna stay here." Zayn pouted, crossing his arms over his chest like a little five year old. I was about to scold him again when a tremendous coughing fit started in me. The smoke from the cigarette had yet to leave the room, and suddenly it was feeling like it was choking me.

Zayn only stared blankly at me as I struggled to breathe, managing to make it to a window in his room, throwing it open. I welcomed the fresh air that entered the room, my lungs finally getting the clean oxygen they needed.

"What's wrong with you? It's just breathing, it's not that hard." Zayn scoffed, and I felt my anger boiling over as I clenched my hands into fists.

"You wouldn't know, would you? You've been avoiding me ever since the portrait incident, you hardly know me at all!" I yelled at him, Zayn's eyes growing wide at my outburst. I was sick of him insulting me. He may the prince, but he had no reason to treat me like that.

He had no idea what I had been through regarding my family.

"Don't yell at me, I'm your superior." Zayn mumbled before yawning, falling back onto his bed sheets.

"Stop saying that!" I yelled even more, "You may be the prince and I may be just another girl, but if we are getting married, you have to stop treating me like I'm nothing simply because I don't hold a title!"

"Why'd you open the windows? I like how it was before." Zayn said, easily dismissing me and changing the subject.

I lost it.

"Because you're gonna get sick if you keep living like this! My grandfather smoked his whole life and he died from lung cancer, and he gave my dad crappy lungs too!" I screamed, Zayn sitting up on his bed now. His tattoos swirled and distorted as he moved from one comfy position to another, but his swirling body art less than enthused me now.

"And how did that work out for Daddy? I'm sure he's fine now." Zayn rolled his eyes, and my heart sunk.

The tears fell from eyes like a waterfall. I couldn't stop them, and to be honest I didn't really try to either.

"Shut up." I whispered, and Zayn only scrunched his cloudy eyes together in rage.

"Excuse me?" He asked, the tension in the room thick.

"I said shut up! Don't ever talk about Dad again!" I screamed, my small hands pushing him down onto his bed before I ran out of the room, leaving a silent Zayn behind, previously numb memories resurfacing to my conscious mind.

A/N: Things are getting good in this book, I'm so excited. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, vote and comment please! I was texting my good friend Quada aka @MeganQuada or @_effortless_ a couple of days ago and she suggested a sequel to this book x) maybe it will happen, maybe not. If you think a sequel will be good, please don't hesitate to tell me! Love you all -M

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