♡ Odette's POV ♡

The next day Zayn had told me he didn't have any lessons or conferences to attend to as the prince of the vast Malik Empire, so he had requested for me to meet him in his drawing room. It was a lazy day, and I decided to just go to his room in my sweatpants and t-shirt I had worn to bed, considering everyone else around the manor seemed to be doing the same.

I had to ask Falene where Zayn's drawing room was, and Falene pointed me in the correct direction after joking the young prince always spent his time there, and if he spent half as much time studying as he did drawing, he would be the greatest ruler in the Empire's history.

I entered the room quietly, not wanting to disturb Zayn if he was busy working on something. I found him standing in front of a wall, several spray paint cans resting by his feet. He was wearing a faded blue t-shirt and dirty jeans, old paint stains splattered on the denim in several places along his legs. Music was playing in the background, a variety of genres playing on an old radio, ranging from classical to old rock songs. A lime green can was held in his hand, ready to be used for his masterpiece that was just starting.

I personally didn't see anything extraordinary that stuck out to me right away, then again Zayn was just starting his artwork. Several lines of neon spray paint had already been painted onto the smooth wall, and Zayn was about to spray the green paint when I accidentally tripped over some spare spray paint cans behind him.

Zayn jumped slightly, turning around to find me fixing the now scattered cans. He sighed in relief before laughing at my clumsiness.

"You ok? I didn't hear you come in." He managed to speak among his fit of laughter, my cheeks burning red from embarrassment.

"Y-yeah, I'm good." I mumbled, and Zayn held his hand out to me, an offer I graciously accepted as I let him pull me towards him so we both stood in front of his painted wall. Zayn tilted his head to the side, the sight the epitome of a hardworking artist scrutinizing his work.

"It's looks good so far." I made a lame attempt to cheer him up, but he only bit his lip in thought before nodding.

"Yeah, it's a good start." He mumbled before setting down his paint can on the ground. He wiped some paint that had accidentally got onto his hands on his jeans, causing me to frown.

"You shouldn't do that, you just ruined a pair of perfectly good jeans." I scolded him, causing him to laugh and roll his eyes.

"Okay, Mom. Do you want me to make my bed while I'm at it too?" Zayn teased, and it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Be quiet, I have a reason to scold you." I muttered. "You ruined your jeans."

Zayn only chuckled. "I have a reason to make fun of you too. I am the prince."

I sighed in frustration. He won.

"Why did you want me here anyways?" I remembered what Falene told me. Zayn smiled before practically skipping over to something covered in a sheet in a corner of the room. He pulled on the sheet, lifting it off and tossing it to the side to reveal a pure white canvas and wooden easel, paints and pencils placed in a tiny bucket by it.

"I wanted to create a portrait of you." He answered with a soft smile on his face. It was a look that rivaled how cartoon princes would stare at their princess, one of admiration and sweetness.

"That's sweet, you don't have to." I told him politely, but he shook his head.

"Everyone in the family has a painting of them except you. I thought I would add to our collection."

Zayn began to get his supplies ready, setting up his work space so it would be perfect once he started his creative process. I stood aimlessly in the center of the room, feeling quite awkward with nothing to do.

"What do you want me to do, exactly, for this picture?" I asked hesitantly, wanting to do something instead of just standing in the middle of the room. Zayn seemed to think about his answer before responding.

"Why don't you get dressed in a nice dress? It will look great in the portrait."

So I sped off to my room, throwing open my closet doors, my eyes already inspecting each and every gown to find the perfect one. Some were too simple, others were too stuffy, and I was having quite the hard time deciding. I then decided to call on the one person who most definitely know the perfect outfit for something like this.

Falene didn't take long to get to my room, a big grin on her face and a dress bag in hand as she pranced into the room.

"What's in the bag?" I had to ask, Falene smiling softly before unzipping the huge brown bag.

"Prince Zayn picked it out specifically for this purpose." She said, and I got giddy and excited at the thought of the most beautiful gown being pulled out, covered in jewels and expert designs.

Instead, Falene pulled out a simple white dress with a few lace details. No jewels, no fancy stitching, nothing. I tried to hide my disappointment, but it must have been easy for Falene to tell I was less than thrilled with the dress.

"Is it not a beautiful dress, Miss?" Falene asked, and I immediately shook my head.

"N-No, that's not it at all Falene, just, is Zayn sure he wants me in something so...plain?" I asked.

Falene seemed puzzled by my question. "His Highness picked it out specifically for you. He said it would be perfect for his portrait."

I sighed before taking the dress in my hands. I guess I couldn't argue with Zayn's vision, even if it didn't match mine.

I slipped it on easily with Falene's help, adding a few personal accessory touches of my own and some makeup to cover my imperfections before heading to Zayn's drawing room again.

~*~*~*~

Zayn seemed excited when I entered the room, only for his face to fall seconds later. I gave him a twirl, showing him the glittering diamond jewelry I had taken the liberty of adding onto the plain dress, and fluttering my mascara-coated lashes at him. Anxiety grew in me, however, when I saw he didn't smile like I hoped he would have at my appearance. I thought I looked lovely.

He walked over to me, long strides not taking him as long as someone shorter like me. He raised his right arm, fingers looping underneath the huge diamond necklace in the shape of flowers, leaving goosebumps on my pale skin as he sighed.

"Did Falene not tell you I only wanted you in the dress, nothing else?" He wondered, and I became confused. She did tell me Zayn wanted me in the dress, and now that I thought about it, she seemed rather anxious when I began reaching for the jewelry in the closet.

"Well, I wanted to add my own personal touches. I thought you would like it, no one would want to paint a boring portrait of me in just a dress." I remarked, this time Zayn's eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

"You think a portrait of just you in that dress would be boring?"

I nodded silently. I was used to being spoiled, thinking more is more. I guess Zayn wasn't used to that. Zayn didn't say anything for a few minutes, only silently thinking.

Suddenly, he reached behind my neck, unclasping the fancy necklace from my warm skin and setting it aside on a small side table. I stayed frozen under his hypnotic gaze as I let him continue to take off my jewelry, my earrings falling victim to Zayn's fingers next. Once all the jewelry was off, Zayn grabbed a small cloth, wetting it with some water from a faucet in the corner of the room and stepping impossibly closer to me.

"You've got something on your face. Let me take care of it for you." He whispered before tilting my head up with his fingers, wiping the washcloth over my face to remove my makeup. My heart started beating faster, he would see all the imperfections on my face. He didn't need to see that, all boys wanted to see a perfect, porcelain doll face. Not one covered in scars and occasional blemishes.

I immediately broke free from Zayn's grasp, stepping away from him. Zayn didn't do anything, only stared at the wet washcloth in his hand. Skin toned stains were all over it, with the occasional black mascara smudge and red lipstick. I didn't need a mirror to know my face was bare, all my imperfections clear to the one person in the world who didn't need to see them.

Zayn's caramel eyes looked up to stare at me, and I felt like the bottom of my world had shattered.

"Do you always have this much makeup on your face? Everyday?" Zayn mumbled, and I figured it wasn't good to lie to him now.

I nodded my head, and Zayn slowly set the washcloth down on the floor.

"Do you think you're not pretty without all that stuff on your face?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer that question to Zayn, not to his face. I knew the answer already, it had been drilled into me since I was little. Makeup is the key to perfection, Mother would always tell me. Boys don't want to see a girl whose face is bare. They never like that, they haven't for hundreds of years.

Zayn took my silence as a no. He sucked in a deep breath before asking me his next question.

"Did you think the portrait would have been terrible with just you and the dress?"

I didn't want to answer that question either.

Zayn sat down on his stool by the huge easel, rubbing his temples. I bit my lip before starting to walk over to him. I needed to apologize to him. I needed to make him feel better. It was my job.

However, before I could get close to him, Zayn stood abruptly from his stool, marching past me.

"I'm going to rest in my room, my head hurts. Tell the servants I'm not to be disturbed."

And that was that. I was soon alone, embarrassed and ugly in the middle of a space that had previously been home to such beauty and art.