♡ Odette's POV ♡

A soft buzzing was the only sound in the room as I quietly watched historic events unfold in front of my eyes. The room was dimly lit, and I found that a matter of high concern, but apparently it was fine for everyone else. There was only a small tabletop and two chairs in the cramped space, leaving Ivy and I to stand as the two chairs were currently occupied. No one spoke; not me, not Ivy, not the artist, not even the boy he whose skin he was marking. Everyone else was still in the bunker, but we had managed to sneak into the huge white mansion for this.

These were sacred events, at least as sacred as getting a tattoo could be. That's what Ivy had told me, anyways.

Ivy and I stood in the corner of the room, watching from a safe distance as the tattoo artist worked his magic.

Zayn's wrist was placed on the tabletop, the inked black crown the only tattoo there still. He didn't say anything, only gripped the chair with his free hand as the tattoo artist began.

If my king was in pain, he didn't show it. The only evidence of his anguish was the steady raucous grip on his seat, but I pretended not to notice.

More swirling designs were added onto the crown Mark, flowing from the ancient text and wrapping around his arm. I watched in fascination as the some swirls became words and others pictures in a matter of minutes.

"The Mark of the King." Ivy whispered to me, as if speaking was forbidden while getting a tattoo in this family.

"The Mark of the King? That's what it is?" I asked, and Ivy nodded, sleek black hair draping over her shoulder.

"Whenever a new ruler is crowned, they get it. Delia would have gotten it had..." Ivy didn't bother finishing her sentence. She didn't need to. The wounds were still fresh, no need to rub salt in them.

"Oh," was my hesitant reply. I gripped my hands together tightly, a sudden thought occurring to me.

What if Zayn told me to sit in his chair next?

What if he told me to get his Mark now?

A wave of excitement rushed over me, but was soon extinguished as more thoughts were created in my mind.

Why would you get his Mark now? Because he's king? Because two of his cousins were brutally murdered mere hours earlier in the day?

I shook my head furiously, trying to get rid of the terrible thoughts.

Just because so many things had happened today didn't mean that changed anything between us. He was still Zayn and I was still Odette, and we were still standing on two figurative islands miles apart, when we were meant to be on one together. Neither of us was brave enough yet to step in the water, much less swim in the treacherous seas to rescue the other. We had just had our first proper kiss for God's sake, obviously Zayn wasn't going to ask me to get his Mark.

I felt my emotions deflate a little inside me. I wasn't completely part of the family yet.

But that doesn't mean I won't be eventually, I reminded myself optimistically.

I cleared my mind and turned my attention back to my king, who allowed himself a small grimace before returning to his perfect poker face.

"Tell the servants to prepare a limo for the Manor." Zayn spoke to Ivy, interrupting the long silence in a strained voice.

"I don't believe that is a good idea, your Majesty." Ivy answered him, reminding me I would have to start addressing him more properly now.

"And why not?" Zayn asked, turning his gaze from the tattoo to us. His caramel eyes seemed harder, more refined.

"Because the revolutionaries would expect us to return home to the Manor. I must take into consideration both the safety of you and your family now." Ivy explained, crossing her arms over her chest.

An image of Ivy and Zayn as just normal teenagers at home having an argument flashed before me, and I had to marvel at how utterly wrong it seemed. Ivy and Zayn were not normal people, it seemed like a distorted version of reality to imagine them as such.

Zayn huffed as he took into consideration the fact that the Manor was practically a huge trap waiting to happen.

"I will send the head of security and several of his men over later to check out the Manor, see if it's safe." Ivy assured Zayn. "But first we need a temporary home for now."

"Where are we going to go?" Zayn sighed before turning back to is tattoo. It looked like the artist was almost finished.

Ivy seemed to be in deep thought before she sprung up with excitement at a sudden idea. I could almost see the glowing lightbulb over her head.

"The beach house!" She exclaimed, a huge grin on her face at her smart thinking.

"The beach house? There's a beach house?" I asked, and Ivy took my hands in both of hers before twirling me around.

"Why didn't I think of it sooner? It's the perfect hiding place!" She said, releasing my wrists mid-turn as she sped over to Zayn. I had to try shamefully hard not to trip over my dizzy self.

"That's true, we hardly use it anymore." Zayn agreed as the tattoo artist finished and began putting his supplies away. "No one would ever think to look for us there."

Looks like I wasn't going to get Zayn's Mark today after all.

Zayn's wrist and part of his arm was wrapped up in a gauze bandage before we left so the ink would heal properly. We were escorted back to the bunker with the rest of the royals so Ivy could tell everyone the news of where we were staying. Zayn pulled me back halfway through our walk though, letting Ivy and one of our two guards keep moving towards the bunker.

"You alright? You've been awfully quiet." Zayn asked, giving the guard a glance that told him to give us a little privacy. The order was understood, and soon we were all alone in a corridor of the huge white mansion.

"Yeah, just coping, I guess. I'm fine." I replied lamely. Zayn raised a dark eyebrow in suspicion.

"You sure? I know it's a lot to take in for one day." He said.

I didn't need to tell him about the whole not-Marking-my-wrist ordeal.

"Yeah, it is a lot." I mumbled, and Zayn intertwined our fingers.

"I promise things will get easier, for both of us."

-~-

The drive to the beach house was excruciatingly long, but I didn't complain. I got to sleep, Zayn obviously thinking the same as we were both soon catching a few Z's after about thirty minutes of driving in the limo. It was all worth it once we arrived, however.

The beach house was big, not as big as the Manor, but still rather huge with what looked like plenty of room for everyone. I had always been fond of beach houses since I was little due to their pastel colors, and this one was no different.

The whole beach house was painted a soft sea-foam green with white accents here and there. The whole building was raised up on stilts should a huge storm come, and sugar white sand covered the wooden beams everywhere.

The uncanny smell of ocean water was strong, we were clearly not far from water. I couldn't hide my excitement, I loved the beach since I was young. That is, until I remembered why we were here.

After a few members of security checked to ensure no one was inside, Zayn took my hand and led me inside.

The interior of the house was well furnished, all the furniture looking newly cleaned and a bowl of fresh fruit set out on a kitchen counter. Unlike the Manor, the beach house was more cozy-looking with its plush couches and soft blankets. If I had to live anywhere for the rest of my life, it would most definitely be here.

"Let's go to your room." Zayn told me sleepily, leading me through hallways and stairwells until we reached a set of white double doors.

Zayn broke our connected hands to open the doors, revealing a bedroom painted a soft blue color with plenty of white furniture and a bathroom all its own. A huge king bed was in the center of the room, the white headboard pushed against the furthest wall. Two nightstands were on either side of the bed, and a small lamp was placed on each one. Two pillows were placed on the bed, soft covers begging for someone to ruffle them up a bit. Another set of double glass doors led to a porch outside, two white wicker chairs and a small table facing the water placed outside.

Clearly this was a room meant to be shared.

"This is my room?" I asked Zayn, who was already kicking off his shoes as he sat on the edge of the bed, getting comfortable.

"More precisely our room. The beach house doesn't have enough rooms for everyone in the family to have their own rooms, so we have to share." Zayn explained, offering me a small smile. "Is this okay?"

I didn't hesitate to tell him yes, the priceless smile he gave me lighting up the whole room.

"Great." Zayn yawned, laying back on the bed sheets. I could faintly hear the sounds of people talking downstairs, meaning the rest of Zayn's family had arrived safely.

"Your Majesty, I believe your royal subjects have arrived at the beach house." I teased Zayn, whose eyes were closed, clearly in need of a good nap. I removed my shoes before scooting into bed next to him, my dark wine colored gown creating quite the contrast to the pretty cotton candy colored sheets.

"Don't call me that. I'm still just Zayn." The king sleepily murmured, reaching out to wrap his arms around my middle before pulling me close. He buried his face into my neck, and soon the only sound in the room was of Zayn asleep, leaving me awake.

Just Zayn? I found myself thinking. I placed my hands over his, relishing in their warmth.

You can no longer be 'just Zayn', my king.