Dilin's eyes were fixated on the starry ceiling of Layla's room. He was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him.

His bare body was covered from waist-down by a black silk duvet. The other end of the black sheet stretched to cover a silently slumbering Layla with her front pressed against the mattress.

Her eyes were shut in sleep and silver hair that were dyed a deep brunette obstructed half her face from sight.

Dilin glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.

He had no idea how they'd ended up. . . .

He remembered the way he'd been stunned when her lips captured his, which unlike her cruel mouth was actually very soft. At first, he was all shock and surprise and to say speechless would be nothing.

Layla had seemed to want to make him stop speaking and she'd almost succeeded. But when she'd moved back, he'd opened his mouth to ask what was up with her but the sentence was halfway out before she kissed him again.

Maybe she thought he'd start asking about things again or maybe it was that anger and pain clouding her actions but the second time she kissed him, her hands were in his hair, her lips moving against his.

He blamed the horde of messed up feelings she felt which suffocated him to the point he felt like pulling at his hair in frustration. He just wanted to stop her from feeling the anger and pain which hurt his brain enough already.

And so Dilin had grabbed her hips, pulled her closer and kissed her equally frenzied.

He'd sensed her confusion then which soon turned into determination. It had felt as if she was pushing away the anger and pain to the back of her mind and trying to focus on lust.

Dilin didn't remember much of how they'd ended up shredding each other's clothes and stumbled into Layla's room whilst the kissing and running hands over each other's bodies.

But when he'd lowered Layla onto the bed and hovered over her form, they'd both been equally naked.

Her emotions were still there somewhere. He could feel it. That pain....that anger....that strange sadness....

It wasn't until he'd burried himself inside her and kissed her neck that she'd finally let go and loose herself in the desirous haze.

He'd almost sighed from how he'd stopped feeling the suffocating emotions. And Layla seemed adamant to not think about it too as she completely surrendered herself to the lust.

They'd fucked and fucked and fucked until both of them had fallen on the bed beyond exhausted, their breathing heavy.

Sleep had soon started to envelop the tiredness and he'd almost slipped into slumber when he'd heard her whisper,

"Why do they all always toss me away in the end?" Her voice had been laden with so much sadness, he'd almost felt his eyes prick at the emotion he'd sensed. Her emotion.

And mortal forbid, Dilin didn't remember the last time he'd even cried. Her emotions were messing his head up and making him feel depressing things.

Layla had been asleep then but all traces of sleep had left Dilin.

He'd sat racking his brain, trying to connect some link or dots that would give him atleast a little clue about where she'd been for seven centuries.

No matter how hard they tried, his sources and him could only find out information on Layla's life for the first fifteen years before she left Seagill and then the last ten years from now. The middle was a complete blank.

And something told Dilin that whatever had happened to Layla in those centuries was why she was so bitter.

Glancing towards Layla's sleeping form, Dilin shut his eyes. She was fast asleep and Zander's been a no-show so far. Maybe Layla had chosen to stumble in her room because she knew no one would come in here afterall. So no one would notice. . . .

Dilin opened his eyes, this time they were complete gold from the irises to the whites.

His eyes saw through the magic Layla had used on herself to conceal the marks on her skin.

He wasn't as surprised by the magic shrouding her as he was at the sight of the numerous scars lining her back and little ones over her arms. There were just so many of them.

'Whips.' He thought as his hands stretched towards her.

His calloused long fingers slowly trailed over her bare back, carefully tracing a long faded scar that started from the right side of her shoulder blade to the left side of her lower hip.

He saw Layla flinch under the touch making him retreat his hand back.

Dilin's gold eyes squinted in curiousity as he tilted his head to the side in his signature cat-like manner.

His hand extended again. This time to brush away the mass of hair from front of her face. Her features seemed to loose all traces of menace while sleeping like that. She almost looked. . .innocent.

Letting his fingers linger over the planes of her cheek, "What exactly happened to you after you left Seagill, Miss Shellock?" He asked to no one in particular.

▪︎¤▪︎◇▪︎¤▪︎

Layla waited until Dilin pulled his hand back and his silent sleepy snores echoed in the air, the only indication that he's in deep slumber.

She'd been awoken the moment Dilin touched the scar along her back. She didn't think he'd particularly seen it but somehow he'd been able to trace the exact length of it despite the magic that concealed it.

Charlotte's magic. The magic Layla had miraculously out-of-nowhere gained after the witch's death.

Layla supposed it was because of the blood-bond Charlotte and her shared. The bond had been a means to ensure that no one backed away from their part of the deal.

The deal where she had to go to Helvon, make Zander fall for her and win his and Queen Annabeth's trust so that she could abduct the queen when the time was right. Layla didn't know what Charlotte had planned to do with the queen. She just had to help get her out of there and in return the Black Sea would remain livable.

That was the only thing she'd wanted in return. A place to live after. . . .

Brushing away the thought, her eyes fluttered open and she cursed herself internally at the sight of the naked man sleeping beside her under the sheets as flashes of what happened came crashing back at her.

What had she done?! Why did her emotions always get the worst out of her and put her in horrible situations?

She'd just wanted to stop feeling the pain and anger. The heartbreak. She'd just wanted to stop feeling those constant emotions that clung to her like a second skin.

She might've gone to Zander as a part of a plan but her love for him was real. She'd fallen for him along the way even if he reciprocated the feelings only because of the love spell Charlotte had cast. He'd been the only one who'd ever made her feel some semblance of happiness. And she knew how much she craved even little of that feeling after centuries of. . . .emptiness.

It had hurt her so much to betray him, to leave him behind. But she was bound by a bond and there was nothing she could do.

But when Zander had come along with her to the Black Sea again, a flutter of hope had crossed her heart. But then she'd observed how he looked at Marilla. . .and it'd hurt so much. Somewhere along she knew she couldn't fight the mate bond attraction Zander felt for Marilla no matter what she did.

She also knew what it meant. If she didn't have Zander, she was never going to feel anything good ever again. It was just going to be that constant anger and pain and hatred for everything that had happened to her.

And then she'd heard Zander tell Marilla that he likes her and it had broken something in her heart. It had shattered the tiniest of hope she had that she could ever get back to normal, that she could finally rid herself off the negative feelings she'd let herself be immersed with in order to not feel that dangerous voidness.

She was sick and tired of the negative feelings. She was ready to feel anything other than that. Anything. Even if it was feeling a few moments of lust-infused haze with someone she wasn't supposed to.

'What happened to you after you left Seagill, Miss Shellock?'

Dilin's words echoed in her head making her squeeze her eyes shut as the memories that still haunted her flashed through her eyes. . . .

-----------FLASHBACK----------

Tears ran down the fifteen year old Layla's eyes as she forced herself to walk away from the castle grounds. Her blood-soaked hands and legs trembled and her lips quivered in shock as she covered her mouth to stop another sob from erupting.

She'd almost killed Mari. . . .

She'd stabbed her little sister. . .

What was wrong with her?! How could she fall for people's menacing taunts and try to kill her own sister for a throne?!

Maybe her impulsiveness was the actual reason their mother had given the throne to Marilla instead of her. Maybe mother knew exactly how stupid she was.

Layla's eyes fell back on her bloodstained hands and she felt her heart clench and her eyes blur. Mari's blood. . . .

What if she. . .

No. NO. She didn't wanted to kill.

She'd just been too stupid. Too impulsive. If something ever happened to Mari because of her. . .she could never forgive herself.

Layla's footsteps halted at the thought. She looked back at the castle she'd ran from over her shoulder.

She. . .she wanted to see if Marilla was fine.

Layla knew if someone found her now, they'd capture her, they'd hit her or they'd do worse. An attempt to kill the throne holder demanded grave punishment.

If she ran away now, she'd be fine. If she returned though, there was no telling what punishment she'd receive.

But. . .she hadn't stabbed through the heart. She could only hope Marilla would make it. She just wanted to check whether Marilla was alright. Then she'd leave.

As her decision solidified, Layla found her footsteps speeding back towards the sea castle.

When she reached the palace gate, she slipped her way inside after climbing a wall and sneaked into the interior through the backdoor the maids and servants used.

She'd almost reached Marilla's door unnoticed when someone caught her hiding in the hallways and pulled her out from the shadows.

Panicked, Layla looked up to find Ursula glaring down at her.

Her mother's second-in-command's eyes held a maddening rage. The woman didn't utter a word as she grabbed Layla's arm harshly and dragged her away from Marilla's room.

"Please! I just want to see her! I promise I won't even go near or do anything! I just want to see if she's okay!" Layla begged, tears streaming down her face.

Ursula let out a menacing laugh, "Oh, stop pretending as if you care. You and your mother are both the same. You do not care about any family."

Layla didn't know what it meant but she clung to Ursula trying again, "I'm sorry! I was just. . .I didn't want to kill her. I'm so sorry. Just let me see her. Please. You can do anything you want with me then."

Layla's pleas fell onto deaf ears as Ursula kept dragging her by her arms, her nails digging into the girl's skin.

Layla didn't know where the woman was taking her. But even as she was pulled through the hallways by her hair, even as people stared and threw nasty grimaces at her, even when her throat hurt from begging Ursula, all she wanted was to have just one glimpse of Marilla.

She'd done something terrible and she was prepared to bare the consequences of it. She deserved it. She was ready.

Although. . .she just wanted to see Marilla once first.

When Ursula had stopped walking and pulled Layla into the throne room, the siren teenager was exhausted from throwing a whim.

Her blurry eyes adjusted to the sparse lighting to find a tall man in a black cape standing in front of Ursula. Most of his face was hidden by the hood but she could still see the red eyes.

Layla hadn't ever seen the man before.

Ursula seemed a bit on guard too but her actions appeared determined as she yanked Layla up by her hair displaying her face to the caped man as if she were a showpiece.

The caped vampire's sturdy red eyes accessed Layla's face with a sickening interest as he bought down a finger to trail the side of Layla's cheek, "Beautiful."

"And the only remaining siren royal blood after the queen." Ursula added, "She'd be a great addition."

The hooded man's lips stretched into a grin displaying sharp fangs but Layla could've never prepared herself from the horror of the words he spoke next,

"Indeed. She'd be the best addition to the slave establishment."

What do you think Ursula meant by 'You and your mother are the same'?