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I lay on the bed of the guest room aimlessly staring up at the dull mustard painted ceiling. It wasn't the least bit intriguing to look at but it isn't like there's anything more intriguing to look at here.

Well, except. . . .

Marilla.

I don't know how she'd have reacted to my spewing stuff like a ballad spewing a freaking sonnet.

I had no idea myself how I was able to speak all those words. It just sorta slipped out of me while I had her close-by after a week of her ignoring me.

Running a hand through my hair, I sigh when sleep doesn't seem to pay me a visit at all.

I shut my eyes trying to count the imaginary sheeps in my head. But just when the eyelids flutter close, a distant whisper follows,

"Lover boy, go find your mate. She's at the sea-shore."

My eyes snap open instantly and I sit straight up. Whisking my head left to right, I look for the source of the oddly familiar masculine voice.

But I don't find anyone.

What in the....?

Find your mate. She's at the sea-shore.

My mate. . .

Marilla. . .

Without thinking that it could possibly be some sort of a twisted ploy to lure me or it could just be a figment of my imagination, I bolt upright and winnow myself to the sea-shore without considering twice.

The cold air of the Black Sea that greets me almost reminds me of Helvon's icy winds but I brush it away and focus on the task in hand.

My head swishes around trying to find any traces of a certain blue haired siren.

At first I don't see anything and a sigh of relief almost escapes me.

She's fine.

But then I spot her.

Laying motionless on her back near a far end of the sea, so close to the water surface is Marilla.

Horror claws my being like no other as I dart towards her in a speed I hadn't even realized I could use.

Crouching down on my knees once I'm in front her, I pull her lean cold body against mine as water droplets fall from her body down to the sand around us. She's wet all over as if she'd drowned.

Marilla's lips have turned a pale blue shade and her eyes are tightly strewn shut. Even as I hook an arm under her arms, her limbs fall limply.

Heart thumping wildly in panic, my hand goes to pat her cheek softly, "Marilla?"

She doesn't react and my stomach dips with a very unpleasant feeling.

"Marilla." I say a bit louder as if trying to awaken her.

No answer.

"Marilla!" This time, my voice is loud and laced with pure terror.

I shake her shoulders trying to get some response from her but when nothing happens and she continues to remain in that utterly still position, my body freezes for a moment, heart slowing.

She's going to be okay. She's going to be okay. She's going to be fucking okay!

I try to shake myself into believing that mantra. In my anxiety filled state, I can't even focus on winnowing. So standing in a hurry, I hoist Marilla up in my arms and rush towards the castle.

The servants and maids don't even bat an eyelash as I kick open the heavy double doors harshly leaving a loud thudding sound as they bang against the side walls of the entrance.

"Call a doctor! Right now!" I yell trying to make atleast one of the glamoured people move.

They don't.

But seconds later, I see Layla standing at the top of the staircase staring down at me with an odd look.

The blankness in her face, the complete indifference as she glances at me before moving her gaze down to Marilla in my arms ticks me off.

I pull Marilla closer protectively, burying her face in my chest so that she's out of Layla's gaze.

I feel my control slip little by little as moments pass with Layla just staring in that unnerving way as if she were a doll with no soul.

Did she. . .

"Did you do this?" The tone I speak in is not my own, it's the predator unearthy demon part of me, the part that's more anxious than ever at the prospect of its mate in danger.

Rubbing Marilla's arms so that she'd receive some semblance of heat, I take a step up the stairs, "Did you push her into the Black Sea?"

Without even having to see, I know my eyes must've switched to it's complete black form as Layla's mask seems to crack for a moment before she shakes her head.

But I take another lethal step towards her, "Did you think waiting for Marilla to get married and pass you the crown was too much of a hassle and decided to choose the easy way? Your way?"

For a brief moment, I think I see hurt flash in her eyes but they're gone a little too quick for me to focus.

"Believe what you may, but I didn't do it, Zander." She crosses her arms across her chest, her eyes fleeting towards Marilla for a second before meeting mine again.

"Call the doctor then."

I don't care if ordering around and demanding things is going to ruins my whole plan of finding about my mother by maintaining a "happy to be with my ex-wife" facade.

I don't care about anything. If Layla had actually done this, she'll pay. And I'll make sure of it.

"We don't have doctors here." Layla says and my eyes narrow at her,

"Don't? You want me to believe you'd been here without any aid to back up an injury while all these years you were in war with Seagill? Or is it you won't call the doctor because you'd rather have your sister....." My voice drawls not being able to complete the sentence.

"Dead? No, she's more useful to me alive." Layla tilts her head to the side, few strands of dark brunette falling over her face, before descending down a few stairs until she's right in front of me, "This is the last time I'll tell you something twice. I've been on myself long enough to know how to live like that, how to fix my own injuries and how to sustain myself from dying. So when I say I don't have a doctor, I mean it. Because I never needed one."

A momentary silence envelops as I take in her words and the way there's such a strange expression of anger in her face after seeing the constant softness directed towards me the last few days.

"If you're really so eager to help her," Layla glances down at Marilla before pointing towards a sofa in the hall, "Go sit there and hold her upright in a sitting position."

My eyes snap up in surprise instantly, "What?"

"I won't say twice." She says walking past me and descending down the stairs.

I don't know what she's going to do. . .

I suppose I do not trust her enough. But. . . .

I don't have a choice here.

So I walk towards the said sofa and sit down holding Marilla on my lap.

Layla watches me as I brush away Marilla's hair from her face and tuck the strands behind her ear. She watches me as I rub Marilla's cheek with my thumb twice to warm them.

She keeps watching in that unnerving way until I make Marilla sit and hold her upright from falling down.

"What are you going to-"

Before I can complete the sentence, Layla steps forward and slaps Marilla's back so hard I flinch.

My eyes blaze again, my fists clenching and I'm about to unleash my power on Layla for doing that when someone coughs.

I blink against the sudden loose of control as Marilla stirs in my arms, coughing heavily. Water spurts out of her mouth draining my jeans but I couldn't care less.

Without thinking twice, I pull her firmly into an embrace, gently patting her back as she coughs up more water.

She coughs and coughs until her head slumps tiredly on my shoulder. I rub her back trying to soothe her and she wraps her arms around my neck holding onto me.

Something in me warms at that, the way she didn't blanch away and held on to me.

"I....drowned." Marilla croaks out, her arms tightening around my neck.

I feel the tightness in my chest loosen a fraction bit at the sound of her voice again.

"Unfortunately not in the depths of my eyes," I mumble with a small smile on my lips as my hand carresses her hair.

"That....was a serious topic." Marilla snorts but it sounds more like a smothering of a laugh.

My arms tighten around her still cold body, "I know." I whisper my heart twisting with the unpleasant memory, "I was so scared."

She must've caught on to something in my voice as she rubbed my back as if to comfort me, "I'm fine."

"I know." I say again holding her close.

Silence stretches around us reminding me that we weren't alone and there wasn't supposed to be such quiet. But when I try to look for Layla, she's nowhere in sight.

Where did she....

"By the way," My eyes still try to find Layla because for the first time since I came here, I felt grateful of her, grateful for....

"Layla saved you after I got you here from the sea-shore."

Marilla doesn't retort and when I pull back a little to scan her face, she's half asleep, her eyes drowsy and tired.

Sighing, I pull her back into my arms and winnow us.

Once her room's in view, I gently lay Marilla on the bed and pull the covers over her. Brushing the hair from her face, I tuck them away and lean in to kiss her forehead.

"Sleep well, Fishy."

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Layla waited till Zander's soft snores made it to her enhanced hearing before winnowing herself into Marilla's room.

Winnowing. A power she got after Charlotte's death. Charlotte had demon magic in her. The magic she stole from Queen Annabeth.

People had thought the woman only craved to take the demon queen's place on the monarch. But what Charlotte really craved was the demon magic. First, she almost sacrificed her twin children to gain it then when she couldn't kill them, she stole it.

She captured the demon queen, did some of black magic sorcery and transferred Annabeth's magic into her.

The magic was stored in Charlotte's blood and due to the blood bond Charlotte and Layla shared, the powers had passed onto her after the witch's death.

Brushing away the reverie, Layla focused on Zander's form slouched down on the floor next to Marilla with his head on the bed and his hand holding hers.

Something twisted in Layla's heart as she saw them.

Her mind whisked back to the terror on Zander's face when he'd yelled out for a doctor, the stark possessiveness when he'd shielded Marilla from her gaze, the way his eyes had switched to it's complete black when he'd thought she'd drowned Marilla into the sea, the way he held Marilla so very gently when he settled on the sofa.

Before she could help herself, Layla found her feet moving towards Zander.

Leaning over to brush away his hair from his forehead, her hand lingered on his face as she felt something prick her heart at the way he looked so at ease around Marilla even in his sleep.

When Layla had first returned from the slave establishment, she used to be so disgusted by any man's touch to the point where she felt nothing. It was like she'd conjured her mind to believe that men touching her always ended in something far worse and she'd accepted her fate because that's what she'd felt her whole life and she didn't have it in her to keep fighting against it.

When she'd gone to Helvon to do Charlotte's bidding, she'd been expecting to feel the same way if Zander made a move to touch her. But. . .Zander's touch was different.

It was gentle and soft and it used to make Layla feel safe and comfortable. She liked how he changed the disgust and pain into something hazy and intoxicating where she didn't despise it and instead craved more. Zander didn't know how much he'd helped her but she was never going to forget it.

Even if it was for a few years and there was a sickening motive behind her actions, she'd never regret making that choice to go to Helvon as Laira and getting to know Zander. She'd felt true happiness then and she cherished those few years with Zander more than anything after seven hundred years of torture. She would never stop caring for him.

Layla knew why he's here with her despite his clear affection towards Marilla, his mate. She knew it that very day when she'd actually slept the whole night after never being able to do so all these years. She knew he'd drugged her into sleep. And she knew why he'd done it.

The only thing Zander would gain in staying at the Black Sea-despite the stark lack of trust or love he had for Laira now that the love spell had broken with Charlotte's death-is find his mother.

Although Layla didn't know how he would when she herself hadn't found the queen in nearly a decade. She must've agreed to keep Queen Annabeth at the Black Sea but it was Charlotte who hid her. And Layla didn't know where.

If Zander could find her, then Layla had no right to stop him from meeting his mother. Layla knew how much he loved his mother. And Layla never had anything against the woman. She was just a means to her end. Other than that, Layla quite preffered Annabeth over Charlotte.

Maybe she'd have to give away the demon magic part of her powers back to the demon queen but it was fine. These powers weren't hers to begin with.

Layla stared back at Zander gently running a thumb over the planes of his cheek, "You love her, don't you?" Her voice cracked a little but she held herself back.

Zander didn't stir but Layla's heart sunk as she stood back up. She knew the answer.

Her eyes diverted to Marilla. To the way she looked so serene as she slept.

Layla tried to remember how Marilla was when she was little but all she remembered was figments of a cranky child always clinging to her and how. . . .she loved that little chihuahua so much.

Taking a step towards the slumbering siren, Layla flicked her fingers drying Marilla's drenched clothes with Charlotte's magic before leaning in and pulling the duvet higher to cover Marilla's body upto her chest so that the cold wouldn't hit her.

Layla stared long and hard at her sister, her heart clenching. Sighing, she stepped back, shut her eyes and turned around to leave.

"Ursula ruined everything." She whispered to no one in particular.

Because somewhere along Layla knew, she knew she could never be that fifteen year old who loved her sister endlessly before everything went downhill.

This Layla was far too gone now.

She was too messed up to see through anything other than anger. And she was afraid to even make the effort to try.

The goal to acquire the throne was the only thing keeping her together.

And the anger was her last string before she shattered completely.