“Under the night sky, she struts on the footpath like the world is at her feet. Her metal doored brown eyes watch the people passing by stare or gawk at her. The aura that surrounds her is strong, confident and passionate. Everywhere she goes, men drool over her and women envy her. Her figure built for a woman, many would comment, but she feels pride in knowing she is better. Different. A face as any other in the crowd, she still stands out.

The thing about this fair lady is that she exists as a face in the crowd but she is far from just a face. Elegant like the frozen fractals, she could overturn seas with the rage as wild as a forest fire.” the old woman sat in her rocking chair narrating a tale she made up for the children. Every one of them listened to her intendly.

"But like everyone she holds a weakness. She holds no respect for the elders. She believes herself to be the strongest, mightiest and higher than anyone. But to be her is a sin. You never disrespect or talk back to your elders. If do so, there will come a day when someone will strike back and destroy your life.”

"Am I that scary that you need to shove fear into young minds into doing your bidding?" mocked the woman in question appearing into the small house.

"What are you doing in my house?" the story teller demanded standing up on her feet.

"You made a deal with a man I am proud to call father and I am here to collect." The woman held a brave stance even if she cowered blinking her eyes to reduce the amount of strange reaction. The children who sat near the foot of her rocking chair looked at the red haired intruder and back at the woman who was narrating a story confused but intrigued.

"Can we discuss this elsewhere?" The woman beseeched glancing at the young children in the room.

"I rather them listen to you converse with the woman from your story but whatever the storyteller wishes." Marilyn smiled wickedly before a small giggle erupted.

The woman led Marilyn into a joined room which looked like a tacky makeshift office. "What is it that the devil needs?"

"Actually the devil' daughter needs it. I am collecting on his behalf." Marilyn corrected her. "What did he help you with?"

"What do you need help with?"

"Straight to business. Fine, tell me how to I reverse a linking spell?" asked Marilyn pulling out a piece of parchment from the pocket of her jacket and handed it to the witch standing in front of her.

"Interesting. Old world spell. Almost extinct." The witch commented reading the contents of the page.

"Who is linked?" Marilyn chuckled dryly in response.

"Yes, it isn't much of your concern. Reverse the bloody spell so you can resume the storytelling business of yours."

"Why should I help you?" The woman asked.

"Because dad did you a favour with whatever it was that you wanted and now you owe him. As his only daughter I am cashing in that favour. Now, get to work." he voice echoed inside the small room, but still low enough so to not reach the ears of the children across a small fragile door.

"Your father did me dirty." The witch snapped slamming the paper on the small table. "He promised me glory."

"And you got it. Parents, peers and society respects you. There's glory." she defended Lucifer.

"I had power. It grew with the right spells and logistics. But now they look at me like a haggard old lady who did good amount of evil in her days." She whispered complaining to Marilyn. Marilyn took pity on the woman but studied her inspite of it. The woman wore a floor long gown with full sleeves undoubtedly covering the wrinkled skin and tattoes from every animalistic ritual she did as time progressed for selfish gains. Her eyes had bags under them and a red puffiness on her cheekbones. Her hair were rough like the strings of an old broom tied up in a bun to not make the balding areas prominent.

"And the devil made you do it." she sneered standing upright from her position where she leaned on a leg. "He minimised in size and sat on your shoulder whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Right?" mocked Marilyn.

"He manipulated me. His sweet accented voice lured me in to use more power." Marilyn couldn't help but roll her eyes at the woman' response.

"Right. He stood by your side because he was in love with you and did you dirty."

The woman had no response. How could she? Marilyn was right. "It can be reversed."

"Very well. Hand me the spell." demanded Marilyn.

────────

Marilyn Vaughn was asked on more occasion than one why is it that she doesn't put her father's name? It was Lucifer Morningstar who suggested she would use the name of the woman who was raising her. The woman who sacrificed the world and her family should be the legacy of Nyx. That was how she got her name: Marilyn Lilith Vaughn.

Through the front doors of the mansion, Marilyn sauntered in to a peculiar scene. Finn Mikaelson was hugging a woman at the bottom of the stairs while Klaus and Rebekah stood watching them.

"I'm guessing you found a way for persuasion." Marilyn stated approaching Klaus. He turned around with a smile to see her. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips making her grin.

"Love prevails."

She hummed at his words. "You should know." She laughed. Marilyn pulled out the paper she acquired from the witch and handed it to Klaus. "The delinking spell. Ask Bonnie to perform it."

"Where are you going?" Klaus asked her who was looking at Rebekah with a suggestive smirk and cruel smile.

"Some sisterly bonding."

"I wanted to punish him." protested Klaus. "For what he did to you."

Marilyn wrapped her arms around Klaus's waist, "I know darling. Let me, please."

She turned to face the door as Rebekah linked her hand with hers and the two women walked out of the house muttering to themselves.

Klaus hung his head low, and shook it. "Damon Salvatore. You are in for some hellish welcoming." He muttered under his breath.

“see the human body is a fragile little thing. Just the right place and you've got them screaming like a banshee” giggling to herself like a mad woman Marilyn circled the tied up man inside the large room in the mansion.

Her eyes centered on his hands tied in animal traps, the claws of which dug quite deep into his wrist causing blood to drip down.

Rebekah conversed with the tied up man Damon Salvatore but Marilyn paid no heed. "Are you done chit chatting?" asked Marilyn rather rudely.

"Why?"

"I want to handle this man."

"He manipulated me and got the information from my head about White Oak Stake." said Rebekah declaratively and with admonishment.

"And he killed me, what's your point?"

Rebekah raised her hands in the air. "He's all yours."

Marilyn laughed, her menace and malice dripping from every intonation and rise and fall of her laughs. She reached for a duffel bag, Rebekah didn't see at first in the room.

Curious enough she followed Marilyn to see the contents of the bag. "Can I ask you something?" inquired Rebekah.

"Of course darling. Anything."

"How is it possible that you died? I mean, given what you are, you shouldn't have died by anything human made." Rebekah kept her questions as vague as possible so as not to inform Damon about Marilyn's truth.

Marilyn considered the words. "Well, truth be told, neither of us have the slightest ideas. I mean, I have had some run-ins before, not that I ever lived a bit of a picked-fence-quiet life but never actually died. This was the first one and let me assure you, it isn't a picnic."

"What are you going to do to him?" inquired Rebekah. Marilyn reached into the duffel bag and brought out a pair of blades shaped like a boomerang and held them upward pointing in each hand.

"These are aunty Maze's favourite blades. Not the ones she uses but she made similar ones──just for me for my twenty-first birthday." Marilyn explained. She circled Damon, her eyes scanning his entire body. She looked for points where she could inflict the most pain and the places where she could use the blade and scar him permanently.

"Do you know something special about these blades?" Marilyn turned to Rebekah once again. "They are special. They leave a permanent mark──even on supernatural babies."

Marilyn clicked her tongue and finally decided to take aim at Damon. Damon braced himself for pain; closed his eyes and fisted his fingers. He waited for a couple of seconds but it never came. Damon opened just one eye and stared at a laughing Marilyn.

"It's the anticipation, darling. It is killing." she commented.

Damon scoffed still attempting to act brave and indifferent to the situation. "Are you even going to do something or are you just interested in staring at my body?"

Marilyn rolled her eyes. "i am quite enjoying you waiting for pain and me not giving you. It's the satisfaction that you would get when pain comes your way that I don't want to give you."

"You see darling..." began Marilyn again, "currently you are bracing yourself for pain. So stupidly daring and arrogant. This is what will get you killed. But what is it that makes you this way?" Marilyn wondered, searching with a look right into his eyes for her answer. She found it lying under a pile of self assured beliefs and many convinced lies.

Damon's expressions faltered from blank to tense, only to slowly turn into fear and pain. "No." he whispered softly.

"Have sweet dreams darling. Consider this a trailer for what I am about to do." Marilyn patted his shoulder and moved out of the way.

"What did you do?" asked Rebekah.

"You see, people like Damon end up in a place known as Hell. Therein the procedure is that each soul relives their worst nightmare over and over again. A day they regret their actions or whatever happened. I just looked into his mind and found them. Because I did so, he is having those particular flashbacks. Every time he relaxes he will be plagued by the memories."

"That's it?"

"No torture is above mental, Rebekah." she responded to Rebekah. Marilyn strutted close to Damon, the blades still dancing in-between her fingers. Damon opened his eyes showing that he was unaffected by the memories that resurfaced just because Marilyn looked into his eyes.

"What are you?" inquired Damon. His breathing had turned erratic but he still kept a relatively calm exterior.

"Me? Eight wonder of the world." she told him. Before Damon could ask anything more, she plunged a blade through his jugular and stepped back. Blood seeped out of the wound and dripped down the side of his body. Damon let out an uncharacteristically loud scream.

The blade was after all forged in pits of hell and hellfire; fire that had a tendency of remaining attached to the surface and molecular structure of the weapon built. As the blade tore through Damon's skin and reached for important veins, the fire made a pathway for itself to bleed into the bloodstream of the victim. The reaction only worked for the dead; that was why it was a much sought after weapon in hell for torture.

Perhaps that was the reason why Marilyn chose the blades. Damon was a dead human walking. She knew the reaction it would have on poor Damon.

Rebekah watched from behind as Marilyn skillfully worked to torture Damon who had no choice but to surrender to the pain that coursed through his body and plagued his conscious. She turned around feeling the presence of Klaus.

Rebekah approached her brother wryly telling him, "she is scary."

Klaus laughed audaciously, "you haven't seen nothing yet, Rebekah. Wait until you meet her aunt Mazikeen. If you think Marilyn is scary, you wouldn't survive her aunt."

Rebekah gulped disturbed by the information as well as the scene slowly unfolding before her eyes. Marilyn plunged the second blade through Damon's side earning another pained scream from the Salvatore.