AN: Fanfiction of Sound Horizon's album Seisen no Iberia.

This was spawned from my complete obsession over everything Sound Horizon and my disappointment in finding that there are no fanfictions of Sanhora's awesome songs/albums.

Summary: Everything that she loved always slipped through her fingers like sand, and, try as she might to hold onto them, they will still, inevitably, continue to drift away from her, far out of her reach. Shaytan x Layla.

Disclaimer: Sound Horizon's awesomeness is largely due to the incredibly amazing and fantastic Revo. I am not hardcore enough to be a part of it. In other words, I don't own anything.

She is watching them from afar, watching the victories and the losses, the pain and the hatred. She is watching deaths upon deaths, rotting bodies upon rotting bodies. She is watching the war, and all she is able to see is destruction.

Shaytan, almost automatically, raises a clawed hand and wipes her tears away, gently.

She hasn't even realized that she has been crying.

"Layla, for whom are you crying for?" he asks her.

Her only reply is a shake of her head. She does not know the answer.

"Do you hate them?"

"Hate? Who?"

He looks at her steadily. "That is a question that you must answer yourself."

She looks back, confused and uncomprehending.

Even now, Layla does not truly understand why she accepted Shaytan's hand that day, why she accepted Shaytan's promise of eternity.

Their encounter had been pure chance, coincidence. Layla had been shot by a stray arrow and had fallen into a dungeon—the same dungeon where Shaytan had been imprisoned.

Memories of that time are disjointed—convoluted—full of confusion—full of clarity.

"Who are you?" The language was—still is—foreign, but, regardless, she understood it.

"Layla," she answered, without hesitation, "And you?"

"Shaytan," was his cryptic reply.

It all made sense now. "So you are a Demon," and that was why she could easily understand his speech and he hers.

He simply laughed, an almost harsh sound.

She was not afraid, even if he was a demon, even if he could kill her.

She had nothing left to live for, anyway.

"If you are ready to drink the poison called 'cruel eternity'..."

There is no hesitation in her voice as she says, "I am ready to drink the poison called 'cruel eternity'."

He reaches out for her, and, wordlessly, she takes his hands into her own.

"Let us be together and live."

"Why are you willing to do much for me, Shaytan?"

He does not answer at first, and when he does, Layla is not satisfied. "Because you saved me."

"No!" she exclaims, with ferocity that surprises even herself, "It was an accident! I fell into that dungeon by complete accident!"

He is unfazed. "Even so, you still called out my name without fear. You accepted my hand without hesitation." A short, almost unnoticeable pause. Then, "Before you came, I had almost forgotten who I was. I had almost forgotten my own name. But, you called to me, and your light brought me back."

"But I didn't do anything for you!"

He shakes his head. "No, Layla. You did everything for me."

Layla is stunned into silence, unable to reply. The demon holds her in an unwavering gaze with a gravity that Layla could neither accept nor contradict.

"For you, Layla," he says, quietly, "for you, I will destroy everything you hate."

Layla knows that Shaytan is speaking the truth. She knows what Shaytan is trying to tell her.

She does not know how to answer him.

"Before the blood becomes a river, I will destroy it all."

And, she sees it for what it really is: a promise.

"Whom should I hate?" Layla whispers to herself, watching as red obscures her view, listening as screams rent the air. The land is stained with death and carnage.

"Whom do you want to hate?"

"I... I don't know..." Each side has committed atrocities, garnered hatred and respect in equal measure. Each side has killed men, lost men, and saved men. Each side has suffered and created suffering.

Shaytan voices her thoughts, "Both are responsible."

She nods.

"Which of them had wronged you the most?" he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

She answers in a halting voice, "It... it was the people of the cross who murdered my father... It... it was the people of the Qur'an who murdered my mother..."

Silence.

Then, again, "Who is it that you hate, Layla?"

"I..."

Finally, she understands.

"This is senseless," she says to Shaytan, "this Jihad—this Holy War—needs to be stopped."

"So, what you have chosen to hate is..."

(the war itself)

"Still fighting your fellow brothers? Humans, it is I who is your enemy!"

Shaytan appears as a Demon—a common enemy, able to be bested only when the humans united. He appears for the sole purpose of being vanquished by these humans—of (falsely) dying by their hands—in order for an end.

(an end to this terrible conflict)

(for Layla)

And, together, they will leave Iberia behind and continue to walk the path of immortality, a cruel eternity.

Forever.

"Layla," he says to her, voice full of concern and pain and suffering, "the things you loved... everything... you have left it behind... Layla, are you sad?"

She shakes her head. "No, Shaytan. You're wrong." Taking his hands into her own, she says, without a trace of doubt, "I'm happy."

"But... but I have given you a horrible, neverending life."

"It isn't horrible," she answers, "Because you're here with me, it isn't horrible." Her gaze is unwavering, strong with conviction. "You have done everything for me, Shaytan."

He finds that he is unable to answer.

(let us be together and live)

This is eternity.