Desert

Asmodeus kept expecting to feel some sort of regret over the decision he had made, but it never seemed to come. Instead, with the dawning of each new day in the Desert, he felt more certain of himself and his choices. It was not the storybook life he had been promised as a young prince by a long shot, but better for all that had happened. In casting aside the duties and relationships that he had grown up, Asmodeus had found a level of freedom that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

He had taken it upon himself to learn all that he could of the Desert and of Nyimara while he still felt tethered to the land, beholden to the promise of new life she carried in the swell of her stomach. Though Asmodeus did not possess any great desire to be a father, truly, at least not in the way he assumed that he was supposed to. He did not want to bed the isles, sowing his seed in any field that bothered to bat an eyelash in his direction the same way that Solomon did. If Asmodeus was going to invest in his future, he had decided that he wanted it to be with mares of renown. Mares that did not need him to make them strong or powerful or feared. Mares that would pass on their own admirable traits to their shared offspring, leaving a child that would be greater than either parent.

He knew that was what Nyimara carried, and his conviction had only grown as he watched her blossom into the Desert in a way that she had never truly settled into the Cove. Asmodeus found himself watching her more and more as the season dragged on, waiting for her to give birth. When she disappeared at last, he was surprised to finally feel somewhat nervous and he laughed at himself, his dusky lips curling into a smirk even as his stomach tied itself into sailor's knots.

When she finally called out for him, Asmodeus froze, his dark nostrils flaring as he dragged in breath after breath after breath until his heart finally slowed to something passably normal. Only then did he approach, his hazel eyes fixated on the chocolate colored mare and the damp bundle at her side, their tiny figure and impossible conglomeration of legs and angles. Asmo's eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion as he approached, his neck bowed into a tight arch as he finally answered Nyimara's call with a soft whuffle of his own.

"A son." He murmured, gaze raking across the newborn's spindly figure, marveling at the bloom of pride in his chest. "You've outdone yourself, Nyimara." The chimera took a tentative step forward, testing the boundaries of what the silver-maned mare would allow, and stretched his muzzle closer, nostrils flaring to drag in the boy's scent. "A handsome first son."