owing pains, but that Marceline and Nyimara would eventually learn to get along so long as he continued to ply them with the power they felt they deserved.

And did deserve, for that matter. Asmodeus was more than aware of the strength each of them possessed and knew that their tolerance for him would last only so long as he remained useful to them. Which, perhaps, was why Sigurdr's estimation of Nyimara had been so damning. Asmodeus had believed that he understood her as well, if not better than, the majority of the isles. He'd lived, breathed, slept with her. Done as she asked, made her do as he asked. And yet… And yet there was Swyk. And the knowledge that she had already betrayed him once, and if the other chimera's estimation was correct? She would not hesitate to do so again.

Thus, when his dalliances took him away for just long enough that he could feel the power dynamic in the Desert shifting, he knew that he could not return. The moment he appeared, Nyimara would lay the shackles around his ankles once more and parade him around as her lackey as she had done when he was a mere boy, a pawn between two powerful kings. And while she might still allow him to pursue kingship - given that she wanted it too - it would come with strings attached. Strings that felt too restrictive now that he had flown so close to the sun himself.

Owning the Shore felt like coming home in a way he didn't expect. For much of his younger years, the expectation had been that he would take over the Cove himself as the son of two of the monarchs and so he had grown up believing those tall pines were his birthright, despite how much he longed for the beaches of his birth home. It wasn't until Nyimara's coup of the Cove that he had been forced to reconcile that the future he'd once dreaded was no longer his own, and had walked through all of the grief that accompanied that. The resentment. The shame. The anger. It had festered until he had gone to the Cove again, and in doing so, irrevocably changed the fabric of his family forever.

With Solomon's blood on his hooves, he could not return home. Not now. Not ever.

The Peak had once been his solace. The place where he'd found shelter and safety for those disorienting days in the aftermath of his father's murder. Marceline had taken care of him, although he was not certain - even now - if she understood how monumental her support had been. How much he'd needed her there beside him.

I swear if you're another Lagoon thug come to harass us again… As if summoned, Marceline's voice cut through the dry, hot air and jerked Asmodeus from his reverie. A soft huff of laughter preceded his voice as she continued walking in her direction, a smile curling on his lips. "Not quite," he murmured, slowing to a halt. He was long overdue for a visit to see Marcy and their daughter, and he half expected her to launch at him with teeth bared. "Just one long overdue visitor, hoping one particular Prime Minister hasn't forgotten him."

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara