This girl is a gun, before you know it, it's done
And you'll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

smodeus' news of the Dunes king's acquiescence brought her much pleasure, a wide grin unfurling across her face. "Good news, indeed. Well done," she praises, reaching out to press a congratulatory kiss to the painted curve of his neck. "Rest assured I intend to infiltrate the Hills soon - with just a little prodding it should be easy enough to discover Evrain's weak spots and exploit them for our benefit. The Hills will not present a problem for you much longer. Then we can take our place as King and Queen."

Though she would not readily admit it, her conquest of the Hills had fallen a bit on her list of priorities - between the upcoming election, the incident with Vane and the plethora of problems that in itself presented, a daughter to raise and another child on the way, she had found herself far too preoccupied. But her promise had not been mere lip service. Once things smoothed over, the red queen would make good on her word and bring the Hills to its knees, all in the name of her future king.

'But what is going on with you?' Asmodeus asks, shifting the topic towards herself. In days past she would be more than delighted to discuss herself at length, but as it were she feels a wave of apprehension wash over her. In the blink of an eye her mood shifts from pleased to pensive, the slope of her shoulder twitching uncomfortably beneath his observations and her lips pressing into a thin line. Truly it was unfair how well he could read her. The red woman was unused to being perceived so keenly, of being laid open before another like a book with its words in bold print, or a pinned insect being slowly dissected. But if she was to be studied, she could think of no better scholar than Asmodeus.

For several long moments Marceline remains silent, carefully weighing the words that begin to form upon her tongue. Honesty was not a practice she took part in frequently. Over her many years, she had discovered that - more often than not - it was best to keep things close to the vest. To freely give away information was to put a bullet in the chamber and all but aim it at one's head themselves. Rarely was it worth it to divulge facts, especially ones that could be used against her.

And though she had no reason to believe Asmodeus would hold her mistakes against her, she still found herself hesitant to reveal the details of her current... situation. What if her confession irreversibly altered his perception of her? What if he thought her a monster, worthy no longer of standing at his side? So many 'what ifs', all of them unpleasant, raced through her mind. But Vane's death had weighed on her for weeks, and her inability to find comfort and camaraderie with her sisters helped to loosen her lips. Asmodeus, too, held her trust, and before she realizes it the words are pressing at the crimson dam of her lips, nearly spilling forth before she can stop them.

"Yes, something is wrong," she replies at last, amber eyes darting about the small clearing as if looking for someone concealed within the treeline. "I will tell you, but you must not breathe a word of it to anyone. I trust you are capable of such a commitment." Though her actions were well known to the Peak (and the Lagoon), and she was confident that word had not yet spread beyond their borders, she still found herself wary to discuss such matters so close to the border where anyone could be eavesdropping. And so her voice drops to a low murmur as she begins to lay her sins before him.

"It's the Lagoon General... Vane..." Marceline draws in a deep, steadying breath that does little to quell the anxiousness she feels gnawing at her nerves, directing her gaze to the ground at her hooves. When she speaks again her voice is uncharacteristically small: "I... I killed him."

The next breath she takes is shaky, a shudder crawling its way down her spine as memories flash within her mind's eye, the sickening snap of his neck echoing in her ears. It was a sound she would never, ever forget. "It was an accident. We were fighting for Khar'pern's freedom. I shoved him and he fell and... I don't know how it happened, but his neck broke." A morose sigh falls from her lips. Hesitantly, as if afraid of what she might see there, Marceline looks up into Asmodeus' face, a pleading look in her eyes, her next words but a whisper upon her lips. "You must believe me when I say I would not have done it intentionally."