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The Initiate rang a rope through her hands. Arnbjorn was out tonight, so Astrid would be alone in her room. It would be her chance - her one opportunity - to take revenge for what she did to Cicero.
Not a moment had passed without that simmering anger scalding at her insides. Astrid’s punishment of Cicero was… beyond extreme. He almost died. It became clear that her real motive was to get rid of him, once and for all. And why? Because he threatened her? Because she believed he would usurp her? There was no chance of Cicero usurping Astrid. He might have been up to the task once, but these days, well, he would hardly make a charismatic leader.
Astrid lay in her bed. She slept on her stomach - it looked peaceful, almost childlike. Something like guilt touched the Initiate’s arm, they all knew that Astrid had endured a difficult childhood, contending with her uncle, and such. She held no controle in her life… perhaps that’s why she sought to control them?
Perhaps it was also the reason they all were, to take control of their own, pathetic lives by ending the lives of others.
So, she wouldn’t be as harsh on Astrid as she was on Cicero, but that wouldn’t stop her from getting revenge.
In her pocket, the initiate had a sleeping draft, from Babette’s stores. As silently as she could, she uncorked the vial and held it up to Astrid’s nose, letting her take six deep breaths before she removed it. Six was the perfect amount - enough to keep her sleeping without posing any danger of death.
It wouldn’t be any fun if she died.
Next - the rope came into play. The Initiate bound Astrid’s wrists and ankles together, taking great care to tie every knot too tight, too roughly.
She stood back with a wicked smile. It might not look like much now, but Astrid’s pride would ensure a good show in the morning.
***
Come morning, Astrid arrived at breakfast, and the Initiate's hypothesis was proven right! She didn’t say a word, but her hair was dishevelled, and rope burn trailed up her arms and legs.
Laughter was withheld across the whole breakfast table - Cicero wasn’t there, you see - but even the corners of Nazir’s mouth twitched, a little.
Astrid was taken down a peg or two that day.
But that’s not where it ended. For weeks, the Initiate put snow inside Astrid’s clothes at night so they were cold and wet when she woke up, hid spiders in the deepest corners of her room, added trace amounts of toxins to all her meals so that she always felt unwell, but could never pin why.
And maybe, just maybe, she would believe that the Wrath of Sithis was finally catching up to her.