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Luned’s back pressed against the dusty rock, which scratched her skin with each convulsion.
What had she done? What the fuck had she done.
Words escaped from her mouth, saliva and tears spilling out with uncontrollable sobs. She barely heard her own voice, as if she were underwater.
She opened her eyes and saw Alfira’s destroyed form. Images of her terrified face and scrambling limbs flashed in her mind. She brought her hands to her mouth as more sobs and raspy breaths erupted from her chest, and stifled them to whines and wheezes.
There was a muffled sound, quiet against the storm. “... is happening?”
She looked up and across the grass, moonlight glimmered across the sheen of the blood.
“Luned, what the hell happened?”
Luned's head snapped to her left, hands still clasped on her mouth, breath still sobs and wheezes. She saw Astarion, standing a few paces away. He looked between Luned and the body, bewildered.
She could barely speak, barely breathe through her cries. Astarion stepped forward and his eyes narrowed on her, seemingly trying to make out any coherence in her wordless panic.
“I - I - I… I d - didn't…” She stammered, breath hitching.
“Right,” he said, “get away from it.” He took hold of her arm and ripped her to her feet, leading her away, though she couldn't quite feel her legs.
Astarion took her down from the grassy knoll where Alfira lay mangled and ruined. He faced Luned away from the bloodstained grass, away from the moonlight.
He placed both his hands together and knelt slightly to get eye-level. “Now,” He said, voice low. There was already blood on his white shirt, and he'd barely touched her. “What the fuck is going on?”
Luned tried to focus on his face. The skin around her eyes was sore and stinging, and she felt tears running down her bloodstained cheeks.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I woke up and I was… I was there. With her...” She gestured with each word, her body reeling. Every word was hard to get out.
Astarion's eyebrows raised. “You found her like this?”
Luned's mouth twisted shut and her fists clenched. She shook her head and turned towards the woods. It hurt to face him, it hurt to look anywhere else. She covered her eyes with her balled fists, knuckles white.
The viscera and the screaming flashed in her mind, and her gut was churning with disgust, something sick, abhorrent. Something with it, though, was warm and satisfying and addictive. Not pleasure, but… praise.
Her driving faith and sense of duty were replaced with the feeling that she was truly at war with herself. All these things she'd told herself she would fight against tooth and nail…
and she hadn't. She'd failed.
Luned was still shaking her head, almost involuntarily. Astarion was watching her carefully. His eyes narrowed, in concern or impatience or something else.
She tried to manifest the strength to force the words out. “I… I did…” her voice was barely a whisper. “I did it. I did it.”
Astarion stared. His eyes lowered to her blood covered dress and back up to her face. He slowly turned to look at the mangled body, sin and savagery laid bare in the moonlight.
His voice was slow and held no taunt or irony. “Oh my god,” he murmured.
Luned's knees gave out, and she crumbled on the ground, holding herself. She tried not to get washed away by the storm inside.
Astarion slowly moved away, footsteps first on the dirt path, then on soft grass. They quietened with distance, and she saw him lingering near the body. He leaned closer, examining it. She watched his fists clench and unclench, and he shook his head as he retreated.
Astarion was, in no way, a stranger to gore and killing. He also knew that Luned… had this. She'd told a few of her people that something was happening to her since the judgement by the dark, armoured knight. Something they didn't understand. Nothing like this had ever occurred, not even in her twisted imagination. Still, she had no idea what he was going to do.
“Fucking hell…” He said, turning and stomping back towards her. “Lyn?” His voice had a fire in it, like alarm or fury.
Suddenly, he was right in front of her. He knelt down and took her by the shoulder, making her look at him.
“This?” He pointed to Alfira, his eyes dark. “This right here - is fucking bad. Are you sure that you did this? You?”
She looked between his eyes and nodded. “It - it was me. I - I didn't know I was… I wasn't…”
“You lost yourself?”
She nodded again, and wiped her nose with her hand.
Astarion's gaze went back to the body, his hand still holding her shoulder, but his grip had eased. It felt like he was the only thing holding her back from crumbling.
He let out a dejected sigh, like he was terribly inconvenienced. “Well, let's sort it out, then.”
“What?” Luned watched him get to his feet.
“Let's sort it out, and then we can go back -”
“No, what do you mean ‘sort it out’? How - how do we -”
“We're going to hide the body -” he glanced, unimpressed, at her bloody, tear-stained face, crazed hair and her now-crimson nightdress, “- and then get clean, and we're not going to tell anyone. No one needs to know, because it wasn't your fault, correct?”
Her breath hitched again. “W - well, I -”
He held up a hand. “No, agree with me. Just say yes.”
Luned glared, astonished at his composure, but she wasn't sure what else she expected.. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Yes.”
“Then I believe you,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You fucking psychopath.”
When Luned stood, she felt like she was still shaking.
“We're going to take her out to the water. Maybe - maybe we tie her up. Oh, and stones in her pockets so she stays down.”
Luned glanced across at Alfira, obscured slightly by the tall grass, and felt only grief this time. She sighed softly. Why did it come to this?
Astarion gave Luned a look, something gentle in his eyes this time, though it soon disappeared.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to follow.
Luned braced herself for the sight of the body again. It made her stomach churn. How could she do this to her?
Astarion pointed at Alfira, then down to the rocky shore and its shallow water. “We're going to carry - wait, have you hidden a body before?”
Even in Luned's daze, she managed what she felt was a phenomenally blank stare.
He chuckled lightly. “That's a no. Alright, well, we're going to carry her down, and it'll be easier if we both do it. I'll get the legs.” He bent down and lifted Alfira by the knees, kind of cradling them.
Luned froze up, staring down at Alfira's vacant face. Cheeks sunken, eyes gouged and hollow, mouth agape in horror. Blood coated her pointed collar, drops drying on the silver bells.
“We don't have all night, dear,” Astarion sighed. He was waiting for her.
Luned knelt down and went to place her hands beneath Alfira's arms, but she couldn't bring herself to touch her. Her hands hovered as if it would burn her.
Astarion let out a grunt of frustration. “Lyn, you're stronger than me, you have to do this.”
She took a sharp breath, squeezing her eyes shut. “Wait,” she hissed.
There was a moment's silence, save for gentle waves and breeze in the tall grass. Anger brimmed inside her like burning embers, at herself, at him, at what was inside her. At everything. This horrible thing stained her hands and her body, and if she still had a soul, it stained that too.
“F - f -” she started, shuddering with rage.
Astarion ran out of the little patience he already had. “- Luned, fucking pick her up.”
“Fff - fuck!” She took hold under Alfira's arms and lifted, gripping tightly. “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry,” she whispered over and over, though she couldn't bring herself to actually look at what she was doing.
“Just watch where you're going,” Astarion said as they descended the bank towards sand and rocks.
They turned to the side, and Luned kept her eyes locked to the ground and the beach ahead. She was muscular and strong, and used to carrying a sword almost as big as she was. Right now, she felt drained and wafer-thin, as if she and Astarion carried the weight of the world between them. Still, they trudged on.
When Luned's feet hit the cold water, Astarion nodded towards the shallow. “Here,” he said, and began to lower Alfira.
Luned followed suit, and crimson pooled in the water at their feet. Astarion eyed the ocean like it were a storm looming, and breathed deep, shivering. Perhaps he just felt the cold harshly, but somewhere in her mind, Luned wondered if it was anxiety.
“We should get rope,” he said.
Luned stared at the darkening water.
“Darling,” he said, leaning into her vision. Her eyes focused, and moonlight caught his dark circles and gaunt features. “Can you get some rope? Quietly?”
The request took a moment to register, but she nodded, feeling lost. “Yes… I… Yes.” Her voice was hollow and exhausted.
She turned and started to walk. Her feet swished through the water. Shards of driftwood and small rocks bit into her feet, but she barely felt them. She staggered up the bank and sidestepped the massive puddle of blood staining the grass, staring straight ahead into nothing.
Luned crested the hill above camp and peered down from behind tall, dry bushes. She remembered who had the rope. It was in the chest near the lakeside, and Gramen slept soundly beside it.
Stepping as lightly as possible, she made her way down. No one saw her, but in the mighty moonlight, she felt as though she shined like a beacon.
Gramen had the cover pulled up to his chin. He was dead to the world, but Luned was still praying that the rope wasn't buried under silverware or armor pieces or other loud things.
She undid the latch and lifted the lid…
It creaked. She winced and watched Gramen. His eyelids fluttered, and he stirred. With a soft grunt, he turned on his side, a hand in his hair and his face nestled in the crook of his elbow.
Luned sighed, relieved but still cautious. She looked inside, finding a pile of scrolls and blank papers. After pushing them to the side, there it was - a coil of rope propped against a pile of many books. She retrieved it and carefully lowered the lid.
She cast her eyes over the camp and saw no movement, other than smoldering embers in the fire and clouds in the sky. She gave silent thanks for what small luck she could find.
Luned walked briskly around the cliff and up the grassy hill that led back to the rocky beach. She gripped the rope so tight it left lines in the flesh of her fingers. The wind caught the reeds and tall grass, and felt bitter against her skin, which stung and seethed around her eyes.
She saw Astarion’s silhouette on the bank, holding what looked like leafy branches from the bushes. As she approached, she watched as he finished hiding the bloodstained grass with the large branches and a few rocks.
He shrugged when he saw her, looking down at the heap of leaves. “Not my best work, and it probably won't last long if the wind picks up, but if someone's sent scouting tomorrow, it's better than nothing.” he turned to her, and the light touched the edge of his smile.
Luned shook her head and sighed gently. “Here.”
Astarion took the rope and watched her for what felt like a while. She was too tired to ask why so she just furrowed her brow.
“You look so guilty,” he said, intrigued.
“I am guilty.”
“See now,” he held up a finger, “let's not say that yet. Yes, I know you have some kind of… final judgement shit you do, but you are the one on trial here.”
All the authority she carried herself with, all the keen-eyed watch she kept in all situations, all things she fueled by simply doing well and doing honourably. All for nothing.
Astarion continued.
“For what it's worth, if anything, I don't judge you. You're cursed, or possessed, or something. Whatever it is -” he looked towards the shallow water where Alfira lay, and then back. “- You're very dangerous.” He said it with fire in his eyes.
“Please don't tell anyone,” she said, voice rasping.
He let out a laugh. “Seriously? After all this effort to hide your mess? Please.”
Moonlight gleamed off his shoulders, his shirt scraped with patches of blood from carrying the body. Luned supposed it was his mess now, too.
“You said we don't have all night.”
His smirk had vanished. “And I was right, we don't.”
Yet, his eyes lingered on her for a moment too long before he turned back towards the sea.
They made their way back down the bank.
“No one saw you?” He asked.
“No.”
“Good.” He gestured towards the body as he unspooled the rope. “There are stones in her pockets.”
“Okay.”
Astarion tied Alfira’s legs together, but Luned noticed he struggled to both maneuver the torso and shoulders while also tying it properly. She knelt down and lifted Alfira into a sitting position. Water washed lazily around them as he worked. The night felt too quiet.
After a minute, Alfira was tied up, bound like a prisoner. Luned carefully lowered her again.
Astarion rested an elbow on his knee. “We should carry her out some more. Then, when the tide picks up it'll take her with it.”
Luned was drained. Her gaze slowly dropped to the water. Some of the rocks below were the same shade as her own grey skin.
“Look, we're almost done. Then you can… sleep and we'll forget this ever happened.”
She stared at him, eyes narrowed. “How can I ever forget this?”
He shrugged. “You forgot everything else, didn't you?” His voice was almost a whisper against the water, distant crickets, and rustling wind.
Luned rubbed her forehead. Her head was so heavy, she felt like she could collapse. There was a numbness in her chest. A deep acceptance that she was, despite having a blank, quiet emptiness where her memories should be, changed forever.
Astarion was standing. “Help me again.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
Almost mindlessly, she hooked her fingers around the rope beneath Alfira’s shoulders. Again, they lifted her further into the water. Astarion clearly struggled. Alfira was heavier from the rocks and waterlogged clothing.
The water hit their knees.
“A bit more…” Astarion grunted. Exhausted, he winced with every step. Was he that weak, or did he just hate the ocean?
The water hit their waist.
“Now.” He said, and they released Alfira.
The bard, bound and gone, slowly faded below the surface. No sign of her remained or returned, and Luned watched as her sin was swallowed by the sea.
Astarion was already wading back to the shore, not lingering for even a second. She watched him retreat, furrowing her brow. Maybe it was a fear of the water. Whatever it was, it was just her, alone.
She really did feel alone.
Her hand went to her neck, where her pendant usually was. Only she had started to feel almost… ugly wearing it after meeting the knight. It had meant something once, but now, until she can reclaim and heal, it meant nothing.
Even without the pendant, she clenched her fist on her chest and prayed. She prayed for a girl and an artist gone before her time, lost to the whims of something unknown. A fate most undeserving of the life it had stolen.
Luned felt adrift, waist-deep in the waves, somewhere far from home, and her heart felt cold. If there was any shred of compassion left inside her, any strength or forgiveness, she didn't want it.
She wanted Alfira to have it.
With a silent goodbye, Luned began to make her way back. She pushed through the water and felt soft sand give way to the rocks and driftwood as she returned.
Astarion was up on the grassy bank, sat against a rock.
Luned began to climb but paused almost to the top, leaning her arms and head on the grass. Tired washed over her, it was overwhelming.
“Yes, yes, freakshow, you hid your first body. Strenuous work, isn't it?” Astarion's voice came from above in its usual lilt, despite having the wind knocked out of him from wading through the water.
Luned slowly lifted her head to stare at him as he talked, eyes dark and teeth gritting.
“By the way,’ he continued, “you're welcome for my assistance in this very early hour of need. If you have to brutally murder somebody else, please skip my lovely self. I'd be most -”
“Would you -” her voice was even, and somehow lower than normal, “- shut the fuck up?”
He paused, then rolled his eyes, not saying another word.
Luned pulled herself up to the bank. She looked towards the distant mountains and the nearby woods, then rubbed her eyes. If only Alfira had just stayed at the grove.
She still felt the blood drying on her face. She felt the grass beneath her toes. She felt the fabric of her breath soaked through.
Above all, she felt alone still. Even though she wasn't.
Luned watched Astarion stare listlessly out towards the horizon. He found her at her worst moment, and chose to help. She was broken and drained, but none of it was lost on her. She didn't have the words to communicate what she felt, or the strength to process everything, but in the silence, she believed he understood.
“Thank you,” Luned said softly.
“It's alright,” Astarion said, equally and uncommonly soft. “Now go to bed.”
They looked at each other, and something passed between them. It was cold, but it wasn't malice. It was dark, but it wasn't blame. There were no more words, but however brief it lasted, Luned knew she had never known Astarion better than in that moment.
She departed the site of her crime, and the company of her accomplice, and drifted towards the camp where, despite her exhaustion, no sleep would find her.