Chapter 21
"Myrene, please stop fussing." Lara waved her hand, trying to shoo the librarian away. "I said I'm fine."
Myrene hopped back a step, dropping the brooch she had been trying to pin to Lara's collar. Hands on hips, she shot back, "No. It is too important an occasion." She pointed at Lara's duffel bag. "You cannot go commando!"
"That…" Lara choked on a stifled laugh. Somehow, she managed to keep a straight face. "… that does not mean what you think it means."
"I do not care. You do not understand the honour that – " Myrene's voice broke. Her palms swallowed her face.
Immediately Lara was upright. Perhaps too quickly. Almost two weeks after the battle, she was still prone to pangs that would strike as unpredictably and brutally as a school bully. Wincing, Lara took her companion in her arms. "Hey."
Myrene refused to look at her.
Placation. Sincere placation was needed.
Lara took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just not very good at this sort of thing. It makes me feel uncomfortable."
Myrene lowered her hands. "Uncomfortable?"
"Dresses. Heels. Makeup. Any hairstyle that isn't a ponytail. All of it. I look in the mirror and that's not me. But I can suck it up for one evening."
"If it is that distressing for you – "
"No. I overreacted. And I'm just…" On edge.
They both were. Lara was set to leave Themyscira in four days and neither she nor Myrene could talk about it. They should have been appreciating every second of time they still had together but the unspoken topic dangled between them like a strand of hair that was impossible to remove, and would intermittently brush over their flesh.
Its invisible presence had turned them irritable and frequently snappish.
Even when they weren't prickly, it was there. As the afterglow of their lovemaking faded, their vision would clear and they'd see wisps of grief in their partner's pupils. Their response was to immediately look away. Nights were spent just lying there in the dark, holding each other while skin cooled and heartbeats slowed.
Parting is such sweet sorrow. What a load of bollocks.
"Please forgive me," Lara murmured to Myrene's chest.
When she raised her eyes, brown irises and a weak smile were waiting for her. "Of course. Although I must apologise. I believe I got tears on your dress."
"They'll dry."
Myrene ran her fingertips over Lara's clothed breastbone. "Have I mentioned that this colour is very flattering on you?"
"I'll bear that in mind."
The librarian had chosen the teal chiton, clasped at the shoulders, for Lara – her first ever Themysciran attire. As a lifelong trousers-and-boots tomboy, she still felt like she was playing dress-up, but Myrene's initial reaction to seeing her in it suggested she didn't look entirely ridiculous.
"May – May I style your hair?" the Amazon asked.
"Please. You know I have no idea what I'm doing."
They returned to the dressing table. Lara seated herself on the stool before it, and Myrene began brushing out the Englishwoman's notoriously uncooperative locks.
A pang struck of a different sort then. The archaeologist used to have the same arguments with Sam about her wardrobe and beauty sense. As in the past, it was easier to surrender.
The flashes of pain were bad enough without the bizarre flare-ups of melancholy and unease. After all, everything had been resolved. The Amazons were safe. Trinity's threat had been eliminated and, with it, suspicions around Lara evaporated. She was, much to her embarrassment, heralded as a hero and the effusive response from the Themyscirans was as bad as being a pariah whispered about behind her back.
Her recovery requirements meant that she had mostly managed to keep to herself. However, that evening the funeral rites for the five fallen Amazons were finally taking place. As thrilled as Lara was to witness a unique, never-documented cultural celebration in person, she suspected she was going to be dragged centre stage. She knew the funeral had been delayed to accommodate her healing, and Hippolyta's official invitation came with an explicit instruction to look her best.
She couldn't put her anxiety entirely down to introvert nerves either. Something had happened when she went to see Faro.
Once Lara wasn't sleeping through half the day, Diana filled her in about the Trinity operative, of course. And once Lara was able to stand for longer than ten minutes, she insisted that they hobble off to the Amazon prison so that she could question Faro herself. For her own peace of mind.
Diana briefly tried to dissuade the Englishwoman, but gave up just as swiftly. There were some advantages to Lara's new elevated status among the Amazons. Alternatively, the princess knew her friend well enough by then to realise that even if the visit were denied, Lara would just sneak off on her own anyway, wellness be damned.
So it was that Diana and Lara shared a saddle and headed out in the direction of Doom's Doorway. Themyscira's prison was en route; so nondescript that Lara hadn't ever noticed it before during her outrides in the area. Positioned far away from the main island settlement, the complex had been tunnelled into the lower slopes of one of the region's many mountains. Lara and Diana had to descend a craggy path to reach its entrance – an unremarkable crack that appeared to be the result of a long-forgotten land shift.
While altitude and open space protected Doom's Doorway, Themyscira's prison hunkered down, using constriction as its primary deterrent.
Once a visitor passed through the crack, the space opened up into a series of gated corridors and vestibules, only accessible through a rigid routine of unlock-lock-unlock-lock controlled by a surprisingly small number of guards.
Lara couldn't imagine it was a popular duty for an Amazon. The air felt cool and crisp, so there must have been a subterranean ventilation system of some sort, but there was no question that this was a place of punishment. The tons of stone above them oozed a sense of oppression into the prison. Lara was familiar with the sensation from exploring deep into the bowels of tombs, and though she was practiced at pushing claustrophobia to the back of her mind, she could never completely erase the paranoia that she was going to be crushed at any second.
Even Diana did not seem at ease. Child of sunlit meadows and open battlefields, her eyes kept darting across the torch-lit passageways while her jaw remained clenched.
Still, Lara forced the anxiety from her system as she approached Faro's cell. Two guards stood behind her, while Diana stayed to her immediate left.
A barred hatch in the door let Lara peer inside the room. The chamber lacked natural light but it was less a dungeon and more a medieval castle apartment. Furnishings were in keeping with Amazon custom: plain but comfortable; pretty much what Lara had woken to after her initial island conflict.
With fingers interlinked over her diaphragm, Faro was lying on the bed.
Her head shot up when Lara cleared her throat.
"Just thought you'd like to know," the archaeologist sang. "The rumours of my demise were grossly exaggerated."
Faro's eyes narrowed. "Shooting you has been one of the highlights of my life."
"Just like seeing you here is one of mine."
Faro slid from her mattress and approached the grate.
"I hope it hurts," she hissed. "I hope every time you see the scar I gave you, you think of me."
Lara sighed theatrically. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're not my type. Neither is your organisation."
"If this whole thing has proven anything, Lara, it's that you're not the hot shit you like to think you are. You're just lucky. And luck runs out eventually. When I get out of here I fully expect to hear that you ended up as a kebab of maggot food in some jungle temple."
"When you get out of here?" Lara scoffed. "You pull that off and I'll happily invite you to the Manor for crumpets and tea."
"I won't be stuck in here forever."
"We'll see about that."
Lara started to draw back. As she did, Faro seized the bars.
"Hell waits for you, Lara Croft; the only thing waiting for you. Because nobody needs you or wants you. You're – "
One of the guards butted their spear against the grating, forcing Faro backwards.
While the Trinity commander snarled her impotence, Lara replied, ice cold, "Well, I have a lot to do before then. Goodbye, Faro."
As they walked down the first segment of passage open to them, Diana asked, "Is that how women in Man's World talk to one another?"
"With sufficient social conditioning."
"It is just that you two seem so similar."
Lara felt herself starting to thaw. "We are. We just chose different sides. And Faro is especially adept at pushing my – " She stopped. "Do – do you feel that?"
Diana frowned, "What?"
"That…" It was as if a shadow had passed before her; through her. But with barely-there tangibility, like she had wandered into a cloud of dissipating steam.
"What, Lara?"
"Rage."
It felt good. Viscous, invigorating warmth ran into her limbs and along her spine. She initially thought it was just the emotional after-effect of her interaction with Faro, but this was something else, far beyond a blend of malice, anger and self-satisfaction.
I will always want you, Daughter.
A man's resonant voice. It was familiar, yet she couldn't put an owner to it. She also couldn't say she was disturbed but it. His words were mulled wine – rich, dark and welcoming.
My sister may have honoured you but I own your heart. Beating with undistilled wrath, it has always been mine. You know this.
Lara found herself reliving that first moment when everything changed. Not her first kill. It was when she finally had enough. And acted on it. Run you bastards, I'm coming for you all.
How good that felt. To finally transition from hunted to hunter – and the surge of power that accompanied it.
Rebirth through blood into her true form.
"Lara?"
"Huh?" She realised Diana had taken her forearm. And with clenched muscles, the Englishwoman was halfway through an attempt to yank her limb free.
She felt bewildered. Not in control.
Realising her friend had returned to the present, Diana released the archaeologist. Lara's arm dropped limp to her side. Suddenly everything about her felt limp.
"I'm ready to leave now," she whimpered.
Outside the prison, Diana forced a skin of water on the Englishwoman. "Drink."
Lara obeyed. Then she asked, "You really didn't feel that back there?"
Diana shook her head. "Perhaps this outing was too much for you in your current condition."
"No. I – " Doubt surged, and ebbed just as quickly. "No. There was something or someone in there."
Diana frowned, "We share life here with darker things, Lara. Life in paradise comes with a cost. It is not just the entrance to Tartarus; we guard over monsters and other threats that have no place in the world of Men."
"Like?"
"Even I do not know everything that is kept here. Only my mother does."
The unease stayed with Lara. She'd wake in the middle of the night to the last, incomprehensible echoes of that voice. She could never remember what it was saying to her. She just knew it was an instruction, compelling her to do something.
"Lara?"
"Mmm?"
"Myrene had stepped back and was looking at her with the exact same expression of concern Diana had shown on the day of the prison visit.
The librarian pointed at Lara's reflection in the dressing table mirror.
"Well, what do you think?"
The ceremony began at sunset, as the sky just started to bleed off the full intensity of its blue. Lara wasn't surprised by the timing of the event. The transition of day to night and light to dark had been appropriated by Man for millennia to represent, and make sense of, the natural transition from life to death. What she was more surprised by was the location of the rites. She had expected the Amazons to gather in the amphitheatre but instead they met in the agora.
The space had been cleared of its normal stalls and everyday paraphernalia. Instead, unlit braziers peppered the assembly, and two rows of benches lined its length. The benches were empty save for complicated arrangements of leaf and vine that entwined over the centre of the tablecloths, but it was obvious food and drink would be covering their surface soon enough. Lara could smell flame-roasting meat.
Like most of the residents of Themyscira, Diana was already in the agora. She stood talking to Artemis and Mala. The women turned and warmly greeted Lara and Myrene as they approached.
"I like your hair," Diana enthused.
Lara reached up to touch the French braid. "Oh, thank you. Myrene did it."
"You should wear it like that more often."
"Precisely what I said, Princess," Myrene smiled.
"You both look lovely," Diana complimented. "Lara, you could truly pass for an Amazon."
"A fragile runt of an Amazon," Mala snorted.
The others responded with scowls but Lara brushed off the insult. "I try to avoid dressing like the locals when I travel because it doesn't seem appropriate. Today, though, I was hoping it would buy me some welcome camouflage."
The Amazons present were all wearing their finest. A practical people, their normal dress was unadorned linen robes and tunics. For the funeral rites, though, functional fabrics and styles had been replaced with extravagance. Colours were bold and paired with precious adornments just as striking. Lara could have spent months studying the craftsmanship of the earrings alone.
As for the Amazon military force, armour was ceremonial or absent. Both Artemis and Mala wore shining bronze breastplates, greaves and bracelets.
Diana was in civilian dress of her royal station, wearing a gem-set tiara and lilac chiton trimmed with gold.
She grimaced at Lara, "I doubt you will achieve your desire."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
A horn heralded the arrival of Hippolyta, Philippus and the Council of Representatives, all on foot. The queen was in glittering caped war dress; her partner gracefully wrapped in a sheer himation.
Hippolyta waited for the Amazons to quiet. It didn't take long. The atmosphere was an odd mix of emotions – excitement, pride and sobriety. There was no pomp and ceremony; the Amazon ruler was on the literal same level as her people.
"Thank you for gathering today," the queen called out to the crowd. "It feels like it has been a lifetime since we last had to mourn the passing of one of our own. And yet that is still too soon. What recent events remind us, though, is that our life in Paradise is a gift. It is never to be taken for granted and we are never to be complacent about its protection. Iphito, Pantarista, Thalestris, Scylia and Bremusa will live on in our memories and histories as heroes who died to uphold these principles. They did not waver in the completion of their duties – to the blessed Goddesses and to their sisters."
Hippolyta cleared her throat. "But before we celebrate those who fell for us, we must honour those who stood for us."
She turned in Lara's direction and held out her hand. "Come forth, Lady Lara Croft of Surrey."
Christ, this was like being singled out during school assembly.
The archaeologist stood frozen until both Myrene and Diana nudged their shoulders into her back.
Stiffly, she approached the queen of the Amazons across the paved space. Her heartbeat failed to drown the murmurs as she passed. She'd completed climbs to mountain peaks that felt shorter than crossing the square.
Alone before Hippolyta, and feeling awkward under her impassive gaze, Lara gave a clumsy bow.
When she raised her head again, one of the queen's eyebrows was lifted.
"That suits you," Hippolyta murmured.
"My deference?"
"Your attire." The Amazon ruler gave Lara a tiny, private smile before turning back to the gathering. "It has been millennia since this ritual was last performed," Hippolyta announced. "Yet recent events make its return necessary."
A few Amazons bellowed their approval. Lara just wanted a Harpy to swoop in and carry her off.
The only thing that approached, though, was Philippus, with what looked like an intricately-carved wooden jewellery box. She held it out to Lara, and Hippolyta unclasped the lid.
The queen's voice remained raised even as she addressed the archaeologist.
"Lara Croft, take these to accept your place among us."
Nestled inside were silver bracelets, polished to a mirror finish and edged with gold that had been smithed to look like braided cord.
Lara reached out and stroked the metal.
"They're beautiful, but…" She frowned. "You know I won't wear these."
"It matters not. Whether you don them or refuse, they are a symbol of recognition."
"Of what?"
"That you are our sister. And we are yours. Until the End."
"Oh."
The Englishwoman had expected some token of gratitude, but nothing like this. She swallowed hard, and directed her gaze around the agora. Hippolyta. Philippus. Diana. Myrene. Artemis. Aella. Althea. All the others. They were universally smiling at her. Then they started applauding.
"You are an honorary Amazon, Lara," Hippolyta declared. "The English She-wolf."
Lara rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. Words weren't so easy to expel anymore. Eventually, she croaked "Thank you."
As Philippus eased the box into the archaeologist's hands, Hippolyta added, "There is more."
The queen laid her finger on the inside rim of one bracelet. Fine engraved script circled the interior, just below the gold.
"It is an adaptation of a quote that came to me from your world," Hippolyta explained. "Light shows me the way; darkness shows me the stars."
Lara nodded, embarrassingly without words again. Where were pithy quips when you needed them?
Hippolyta cocked her head. "Just please do not attempt to deflect bullets with these."
Lara gaped. "Did – did you just make a joke?"
The Amazon queen shrugged and swung back towards the crowd.
"Now we pay tribute to our fallen."
Two of the armoured royal guard broke rank. They strode to their nearest braziers. There, they picked up a torch laid at each base, lit it, and plunged the flame into the dark basin. When the fuel caught, a new pair of soldiers ran forward, took the torches and proceeded to the next set of braziers.
The odd relay repeated until every brazier in the agora was alight. Lara hadn't realised it before but the scattershot placement of the bowls formalised towards the far end of the square. Like processional infantry stationed six foot apart, they lined the path leading from the assembly.
As the illumination spread out of sight, Hippolyta's party began to slowly move in its direction. They were followed by the other Amazons, smiling but subdued. Flanked by Diana and Myrene, Lara did the same.
Themyscira's chief settlement was elevated above the coastline, and the women strolled along the walled walkway that zigzagged down to a beach typically used to launch fishing boats and practice combat on unstable terrain. The Amazons halted on the sand while the torch bearers scampered off to the left, scrambling up boulders that sheltered the cove on that side.
The rise was capped with an equally raw plateau. It was normally unremarkable – bare and wind-blasted. That wasn't the case that day though.
By the time the torch bearers reached the plateau, the sun had sunk out of sight. In the dusk light, the rise's apex was a series of lumpy silhouettes. Those silhouettes included more braziers, which, when ignited by the soldiers, revealed five figures laid out on slabs, nestled in kindling, vine foliage and larger chunks of timber. The five fallen.
Lara sucked in a breath at the same time Myrene clasped her forearm, and hugged her closer.
"This night we bid farewell to our sisters," Hippolyta announced. "Farewell, not goodbye because one day, when the Goddesses see fit, we will all be united again. Until then, we see Iphito, Pantarista, Thalestris, Scylia and Bremusa on the first steps of their journey to the Beyond, and we commemorate the manner in which they lived, honouring our patron Goddesses with every breath."
Five archers lined up before the queen. Arrows already nocked, they dipped the heads in the nearest fire bowl, then aimed at the rise.
The first arrow flew as Hippolyta spoke again. "Lives passed with the wisdom of Athena."
The speck of light found its mark – the central pyre.
"The ferocious spirit of Artemis."
The second arrow loosed, arcing upwards.
"The passion of Aphrodite."
Another tiny comet in the deepening dark. Followed by a twin.
"A fruitfulness of their days that Demeter would have commended."
The final arrow didn't even seem necessary. The rise was well on its way to becoming a bonfire.
"And a cherishing of home, family and nation in keeping with the lessons of Hestia."
As Hippolyta finished speaking, a half dozen women wove among the gathered Amazons. A kylix was placed in Lara's hand and filled with wine.
She glanced at Myrene, who had received her own cup. "Wait" was the mouthed response.
When every Amazon had a drink, the queen raised hers. She swung her cup towards the rise in a toast.
"Sisters, we honour your sacrifice and swear to live by your example." She poured out a small libation. "Themyscira, forever."
The queen drank deeply, along with the other Amazons. Lara mimicked them and ended up with a mouthful of fortified wine that rang on her tongue and echoed the whole way down her throat.
Almost immediately, the reverent silence gave way to battle cries. The warrior women vented their emotion in roars that drowned out the blaze. Even librarian Myrene joined in, pounding her chest above her heart.
Lara, despite her formalised Amazon inclusion, couldn't join in. She had her own ways – and far too much practice – in dealing with loss. She kept her eyes on the pyre, watching the fallen Amazons fade once more into shadow.
After the mass howl, the mood changed. Amazons embraced, wiped their eyes, laughed. Some stayed on the beach to continue a private vigil but most began the trek back to the agora.
The atmosphere in the assembly had also transformed. Food was laid out on the benches, and there were several tripod-mounted kraters filled with the same potent wine they'd been served on the beach. Amazons milled about; ate, drank. Some of the more enthusiastic had already moved on to light-hearted contests of skill, aim and strength, while in another area, Themyscira's musicians and singers performed for those who wished to dilute their grief in song and dance.
It was practically festive.
Lara would have been content to just stand quietly in a corner and observe, but that option was denied her. She felt like a special guest at a conference. Her cup was never empty while she lost count of the number of hugs and back-slapped well wishes she received.
At some point, a palm came down hard on her shoulder. "Lara Croft!"
Grimacing, she turned towards an obviously tipsy Mala.
"You," the Amazon slurred, jabbing the archaeologist in the chest. "If I had not saved you at the enemy camp, you would not have lived to save us."
Mala paused, and in that instant Lara's gaze snagged Diana's, who was in conversation several feet away. The princess paled at the scene before her.
Mala took no notice. Impatient at Lara's lack of response, she snorted, "That means I am the real hero." Then she flexed.
"I – " Don't laugh, Lara. "I don't dispute that."
Mala leaned in close and murmured, "Never forget it."
Lara nodded. "Mala, the MVP. Got it."
The Amazon flashed a satisfied smile. She chucked Lara under the chin. "Have a good evening, Sister."
She staggered off just as Diana reached the Englishwoman.
"Lara, what did she do? Are you alright?"
"Oddly, I think we're good."
It was only the start of the oddity.
The wine continued to flow for all the Amazons. If one of the giant kraters emptied, another was heaved in to replace it.
Even Hippolyta and Philippus were happily imbibing, laughing and falling into one another's laps with an abandon Lara could barely believe given the restraint of their default public manner.
Meanwhile, the dancing had turned feral. Bacchanalian. With their robes rolled down to the waist, two women flung themselves around a third, slowly revolving figure in a stag's antlered skull.
Diana caught her friend staring.
"Amazon funeral rites can be a little… intense," she chuckled.
"God, and you're saying that?"
"Our people do not wither like yours. We brush with mortality far less often. When it does occur, we utilise the opportunity to… take stock, I think you say? It is common practice to live an entire life in one evening."
"Anything goes."
"Precisely. And our customs may be very different to what you are familiar with."
So Lara shouldn't have been surprised later on in the evening when a piece of rope dropped into her hands. She didn't know who gave it to her. Wits dulled by wine, she simply blinked at it before following its length. It ended in a lasso, plopped over the head of a scowling Artemis.
"I – don't …. So sorry, I – " Lara started to stammer. The last thing she wanted was another backhand from the redhead.
The commander ignored her.
Instead, Artemis strode up to the little brunette… and kissed her. Not a peck. It was a full, deep lips-parting with Lara's face clutched in the Amazon's fingers.
In the aftermath, Artemis actually smiled. She cocked her head to balance out her crooked, unpracticed grin. "Mmm, now I understand why you are so sought after, Sister."
The redhead plucked the rope from Lara's shock-stiffened hands, lifted the lasso over her own head and returned to her companions. They continued their conversation as if nothing unusual had happened.
Lara just hoped Myrene hadn't see–
The librarian appeared at her side.
"Oh, hey," Lara squeaked.
Myrene held rope too. With her eyes locked on Lara's, she wound the cord around her own wrists, below her bracelets. Then she sank to her haunches and held out her arms to the Englishwoman.
What the hell was going on?
"I submit to you," Myrene murmured. She was behaving as if in a trance.
Lara's cheeks coloured. "This – this isn't quite what I'm into. You know, I'm actually quite vanilla." She squatted down to help her lover upright. "Please."
As Lara straightened, an invisible current caught her shins. She reeled backwards, groping blind for anything to stabilise her.
She found it in a handful of Diana's dress.
She looked up. The princess was frowning at her.
Mortified, increasingly detached from her body, Lara fled the agora.
Treating every pillar and wall as an anchor, she managed to steer her floating body into a nearby public garden. Clutching her temples, she sank onto a stone bench.
She might as well not have left the assembly, though – her heart pounded the same primal beat as the drummers busy enslaving dancers back at the square.
Lilac robes appeared in the corner of her vision.
The archaeologist gulped, "I should be able to handle my booze. I used to be a barmaid."
"This is not what your people drink," Diana said simply as she seated herself on Lara's left.
Gingerly, Lara turned her head to the princess. Diana was still holding her kylix.
"What's in it?" the archaeologist asked, "It – It's not just wine."
"No. It is not. It is an ancient recipe, reserved for our people's revelries. And I fear it is far too strong for you." There was the frown again.
The world shimmered and slowed as if Lara were underwater. She tried to blink the effect away. "I don't like losing control."
"Really? I would never have thought that of you."
Diana winked at Lara, then put her arm around the mortal's shoulders. "I will tend to you; make sure no harm befalls you."
"Harm? What kind of party is this?"
"An Amazon one."
Myrene appeared in the clearing. "There you are. I was so worried."
"It just got a bit much for me," Lara replied.
As Myrene lowered herself onto the bench to Lara's right, Diana added, "I said I would stay with her."
"Thank you, Princess."
To Lara, Myrene asked, "Are our practices really so foreign to you?"
"Maenad orgies have never been my thing. And I was worried you'd be upset with me."
"Upset?" Myrene chortled. "About what? Artemis's kiss? There are different norms here, I told you."
"I know, but theory and practice are different things. It's difficult for me to process, still. You don't just cast off the moral code ingrained into you from birth, even when it is narrow-minded and unnecessarily self-punitive."
Diana arched an eyebrow. "You certainly have an extensive vocabulary when you drink."
Myrene tutted. "Lara can you stop thinking for one moment, and just feel? Trust your instincts."
"I've been told I'm good at that."
"Right. Does this feel wrong to you then?" Myrene slid her arm around the archaeologist's front so that Lara was properly sandwiched between her companions.
"No," the Englishwoman replied.
Myrene nuzzled into her neck. "And now?"
"No."
"Princess, will you assist?" Myrene asked.
"With pleasure."
Diana started suckling on Lara's earlobe. The Englishwoman froze. She muttered, "It's taken a few months but I think I'm starting to understand the Amazon sense of humour. It's fundamentally mean."
"But does this feel wrong?" Myrene persisted.
Lara rolled her eyes to the night sky.
Don't think. Don't let yourself get tangled in all those conservative upper-class Anglican hang-ups.
If she only felt, it was simple: flesh sliding against flesh.
Myrene's nuzzling migrated into soft kisses dotted along Lara's jawline, veering up towards her lips. Meanwhile, Diana shifted her attention to the archaeologist's throat on her other side, licking and sucking along the most prominent band of muscle as Lara leaned into Myrene's kiss.
As for the Amazons' roaming hands…
"This really isn't fair," Lara sighed at the sensory overload.
"But is it wrong?"
The touch of women who cared about her deeply, and who she cared about just as much?
"Oh, what the hell," Lara declared. "When in Themyscira…"
She reached for Diana's cup and downed it. "Death by snu-snu it is."
Both Diana and Myrene gave her a bemused look before returning to their seduction.
The archaeologist slept well that night, for the first time in days – curled in a nest of limbs and love. It felt warm and safe; nothing like that other mysterious heat that had called to her since the prison, promising satisfaction and searing. Of both flesh and soul.