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Reins of the Tomb Raider	By : HunterOpera Category: +S through Z > Tomb Raider (all) > Tomb Raider (all) Views: 38203 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Tomb Raider and make no money from this. Also, this is not a happy story. It will not have a happy ending. You have been warned.

Chapter List
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Alright, a couple more moments to lather flavor and then we get into the meat of this thing. As always, any and all reviews will be responded to here, just copy/pasta the link and join in on the conversation: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/36931-metroid-the-bergman-affair-feedback-comments-and-workshopping/page-9#entry389559 - I am experimenting with a lot of technique here, and I'm always curious to know if it works as well as I think it does. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this strange little fable.

*

“I am afraid of this, Zamir,” my cousin admitted to me. We were standing outside of the temple where his work was prayer, considering all that had happened. “Already, there have been bleatings from the outside world and it has not yet been twenty-four hours.”

“Does the Emperor know?” I ask him. He shakes his head and tells me that the Emperor is out tending to the people hurt in the Village of the Damned, and investigating the ruins that the Croft woman broke into to best understand the extent of the damage she had wrought. I can only imagine his fury at such a gross violation. At the very least, it has delayed the trial by another week.

“Good morning, my friends.” James comes to us, smiling, and clasps us both on the back as the sun rises. We ask him about his countrymen, wondering how they might have found out about her. “Do not worry one hair, my friends. Lara likely has people waiting for her down in the countries below, friends who let those they think are in a position to help her to do their thing. Do not concern yourselves. I am prepared.”

And, indeed, James lets us watch and listen in on a monitor as he sets up a video chat with a British head of state named Sir Neville Compton, who I am told is from some peasant stock that has risen above his station. He changes into the drab clothing of the outside world again, and then speaks of how Lara has been lawfully and legally arrested for a number of crimes. He reminds his old government that they have an extradition treaty with Parmistan.

“She is a Duchess!” Neville is old, his skin pale and wrinkled, and the clothing he wears is drab but expensive. He is a strange person, I decide, and I am not certain if I like him. “She was betrothed to you, man! We cannot leave her in the hands of those savages!” Ivo bristles at the word savages, but James merely smiles and taps one finger.

“You know that this is legally right,” James says, his voice calm. “The Parmistani government has a right to enforce their laws, but they understand the difficulty this might present and are willing to provide a gift.”

“What sort of gift?”

James speaks of the technologies that were placed here back in the cold war, and mentions that the technology has since been improved. He presents the carrot of financial information of corporations and political intelligence from other countries, and then warns of the stick: classified information from Britain itself.

“They haven't said anything, but if this is what they can offer us it stands to reason they can offer the same to others,” James told the man. His thicks eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars. “I believe we can trust the Parmistani people in this – they're angry because some of their people got hurt and some of their history was stolen. It's not like they're going to put her to death or anything.”

He looked up at us as he said this. I did not need to look at Ivo to know that he shook his head as I did mine; we were not barbarians, and wasteful death was anathema to our proud nation. The old man sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his temples.

“To be honest, old chap, the Duchess has become something of a political headache,” Neville confided. “The things she did in Russia made a tense situation so much worse. Perhaps she needs to be taken down a peg or two. You can observe things? Make sure she's treated fairly?”

“I can,” James said, nodding and hitting a few keys. “I'm forwarding you some images and video now of Lara's initial induction into the Parmistani justice system. You might want to make sure you're alone before watching them.”

The old man frowned, muttering something to someone off camera, and watched them leave. When he was alone, he replaced his glasses, looked down, and opened the files. We saw him, his jaw going slack and his eyes narrowing as he reviewed the video footage, and we thought our friend had made a misstep until the old man laughed.

“Very good,” the old man chuckled. “Showing the itinerant lass her place. You take after your mother when it comes to holding a grudge.”

“You approve?”

“I could use the quiet, honestly, other countries not complaining about her murdering their citizens or destroying their landmarks.” The old man shook his head. “It was much better when the colonies understood their place, what? Tell the Emperor that he can punish her by their rules in exchange for information on Russia, and insider corporate information upon request, say once a month for the next ten years. That should about cover the reparations and losses the good Duchess has cost us.”

“The Emperor is surveying the damage she did to a place the locals call the Village of the Damned, but I'll see what I can manage,” James nodded. The old man smiled and shook his head when James mentioned the name, inquiring if it was anything like Wales or Manchester. James laughed at the question, so it might have been some sort of joke.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Neville leaned forward, smiling. “I will need copies of Lara's continued treatment, both images and video, as you have already provided.”

“That will not be a problem,” James assured the man. I looked at Ivo, who shrugged: it really would not be. The conversation with the old man ended shortly thereafter, James keeping Neville only long enough to discuss some minor legal matters regarding agency and rights of attorney. Ivo shufled, listening to some information from his ear piece that I was not privy to.

“Is something wrong?” I asked him. My cousin looked at me, grinning and shaking his head, placing his hands on his hips.

“The Croft woman tried to escape,” he told me. James was winding things down with the old man, so we decided to wait for him. By the time we got to Justita's temple, a rope had been tied around her neck, the same pulley system she already knew used to keep her head up and straight, while the iron bars that kept her ankles and wrists had been chained to the floor. The net effect held her up and helpless, waiting for her punishment.

“What happened?” James asked. We were in another room, looking in on her as she continued to struggle with her bondage.

“The Duchess tried to escape,” Ivo said, shrugging. “Used fork that came with food to pick the locks on cuffs, and then used that fork again to pick the lock on the door. Is very resourceful. The temple was put on lockdown, but she still injured six of my guards before she was recaptured.”

“And now?”

“Now, she will be whipped. Zamir?”

“Wait here, my friend,” I tell the Earl of Faringdon. “Make certain that we behave in a lawful way.” My cousin and I prepared to leave our dear friend, the Earl, making certain he was comfortably seated. Silently, I hoped that our land has made him strong enough to witness what must come next. As we leave, my faith is rewarded as he makes a simple single suggestion before we leave. It is a good idea, we agree, and promise him it will find use.

I uncoil a whip before walking into the small room, cracking the length as Ivo introduces me.

“Hello, your grace,” Ivo says. “This is my cousin, Zamir Pokupec. We know that you tried to escape while your ambassador was discussing your problems with your home country. He might have got you out, Miss Croft, had you not just injured another six of my people. For this you will be punished before being taken back to your cell, and then these charges will be added to the crimes you already face.”

Lara's expression becomes one of hope as she hears the lies of James' efforts on her behalf, but we can see her mind change track in those chocolate colored eyes of hers, focusing on the last sentence my cousin gave her. She is about to ask what sort of punishment when I answer her with action instead of word, my whip cutting through the air before finding a home around her hips, hugging her closer than any lover.

She screams, surprised, the whip slithering off her and back to me. The welt starts to rise on her pretty flesh, and she squeezes her eyes, writhing as much as she is able, shaking her head. I do not think she ever considered that this might happen to her even once, but it happens another two dozen times.

The whip curls around her torso, her breasts, her thighs and shoulders. I am careful with the application, each strike a crack, she given enough time between each to understand what is happening to her without giving her enough time to prepare for the next. It is a delicate balabnce. Still, she does not scream so nicely as she did with that first strike, and she bravely tries to swallow the tears and sobs that threaten to overtake her.

When I am done, more guards come and gently lay her quivering body down, help her stagger back to her cell. She is told that her food will come without cutlery from this day forward, so that she will have to eat like an animal. With her eyes glossy and expression slack, I am not certain that she understands.

“It is okay,” Ivo tells me. “She will figure it out.”
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Reins of the Tomb Raider