"Strike, parry! Strike, parry!"
Cold steel flashed against the sky, like a flock of silver birds taking flight. Up and down the ranks of women, Antiope's shouted orders rang out their sharp staccato. It was like a dance, Diana thought. The dance of a hundred women strong, their blades moving in perfect unison to the beat of the blood roaring in their ears. It was a glorious feeling.
Diana had always loved this training exercise. It was one of the times when she most felt at one with her Amazon sisters. As a young girl, she'd taken pride in lasting as long as any of them, despite her tender years. It was a test of endurance, the ability to maintain a perfect fighting stance even after hours of battle. Right now, Diana guessed that they had been going for about two hours, maybe three. It was about this time that she would notice her fellow warriors beginning to sweat and show effort, their breath growing louder.
She noticed, not for the first time, that she still felt as energetic as when she'd started.
Interestingly enough, when she glanced over at the man, two rows in front of her, he seemed to be doing well. That is, he wasn't flat on his back, as he so often seemed to end up no matter what he was doing. Diana chose to take it as a good sign.
"And, halt!" came the call. With a collective sigh of relief, the Amazons stopped and lowered their weapons.
"Well done," Antiope said, moving quickly along the lines. "Nupione, be sure to guard your left side from attack. Lyta, more strength in your downward stroke. Trevor, more grace and less...savagery in your motion. We will work on this. Amazons, dismissed for the morning."
The women began to break off into groups, either heading for water or to re-sharpen their swords. Diana watched as the man collapsed onto a bench, drinking deeply and gasping with exhaustion. Just as she moved to offer some advice on his technique (or lack thereof), she found herself face to face with her aunt.
"As for you, Diana," Antiope said, in a low voice, "more focus. Less distraction." She nodded in the pilot's direction. Then she walked away. Diana noticed that the only indication of her aunt's injury on the beach was a slight hitch in her step, and the white bandage underneath her armor.
Diana sighed. She glanced once more at the man. Then turning slowly, she joined a group of women who had gathered around a nearby basin.
"Hello, Diana," one greeted her. "Beautiful fighting out there - but not as good as mine. Let us spar later this afternoon, you and I!"
"Oh, I don't know, Mala," Diana pretended to muse. Nonchalantly, she leaned over and splashed her face with cold water. "Do you really think you're up to the challenge?"
Good-natured laughter welled up from the surrounding women. Mala grinned.
"Last time we sparred, I believe it was you who ended up begging me for mercy."
Diana raised an eyebrow mischievously. "The only time I'd ever beg mercy of you, Mala, is when it is your turn to sing at a feast."
Even Mala had to laugh at that. Diana felt a sudden warm glow of gladness. Things were just the way they should be between she and her sisters. Nothing would ever change that.
But then Mala made as if to punch her lightly in the arm...and paused, hesitating. Mala, who never hesitated.
Diana realized that all eyes were on her gauntlets. She knew that everyone was thinking of the strange power surge that had come from her during training. Just last week - had it been so long ago?
Suddenly ashamed, Diana pulled a linen towel over her shoulders and hid her arms in the folds. She changed the subject to one she knew they would be drawn to.
"So...how do you all feel about this man, this Steve Trevor? About his training?"
"He is improving," said one. Sarcasm. "Today, he actually managed to swing a sword without cutting himself."
"Give him time," murmured another. "The poor imbecile has probably never held a blade before in his life."
Mala laughed, harshly. "The man is weak. I charged him to fight with me a few days ago. The coward refused. I would have fought him anyway, but the General would not allow it."
An older Amazon who had just joined the group glowered darkly. "There's a good many things the General would not allow, if she only knew of them." She nodded towards where the man sat, still catching his breath. "But we are all in agreement: while she is still healing, we must not trouble her with such matters."
"What matters?" they pressed eagerly.
She lowered her voice, prompting them all, including Diana, to lean in closer together.
"Some of the Amazons in my cohort tell me that this man has begun to ask questions," she whispered. "Where we store all our provisions, to whom the armory is open to, whose duty it is to stand guard at night. I myself heard him asking whether he would be permitted to view our maps in the library. It is very strange."
Another woman chimed in: "I heard from one of his guards that he was conversing with the girl who brought him food this morning. He asked her for the last time anyone had ever left Themyscira. The foolish girl would have gone on talking to him, had my friend not escorted her out of danger."
They muttered amongst themselves, casting uneasy glances back at the man, until the noon meal. Diana was careful to keep her distance from him...and from her own sisters, who would now eye her with a wariness that bordered on fear.
Back in his room that night, Steve threw his helmet against the wall in frustration. It was no use. All day, he'd tried every trick, every technique that he'd ever learned for getting information without raising suspicion. He'd sweet-talked the girl with his breakfast, but a vigilant guard had ushered her away. He'd tried starting up casual conversations with the women in his cohort. But no one would answer his disguised questions. His guards never let him out of sight, so he had no chance of discovering things on his own. Worst of all, he sensed that he had probably aroused suspicion against himself already, judging by the looks he had gotten during training.
A job well done, Trevor. Just spectacular.
He'd never had any trouble getting intel out of women before. Steve wasn't a guy to take advantage of a lady, no matter which side she was on. Unlike some of his fellow spies, who'd brag about the information they'd stolen from dames desperate for romance. Secrets betrayed in the warm darkness of night, whispered on wine-tainted breath. Whenever he heard such tales, Steve would shudder in revulsion. There was no doubt that espionage was dirty work; but despite the merciless teasing from his comrades, Steve never took his work that far.
Still, he had no problem with turning on the charm if need be. Sameer used to joke that for someone who wasn't at all a flirt, Steve sure was popular with the ladies ("That one was mine, Steve! You gotta give a pal a chance, at least!"). Steve didn't know about that, but it sure had proved useful at countless bars, socials, and galas. It took a bit of flattery here and there, maybe a couple dances. But as a rule, Steve always managed to get the intel he needed.
Apparently, the same rules didn't apply on an island full of warrior women.
Wonder if the ol' charm's wearing off after all these years, he thought, with a rueful smile. Just my luck.
Quite suddenly, he became aware of the sounds of commotion outside. A clamour of voices, coming from the beaches below. Steve frowned. Despite the shortness of his stay, he had already become accustomed to the peace and quiet of Themyscira. Whatever was going on, it wasn't normal.
He heard shouting, and running footsteps. Okay. Definitely not normal. He rapped on the door.
"Hey," he called to the guards. "What's going on?"
No reply.
He knocked louder. "Everything all right out there?" Still, silence.
Alarmed now, he turned and dragged the table in the corner across the room, positioning it underneath the little slit in the wall. Standing on the table, he was able to catch a peek of the outside world. The first thing he saw was starlight, flickering strangely near to the earth. Then he saw the torchlight approaching his dwelling.
The door to his chamber swung open. Two women in armor stepped into the room.
"Hello ladies," he said, trying to look as though it was perfectly normal to be caught standing on a table in the middle of the night. "Can I help you?"
One of them cocked her head. "Actually, yes. At least, the Queen hopes so."
Steve raised his eyebrows. "The Queen?"
They gave him two minutes to change into suitable clothing, explaining it was cool by the water at this time of night. Steve noted their nervous air. He shrugged on his own woolen coat, and followed them out into the street.
"What's going on?" he asked, as they walked quickly down steps carved into the cliffs leading to the beach. "Where did my guards go?"
"They went down to the beach to investigate."
As they stepped onto sand, Steve noticed a large crowd of Amazons gathered at the water's edge. Among them was the Queen, mounted on a white horse.
"Investigate what, exactly?" he asked.
His escort shrugged. "It appears that one of the invaders' strange beasts of metal has washed up on the shore. The Queen thinks you might have an idea what it is, seeing as it is from your world."
Cautiously, Steve worked his way through the crowd. They were exclaiming and pointing, some nervously and some excitedly. But when they noticed his presence, all fell silent and parted to let him pass. The Queen nodded at him, motioning for him to look.
Now extremely curious, Steve moved right up to the shore, where a hulking form lay halfway in the water. At first he didn't recognize the shape, didn't understand what he was seeing.
Then he started, staring in disbelief.
It was his airplane.
A/N: And the plot thickens! Apologies all round for the late update - life's been a little crazy. So excited for y'all to see what I got planned, really hope you like it. I'm sorta tired of Steve and Diana not interacting, so hoping to throw in a lil' fluff in the next chapter or so :)