Author's note: This is my favourite chapter so far, it was so much fun to work on, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much :) You'll finally have some answers, and this part basically sets the rest of the plot in motion.
Also it's safe to say that short chapters are not my thing...
There's some explicit stuff here so if it's not your thing - feel free to skip it. And, that's about it. Dig in!
Themyscira, 1945
There were two drastically different Themysciras that lived in Steve's mind, the images of them often clashing with one another.
One was of his lungs full of water, burning as he struggled to get free from the death grip of the metal carcass of the plane, his mind on fire with panic and fear; of the hands pulling him out to the surface and the face seared into his memory for a hundred lifetimes; of the sand and blood and trying to hold the rifle in the hands that were slippery with salt and sweat, his heart beating so hard and fast that the sound of it was swallowing the gunshots; of the burning lasso that stripped him of his will and pulled the words he swore to never say aloud out of his mouth; of thinking he was never going to leave the caves with glowing water alive.
This Themyscira left him filled with trepidation and jittery nervousness, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach making Steve's pulse stutter.
But the other one… The other one was bright and colourful and filled with Diana's stories of happiness and sadness and small mischiefs, often whispered in the dark, under the cover of the night, in response to his, "Tell me…" The place made of dreams that went beyond his imagination. The place of her aspirations and small secrets, and he could almost smell the ocean and feel the breeze on his face when she spoke of it, mesmerized and transfixed by unmasked affection in Diana's voice, by the mental images of her as a little girl, a stubborn teenager, a young woman, always on the verge of breaking a rule, bending the world to her will.
"I was a handful," she admitted once with a small laugh.
"Really?" Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, earning a playful bump of her shoulder against his. "I would've never guessed."
And now he was about to see the third version of the island – the combination of the two, he supposed. A whole new experience of his own.
"Your Majesty," Steve cleared his throat when Diana stepped out of her mother's embrace and Hippolyta's gaze moved past her daughter and fixed on him, still lingering on the dock, not quite certain about the protocol.
He was suddenly overcome with the urge to bow, or at the very least curtsy, very aware by the moment of being surrounded by half a dozen Amazon warriors, undoubtedly the best ones here, considering that they were selected to escort the Queen herself. If anything, it was quite a surprise he hadn't been tired up the second he'd stepped off the boat. A good kind of surprise.
They didn't look threatening, though. Curious, he figured, but Steve had to admit that he wouldn't be half as okay with their scrutiny without Diana's reassuring presence. There was something about knowing that any of these women could behead him without batting an eye that made him more self-conscious than he'd ever been, perhaps. It was one thing, after all, to end up here by accident, and something else entirely to come back by choice.
And then there was the Queen herself whose expression remained unreadable, but there was a twinkle of something in her eyes, something akin recognition, if not appreciation that he couldn't quite place, and maybe it was just the light, or a great deal of wishful thinking on Steve's part, but he could have sworn that her lips twitched ever so slightly, forming into a small smile that she didn't quite manage to hold back.
She glanced at Diana then, for just a flicker of a moment, and nodded with an impassive, "Very well," which made him realize that he was barely breathing all this time
Diana smiled at him, her hand brushed against Steve's for a moment as the two of them followed Hippolyta and her guards back to the city.
xoox
It was bigger than Steve remembered, more populated than the first time he'd traveled the streets toward the castle and the throne room, and more elaborately built than he could recall, and he wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he was slightly less worried about his well-being this time around, his concern lying with something far more terrifying than death.
"You look… rather stunned," Diana steered her horse closer to his and leaned over to Steve, entertained by his blunt gawking.
He tore his gaze away from a row of houses to the left from him. "I'm starting to understand how you must have felt when you first came to England," he confessed, feeling the almost palpable curiosity of the women on the streets around them, each and every gaze seemingly glued to him. The attention was making him feel exposed, bare even when he was fully clothed.
"You've been here before," she reminded him, trying and failing to swallow her laughter, clearly pleased with herself.
Steve smirked. He loved the way she looked here – less guarded, more relaxed, and it made him wonder if Diana was even aware of this transformation, which was not surprising, but no less notable nonetheless. In his world, even though she had infinite advantage over anything and everything, she was on alert more often than not. Here, there was no need for that.
The list of the things he couldn't give her was growing exponentially, but he pushed the thought away.
"As a prisoner, not a—a trophy," he pointed out.
"Is what you think you are?" She inquired, an eyebrow arched.
Steve flashed a cheeky smile at her. "Am I not?"
The war had ended a few months ago, and even though Steve thought she would insist on coming over straight away, Diana wanted to stay back to see the resolution of it all, help however she could, and to a certain degree, he was relieved by that. The truth was, even though he knew that he'd gladly follow her to the gates of hell and beyond, the idea of getting closer to the answers that he knew would change everything one way or another was equally thrilling and terrifying.
There were times when he wanted to tell her that it didn't matter, that he didn't want to know, and part of him didn't. The part that wanted to keep holding on to what passed for normalcy these days. However, it didn't seem fair to them both, and whatever it was, whatever they could possibly learn here, he knew that Diana had the right to know it too, if only because it she needed to be aware of what exactly she was signing up for with him.
They were waiting for them on the beach, the Queen and her warriors, when their boat broke through the barrier that surrounded the island, leaving the grey sky of the stormy Atlantic behind, greeted by the bright sun and turquoise waters and the air that smelled of jasmine on the other side of it. Like they knew that he and Diana would come. Like it went beyond any doubt.
Standing on the deck of the boat next to Diana whose gaze was glued to the approaching shore, Steve reached for her hand and weaved his fingers through hers. "You're nervous," he said – a statement, not a question.
She shook her head and squeezed his hand. "No, I'm not. Are you?"
"Should I be? Are they going to go for my throat?"
Diana glanced at him, "Not straight away."
"That's reassuring," he snorted. And whispered, "It's gonna be okay," into her hair, uncertain if he was saying it for her sake or his own.
And now he was being paraded – there was no word for it – through the city, and he could feel the gazes of everyone on the island on him, a little thrilling, a little unnerving, if Steve was honest with himself. It was still beyond him how they remained hidden for the entirety of their existence, safe and sheltered, and he wondered if maybe the Mayans – and a dozen other civilizations - were also tucked away somewhere, far from the reach of the world that could destroy them in a heartbeat because it seemed to be the one thing that the people knew how to do best.
Diana caught him watching her. "There's nothing I can promise," she said once more – an echo of their conversation from a few weeks back, when his broken bones stopped bothering him as much, when the reality clicked back into place, somewhat, and she explained to him that if there was a chance that Ares had anything to do with what had happened to Steve, even though she wasn't quite sure how, the Amazons would know more about it than anyone else. However, it wasn't something that she could guarantee.
"I know. You mentioned that," he nodded, pulling a little on the reins to stay with her. His smile softened. "I never asked you to."
"It's just… I wouldn't want to have dragged you all the way here for nothing." She shook her head.
Steve scoffed. "I wouldn't call that dragging. I was the first one to hop on that boat, no? Besides, the weather in London was starting to get dreary."
She smirked. "Well, it's good to know that you can be so easily pleased."
He chose not to respond to that in public.
xoox
Steve wasn't quite certain where the rest of the day went, but one moment he was being shown around and introduced to an infinite number of women whose names and faces started to blur before his eyes no matter how hard he tried to keep track of them while also attempting to read their body language and take notice of social clues, endless corridors of the palace that he'd only seen from below before snaking before him like a maze, and then suddenly it was night, and he was alone in 'his quarters', as Queen Hippolyta put it when she asked one of her guard ladies to escort him here, and once the door closed behind him – not locked, he made sure - it was suddenly so quiet that it almost hurt.
The room was spacious and if a little impersonal, luxurious in every sense of the word and not a step but a whole staircase above the last lodging he'd had here. A tall window was overlooking the town below that gleamed with thousands of lights, and above it, the sky was jet-black and splattered with myriads of stars, and together, they made him feel like he was floating in space, suspended between constellations.
All those years ago, it was only jokingly that he referred to Themyscira as 'Paradise Island', and mostly because his own experience here was far from heavenly, but he could see it now, see how it could suck you right in, the serenity of the place transfixing, addictive in the way that he couldn't quite put his finger on just yet. It was everything that his world wasn't. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore a mile away from the castle and the cries of seagulls somewhat softened by the wind were the only sounds in the stillness of the night. The breeze felt warm and fresh on his face, carrying the smell of the ocean mixed with floral notes and the scent of lamp oils, and for the first time in a very long time, Steve Trevor felt at peace with himself.
Whatever Diana thought they could find here, it was worth the trip; it was worth not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for however long it lasted.
She was fading in and out of his line of sight all day before disappearing altogether, and he had no way of finding her now short of asking someone for help. The idea left Steve a little more unsettled than he liked, and in the end, he decided to wait till the morning, not wanting to wander the labyrinth that this place was on his own, and even less thrilled by the thought of running into someone.
However different Diana felt in his version of reality, at least she wasn't an entirely different species that stood out like a sore thumb.
They'd fed him, too, Steve had to give them that. Not long ago. He distinctly remembered being offered a plate of something that didn't look familiar in any way; remembered eating without really registering the taste, but the time seemed warped here somehow, which he wrote off to the excitement of the new place. He pulled his watch out of the pocket of his pants. It was a little past midnight now, they'd arrived less than 12 hours ago. And yet, it felt like he managed to live a few months' worth of life in that time, his mind reeling.
He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, too wired for that, but the moment his head touched the pillow that smelled faintly of fresh linen and the sun, his eyes started to droop, his head fuzzy in the comfortable, over-exhausted way that was like a blanket wrapped around his brain.
But it was when Steve started to drift off that the door to the room opened soundlessly, and he'd miss it completely had it not been for a flicker of light from the hallway breaking through the fog in his head, pulling him back to the surface again. For a second, he thought that he'd imagined the dark figure that slipped inside, but then the sheets covering him shifted as someone moved across the bed.
She smelled of the sea and something that lingered in the periphery of his attention during their time on the boat, like flowers and scented oil, and his heartbeat escalated by the moment.
Diana threw her leg over his hip, her hands pressed into the pillow on either side of his head, and he reached for her, his hands siding up her back, along the leather of her armour and toward her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.
"Hey," he breathed out.
"Hi," she whispered back, and bumped her nose playfully against his before kissing him properly, her lips soft and warm, and it took Steve a moment to realize that the low groan of appreciation was actually coming from him.
"What are you - Should you be here?" He breathed out. She was making it very hard for him to think.
"Would you like me to leave?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper against his skin.
Steve swallowed, her fingers flexing on her skin, skimming over her shoulder-blades. "God, don't even joke about it."
"It is customary for the guests to have their own chambers," Diana murmured with a smile, kissing her way along his jaw, "but no one is under the illusion that we're not together, in that way."
Steve framed her face with her hands, his eyes fastened on hers and his sleepiness nowhere to be found anymore. "Okay, here's an idea - we don't talk about your family for a while, and then you can tell me all about them. How 'bout that?"
She grinned at him, "Deal."
And then she kissed him again, slowly and deeply, lips parting against his and luring him into the dark depths of consuming pleasure. Steve pushed his hands into her hair, tugging her closer, allowing her to coax a growl of need out of him, her mouth curved into a victorious smile against his.
He missed her, missed being with her like that, the closeness not obstructed by anything but the need to savour every moment, every electric touch of their hands moving over one another's bodies. Between his recovery and the war that wore them out and several days on the boat in the middle of the stormy sea, it was starting to feel like he hadn't touched her in years. The wanting ricocheted through him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, settling in his lower belly and making his body hum with pure, unrestrained desire.
"I missed you," Diana whispered as if reading his mind, her mouth hot on his skin, and he thought he might evaporate in her arms.
Steve's fingers strummed along her back, skimming over her armour. "This needs to go," he murmured.
She smiled and pulled away, straddling his thighs as her hand reached for the clasps keeping the snug leather in place. He sat up too, his palm cupped over her face, his mouth fitted to hers, drinking her, his heartbeat a rapid staccato and his desire fully known. Diana's breath hitched – an intoxicating sound -when his hand slid up her thigh and toward the skirt of her garment, and she caught his wrist, guiding him to the familiar straps, allowing him to peel her armour off, unwrapping her one layer after another.
Hungry as he was, he took his time, kissing every inch of the exposed skin with deliberate precision until there was nothing else untended and Diana's eyes were black and wild. Her armour fell to the floor without a sound and he lifted his arms to let her pull his undershirt over his head, her fingers smoothing down his rumpled hair.
"Don't laugh at my bedhead," Steve muttered hoarsely, his lips latching on her collarbone and moving down toward her breast, palms splayed over her back.
"I love your bedhead," she promised.
She pulled away, earning a low noise of protest, and then, a hand pressed into his chest, she pushed him back, and Steve complied if a little hesitantly, lying down and looking up at her quizzically, his chest heaving under her palm, under her control and blinded by the exhilaration of that feeling. Diana leaned in, capturing his mouth with hers, her hair a veil of black, tickling his chest.
"Let me…" she whispered so softly he almost missed it, her lips moving down his throat, peppering a path down his chest with small, purposeful kisses.
"Diana," he started, a plea and a warning.
"I love you," she murmured, kissing his sternum, her fingers tugging at the belt of his pants – did he not take them off? He couldn't remember.
His eyes dropped shut and he sucked in a shaky breath, allowing her to do anything, everything, the fire shooting from his core to the tips of his fingers, making his blood feel like molten gold, his mind spiraling into nothingness where there was nothing but him and her, and the bliss the likes of which Steve didn't know existed.
His awareness tunneled, the desire achingly sweet, the need for more growing exponentially with every moment, each touch of her hands electrifying, and he was uncertain if it'd be worse if she stopped or kept going.
"Stay with me," Diana whispered, shifting to hover over him, and he looked up slowly to find her watching him, her lips curled into a wicked smile.
Steve's hands flexed on her hips, desperate and needy, and she leaned in, kissing him again, swallowing a guttural moan that ripped from deep inside him when she took him in on a single slide, his hips snapping up to fill her to the brim, her gasp resonating through him.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, savouring the warm, languid sensation, their breaths ragged and short, and Jesus Chris, he loved her so much.
"You will be the death of me," Steve muttered, his hand tangled in her hair and his heart fluttering so fast he could barely breathe.
He tried to see her eyes, but it was too dark, and he was too distracted by her body, the feeling of her everywhere around him, and he wanted…
She pulled away, hands flat on his chest, moving slowly above him, half-teasing him, half-adamant to make it last, bringing him close with every rock and then going back to a more measured tempo, her gaze locked on his, and in the silver moonlight she look ethereal, entirely unearthly. Steve's fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, holding on to whatever he could reach, following her lead, the familiar dance of their bodies as easy as breathing.
Over the course of his life, Steve wondered more than once what it was that pushed people to fight for peace, for their lives; what was the essence of self-preservation when giving up was so much easier, so much simpler in many ways. He knew it now, saw it in Diana's face. Belonging. Solace in the arms of the loved one. It was worth everything. Her face streaked with silver light and shadows was blissful, happy, holding all the promises that transcended words.
Close now, so close…
Her breathing grew short, her movements more erratic, and Steve's grip on her tightened as he sat them up, Diana in his lap, a new angle leaving them both beathless. One hand on the small of her back, he buried his face into her neck as she wound her arms around him, his mouth finding that spot behind her ear that worked like magic. Diana's hands dug into his shoulders, sliding over his back and gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, the soft whispers peppered with his name and the words in languages he couldn't understand making him shiver with every inhale.
"It's okay," she murmured into his ear, and the sound of her voice pushed Steve over the edge.
His release seared through him and into her, muttered words morphing into a groan when she went limp in his arms, her lips dancing over his skin, a shower of affection.
Arms wrapped tightly around Diana, Steve fell back on the sheets, taking her with him, her hands stroking his face as she was murmuring something that drowned in the deafening blood rush in his ears, his bones liquefied in the best way imaginable, and his mind spiralling into nothingness and bliss.
"I love you," her voice registered with him, faint but there, her fingers framing his face, her forehead pressed to his.
And he wondered once again if this kind of longing could ever fade, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind with certainty that the answered was no.
xoox
This would not be the worst way to go, Steve thought, stretched out on his back, the world nothing but a kaleidoscope of light around him. His breath was nowhere to be found still, and he was quite certain that his heartbeat was loud enough to be heard by everyone for miles around them (and he refused to think of any other sounds that might or might not have been audible because at some point he simply stopped caring). Although the fact that no one broke down the damned door and barged in was rather promising.
His eyes drifted shut and he swallowed, trying to find his thoughts, anything that would prove he was still corporeal and not an abstract concept floating through time and space.
From the get go, Steve was hesitant to surrender to Diana's ministration, his own pleasure in pleasing her, in knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, adamant to prove that he wasn't 'unnecessary', the fear still lingering in the back of his mind no matter how many times she promised him that there was no need for it, not since their first night together.
However, his reservations aside, it was out-of-this-world incredible to give in to her, no price too dear.
"Am I dead?" Steve rasped when his ability to form coherent sentences returned, somewhat surprised to feel the breeze spilling in through the open window cool against his heated skin.
Stretched alongside him, a lazy smile on her face, Diana giggled. She pulled a thin sheet over them and shifted to press closer to him. "Far from it," she ducked her head to brush a kiss to his shoulder, his collarbone, earning a quiet curse in response. His whole body felt like an exposed nerve, like any touch could cause him to spontaneously combust. Again – not the worst way to go.
"Where on earth did you learn that… that thing that you did?" Steve asked, his lips twitching, finally founding it in him to crank one eye open, and then another.
She propped up on her elbow, her head resting on the heel of her hand, eyeing him with amusement and smug satisfaction. "That would be volume 11," she informed him nonchalantly.
Steve chocked on his breath and let out a strangled groan that made her laugh.
Right. The treatises on bodily pleasure.
"Jesus…" His arm curled around her waist. "Can I flip through them? At least some of them? Strictly for educational purposes."
"Educational, huh?" She echoed, grinning. "How about I… ah, provide a demonstration?"
His cheeks grew hot, and even in the dark, Steve knew that it couldn't have possibly escaped her attention. She was unapologetic about her wants and needs, never hesitating to follow her desires, and he loved her even more for that, even though her ability to make him turn red to the tip of his ears made Steve feel like he was walking on thin ice more often than not, never knowing when he might drown.
"Pease tell me I'm not going to get killed for doing what we just did with the daughter of the Queen." His voice was small and rather miserable even to his own ears.
"I'm not sure it's an offence, but let me go find out," Diana responded with a feigned frown and even started to pull away from him with enough determination to make his heart skip a beat.
Steve caught her by the wrist and tugged her back to him, a flicker of panic flashing across his face. "Don't…. it's not funny."
"Don't you trust me to keep you safe?" She asked, one eyebrow arched.
"How can I trust someone whom I've been begging for mercy not half an hour ago?" Steve countered.
Her smile widened. "Fair point."
"I don't… I don't want you to think that you have to keep me safe," he added softly, seriously.
"I know." She kissed him on the chest.
Steve felt the curve of her smile against his skin. "What?" He asked.
Diana looked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Someone told me today that you look at me like I'm your sun and stars when I'm not looking," she responded, struggling to keep her grin at bay, her voice low like she was sharing a secret.
"That is not true," Steve shook his head, his face solemn.
She tilted her head to her shoulder, "Is it not?"
"No." He finger slid under her chin, his gaze holding hers. "That's how I always look at you, whether or not you see it." He drew her to him, brushing a feather light kiss to her brow.
"Mm-hm," she hummed.
Steve traced his thumb along her chin. "I love you, princess."
The corners of her mouth tugged up. "No one here calls me that," she informed him.
"Huh? What do they call you?"
"Diana. My mother… she made sure that I always understood that being her daughter was a responsibility, not a privilege. That I was not above everyone else simply because of who I was. I've always been more on display, my victories as well as my mistakes never going unnoticed." Her fingers were tracing the line of an old scar on his shoulder as she spoke, her tone a mixture of wistfulness and contemplation. "It was an honour to be brought up the way I was, though."
Steve ran his hand absently up and down her spine. "So, no special treatment then? There goes my dream of being a royalty."
Diana draped her arm over his chest and rested her chin on the back of her hand, watching him in the moonlight. "Maybe a little," she admitted. "But I was raised to be a warrior first and everything else second."
He studied her for a long moment, his hand playing with a strand of her hair. "You're staying, right? Here, with me?"
"Mm, would you want me to?" She pulled away from him just far enough to trail her hand along his chest and down his stomach, a feather-light touch that earned her a muttered curse and a sharp inhale.
"Oh god," Steve breathed out. "I don't think I can..."
She laughed softly and traced her finger over his cheek. "You're tired. Sleep."
He swallowed. "Not exactly what I meant."
"I know." She leaned in to kiss him. "We can get back to that later."
"Stay," he repeated, just in case, the idea of waking up alone unsettling at best. To this point, all of this felt more like a dream in and of itself. She was his anchor, and Steve liked it that way.
"I will," she scooted closer to him, resting her head on his chest, one leg draped over one of his - a possessive gesture that he loved to no end – and let out a long breath, melting into the warmth of his body.
"Diana?" He asked quietly, clinging to the thin film of consciousness, already teetering on the brink of wakefulness.
"Mm?"
"Does it bother them that I'm here?"
She stayed quiet for a while, her finger drawing slow patterns on his skin. "Not that you're here, but your being here is the change that is… strange. Unheard of." He could hear a small smile in her voice. "They are curious, some of them never saw a person from your world before, especially a man." A pause. "You have nothing to worry about."
"Because I'm with you?" He stroked her hair absently.
"Because we're not the enemy."
xoox
It was odd – familiar and new at the same time.
To Diana, Themyscira always was a solid constant, stillness in the ever-changing chaos, and there was comfort in that. The kind of comfort that she couldn't find anywhere else. This was a place where she could catch her breath if needed be, where she could find herself again.
But with Steve there, she couldn't help but feel the two of her worlds colliding, much like the way the stars were born when the galaxies rammed into one another, all explosions and light and something new and beautiful at the end of it. Nothing had changed and yet everything was different, and she could feel her universe tilt and shift and spin in the opposite direction, the suddenness of it leaving her with a sense of vertigo.
In her mind, Themyscira belonged only to her, the way the memories of his past were only Steve's, and then seemingly out of nowhere he was poking his nose into every room of the palace, and having an affinity for her horse because he was the fastest apparently, and getting beetroot red at the attention from her mother's guards and the villagers that he was not accustomed to, somewhat unsure whether he should be flattered or terrified. The kitchen ladies were in love with him, Diana could see that much, and seemingly on a mission to fatten him up, she suspected. She even caught him more once trying to show them how an omelette was supposed to be made or something of that kind.
Standing in the kitchen door with her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulder propped against the stone wall, Diana watched him explain something to the same women that allowed her as a little girl to have dessert before dinner when her mother wasn't looking, his voice too soft for her to hear what he was saying. And they were listening with intense curiosity, hanging on to his every word and eyeing him like he was a museum rarity. And already, she could hardly remember this place without him. It made no sense, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it, but watching him now, engaged in stirring something in a huge pot while making the cooks laugh at his jokes, made her chest tighten with warmth and affection she never knew she was capable of feeling. Never knew they even existed inside her.
Steve looked up then and spotted her, comically puzzled, a spoon in his mouth and a wordless What? spoken only with his raised eyebrows.
Diana laughed, unable to hold it back. It was kind of incredible how only a few moments ago she thought she couldn't love him more, and yet…
"I'm taking it this is not a social visit," Hippolyta noted a few days later when they were standing above the training field, Diana's gaze darting between the vast expanse of the ocean beyond it and a small figure that was trying and epically failing to keep up with the warriors who had thousands of years of training on him.
Steve had asked her earlier if he could have a taste of what the majority of Diana's life was like before he'd literally fallen from the sky. If nothing else, Diana thought it was highly entertaining to watch him try with enviable determination to do what everyone else was doing.
"I wanted to…" she started, wincing a little when Artemis easily knocked him off the wooden platform like it was nothing, and he landed on the soft grass with a groan and a wince. "That must hurt," Diana noted, struggling not to smile. She glanced at her mother. "I wanted you to meet. Without the soldiers. Without death. I wanted you to see him for what he really is."
Hippolyta's eyes swept over the warriors, still unaccustomed to not seeing her sister among them.
"You don't need my approval," she said.
Not an accusation or a reproach. A simple fact.
"He wouldn't be here if you disapproved," Diana noted. She was certain that Hippolyta wouldn't let Steve set his foot on the island if she was against his presence here, not for her daughter, not for anyone else. Her eyes shifted toward Menalippe who was holding to the side of the field, guarded and openly displeased over the man's presence. Hippolyta's gaze followed Diana's. "She will never forgive him. For what happened on the beach, for Antiope."
"She can forgive anything to anyone for you," Hippolyta replied without a trace of doubt in her voice. "Give her time. It wasn't easy on anyone."
It wasn't, Diana thought. On her mother more than anyone. To lose a sister and a child in a span of a few days must have taken its toll on her even though there was nothing about her now that betrayed it. Still, Diana had felt a pang of guilt before, when she was leaving that first time, and she was still feeling it now.
"I know." For a long moment, the silence between them was only interrupted by the clanking of swords and hollers of excitement and protest, softened by the wind. "Something happened to him," Diana added quietly after a while. "On the night when Ares died. Something that his people don't have an explanation for. Steve was meant to die then, and once again, not long ago." She turned to Hippolyta. "When I came back here, after the war, you told me something about him coming back for a reason… I thought you might be able to tell me more."
Hippolyta flinched a little when Steve failed to deflect another blow, choosing to roll away from an attack, her features softening momentarily.
"You look happy," she noted without turning to her daughter.
"I am," Diana admitted.
"I don't want to take that away from you." Hippolyta's voice grew rueful. "That's the thing about the truth, Diana… once it's out, you can never take it back."
"It's not my life and not my decision to make," Diana murmured. "And it can't be worse than not knowing."
Below them, Steve looked up and saw her, his hand rising to wave at her. She could see his smile even from over a hundred feet away, his eyes squinted against the glare of the sun – a moment before he landed face-first on the ground, that is. He was going to regret this later, she mused, but there was something in seeing him try that was beyond endearing. It occurred to her then that to Steve, this also must have felt like a clash of two realities that were meant to run parallel to one another but never cross paths.
They were together in this.
"He seems like a good man."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Diana's mouth. "Might be the best of them all."
After a few long moments, Hippolyta nodded, and the decision was made.
xoox
"No, really, what is it?" Steve asked a few hours later when they found their way to the underground pools that gleamed faintly in the dark.
Diana insisted they come here, saying that his bruised and battered body would thank him later, and Steve knew better than to object, finding the idea of healing after being tossed around like a rag doll undeniably appealing. That, and maybe the whole joined bathing thing, but that wasn't exactly the point, or so he tried to pretend as he followed Diana down the already familiar steps to the caverns underneath the castle, their footsteps echoing under the domed ceiling.
Sitting neck-deep in the water now, his back resting against the rough stone wall of the pool and Diana's – against his chest as he cradled her close to him, he ran his hand along the surface, his fingers leaving a trail of blue light behind.
She laughed her throaty laugh that made goosebumps rise on Steve's skin.
"It's magic," she responded, and he couldn't tell if she was being serious or merely teasing him. God knew, both were equally possible.
"No, I mean, there's got to be—are those some microorganisms that do that?" He pressed, wrapping his arms loosely around her, seeping in her warmth, all velvet and silk against his skin.
Diana turned her head and kissed his bicep. "Does it matter?"
"My inquisitive mind can't deal with not knowing," he deadpanned, and she burst out laughing. "What?" Steve demanded, mock-offended.
"You come here and you still don't believe in magic?" She shook her head, her hair gathered in a messy twist on the top of her head brushing against his cheek.
"I believe in you," he chuckled. "Close enough."
She looked up and locked her gaze with his, her lips curved into a small smile. "That's very generous of you."
"Isn't that what you said when…" he trailed off, feeling his face grow hot, and cleared his throat, struggling to keep the self-indulging grin at bay. She shouldn't have looked as triumphant as she did, but, Jesus, the woman sure knew how to keep him on his toes without even trying, and how eagerly he was swallowing every bait and stepping into every trap. Steve let out a long breath and brushed a kiss to her hair. "You think you want to stay here?"
"In the water? Sure, why not."
"Not here here."
"On Themyscira?" Diana asked, running her fingertips along his forearm. She closed her hand over his and laced their fingers together. "No, we can't. You can't."
"I can't?" Steve frowned, trying to remember if it was mentioned that his visit had an expiration date. Were they going to haul him off and toss him into the ocean?
"Wouldn't you miss your world?" She leaned back against him.
The tightness in his chest eased instantly. His lips curved humourlessly, and for once, he was glad that Diana couldn't see it. What was there to miss? Death and destruction and uncertainty, her presence the only light in his life that mattered. He couldn't lose her, not again.
"You're my world," he whispered into her ear, his grip on her tightening like she could slip out of his grasp if he didn't hold fast.
"I'm serious," Diana pressed.
"Me, too." He wasn't sure that he was until the words came out of his mouth, and then suddenly, it seemed like the most logical, the most natural decision. So long as she wanted him, he didn't care about the technicalities. If she asked him to move to the moon, he'd simply start packing, no questions asked. "If you want to stay, we'll stay. It'll probably be a while before using me as a punching bag will stop being fun for your… are you all related somehow?"
Her thumb was running over his knuckles. Steve felt her amusement. "No."
"Oh, well, for your friends and family, then."
"How bad is it?" Diana asked, tilting her head to nuzzle into his jaw.
He grimaced a little. "I might have to skip walking for a while. Or moving in general. And a person doesn't need both of their kidneys anyway, right?"
"I'll ask them to go easy on you," she promised sympathetically.
"Don't," he blurted out, horrified. "I'd rather have bruised ribs than a bruised ego. Besides—"
"Diana."
A woman – Aella, Steve thought, what with the names still blurring a bit in his mind – was standing at the mouth of the cave, and he nearly went underwater in surprise, more self-aware and flustered than he was comfortable with and unable to help it.
Diana straightened up and turned around, not particularly concerned, judging by her body language. If the other woman cared about the intimacy of the situation she'd walked in on, she didn't show it, either. Unlike the notorious spy who should probably have a better poker face, naked or not, and Steve hated himself for it.
"The Queen wants to see you. Now."
"What about?" Diana asked.
But to that, Aella only shook her head – either unaware, or choosing to let the Queen deal with it herself.
Nevertheless, Diana nodded and pulled herself up from the water. "I'll be right over."
She stepped out of the pool and reached for the sheet that was meant to serve as a towel lying folded near where she'd left her armour earlier to dry herself off. Steve tried not to stare. Their lack of any kind of self-consciousness was still catching him off guard even now, after all these years. Even after being around Diana long enough to stop being surprised by anything, least of all nudity and her ease about it. It still felt uncomfortable somehow to look at her lithe form in the presence of another person despite knowing her body better than her knew his own.
Yeah, okay, maybe that was the problem, he thought.
Aella's eyes flickered toward him.
"And your… guest," she added, making Steve wish he'd gone through with the 'waiting at the bottom of the pool' plan as he wanted from the start, concerned not so much about his nakedness, per se, as about a rather prominent bite mark on his shoulder, courtesy of Diana after they'd gotten a little carried away the previous night, and this was exactly the kind of information that he didn't want to share with anyone. Let alone with the people who might or might not be having some sort of family connection to the woman he was sleeping with. It was like walking blindfolded on a minefield, never knowing which step could be his last one. Here – literally so.
"We'll be there in a minute," Diana promised nonchalantly, and after that, Aella finally left and Steve exhaled at last. There was simply no way he would have gotten out of the pool otherwise. Still, his eyes remained on the entrance to the cave for another moment. "You need help standing up?" Diana smirked. "Steve?"
He snapped his head around, biting back a question about maybe having some doors installed here and there. "Hm? What? No."
He scrambled up to his feet with much less grace than Diana a minute ago, and she handed him a spare sheet, already busy putting on her armour. For a long moment, he allowed his gaze to linger on her body, sliding slowly up her calves and along her infinitely long legs, following the movements of her hands, every motion graceful and deliberate, like a well-choreographed dance as she affixed the bodice and the skirt in place, the wisps of hair that escaped her twist coiling at the nape of her neck.
God only knew how he resisted the urge to touch them, trace his fingertips along her skin.
Diana looked up, a silent question in her eyes pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Is everything okay?" Steve asked, gaze darting toward the entrance to the cave.
"Yes." Her features softened, and she stepped toward him when he still didn't move. Her palm curled over his jaw as she kissed him, chasing his concerns away. "Yes," she repeated, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "I would suggest you put something on now," she added, smiling. "I don't think my mother wold appreciate this," her finger trailed down his chest, making Steve suck in his breath and wish that the audience with the Queen wasn't on the agenda, "as much as I do."
xoox
Queen Hippolyta was standing by the fire place when Steve followed Diana into her chambers, looking at the flames, her face a mask of dancing shadows.
"Long ago—long before your time," she started without turning to Diana who paused behind her mother, "Zeus left us a prophecy about a daughter of god who was destined to change the man's world. She was meant to be taken away by the sky vessel to save mankind. At the time, it meant nothing to any of us. And then you were born, Diana."
Steve grew still.
He had never been here before, his eyes darting from Diana to her mother to the lavish furnishings of what looked like a study leading to the bedroom in the back, to Hippolyta again, his mind reeling. it took him a moment too long to notice Menalippe who was standing in the back, pointedly not looking at anyone in particular. She was perhaps the only person apart from Diana and Hippolyta who Steve could single out at a glance, and he figured that the almost palpable hostility radiating off her was the reason for that.
He dragged his gaze away from her, lest she notice him staring. Who know where that might go?
"I didn't think much about it until…" Hippolyta continued when no on spoke, and then trailed off, her jaw clenched against the words she didn't want to say. Steve could feel the effort she put into looking straight ahead without turning to her daughter.
"But we didn't leave by-" Steve spoke and cut himself off.
Semantics.
It was a 'sky vessel' that brought him here. He figured that for the gods, the details didn't matter.
Not that anyone seemed to hear him regardless.
"Captain Trevor was meant to come here; it was his destiny as much as it was yours to leave, Diana." The Queen looked so stiff it seemed like she could snap in half any second, her voice tight. "He didn't die on the night you defeated Ares because he was not supposed to. Not yet."
"I don't understand…" Diana was staring at her mother who finally turned around slowly, a frown lodged between her eyebrows and her mouth working soundlessly as she tried to put her messy thoughts into words.
"Am I immortal?" Steve asked from behind her, the whole conversation so surreal it sounded half absurd, half insane, the very notion of fate being used in this context entirely ludicrous.
Hippolyta's gaze shifted to him. "No," she shook her head. "You will go when your time comes."
Which would be…? he wanted to prod, the question rolling on his tongue, but the words tasted foul in his mouth somehow, and the answer was something he decidedly didn't want to hear, even if there was one. And so he clamped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together for good measure, his escalated heartbeat and the heavy smell of incense making him dizzy.
It made sense, he guessed. As much as anything could make sense in the world where the women living on a secluded island referred to gods like it wasn't a big deal, like one could walk into this room any moment now. Which probably wasn't that much of a stretch, come to think of it. If nothing else, Diana was the daughter of one after all.
Although it hardly made Hippolyta's words any less outlandish, impossible.
"So, what does it mean, exactly?" He asked not without caution.
Hippolyta raised her chin, her eyes assessing him. "You're alive," was all she said before turning to Diana. She shook her head. "I suppose this answer should suffice."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Diana asked, her face a mask, her voice barely betraying the hurt. One had to know her well to hear it.
Hippolyta's eyes flickered toward Menalippe who still resembled a statue, her shoulders so tense it must have hurt. "I didn't make the connection until after it happened. And then you were gone."
"But I came back, and you still said nothing."
There was accusation and betrayal to Diana's tone, and suddenly, Steve felt like an intruder, wishing he could simply sneak out and let them finish the conversation without the prying eyes, or ears, in his case. It wasn't like anything that were to be said from this moment on could make him unhear what he'd already learned. Whether or not he believed it was another story altogether, but they might need to take one step at a time.
"And you refused to speak of anything that happened to you in man's world," her mother added. "At the time… I thought it didn't matter anymore." Her features softened, the line of her mouth less sharp, and when she spoke to Diana again, her eyes flickered toward Steve. "You're happy, you said so yourself. Must you question the will of gods, Diana? Captain Trevor lived because you needed him to."
"But… why?"
"You tell me."
Diana glanced at Steve as well, and then nodded, more in acknowledgement than gratitude, he could practically hear the wheels in her mind turn. Her hands balled into fists and then uncurled slowly.
"It's late," Hippolyta said after a few moments when the silence hanging between them grew too heavy. "I believe you had an eventful day." And maybe Steve was only imagining it, but he had a distinct suspicion that she was speaking of his fighting misadventures, and hopefully not whatever happened in the caves.
Come to think, he was in luck that Hippolyta had other people to carry her messages for her.
Diana nodded again and looked away from her mother. "Yes, we should… I will see you in the morning."
"And, Diana?" Hippolyta's voice called after them when Steve already pulled the door open, both of them stopping in their tracks. "I arranged for Captain's belongings to be moved to your chambers. For everyone's convenience."
xoox
"Well, this was… informative," Steve breathed out when the door to Diana's room closed behind them and leaned against it, rubbing his forehead as if he could physically rearrange his thoughts, somehow having more questions than before the conversation with the Queen.
Diana walked over to the vanity table and started to unfasten her bracelets, her fingers pulling at the buckles automatically with sure, practiced moves. He watched her in silence, her back rigid and her lips pressed together, the sharp outline of her profile seemingly etched from a piece of granite.
"Do you think it's real at all?" She asked after a long moment, her voice hollow somehow.
He grimaced a little and ran his hand over his hair, not quite certain that he'd actually heard what he thought he heard, and maybe asking Hippolyta to repeat it all, and slower this time, wasn't that bad an idea. "Well, from my perspective, the whole notion of fate…"
"No," she interjected, placing her bracelets down next to her hairbrush, still not looking at him, "I mean us. You and me. Is it real or are we just following that path because it was laid out before us?"
Steve's pulse stuttered. He swallowed and then pushed off the door, stepping toward her and stopping again, trying to hear how it all sounded to her as he racked his brain for something to say and coming up empty. For the second time in less than an hour, he felt dizzy from the enormity of something that he didn't know how to process
Of course, it was real. It was the realest thing that ever happened to him.
"I don't know what brought me here, a coincidence or something that was predestined long before either of us existed," Steve said at last, "but I never had to fall in love you. Nothing… no gods could make it happen against my will."
Diana looked up then, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her face a storm of emotions – doubt, confusion, disbelief, all mixed into one until there was a hurricane raging in her eyes.
"Do you really believe that?"
Cold fear trickled down his spine as he watched her, struggling to ignore the panic churning inside him. "Do you not? You think it'd be different if you knew? You think it's different now? Now that you know…" he trailed off.
"No, Steve, never," she responded without hesitation and ran an unsteady hand through her hair, her eyes begging him to understand. "I'm just… I'm tired of those half lies. And…" she offered him a small, sad smile. "It would've been nice to have a heads-up before I knew what it's like to watch you die and think I'd never see you again, however it all works."
He rubbed his cheek, his skin prickly with stubble. "Yeah, maybe for that."
If anything, Steve thought, he should be the scared one, considering that 'his time' was hardly a definitive measure, and technically, he could probably drop dead any moment if some higher power decided that he'd served his purpose, whatever it was. It was a peculiar feeling though, to know that the overwhelming amount of new information left him numb to the ramifications of… whatever happened to him. He wasn't sure that he believed Hippolyta, the very idea of destiny sounding utterly ludicrous in his mind, but there was nothing else, no other explanation he could hold on to.
And then he remembered something…
"You told your mother that you were happy," he noted, hoping he didn't sound as self-satisfied as he felt, his voice dropping and his smile getting less strained, less uncertain.
Diana allowed her lips to stretch wider, concerned lines on her face smoothing out. She trailed her fingers along the marble surface of her vanity table before turning to him, even the line of her shoulders relaxing before Steve's eyes.
"It's never been a secret, has it?" She pointed out.
"Yes, but…" he cleared his throat, certain that saying anything else would be begging for praise. There was nothing in all of creation that could explain this, them, and the fact that he somehow got someone like her to love him. It never ceased to amazing Steve, and he knew that it never would. His eyes skittered around for a second before fastening on hers again. "That story, the prophecy…" it felt odd to say it, and he wondered if she heard it, his skepticism that he simply couldn't help, at least for now. "It changes nothing, Diana. You're still everything to me. You're my whole universe."
She glanced away and he stepped toward her, hands framing her face, lifting it until their eyes met again. "C'mere," Steve leaned his forehead to hers for a moment before brushing a kiss to it. "I mean it, every word." Her fingers closed around fistfuls of his shirt as Steve pulled her to him. He let out a slow breath. "Let's go to bed, okay? It's late and I feel like someone beat me with a stick. Which I'm pretty sure is exactly what happened."
A faint smile touched Diana's lips. "At least I get to sleep in my own bed for once."
"I didn't hear you complain last night, or the five before that," Steve countered, feeling the mood change, the air around them less charged by the second.
He helped her take her armour off, as familiar with it by now as she was. He slipped the long gown over her head, making her laugh – "I'm not a child, Steve," - and stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before crawling into bed next to her, bone-tired. Diana rolled over to curl into him, her breathing already deep and relaxed, and Steve felt the tension lift off him. She kissed him before tucking her head under his chin, her body nestled into his.
"Are you okay?" She asked softly. "I know it's a lot—it's not what I expected to hear."
"Yeah." He wasn't. He wasn't sure that he was but okay was not the word for that. However… "Your mother is right. Being alive should be enough, no?"
"I can't imagine it being otherwise."
"You really refused to speak of me?" Steve breathed out after a pause, unsure if he actually said it out loud until she responded.
"I missed you. It hurt," Diana admitted, and then, "A universe, really?" She murmured into his shirt.
He pecked her on the crown of her head, finally allowing his eyes to drop shut. "All the stars and galaxies and everything else," he agreed, his mind slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber.
xoox
There had to be a map of this place, Steve decided the following day as he took another turn and instead of seeing a familiar staircase he was actually looking for, he ended up in yet another corridor. How big was this place, exactly? Maybe he could start on something while he was still here, map out the basics to maybe avoid getting lost for a dozen more times, and having to pretend that he was just 'having a look around' if someone asked.
This morning, he woke up to Diana already dressed and on the way to the door, her hair pulled into a tight braid, and he had no idea how she managed to look so radiant and awake this early in the morning when the sun barely inched over the horizon, the air still pleasantly cool, hours away from stifling humidity he was surprisingly getting used to. Yet, she was so beautiful it all but took his breath away.
"Stay," he murmured when she leaned over to kiss him a good morning.
She smiled, brushing her hand through his hair. "Sleep. I will get them to bring you some food."
"Or… we could eat it together," he offered, stealing another quick kiss.
"I'll see you later," she promised, pulling away from him, and Steve could probably think of a million other ways for them to spend this morning, but instead he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in her pillow that smelled like sunshine and Diana, and her laugh was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep again, warm in the early-morning sunlight and lulled by the whisper of the sea.
But that was a few hours ago, and the breakfast came and went, and eventually, he figured out that she was most likely taking advantage of being able to train properly while they were here – he proved being an enthusiastic but rather useless sparring partner for someone of her caliber and, well, strength, experience, endurance, and the list could go on for quite a while. His own muscles still ached from yesterday, and even though he was certain that no permanent internal damage was inflicted, Steve decided to steer clear of the training field for the time being.
Hence, trying to find the library that Diana mentioned the other day and that he, after everything she'd told him about this place, couldn't wait to sneak a peek at. Also, without her, Steve wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, and after the last night's conversation, he had too much on his mind and an endless urge to block it out for now.
Diana had explained to him earlier where to find the library and the throne room, which he requested out of sheer curiosity, however, it clearly wasn't detailed enough.
Steve was starting to think of going back where he came from, and maybe starting again – provided he could do that without getting even more stranded. And it wasn't like he had much of a choice. Maybe he could swing by the kitchen as well, he mused. They always had some treats for him, and he appreciated the company even if half of the residents of the castle still looked at him like he was some otherworldly creature.
Truth be told, half the time he felt that way.
And then he stopped short, caught off-guard when Hippolyta rounded the corner, followed by two women who walked half a step behind her in a perfect formation.
"Your Highness," Steve muttered, bowing his head on instinct and lowering his eyes. He took a step aside, moving out of the Queen's way.
He expected a curt nod and an impassive greeting in response before she was on her way, but instead she paused in her tracks, not quite surprised, but considering something.
"Captain. Is everything alright?" She asked after a moment of hesitation.
Steve glanced up. He wasn't sure how he felt about her, deep respect for the ruler of these people was mixing with slight irritation over what she'd put Diana through with the secrets that could have been avoided so easily.
For a moment, he thought of lying, telling her that he was heading someplace or other, however the idea of being called out on it – and he had a feeling that she'd know – was unsettling.
"Yes, I was just… I think I took the wrong turn," he admitted in the end, doing his best to stand taller and look more composed than he felt.
Hippolyta studied him for a second, her calm gaze locked with his, then nodded curtly, and Steve thought that this would be the end of their interaction. In all the time he'd spent here, she showed no hostility or animosity toward him, which was probably more than he could ask for, considering that he inadvertently was the reason of the German attack that led to the death of her sister and her daughter's departure from the island.
Truth be told, Steve wasn't sure he'd be this generous if he was in her shoes.
Yet, she expressed little to no interest in him, either, and aside from the previous night, they barely said a few words to one another, aside from an occasional greeting. Quite frankly, after he'd seen her stab and behead the German soldiers on that beach, the memory of which was still painfully fresh in his mind, this particular arrangement was fine with him.
Which only made his surprise so much more profound when Hippolyta asked, "Do you have a moment?"
He doubted it was really a question.
"Of course," he replied nonetheless and she brushed past him, leading the way.
Steve followed her down the corridor and through the tall set of doors into a cavernous room with high ceiling and a massive balcony overlooking the village below and an endless stretch of the brilliant water. He knew that it was impossible to see beyond the barrier that protected the island from the rest of the world, but had that not been the case, he was certain he'd be able to spot Italy, so clear the sky was.
The guards didn't follow them inside, and for a long moment, it was just him and the Queen, looking at the island from several hundred feet above everyone else.
"I wanted to thank you. For taking good care of my daughter," Hippolyta said just as he started to believe that the sole reason for her invitation was to show him the view.
Steve shifted form foot to foot, not knowing how to take it. "I'm not sure I do. Diana doesn't need anyone to take care of her. She is more than capable of doing it herself."
"I know. But I appreciate it nonetheless." He saw a faint smile cross her features, fleeting and gone before he knew it. "You don't believe me," Hippolyta added. "I don't expect you to. There's a reason why my people and yours don't coexist. Can't coexist."
Steve turned her words in his head, silent for a long second. "No, I do believe you." He wasn't sure she believed him when he said that, though. "However, there's more to the story than you told us, I believe that, too." Was this kind of honestly going to cost him his life, he wondered. "You're hard to read, you know. And I spent most of my life doing just that to survive."
Hippolyta didn't look at him, her gaze glued to something down below on the beach, and when Steve followed it, he spotted a few figures galloping along the surf, the water spraying from under the hooves of black stallions. Diana among them, unmistakable.
"She was a happy child," Hippolyta said, and he wasn't sure for a moment if she was talking to him or to herself. "She had a happy life here. But I have never seen her the way she is when you're around. It's like you ignited the light inside her that no one else could."
I love her, Steve thought, but the words didn't come out. He swallowed, following the figure below with his eyes, leaned close to the horse's neck, a tiny spot among half a dozen others, until they disappeared around the outcropping of rocks.
"She told me what happened to you, years ago, and recently, too. Told me that you could have died… should have died, but it didn't happen. Nothing did, in fact."
"Luck?" Steve suggested, not sure of there was a question in her words, a foreboding of something terrible settling in his stomach. "I thought you gave us an answer to that mystery already."
"Luck is for fools," Hippolyta shook her head. "As for what I said last night… The prophecy is real, and for my people, it's not an empty sound, regardless of whether it means anything to you or not, but ask yourself this – what was the common denominator in both of the instances when your life was supposed to end?"
She might have as well punched him in the stomach.
Steve's mouth went dry. "Diana."
How did he not think of that? Was he that blindsided?
"Only a god can grant life, Captain," Hippolyta said when Steve didn't respond. "Diana is the daughter of one."
She paused, waiting for the information to sink in, and once it did, Steve felt all air whiz out of his body. His fingers dug painfully into the marble railing of the balcony, unsteady all of a sudden on the floor that swayed beneath him.
He turned to Hippolyta slowly, half hoping that she would laugh, tell him she was joking.
She didn't.
"You mean, she did it?" He asked dumbly. "Diana did it? She… she revived me?" The word tasted odd in his mouth, not quite right, and Steve wished he hadn't said it.
Hippolyta's voice softened. "I think Diana wanted you to live so bad that she found the power inside her to make it happen."
"Is that why I don't age anymore?"
"You must understand that there had never been anyone like her, maybe never will be again. Her powers, the strength she carried inside her… I don't think anyone truly know what she is capable of. Not even Diana' herself."
Steve's mouth went dry and his voice was raspy when he spoke. "Does she know? That she… that she's capable of doing that?"
"I don't think so. Otherwise she'd try to do more, save the others."
There was something about her tone, the way she hesitated to choose her words very carefully and an unmistakable concern that made Steve sick to his stomach.
"Did it do anything to her? Helping me?" He asked softly, his whole body humming like he was going to pass out, like someone suddenly sucked all oxygen out of the room.
Hippolyta stayed quiet for a few seconds too long, allowing only the rustling of the trees in the breeze and the gentle whisper of the surf far below the castle to fill the space between them. He knew the answer then, before she gave sound to it.
"You would probably know that better than me," she responded when Steve was starting to think that the conversation was over, that maybe she'd figured that he'd put two and two together. That maybe she gave him at least some credit, after all, although the realization had a bittersweet tang to it. "Whether or not she's gotten weaker."
He swallowed hard, the bile rising up his throat.
How could he be so stupid?
In Paris, she was power incarnate, anything but weak, but that bloody cut she'd gotten on the glass a few months back, the one that he had to tend to in his hole of an apartment in Berlin… it should have been gone in minutes.
When they were in London, after that time when she went to Germany without him while he was still stuck in the damned hospital, it took her longer to heal than usual, the cuts and bruises lingering on her skin for a few days instead of disappearing within hours. At the time, Steve didn't think much of it. She was still no match to any human, his own healing painfully slow by comparison. He even joked about how her bones probably couldn't break at all. Hell, any human would get disintegrated if they attempted to do what she'd done between the First World War and now.
But for her, it was not the same. For her, it had to have been different, had to have felt different.
He never forgot about who Diana was – what she was – not for a moment, but she wasn't made of glass and steel, her strength tamed around him enough to dim the memories of her ripping through armies like they were nothing. In his arms, she was simply a woman, soft and warm, often needing to remind him that he didn't have to be so delicate with her and treat her like she could break under his touch. Sometimes, he forgot to remember that her strength was inherent and crucial, that she needed that undercurrent of power surging through her to survive the things that she was putting herself through to save mankind when no one else could or would.
Did this mean that saving him broke her?
"What I do know is that those dreams she's having," Hippolyta spoke again when Steve didn't anything, not needing his answer, "they're not hers."
He inhaled sharply. "Mine? Are they mine?"
I'm still doing it to her, hurting her.
"Why are you telling me this?" He asked, the words rolling like dry pebbles in his mouth, choking him. "Why now? Why not last night?"
"Because it's not about Diana, it's about you, Captain Trevor." She pressed her lips together, as if debating whether or not to say more. "I've paid a very high price for keeping the truth about Diana's father from her, and I'm not going to do it again, but this is your life and what you do with this information is up to you." He could barely hear her through the blood pumping in his ears. "The one thing I want you to remember, Captain, is that Diana would do anything to protect you."
Steve's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white and his breathing shallow. He inhaled and then exhaled slowly, trying to get a grip on reality again.
"Would it be better for her if I…" he swallowed, hard, "if I wasn't around?"
Hippolyta turned to him, her face grief-stricken and her eyes tired – the first real emotions she'd let slip since Steve met her.
"Don't do it," she shook her head. "Don't break my daughter's heart."
Steve nodded, more to himself than to her. "I'm taking it as a yes," he muttered, holding her gaze – a boldness he'd never allowed himself before. Not that he had that much to lose now. Jesus Christ…
"It's not why I told you this."
"Then why?"
"Because you deserve to know."
"At this point, I'm not sure I deserve anything," he breathed out.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out, and after a second or two, Steve turned away, his eyes on the brightness of the ocean, and the sun that made it look like someone scattered a handful of diamond along its surface and they were glimmering so blindingly it hurt to look.
He tried to find comfort in the fact that at least Hippolyta didn't lie to his face, but it felt like a small consolation.
To be continued...
A/N: Thank you for the amazing feedback and all the love, I appreciate it beyond words!
Feel free to have a go at what you think will happen next...