Part II: Fallen Beloved

Amazon dead littered the beach. It only occurred to Steve Trevor after the fact, that the woman who gave her life for Diana must've been family. He sat in the cavern spring, thinking over the last day of his life. Not the part with golden whip, that was too personal for him to admit to himself moment.

ßßß

He spent most of it in the air, luckily was able to sto refuelling station after his explosive engagement with Dr. Maru and Ludendorff. They hadn't sent word quick enough, and the workers of the island airstrip weren't about to refuse a battered pilot. It was only minutes after departing there when they got the wire, that there was a rogue pilot headed their way, and he was to be taken alive if possible. However, Trevor never new about the 'take him alive' order, as it would be death for him no matter what happened if the Germans caught up with him. When he was clear, he peeked inside the notebook, which he had enclosed in the folds of his woollen jacket lining. It was gibberish. Well, at least to the American. There were no discernable Arabic numerals or English letters of any kind.

Though the pilot was quite angry with Dr. Maru, for a litany of reasons, he had to admire exceptional tradecraft when he saw it, and even a spy like him who had just less than a decade of experience working on and off behind German lines in peace and war, there was just nothing he could make of the notebook. The wind was whistling around him, a high note amid the cacophony of his stolen aircraft. He closed the notebook; it was actually quite beautiful, with a distinctly feminine weave of gold around the borders of the emerald-dyed leather, highlighted in the pale glory of the moon.

And then at once, a hail of gunfire passed just over his shoulder and shredded the engine block. His plane began to smoke as he looked over his shoulder at a lone fighter that had pursued him from the airstrip in the middle of the Mediterranean. He noticed the wobble of its wings, denoting an inexperienced hand guiding the vehicle. Without a shred of pity, he turned off the engine and pulled up, hard. His plane climbed in a sudden steep arc as his enemy flew under him, foolishly accelerating. Steve miscalculated, this wasn't an inexperienced pilot, and it was probably the blond boy who filled his tank less than an hour ago. A sentiment ran through his head from the last drink he shared with Sameer, May we never get what we deserve!

What followed was brutal; Steve angled downward while activating his machine guns. As sweeping arc of gunfire tore the wing off the rookie's plane, sending him screaming into the water in a far too steep dive that killed the boy and exploded the plane on impact. And the final part of that drinking salute: bang!

However, the manoeuvre cost him most of his altitude. He was gliding now. His speed had nearly vanished. A searchlight cut through the night, and while Trevor was momentarily relived it had missed him, the beam of light seemed to stop against the ethereal barrier of fog up ahead.

A dense fog eclipsed the moon, a fog unlike anything Steve Trevor had seen with the exception of the poison gasses released on the battlefield. Instinctively, he held his breath, though deep down he knew Dr. Maru couldn't be responsible for this, it was only cloud.

But then there was a terrible shudder through his craft. He had hit something that slammed him forward in his seat and mangled the entire body of the plane. But that's not what caught his attention at first. The first thought that went through his brain was, 'I thought it was night time.'

The sun looked down on him as he crashed into the clearest waters he'd ever seen. Before passing out, he looked up and saw an angel outlined against the backdrop of the sun.

The girl who plucked him from the sea was looking at him oddly. Hungrily? No, not quite. Just…oddly, curiously, like she had never seen– "You're a man," she pronounced as if she had discovered, well, something much more than just a man.

Um, did something go horribly wrong with my face in the crash? "Do I not look like one?" Steve replied, more panicky than he'd ever admit to.

The rending apart of steel brought his attention away from the angel who'd saved him and back to the German naval forces that had caught up with him. How the hell did they catch up with me? I must've been hours ahead of them. Little did Mr. Trevor know, time did not travel the same here on the island.

With a few words, Germans, bad guys, and run, the two neared the rocks for cover. "Get away from her," a voice echoed down from the cliff top. But there were a few muffled words until the universal one, "Fire!"

"They have guns, right?" Steve beseeched the tall girl who had pulled him from the sea.

In minutes, German blood coloured the sand, as Steve witnessed the most wondrous combat he'd ever seen. The cavalry had arrived, cutting through the German recon division like a scythe through grain. After gaining a rifle, and clearing the area directly around him, Steve's attention was drawn to the woman who had led the charge. He felt no shame admitting to himself that he'd never seen her parallel, in all the men who he'd served with in combat. She had taken down at least ten men in close, mid, and far quarters with just her bow and arrows and hands.

PING!

PING!

The rapid sound of deflecting bullets drew Steve's eye after he shot another German. One of the warriors was pinned down by three Germans, who were taking shots at her from a few meters away from behind a rock. The woman was bent double, her shield deflecting each killing shot. The fear in her expression was palpable, her eyes closed shut, teeth gritted in effort, and her shield shook at each shot.

Steve wasn't the only one who noticed this woman in need. "SHIELD!" The Best Warrior shouted, picking up three arrows as she sprinted toward her comrade. Steve was astonished, a commander who clearly cared for one of her subordinates. A Commander who left herself open to opposing fire as she cut her way across the turf in confident strides. Steve didn't see it until she was a metre from her comrade. The expression on her face: at once, elation, bloodlust, fear, concern, and something that Steve had trouble admitting to himself. There was love in this great warrior's eyes as she made herself the prime target by having her besieged ally launch her towards the enemy.

The whole think took less than ten seconds. The three Germans were dead, but that was when the great warrior noticed something Steve had missed, "NO!" She launched herself in front of a shot meant for…the girl who saved Steve's life. Steve managed to make her sacrifice worthwhile as he dead-eyed soldier who was still pointing his rifle at Steve's saviour; the soldier fleetingly unconcerned he had just ended a beautiful life, before he too hit the beach as a corpse.

The next few moments were a blur; the saviour ran over to her fallen commander, stepping over dead soldiers and her people alike, grief surrounded her like an aura. There was a murmured name Steve didn't catch, as the cloaked woman knelt beside her fallen sister.

But the cry of sorrow that Steve Trevor recognized best was that of the Beloved. How many times had he heard that exact sound of grief? The moment a wife finds out her husband had been claimed by the hell of war. This woman made that exact sound of sorrow as she crashed down, defeated, next to the body of her beloved, clutching her hand and stoking her hair in vain, murmuring her name all the time.