Chapter 37

Diana continued to return to Exile, praying to her Mother and the Gods in private every night at dusk, though never again did the former queen appear to her daughter. Sometimes she would come with Donna, or Philipus, or Antiope, but on most nights, such as this one, she would come alone.

Philipus, who never held any ill will towards the actual citizens of Atlantis and whose respect and trust of Arthur had been restored when he risked his own life to return Diana to Themyscira, had spoken with the master architect of the island, Gorgo, knowing she was a great lover of Atlantian architecture, and had her begin plans should Arthur decide to contact Diana, and should she offer the help. They wanted to be prepared.

Diana remembered when Philipus, proud of Gorgo's work, had presented the idea to the queen. "We have even spoken to some of the builders and sculptors; they are willing to work under water," she had said.

Diana had never been prouder of her sisters than she was then. While the wounds of war would take a long time to heal, it seems as though the Amazons were taking great leaps forward to try and mend the gap between the two great civilizations. They were bringing forth the ideals that had been presented to them by Aphrodite; to heal the wounds and ugliness and hatred of war and xenophobia with love, and community, and unity. And still, Diana refused to reach out to Arthur.

"Have you been in touch with the Atlantian?" Gorgo would ask, eager to show off her work and get a real Atlantian's perspective on her interpretations of their classical architecture, not all that different from that which the Amazons preferred.

"No," Diana would always reply, without elaboration or debate; the answer was always No.

And so, alone on Exile, watching the sun dip down she took a deep breath, preparing herself to return to the main island, when a voice caught her attention.

"Purple always suited you."

Arthur!

She turned around, and while her feet were firmly rooted on the ground, she had a hard time holding back a rush of emotion which compelled the Queen to throw herself into his arms and hold on like some love sick school girl, or shower him in kisses the way Mera had in the past. Instead, her turn was slow, the hem of her robe flaring out around her ankles as she did.

"Arthur," she spoke his name with a smile, feeling relieved he was alright, that he hadn't left the island only to succumb to his injuries, or to face an a challenger for his throne whom he might have been able to defeat were he healthy only to fall because he was not. "You look well."

"So do you," he said, rising out of the waves to meet her on the shore. She noticed he carried something in his hands: the diadem! The memory came back to her quickly now; she had worn it to meet Arthur and ask for his help, it must have come off while they were fighting the sea monster. "I found this in the palace wreckage…" He said, offering it out to her. "I figured, I should return it."

She remembered his bitter words when she had previously reached out to him, throwing the same tiara into the depths in hopes of him returning it and mending the relationship. He returned it, but only because he didn't want her "stink" reminding him of her. It was as if the filter had turned off, and Diana was not in full control of her voice when she spoke, "You didn't want my "stink" haunting your brooding time?" She regretted the words instantly.

There was a flash of anger in the eyes of the Atlantian King, but he remembered those had been his words previously, and as bitter as they were then, and for all that had passed between them, while Arthur was hurt she should throw his words back in his face, he understood the pain and insult that he had issued when he had said them before. "No," he spoke softly, walking towards her. "Because like all Amazon treasures, it deserves to be in the sun," he whispered to her, something he would have said when they were courting. It was a line; he only half-heartedly meant it, but better to half-heartedly mean something sweet than to completely mean something cruel.

The golden haired king let out a soft chuckle as Diana blushed, stepping to her and gently placing the diadem on her forehead, careful not to catch her hair. The tenderness, pure hearted and sweet, surprised both parties. She bowed her head a little as he slid the chilled, still wet gold across her skin, smoothing it out and rubbing his thumb over the large, centre oval, clearing the salt from the red gem.

His hands, now having completed their task, slid through her dark hair, feeling the softness of the waves as he smiled at her. For a long time seconds, minutes, dripped away with the two monarchs stood silently locked in each other's eyes.

"You never told me about the dream that Circe gave you," he whispered, his voice taking on the half sleepy, dreamy quality of someone lost in a beautiful thought.

"There wasn't any truth in it," Diana whispered, her eyes closing as she felt the warmth of his hand cupping her cheek. Leaning into the touch, her eyes opened to hear him speak.

"There is always some truth to our dreams, Diana," he replied, pulling her close, one hand gliding through her hair and guiding her face to meet his. This was a kiss on purpose; not guided by some unseen hand, not forced upon a shy princess by a reluctant for the cameras and guests.

Her lips melted when he touched them, the sensation lighting Diana and bringing back a little of the lost innocence. Her cheeks flushed even before the kiss broke. It was like fireworks, sparks on her lips as his parted, his tongue licking and lapping at the soft part of her mouth, begging for entry into her mouth. She relented, feeling his body rigid against her.

Arthur let out a groan, his arms pulling the Queen of the Amazons, the woman he had once wanted to see killed, now he wanted to see laying next to him, wrapped in sheets tangled from their spent passion.

When the kiss finally broke, both he and she were out of breath, but smiling at each other.

"I do not think Circe expected her spell to be so... effective," Diana smiled, her cheek still cupped by Arthur's real hand, the water barer left resting against her hip, massaging her gently as they kissed and she spoke.

"She said she only cast a spell for us to forgive each other," Arthur countered, assuming the queen in front of him was speaking of a love spell, or some such nonsense. The sad smile that pulled across her lips as he spoke caused Arthur's brow to furrow a little. "What is it?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

That sweet smile remained on her lips as she turned her face to his palm, kissing the large, square part of his hand. "I forgave you a long time ago," she admitted, her blue eyes looking up at him, reflecting the sadness in the knowledge that he had only just begun to forgive her. "I don't grudge you your anger, Arthur," she whispered as his hand dropped from her cheek, her words becoming slightly more pressing as she reached out for him, holding his face as he had done with hers, forcing him to look at her. "There is no question who suffered more in the aftermath, and for that, I am infinitely sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Sorry won't rebuild Atlantis," Arthur said, and even as he spoke them he knew they sounded harsher than he had intended.

"No," she said, pressing another playful kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But I know some people who can." She could hardly contain her excitement; she had been waiting for an opening to let him in on Philipus and Gorgo's plans. The women had been so excited, and were always saddened when Diana returned from Exile only to tell them, yet again, she had not reached out to the Atlantian King to share their offer of support and rebuilding.

Now he was confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, blue eyes locked on hers as his head tilted, truly perplexed by her words.

"Do you remember the Amazon architect? She was fascinated by Atlantian architecture, specifically where it differed from ours," Diana started, then laid out the plan as she knew and understood it, including allotted materials as well as an Amazon work force willing to volunteer to help raise Atlantis from the ashes and return it to the vibrant and progressive society it once was. "We both need allies, Arthur, and if this," she looked down at the very narrow gap between their bodies. "If this is real, and we can forgive each other, we can be beacons for our people."

He listened to her and smiled. "You were always so good at the political things," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "When you weren't blinded by anger."

She chuckled and kissed him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. "The world won't like this," she warned him.

"I've never been all that concerned with what the surface world thinks of my life," he said with a smirk, letting his hands slide around her waist, pulling her lower body closer to his with a kiss pressed to her lips.