Hippolyta moved through the aftermath with regal composure that belied the grief evident in her eyes. She paused at Antiope's body, kneeling briefly to close her sister's still-open eyes with gentle fingers.
"Prepare a funeral pyre," she instructed the warriors nearest her. "We will honor our fallen with the ancient rites." Rising, she turned to face Trevor, who stood awkwardly amid the grieving Amazons. "And now, Captain Trevor, you will explain exactly why HYDRA pursued you to our shores, and what you know of how mortals came to possess the power of the Cosmic Cube."
Before Trevor could respond, Diana stepped forward, her posture rigid with emotion barely contained. "First, Mother, you will explain what Antiope meant." Her voice trembled slightly but held firm. "What truth have you been keeping from me? What did she mean that I am not made of clay?"
A ripple of murmurs passed through the gathered Amazons at Diana's words. Hippolyta's expression revealed nothing, though her eyes betrayed a flash of what might have been fear.
"This is not the time, Diana," the queen said with quiet authority. "We have sisters to honor and an island to secure."
"When is the time?" Diana demanded, her grief fueling unusual defiance. "When I am a thousand years old? Ten thousand? Will you tell me then why I am different from my sisters? Why I can withstand weapons that disintegrate them? Why power flows through me unlike any other Amazon?"
Hippolyta remained silent for a long moment, her gaze moving from Diana to Antiope's body and back again. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the weight of centuries of carefully guarded truth.
"You are right," she acknowledged softly. "You deserve to know, especially now. But not here, not like this." She gestured toward the Senate building visible on the cliffs above. "We will speak in private, after we have tended to our wounded and prepared our dead for the journey to the afterlife."
Diana wanted to press further, to demand immediate answers, but the sight of her fallen sisters tempered her urgency. She nodded once, accepting her mother's compromise.
Trevor, who had been observing this exchange with increasing awareness of its significance, finally spoke. "Your Majesty, I understand this is a difficult time for your people, but the information I carry is time-sensitive. Many more lives—thousands, perhaps millions—will be lost if I don't deliver my intelligence to Allied command."
Hippolyta regarded him with the measured assessment of a ruler who had negotiated with gods and kings throughout the ancient world. "You bring war to our shores, yet ask for our help in returning you to it."
"I didn't choose to come here," Trevor pointed out. "But now that I have, I'm asking you to help me prevent more deaths like those your people suffered today. HYDRA isn't targeting just Allied forces—they aim to conquer the entire world, and they have the weapons to do it unless they're stopped."
"The world of man has always been at war," Hippolyta replied, her tone suggesting she had witnessed enough human conflict to last several lifetimes. "One tyrant falls only for another to rise in his place."
"Mother," Diana interjected, her expression intense. "Antiope's final words—she said the true enemy is the one who gave these men the Cube's power. She spoke of Ares, and of the Godkiller sword." She stepped closer to Hippolyta, lowering her voice. "What if this war is different? What if Ares has returned?"
Something unreadable flickered across Hippolyta's features—recognition, perhaps, or fear. "Ares was defeated by Zeus. He cannot return to the world of mortals."
"Yet weapons powered by the Cosmic Cube just breached our shores," Diana countered. "Something we were told was impossible."
Hippolyta did not immediately respond. Instead, she turned to address her warriors. "Secure the perimeter. Post double guards at all watchtowers. Prepare the fallen for their final rites." To Diana and Trevor, she said simply, "Come. Both of you. The Senate must hear what has transpired, and decisions must be made."
As they began the ascent to the citadel, Trevor fell into step beside Diana, his expression a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. "I'm sorry about your aunt," he said quietly. "She fought like nothing I've ever seen."
Diana nodded, grief still etched on her features. "Antiope was the greatest warrior of our people. She trained me since I was a child." She looked at him directly. "This HYDRA—they serve Ares, don't they? Even if they don't know it."
Trevor blinked in confusion. "Ares? As in the Greek god of war?" When Diana nodded, he gave a small, incredulous laugh. "Look, I don't know about gods or cosmic cubes, but HYDRA is led by a man named Johann Schmidt. He's flesh and blood, not a mythological deity."
Diana's expression remained solemn. "Perhaps your Schmidt is merely Ares' instrument, as others have been throughout history. The God of War works through mortals, fueling their hatred and ambition, corrupting their hearts to serve his purpose."
Unsure how to respond to what sounded like religious conviction rather than tactical assessment, Trevor chose a diplomatic approach. "I suppose anything's possible. After washing up on an island of immortal warrior women who can deflect energy beams with their bracelets, I'm keeping an open mind."
This drew a small, sad smile from Diana—the first he had seen since the battle. "A wise approach, Captain Trevor."
AMAZON SENATE CHAMBER, THEMYSCIRA
The Amazon Senate chamber was a masterpiece of ancient architecture—a perfect semicircle of tiered marble seating facing a central speaker's floor, with columns of polished stone supporting a domed ceiling adorned with intricate mosaics depicting the creation of Themyscira. Sunlight streamed through cleverly positioned openings, illuminating the space without need for torches or lamps.
Under less dire circumstances, Trevor might have appreciated the artistry of the chamber. Instead, he found himself standing in the center of the floor, surrounded by dozens of immortal warriors still bearing the physical and emotional wounds of the morning's battle. Their expressions ranged from open hostility to wary curiosity, with grief evident in every face.
Queen Hippolyta sat on a raised throne at the focal point of the semicircle, her golden armor exchanged for formal robes of deep purple embroidered with silver. A circlet of similar metalwork rested upon her brow, the only outward symbol of her authority. She required no other; her regal bearing and the natural command in her posture made her status unmistakable.
Diana stood to one side of the chamber, not seated among the Senate members but clearly present in an official capacity. She had changed from her battle-stained training clothes into a simple white chiton, though she still wore her partially damaged bracers. Her expression remained guarded, caught between grief for Antiope and the burning questions that her aunt's final words had ignited.
"Captain Steven Trevor," Hippolyta began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. "You stand before the Amazon Senate as both guest and harbinger of calamity. Twenty-three of our sisters lie dead or grievously wounded because of your arrival on our shores."
Trevor straightened as much as his own injuries would allow. "Your Majesty, I deeply regret the loss of your warriors. The attack on your island was not of my making, but I take responsibility for inadvertently leading HYDRA to your sanctuary."
"Noble words," remarked an older Amazon seated near Hippolyta—Phillipus, commander of the royal guard. "But words cannot restore our fallen sisters."
"Nor can blame, however rightful," countered another Senator—Mnemosyne. "What matters now is understanding the nature of this threat and determining our response."
Hippolyta nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Captain Trevor, you claim to possess intelligence vital to the conflict raging in the world beyond our shores. Before this Senate decides your fate and that of your information, we must know the complete truth of your mission and what you have discovered."
She gestured to a younger Amazon standing nearby, who stepped forward holding a coil of golden rope so finely crafted it seemed to glow with its own inner light.
"Do you know what this is, Captain?" Hippolyta asked, indicating the rope.
Trevor eyed it warily. "I assume it's not for mountain climbing."
A ripple of what might have been amusement passed through the chamber, quickly suppressed given the gravity of the situation.
"This is the Lasso of Hestia," Hippolyta explained, "though some call it the Lasso of Truth. Forged by Hephaestus from the girdle of Gaea herself, it compels any within its embrace to speak only truth. Not mere factual accuracy, Captain, but complete honesty—the truth as you understand it, without evasion or omission."
Trevor swallowed, his military training immediately cataloging the security implications of such a device. Operational secrecy was a fundamental element of intelligence work, and the idea of being metaphysically required to reveal everything he knew was deeply unsettling.
"I've been honest with you from the start," he pointed out, unable to keep a defensive note from his voice. "Everything I've told you about HYDRA, the intelligence I gathered, my crash—it's all true."
"Perhaps," Hippolyta allowed. "But how are we to know what you have not told us? What omissions or half-truths might hide beneath your surface cooperation?" She gestured to the Amazon holding the lasso. "This will remove all doubt."
The Senate chamber fell silent as the golden rope was brought forward. Trevor tensed involuntarily as the loop was placed around his torso, cinching gently but firmly around his ribs. Immediately, he felt a strange sensation—a warmth that seemed to flow from the rope into his body, a gentle compulsion that settled in his mind like a physical manifestation of conscience.
"State your full name and rank," Hippolyta commanded.
"Captain Steven Rockwell Trevor, United States Army Air Forces, Strategic Scientific Reserve division," he responded, the words coming effortlessly and without the hesitation that usually accompanied security protocols.
"Why were you flying over these waters?"
"I was escaping HYDRA territory after infiltrating a research facility in the Balkans," Trevor replied, again finding the words flowing naturally. "I acquired intelligence about their weapons development and super-soldier program, then stole an aircraft when my extraction route was compromised. I was pursued and shot down, crash-landing off your coast."
The lasso glowed slightly brighter as Hippolyta continued. "What is the nature of the intelligence you carry?"
Trevor felt a momentary resistance—years of operational security training attempting to assert itself—but the lasso's power gently overcame it, compelling completeness without forcing revelation that felt violating.
"HYDRA has developed weapons powered by an energy source they call the Tesseract—what you've referred to as the Cosmic Cube. These weapons can disintegrate matter completely, leaving no trace. They're manufacturing them on a scale to equip entire divisions." He took a breath, continuing as the lasso maintained its gentle insistence on thoroughness. "More concerning, they're creating enhanced soldiers—a program called 'Master Men'—using a variation of the same serum that created Captain America, but with modifications that ensure absolute loyalty to HYDRA leadership."
Diana leaned forward at the mention of Captain America, her interest visibly piqued, but Hippolyta's next question prevented any interruption.
"What is HYDRA's ultimate objective in this conflict?"
The lasso pulsed, and Trevor found himself explaining more than he had intended. "Officially, HYDRA began as a Nazi science division. But according to the intelligence I gathered, they've broken from Hitler's command structure entirely. Their leader, Johann Schmidt, appears to have ambitions beyond mere global conquest. Documents I photographed referred to him seeking 'ascension' and 'godhood' through the Tesseract's power."
At this, several Senators exchanged alarmed glances. Hippolyta's expression remained composed, though a tightness around her eyes suggested the information confirmed fears she had not voiced.
"And what is your personal objective in carrying this intelligence?" she asked, her tone softening slightly.
"To save lives," Trevor answered immediately, the lasso glowing steadily around him. "If the Allies can understand what HYDRA is developing, they might be able to create countermeasures or target key facilities before these weapons are fully deployed. Thousands, perhaps millions of lives are at stake—not just soldiers, but civilians caught in HYDRA's path."
Phillipus leaned toward Hippolyta. "He speaks truth," she confirmed. "The lasso's glow would fluctuate if he attempted deception."
Hippolyta nodded, then asked a question that caught Trevor entirely off guard. "What are your intentions toward my daughter?"
The chamber fell silent, all eyes moving between Trevor and Diana, who looked as surprised as the captain by this unexpected line of questioning.
The lasso pulsed warmly, and Trevor found himself speaking before he could even consider his response. "Diana saved my life. I'm grateful to her and admire her courage and conviction." The words continued to flow, beyond what he would have consciously chosen to reveal. "She's also the most beautiful woman I've ever seen—and given that I've washed up on an island of immortal Amazons, that's saying something."
Trevor felt his face flush as soon as the words left his mouth. Several of the Senators raised eyebrows or exchanged glances, while Diana's expression shifted from surprise to a complex mixture of embarrassment and something less easily defined.
"I have no dishonorable intentions," Trevor hastily continued, the lasso ensuring his complete honesty. "My focus is on completing my mission and returning to the war. Though I admit I find her fascinating and would like to know her better, if circumstances were different."
Hippolyta's expression remained unreadable, though something flickered in her eyes—concern, perhaps, or resigned recognition of a possibility she had long feared. "Remove the lasso," she instructed.
As the golden rope was lifted from him, Trevor felt the compelling warmth recede, leaving him uncomfortably aware of how much he had revealed. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his professional composure. "If we're done with the magical lie detector, Your Majesty, I'd like to emphasize the urgency of my situation. HYDRA won't stop with one attack. If they believe I survived the crash, they'll send more forces."
"A risk we are well aware of, Captain," Hippolyta assured him. "While you were being treated for your injuries, our scouts recovered the remains of your aircraft and whatever survived the crash." She gestured to a side table where Trevor's sodden pack had been placed alongside several other salvaged items. "Your possessions are there, including the waterproof case containing your evidence."
Trevor moved to the table, relieved to see that the specialized camera and film canisters had indeed survived the salt water due to their protective case. His service pistol was there as well, unloaded but otherwise intact, along with various personal items and a soggy but recognizable copy of Captain America Comics #7.
Diana approached the table as well, her curiosity evident as she examined these artifacts from the outside world. Her fingers hovered over the comic book, its colorful cover still visible despite water damage.
"What is this?" she asked, carefully lifting the fragile pages.
Trevor glanced over, smiling slightly at her interest. "Propaganda. Entertainment for the troops and civilians back home. The government's way of boosting morale during difficult times."
Diana studied the cover, which depicted a muscular figure in a star-spangled costume delivering a powerful punch to a caricatured Adolf Hitler while HYDRA soldiers fled in disarray. "This warrior—this 'Captain America'—he is your champion against the forces of darkness?"
The question carried more weight than Diana likely intended, her tone suggesting something closer to religious significance than popular culture. Before Trevor could formulate a response that might clarify the comic's actual status, Mnemosyne had joined them at the table, her ancient eyes studying the illustrated pages with scholarly interest.
"Remarkable," the elder Amazon murmured. "They have created a symbolic hero-protector, much as the ancient city-states elevated champions to semi-divine status." She pointed to the stylized 'A' on the figure's helmet. "Even his mark of office resembles the symbols of ancient champions."
"It's not quite like that," Trevor attempted to explain, but Diana was already turning the water-damaged pages with increasing fascination.
"He fights the forces of tyranny," she observed, scanning what remained of the text. "He stands for justice and freedom against oppression." She looked up at Trevor, her expression earnest. "Your people created a champion to embody their highest virtues, just as we Amazons were created to champion the virtues of the gods."
Trevor hesitated, caught between diplomatic courtesy and factual accuracy. "It's more complicated than that. The real Steve Rogers is a good man who volunteered for an experimental procedure that transformed him physically. But the comic book version is heavily fictionalized."
Diana's brow furrowed slightly. "You speak as though you know this champion personally."
"I met him briefly during the procedure that transformed him," Trevor admitted. "But he's not what the comics portray. The government is using him for propaganda—selling war bonds, boosting morale, performing in stage shows. He's not even fighting on the front lines."
Several Amazons had gathered around now, drawn by the conversation and the colorful artifact from the outside world. They examined the comic with expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism.
"A champion who does not fight?" Phillipus remarked with evident disapproval. "What purpose does such a warrior serve?"
"That's what I've been trying to explain," Trevor said, growing frustrated. "He's not really a champion in the sense you're thinking. He's a symbol, a mascot. The real fighting is done by ordinary soldiers all across Europe and the Pacific."
Diana studied the comic more closely, her expression thoughtful. "Yet he was chosen for this transformation. This 'experimental procedure' you mentioned—it enhanced his natural abilities?"
"Yes, but—"
"And he embodies virtues your people aspire to? Courage, justice, protection of the innocent?"
"Well, yes, the real Steve Rogers does, but—"
"Then he is a champion," Diana concluded firmly, as though the matter were settled. "Perhaps not in the manner of Heracles or Achilles, but a champion nonetheless—one created for this modern age."
Trevor sighed, recognizing the cultural disconnect that made his explanation ineffective. To these immortal warriors, steeped in the traditions of ancient Greece, the concept of a "superhero" created for entertainment and propaganda was clearly being interpreted through their own mythological framework.
Hippolyta, who had been observing this exchange with quiet attention, finally spoke. "This discussion, while intriguing, does not address the immediate question before us." She turned to face the Senate at large. "Themyscira has remained hidden from the world of men for millennia, protected by divine mist and our isolation. Today, that protection was breached. Our sisters have fallen to weapons powered by a cosmic force that should not be in mortal hands."
The chamber grew solemn as Hippolyta continued. "The question before us is clear: do we return Captain Trevor to his people with his intelligence intact, knowing it may help end this conflict more swiftly? Or do we maintain our isolation, seeking to strengthen our boundaries against further incursion?"
Before any Senator could respond, Diana stepped forward, her posture straight and determined. "Mother—Your Majesty—there is a third option we must consider." She held up the comic book. "If the world of men has created a champion to fight this war, should not the Amazons do the same? Were we not created to protect humanity from the influence of Ares?"
A murmur passed through the chamber at Diana's bold suggestion. Hippolyta's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "You speak of ancient history, daughter. Our mandate to protect humanity was fulfilled eons ago."
"Was it?" Diana challenged, her voice carrying a new authority that many in the chamber had never heard before. "Antiope's final words spoke of Ares' continued influence. These weapons—" she gestured toward the beach where the battle had taken place "—they do not merely kill; they erase existence itself. Is this not the work of the God of War, manipulating mortals to create instruments of absolute destruction?"
The silence that followed was heavy with tension and unspoken history. Trevor, sensing the significance of the moment, remained quiet, though his eyes moved between mother and daughter with dawning understanding of the deeper currents at play.
Finally, Mnemosyne spoke, her ancient voice carrying the weight of millennia of wisdom. "The Princess raises a valid question, my Queen. If Ares' influence has indeed returned to the world of men—if he somehow survived Zeus's final judgment—then our ancient oath would compel us to act."
"And how would we act?" Hippolyta challenged, a rare edge entering her voice. "Send our warriors to die on foreign shores against weapons that can erase them from existence with a single blast? March into a war whose scope and nature we barely comprehend?"
"Not all of us," Diana replied quickly. "One champion, chosen from among our best warriors, to accompany Captain Trevor and help end this conflict at its source." Her eyes met her mother's with unwavering determination. "I volunteer to be that champion."
"Absolutely not," Hippolyta's response was immediate and unyielding. "You have never left Themyscira. You have never faced the corrupting influence of the world beyond our shores. You have no experience with the weapons of modern warfare."
"I faced those weapons today," Diana countered, her voice rising with emotion. "I saw my sisters—my friends—die before my eyes. And unlike them, I could withstand the energy blasts. Even deflect them." She raised her wrists, displaying the damaged bracers that had somehow repelled weapons capable of disintegrating stone and flesh alike.
The Senate chamber erupted into urgent discussion, with various Senators expressing support for or opposition to Diana's proposal. Some argued that their duty to humanity remained despite centuries of isolation; others maintained that the Amazons' primary responsibility was to preserve their own culture and knowledge.
Above the growing debate, Hippolyta's voice cut through with royal authority. "Enough!" The chamber fell silent immediately. "This is not a decision to be made in haste or under the influence of fresh grief. We will adjourn until tomorrow morning, when cooler heads may prevail."
She rose from her throne, her regal bearing brooking no further discussion. "Captain Trevor will remain as our guest. His injuries require further treatment, and there are preparations to be made for our sisters' funeral rites." With a significant glance at Diana, she added, "We will speak privately, daughter."
As the Senate began to disperse, Trevor approached Diana, who stood rigid with barely contained frustration at her mother's dismissal. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I think you'd make a hell of a champion. But your mother's concerns aren't without merit. The world beyond Themyscira is... complicated."
Diana turned to him, her expression softening slightly from determination to curiosity. "Tell me about it—your world. What makes it worth fighting for, despite its complications?"
Trevor considered the question, suddenly aware of how difficult it was to articulate the value of a world he had taken for granted until finding himself in this mythical alternative. "It's imperfect," he admitted. "Often frustrating, sometimes heartbreaking. But there's beauty in it too—art, music, acts of kindness between strangers. People fighting for each other, not just against enemies."
He hesitated, then added, "If you're serious about wanting to help, I'd be grateful for the assistance. But not at the cost of causing a rift between you and your mother, or putting you in danger you don't fully understand."
"I understand danger better after today than I did yesterday," Diana replied softly, her gaze drifting toward the windows that overlooked the beach where they had fought HYDRA together. "And as for my mother... there are truths between us that must be addressed, regardless of whether I leave this island."
Before Trevor could respond, a palace attendant approached, bowing respectfully to Diana. "Princess, the Queen requests your presence in the royal chambers immediately. And Captain Trevor is to be escorted to the healing springs for treatment of his remaining injuries, followed by rest in the guest quarters."
Diana nodded acknowledgment, then turned back to Trevor. "We will speak more later, Captain. After I have spoken with my mother."
Night had fallen over Themyscira, transforming the island's marble structures into ghostly silhouettes against the star-filled sky. Torches and oil lamps illuminated pathways between buildings, their flames a poor substitution for the dozens of souls lost that day—warriors whose funeral pyres would not be lit until the following evening, in accordance with Amazon tradition.
Trevor stood on the balcony of the guest chamber he had been assigned, gazing out over the moonlit landscape. The healing springs had worked wonders on his physical injuries; cuts and bruises that would have taken weeks to heal had faded to almost nothing after a single immersion in the mineral-rich waters. But the mental fatigue of combat, escape, crash, and cultural shock remained, leaving him both exhausted and oddly alert.
His borrowed clothing—a simple tunic and loose trousers of fabric softer than any he had ever worn—added to the surreal quality of his situation. Hours ago, he had been a spy on the run behind enemy lines. Now he was a guest in a mythological paradise, treated with a mixture of suspicion and cautious hospitality by immortal warriors who predated recorded history.
A soft knock at his door interrupted his reflections. "Come in," he called, turning from the balcony.
Diana entered, still wearing the white chiton from earlier but with a deep blue cloak now draped over her shoulders against the night's chill. She seemed somehow both younger and older than she had appeared in the Senate chamber—less the fierce warrior princess and more a woman carrying the weight of painful revelations.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said, remaining near the doorway as though uncertain of her welcome.
"Not at all," Trevor assured her, gesturing to a pair of chairs arranged near a small table. "I couldn't sleep anyway. Too much to process."
Diana nodded understanding and moved to take one of the offered seats. "I imagine today has been disorienting for you. Men have not set foot on Themyscira in—" she paused, calculating "—at least two thousand years, by your calendar."
"That long?" Trevor smiled slightly as he sat across from her. "I'm honored to break such a significant dry spell." His attempt at humor faded as he noted the lingering sadness in her eyes. "How are you holding up? Today couldn't have been easy."
Diana's composed expression wavered momentarily. "I have trained as a warrior my entire life, yet nothing prepared me for the reality of battle—the sounds, the smells, the finality of death." She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. "Antiope was not just my aunt and teacher; she was like a second mother to me. Her loss alone would be devastating, but so many others as well..."
"I'm sorry," Trevor said simply, recognizing that platitudes about sacrifice and nobility would ring hollow in the face of such personal grief.
A silence fell between them, not uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Diana looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "What was said in the Senate chamber—about my mother keeping truths from me—it was accurate. We spoke at length this evening."
Trevor remained quiet, sensing she needed to voice these thoughts aloud to fully process them.
"She maintains the story of my creation," Diana continued, frustration evident in her tone. "That I was sculpted from clay and granted life by the gods. But there was such fear in her eyes when I questioned her about Antiope's final words. She spoke in circles, offering reassurances without answers."
"You don't believe her?" Trevor asked gently.
Diana's hands tensed in her lap. "How can I? I have always been different from my sisters—stronger, faster, capable of things no other Amazon can do. Today I deflected energy blasts that disintegrated others instantly. I channeled power I've never been permitted to explore." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "Antiope's dying words called me 'Godkiller' and spoke of Zeus's final gift. Whatever the truth of my origin, my mother refuses to share it, even now."
Trevor considered his response carefully. "Families are complicated. Sometimes people withhold truth because they think it's protecting those they love."
"Is that protection?" Diana challenged. "Or is it control? Keeping me ignorant of my true nature and purpose has not protected me—it has limited me, prevented me from fulfilling whatever destiny Antiope believed I have."
"What do you think that destiny might be?" Trevor asked.
Diana rose from her chair, moving to the balcony where Trevor had been standing earlier. "To be a bridge between the world of the Amazons and the world of humanity. To face Ares if he has indeed returned, as Antiope believed." She looked out toward the distant horizon, beyond which lay the war-torn world Trevor had come from. "The sword Antiope spoke of—the Godkiller blade—it is real. Hidden in the most secure vault beneath the temple, protected by ancient enchantments."
Trevor followed her to the balcony, trying to reconcile this mythological narrative with the global conflict he had left behind. "And you believe this Ares is somehow connected to HYDRA? To Schmidt and the Tesseract weapons?"
"I believe Ares works through men like Schmidt," Diana clarified, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the magical mist concealed Themyscira from the outside world. "Amplifying their darker impulses, encouraging the development of ever more destructive weapons, fueling conflicts that might otherwise be resolved peacefully."
She turned to face Trevor directly. "You spoke earlier of a world worth fighting for, despite its imperfections. I want to see this world for myself—to understand what my mother and sisters have hidden from me all these centuries. And if Ares is indeed manipulating this global conflict from the shadows, I must discover the truth of my abilities and purpose."
Trevor studied her in the moonlight, struck anew by the extraordinary blend of determination, compassion, and raw power she embodied. "So you're really going to do this? Leave Themyscira to help end the war?"
"My mother has reluctantly agreed to hold a contest," Diana explained. "The greatest warrior among the Amazons will be chosen to accompany you back to the world of men, carrying Themysciran aid to your Allied forces." Her expression hardened with resolve. "I intend to win that contest. Not only because I believe I am the most capable, but because I now understand it is my birthright—my purpose—to face Ares if he has indeed returned."
Trevor nodded slowly, processing the implications. "When is this contest to be held?"
"Tomorrow, following the funeral rites for our fallen sisters." Diana's voice softened. "My mother hopes the solemnity of the occasion might dissuade me from participating. She does not yet understand that it only strengthens my resolve."
"She's afraid of losing you," Trevor observed. "Not just to the physical dangers of war, but to the world beyond Themyscira. She's protected you for centuries; it can't be easy to let go."
Diana's expression softened slightly. "You understand her perspective well for someone who has known her less than a day."
Trevor shrugged. "I've seen that look before—in the eyes of parents sending their sons to war, spouses saying what might be a final goodbye. Fear disguised as anger, love manifesting as overprotection." He offered a small, self-deprecating smile. "My mother had the same expression when I enlisted after Pearl Harbor."
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sound of waves against the shore and the occasional call of night birds. There was something surreal yet oddly natural about standing in moonlight with this extraordinary woman, discussing both mythological destiny and the universal nature of parental concern.
"Tell me about him," Diana said suddenly. "This Steve Rogers—the real man behind the colorful champion in that book. What is he like?"
Trevor considered the question, thinking back to his brief encounter with Rogers during Project Rebirth. "Determined. Brave, even before the physical transformation. The kind of man who jumps on a grenade to save others—literally, as I heard the story." He smiled at the memory. "Skinny as a rail when I first met him, but with more heart than men twice his size. The serum changed his body, but not his character."
"And now he performs in stage shows rather than fighting on the battlefield?" Diana asked, her tone suggesting she found this as perplexing as her fellow Amazons had.
"It wasn't his choice," Trevor clarified. "The government invested a lot in creating him, and when they couldn't immediately replicate the results to make more super-soldiers, they decided he was too valuable to risk in combat. So they put him on tour selling war bonds instead."
Diana's brow furrowed. "But surely his abilities would be more valuable in actual battle than in theatrical performances?"
"You'd think so," Trevor agreed. "But military decisions aren't always made on pure logic. Politics, public relations, fear of losing valuable assets—they all play a role." He shrugged. "Besides, I've heard he's raised millions in bond sales. That buys a lot of bullets and bandages."
"Still," Diana mused, "to be given such gifts and then prevented from using them for their intended purpose... it must be frustrating for him."
"I imagine so," Trevor nodded. "But from what little I know of Rogers, he's the type to keep serving however he can, even if it's not the way he'd choose."
Diana smiled slightly. "You speak of him with respect, despite his current role."
"The role doesn't define the man," Trevor replied simply. "Just as your mother's protective fabrications don't define who you really are."
The observation seemed to strike Diana deeply. She looked at Trevor with newfound appreciation, as though seeing beyond the surface of the battle-worn pilot who had washed up on her shores that morning.
"Thank you, Steve Trevor," she said softly. "For seeing beyond appearances."
"It goes both ways," he replied with equal sincerity. "Not everyone would look at a half-drowned spy with a price on his head and see someone worth saving."
Their eyes held for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, an unspoken understanding passing between them—two individuals from wildly different worlds, finding unexpected common ground in the aftermath of chaos and revelation.
Diana broke the connection first, stepping back from the balcony with a graceful movement that reminded Trevor of her warrior training. "I should go. Tomorrow will bring both sorrow and challenge, and I must be prepared for both."
Trevor nodded, recognizing the wisdom in her words despite a curious reluctance to see her leave. "Good night, Diana. And good luck tomorrow—though something tells me you won't need it."
"Perhaps not," she agreed with the ghost of a smile. "But I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless." At the doorway, she paused, looking back at him with an expression both solemn and hopeful. "Whatever happens tomorrow, Steve Trevor, I believe our paths crossing was no accident. Perhaps the gods still influence our destinies, even in these modern times."
With that enigmatic observation, she departed, leaving Trevor alone with his thoughts and the growing certainty that his life had changed irrevocably the moment Diana had pulled him from the sinking aircraft.