[Location: Themyscira | Time: Just Before Sunset]

She arrived like she always did—unannounced, unstoppable, and streaking through the skies like a comet with a heartbeat. You watched her descend from the palace balcony, a shimmering blue-and-red blur against the horizon, until her boots touched the marble with the grace of a goddess and the weight of someone who never forgot how heavy Earth could be.

“Kara,” you said, stepping out into the golden light. “You came.”

She pulled off her sunglasses with a grin only half-muted by the flight. “Didn’t want you thinking your secret island was too sacred for a Supergirl.”

Themyscira welcomed her the way it always did—cautiously at first. Even with Diana’s blessing and yours, the Amazons never quite knew what to do with her. A Kryptonian on an island forged by gods. Mortal, yet not. Warrior, yet still so achingly human.

You walked toward her across the courtyard, your sandals brushing against the ivy that wound through the marble cracks. “It’s been a while. Since Metropolis. Since you punched that Doomsday clone into the sun.”

Kara smirked and adjusted her ponytail. “Yeah, and you stopped a civil war on the moon. I think we’re even.”

Your chuckle was quiet, low. You offered your arm like tradition demanded, and she looped hers through it without hesitation. Together, you strolled through the temple paths, past sisters in silent training, and toward the cliffs where the ocean roared like the heart of the world itself.

“You know,” she murmured, glancing sideways at you, “your people look at me like I’m going to melt the statues.”

“They look at everyone like that,” you replied. “Except Diana. But she cheats.”

Kara laughed, and you felt some of that tension unspool from her shoulders. “This place… it’s beautiful. It doesn’t feel real.”

“It’s not meant to,” you said quietly. “It’s a gift. A mistake. A miracle. Depending on which goddess you ask.”

She stopped at the edge of the cliff, staring out at the endless blue. The wind played with the hem of her cape, teased strands of hair across her face. You stood beside her, hands behind your back, the silence settling comfortably between you.

“I needed this,” she said after a long while. “The quiet. The stillness.”

“You have it. For as long as you want.”

Her eyes found yours then—those bright, impossible eyes that had seen too much for someone who still laughed like hope hadn’t been stomped out of the world.

“I won’t stay forever,” she admitted.

“I know.”

“But I’ll stay tonight.”

And somehow, that meant more.

You led her down to the quiet grove where the stars peeked through the canopy and the scent of pomegranate clung to the air. You lit the lanterns by hand, one by one, while she traced constellations she didn’t recognize and listened to your stories of Artemis and Athena, of Diana as a girl, of you training until your hands bled.

Kara didn’t interrupt. She just sat close. Warm. Real.

Later, when the fire dimmed and the sea whispered against the rocks far below, she turned her head and leaned into you—just slightly, just enough.

“I feel like I could stay,” she whispered, not asking you to let her.

And you didn’t answer right away. You just reached for her hand, fingers lacing like they'd always meant to find each other in the dark.

Let the gods whisper what they may.

Tonight, Themyscira was hers too.