Themyscira shimmered under the midday sun, its marble halls draped in silk and flowers that bloomed only once a year—sacred blossoms said to open for love alone.

Diana stood at the edge of the ceremony grounds, golden armor traded for ceremonial white, her lasso coiled neatly at her hip. She had fought gods, toppled tyrants, stood between mankind and destruction more times than she could count. But this—this moment—made her heart thunder louder than any battlefield.

Her people gathered in quiet reverence, warriors and sisters alike lining the ancient steps with petals and prayers. No armies, no chaos, just peace… and her.

Her bride stepped forward, radiant and strong, cloaked not in armor, but in devotion. Their eyes met—fire and grace—and the whole island seemed to hold its breath.

The world would go on turning. Wars would be waged, oaths broken, darkness rise again.

But here, on sacred ground, in front of those who raised her—Diana found her forever.