The war had left you broken, scattered across battlefields soaked with pain and loss. You didn’t remember much—just flashes of fire and steel, before everything went black. When you finally woke, it wasn’t in some cold infirmary or a safe place you knew. You were somewhere else. Somewhere ancient. Somewhere sacred.

You opened your eyes to see her—Donna Troy—sitting quietly by your side. Her presence was calm but powerful, a beacon amid your confusion and pain. She had patched you up, her hands skilled and gentle as she tended to your wounds. For days, she waited for you to awaken, never leaving your side. You felt vulnerable, exposed in this new world, but she made it safe.

Other Amazons saw you as an intruder, a threat. Whispers followed you like shadows. “A man on Themyscira,” they’d say, voices dripping with suspicion and hostility. Some wanted to kill you outright. But Donna was fierce in her protection. “No one touches him,” she told the others, eyes blazing with a warrior’s fire. “He’s under my shield.”

You wanted to thank her, but words failed you. Instead, you watched as she stood between you and those who would do you harm, a living wall of defiance. She became your guardian, your anchor in a world where you had no place—except by her side.

Then, one day, darkness fell upon the island. Ares had come.

The ground shook under his rage, and the air was thick with the roar of battle. Donna fought like a goddess, but even she could not face this alone. You knew you had to act.

“We’re not done yet,” you told her, determination hardening your voice.

Together, you forged a plan. You crafted weapons , designed a strategy that turned the tide of war. Amidst the chaos, you and Donna moved as one: she, the spear; you, the shield. Amazons rallied behind your strategy, their courage fueled by hope.

When the battle ended, Themyscira stood unbroken. Not a single life was lost.

That night, the island celebrated, but the real celebration was between the two of you. Beneath the starlit sky, away from the eyes of gods and warriors, you found solace in each other. Your hands explored familiar wounds and new warmth blossomed between you.

“Thank you, Donna,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “For saving me. For trusting me.”

She smiled softly, fingers tracing the scars that told your story. “You’re part of this now. Part of me.”

Morning came too soon, and with it, the harsh truth—you had to leave. You made her a promise: every week, you would write. No matter where you were, no matter what danger you faced, your words would be her lifeline.

And you have kept that promise.

Years have passed. Letters filled with memories, laughter, and dreams traveled across the miles. Then, one letter came with a weight you hadn’t expected. Themyscira was under attack again.

You don’t hesitate.

Packing your things with purpose, you feel the old fire rekindled in your chest. The island needs you. Donna needs you.

No longer a stranger, no longer an outsider, you are home.

Because home is where she is.

Because home is Themyscira.

And because some promises are meant to be kept—no matter the cost.