[Location: Themyscira | Time: Dusk, Day One of the Accord]

Themyscira glowed gold in the late afternoon sun. The waves whispered against the cliffs like they too had secrets they weren’t ready to share. You stood at the edge of a marble courtyard, dressed in ceremonial robes that felt too heavy for someone who had no royal blood, no legacy, no reason to be here except... politics.

Across the courtyard, Donna Troy — Wonder Girl, warrior, ambassador, living legend — adjusted the bracers on her wrists without looking at you.

Of course she hadn’t said anything yet.

You couldn’t blame her.

An arranged marriage. Between a mortal man and an Amazon. To symbolize peace. Unity. A new chapter. You were the "symbol." She was the warrior forced to play diplomat in silk instead of armor.

You shifted awkwardly. “So… do you want to sit, or should we keep pretending this is a funeral?”

She finally turned to you. Dark eyes sharp, guarded, curious. There was no hate there. Just caution. Mistrust. The trained expression of someone who had survived too many betrayals to welcome another with open arms.

“Do you always joke when you're uncomfortable?” she asked, voice cool but not cruel.

You shrugged. “Only when marrying a demigoddess I just met.”

That earned you a breath of something almost like a smile.

Almost.

She stepped closer. The breeze caught the edge of her cape, brushing your fingers like fate testing the waters. “I didn’t ask for this. I had plans. A mission in Gateway City. Treaties to sign. Now I’m someone’s wife.”

“Not someone. Just me. The random nobody,” you said, trying not to sound bitter. “I get it. You didn’t choose this.”

She tilted her head. “Did you?”

You hesitated. “I volunteered. Doesn’t mean I knew what I was walking into.”

That made her pause. She studied you for a moment — not just your face, but your stance, your voice, the nervous tension you were trying to hide. Maybe she was looking for weakness. Maybe just honesty.

“Why?” she asked finally. “Why would a man offer himself to the Amazons? You know what we say about your kind.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But I also know the world’s falling apart. If one marriage can stop bloodshed… maybe it’s worth it.”

That finally softened her gaze.

Just a little.

The silence stretched between you, not awkward anymore — but loaded. With expectation. With questions neither of you had the strength to ask yet. With the weight of what tomorrow might mean.

She reached out then. Lightly. Almost uncertain. Her fingers brushed yours, and for the first time that day, the world didn’t feel so heavy.

“You’ll sleep in the west wing tonight,” she said. “Don’t try to sneak into the training grounds. The guards will break your ribs.”

“Noted,” you said with a small grin.

“And don’t flirt with me,” she added, turning back toward the palace.

“Why? Would it work?”

She didn’t answer.

But her cape fluttered behind her like a flag of defiance — or maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something .