…
When Leon found Diana—
She was sitting at the edge of a cliff, staring blankly at the calm blue sea stretching into the horizon.
He quietly sat beside her.
Before he could say anything, Diana leaned against him of her own accord, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.
Leon raised a brow.
Naturally, his right arm slid around her waist, firm yet gentle.
"Leon… why won't Mother allow me to confront Ares?"
"If we do nothing, the world beyond will drown in blood."
"Even if I must go alone… even if I'm just a monster…"
Her voice trailed off.
"Hey. Diana. Look at me."
Leon lifted her chin with his free hand, guiding her gaze to meet his.
Two impossibly flawless faces reflected in each other's eyes—beauty enough to inspire envy in gods and mortals alike.
"You are not a monster," he said softly.
"Monsters don't look like this."
He took her hand and pressed it against his chest.
"Listen."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Under Leon's deliberate control, his heartbeat resonated like an engine of kings—powerful, steady, reverberating through Diana's palm and into her mind.
"My heart beats more fiercely than usual."
"Only a beautiful and kind goddess could stir a god like this."
"You should have more confidence in yourself, Diana."
"Leon…"
Her eyes shimmered.
He understands me.
"In one thing, your mother is right," Leon continued.
"The outside world is filthy. It does not deserve you."
"But—"
"Within the bounds of your strength, without betraying your own principles, you should do what your heart tells you."
"Ares is only a god of war. If you wish to challenge him, then do it."
"I will stand with you."
He paused.
"But remember this."
"We may slay a god."
"But we can never save all of humanity."
"Our hands are only so large. Too much slips through them."
As he spoke, the hand resting on her waist slid down and intertwined with her fingers.
Diana looked into his eyes—
Three parts melancholy.
Three parts cold detachment.
Four parts quiet sorrow.
In that gaze, she seemed to glimpse a god who once loved humanity deeply… who tried to save everyone… and who had been betrayed for it.
How much had he endured to carry such despair?
She wanted to ask.
But she could not.
She would not reopen his wounds.
Instead, she shared his pain.
Her eyes softened.
Slowly—
She closed them.
Leon was no saint of restraint.
He understood at once.
He leaned in.
Their lips met.
His hand tightened reflexively, pulling her closer.
Diana trembled slightly—
But did not pull away.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers pressing anxiously against the fabric of his transformed War God attire, as if trying to carve her presence into him.
Time passed.
Under the golden wash of the setting sun—
Silvery strands of light shimmered faintly between them like a celestial bridge.
When they finally parted—
Diana hid her flushed face, leaning into his shoulder until her loose curls fell forward to shield her expression.
Only then did she dare lower her hand.
She placed it gently atop his.
Leon flipped his palm upward, threading their fingers together once more—firmer this time.
In that brief span—
Diana felt that Leon had become, aside from her mother and Antiope, the most important person in her world.
The speed. The intensity.
She had never known love between a man and a woman.
Even that simple kiss—
Soft. Warm. Sweet. Electric.
It left her dizzy.
Was this what her mother had always spoken of so cautiously?
How could something so sweet be described as bitter?
She did not understand.
She only tightened her grip on his hand, unwilling to let go.
A sea breeze brushed her cheek.
Her hair lifted gently.
As the rush of dopamine gradually faded—
Clarity returned.
"Leon—your hand?!"
She stared.
The palm that had been burned by the Lasso of Truth—
Was flawless.
Not a scar remained.
"It?" Leon smiled calmly.
"The constitution of a god far surpasses that of mortals. Naturally, so does recovery."
"That's common sense, darling."
"Common… sense?"
Diana tilted her head slightly.
If that were true—
What did that make her?
Earlier, when Leon had used the Regeneration Cradle to treat the Amazons, Diana had declined priority treatment for herself. It was only a superficial scrape on her arm.
By the time her turn came—
The wound had nearly vanished, leaving only a faint pale mark of new skin.
What am I?
With that question echoing in her mind—
Diana gently separated from Leon.
Just as he had said—
She would follow her heart.
She would leave Themyscira.
She would confront Ares.
Even if she never returned—
Then so be it.
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