Warning: This chapter contains erotic and sexual content that may not be suitable for all readers. Read at your own risk.
The sauna was a cocoon of heat and silence. Its wooden walls glistened with condensation, and the air was thick with the scent of cedar and eucalyptus. The temperature was perfect, warm enough to relax the muscles, yet not so hot as to become unbearable. The soft glow of the sauna's internal lamp cast a warm golden light across the wooden benches.
Diana sat on the upper bench, her body wrapped in a simple white towel that covered her private areas. Her dark hair was damp and clung to her shoulders; her skin shone with a fine sheen of sweat. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even.
The silence was absolute. There were no sounds from the pool room beyond, no footsteps, no mechanical hum. Only the soft hiss of steam rising from the hot stones.
"This is peace. This is what I needed."
Diana had lost track of time. Minutes, perhaps hours, she couldn't tell. The heat seeped into her muscles, loosening the knots that had formed during her days of isolation. For once, her mind was quiet.
Memories drifted through her consciousness like leaves on a gentle stream. She recalled the sauna sessions with her sisters and friends in the private lounge of the Watchtower.
Her eyelids began to flutter. The fatigue that had plagued her for days was returning, heavier than before. She fought it for a moment, trying to stay awake, but the heat was too relaxing, the silence too inviting.
"Just a few minutes. I think I'll rest my eyes for a few minutes… but what if I have nightmares about him again?" Her mind grew alarmed.
She tried to hold on longer, but sleep was taking hold of her.
"No…"
She failed. Her head tilted back against the wooden wall. Her breathing deepened. The world faded away.
Her eyes closed in peaceful sleep as she sat on the wooden bench.
Then the dream shattered, replaced by the light of the Watchtower's training room. She felt something metallic against her cheek. She saw the figure of Victor von Doom standing in front of her, his masked face mere centimeters from hers. His brown eyes, visible through the slits of his mask, burned with an intensity that made her blood run cold. His green cape was draped over his armored shoulders, one metallic hand resting against her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two bodies of her Green Lantern apprentices lying defeated on the floor.
She had returned to the previous nightmare. The same nightmare.
"Not again…"
Diana's breath caught in her throat. Her body, still heavy with sleep, refused to move. She was trapped and frozen in place, just as she had been in the nightmare.
"You again?! Get out of my nightmares!" She shouted, her voice raw with fury. "Leave me alone for once!"
Doom did not flinch.
"You are at peace now, Diana." His voice was calm, not threatening.
She shook her head, her eyes wild.
"Hera tells me that is not true!" She exclaimed, invoking one of her goddesses.
Doom ignored her words. He raised his other hand and snapped his fingers.
The sound echoed through the sauna like thunder.
Diana looked around, heart pounding. At first she saw nothing unusual, the same wooden walls, the same golden light, the same heat. But then she noticed it. The bodies of Jessica and Simon, which had been crumpled on the floor of the training room, had disappeared.
They were gone.
Diana's eyes widened.
"Where are they?" Her voice was a cry of pure fury. "What have you done to them?"
"In Hell. Just like the other souls I have murdered." Doom's voice was calm, almost conversational.
Diana's blood ran cold. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her own palms.
"Damn you!" She shouted. "You will not get away with this!"
"Do not worry about that, darling. Their sacrifice is worth more than their own lives. Neron will be satisfied with their souls." Doom tilted his head, a note of dark amusement in his voice.
Diana's breath caught. Her mind raced, connecting the dots.
"Neron. The demon. Satan. The Great Beast."
"You made a deal with the Devil himself?" She asked, whispering faintly.
"I did." Doom's mask tilted slightly, still caressing her face. "He granted me this new power."
Diana stared at him, her mind reeling. He had murdered her friends. He had sold their souls to a demon. All for power.
"You are a fool, von Doom." She said, her voice cold with fury. "Gaining power from others only to kill my friends? You are not capable of doing it through your own power. You do not deserve to be called the ruler of your nation."
Doom's eyes narrowed.
"Your insolence enrages me, Diana." His voice was a low growl. "I would kill you right now. Doom needs you."
Diana did not flinch. She met his gaze, her own eyes burning with defiance.
Doom leaned closer, his masked face centimeters from her ear.
"I found out, Diana. Neron told me everything. I know." He said it in a whisper.
"What are you talking about?" She demanded, her voice barely a whisper.
"I know about your death years ago. He declared that he caused it." Doom's voice was soft.
Diana's heart stopped at that declaration.
"Neron killed you." He continued. "I did not expect that."
Her mind raced. Memories flooded in memories she had buried deeply, memories she had tried to forget.
"That was the time when my powers were altered. Because of my mother's spell that transferred part of my power to help Artemis. The weakness that left me vulnerable… every day and week I was dying. The hospital and the daily visits from my friends. The darkness was the end. Neron set a trap for me."
She remembered everything. The moment of her death. The cold embrace of the underworld.
"I was resurrected and became the Goddess of Truth for a time, thanks to Hera and my gods. Then, after a period of discomfort with my new role and disobeying the laws of Olympus, I returned to my duties as a heroine where I felt comfortable and happy."
She finished recounting her resurrection and return as Wonder Woman. She had not forgotten that black day.
"Why did Neron tell him about my defeat? Perhaps to mock me once more?"
She had always assumed a demon of the underworld would not be so communicative with a stranger like Doom. But he was a sorcerer and mage. Diana believed he had some experience dealing with dimensional beings. He was no stranger in that realm.
Doom watched her silence, his masked face unreadable.
"What happened, darling?" He asked mockingly. "What happened to the anger you showed a moment ago?"
Diana refused to answer. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead she asked the only question that mattered.
"How do you know?"
"The demons of the underworld answer my curiosities. That blond-haired creature was very useful." Doom's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Hell obeys me."
Diana's eyes widened.
"I swear you will regret making that deal with him. Neron has tricks up his sleeve. And your soul is doomed which fits your surname perfectly." Her voice was a whisper of truth.
Doom's mask tilted slightly.
"That demon does not expect my next move. With all the powers of your universe in my hands, I will deal with him. That creature has the same flaws as Mephisto. Your death needs to be avenged. Doom understands what death is, Di."
Diana's heart clenched. The nickname "Di" cut deeper than any insult.
"I do not want that." She said, her voice sharp. "I do not want your compassion."
"You need it, darling. I need to erase that death from your mind, that terrible memory." Doom's voice softened, almost imperceptibly. "I would rewrite the timeline to make you feel better, erasing that demon who killed you and the others from existence. You are my future wife. Doom would destroy anything that makes you feel bad."
Diana fell silent. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions: anger, confusion, fear and something else. Something she did not want to name.
"He would destroy anything that makes me feel bad. He would rewrite the timeline. He would erase Satan from existence for me."
She had never heard such words from anyone. Not from Steve, who had refused to give her a family. Not from Bruce, who had kept secrets and pushed her away. But from Doom—her captor, her enemy—she heard words of protection, of vengeance, and of a love so twisted it was almost unrecognizable.
"Is this what I have become? Someone who finds comfort in the words of a monster?"
"I seek your happiness and your peace. Trust me, Diana." Doom's voice broke through her thoughts.
She remained silent. She could not speak. She could not think.
Doom drew closer. His masked face hovered centimeters from her lips.
And then he kissed her.
Diana startled. Her body tensed, her mind screaming at her to pull away, to fight, to run. But she did not move. She could not move.
The kiss was soft, almost tentative a question, not a demand. Doom's lips were cold against hers, the metal of his mask pressing against her skin.
"This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong again."
But even as she thought it, she felt something change inside her. The fear that had paralyzed her began to thaw. The anger that had burned in her chest began to fade, replaced by something warmer. Something she did not want to feel.
"I should push him away. I should scream."
But she did not.
Instead, she kissed him back.
It was a small movement, a slight tilt of her head, a gentle pressure of her lips against his. But it was enough.
Doom's metallic hands found her waist, pulling her closer. His touch was possessive, demanding, yet also gentle in a way she had not expected. She felt his fingers tracing the curve of her back, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her hips.
And then his hands moved lower, beneath her blue warrior skirt.
Diana gasped against his lips as she felt his palms grasp her buttocks, fingers squeezing the firm flesh. The Wonder Woman costume she wore offered little protection, and she felt the heat of his touch through the thin fabric.
"This is wrong. I should stop. I should… Better not."
Her arms, as if moving of their own accord, wrapped around his neck—if he even had one. Her fingers tangled in his green hood, pulling him closer.
Doom's voice was a low murmur against her lips.
"You are mine, Diana. You have always been mine."
And in that moment, in the middle of the training room kissing a villain, forgetting the disappearance of her apprentices, she fell.
"Jessica. Simon. The rings. To hell with it." She did not want to think about them.
The kiss deepened. Doom's lips moved against Diana's with a hunger that matched her own, his metallic hands never ceasing their exploration of her body. She melted into him, her mind a blur of sensation and desire, the outside world forgotten.
"May I, darling?" Doom asked, his voice a low murmur against her ear.
"Oh…" she gasped in response as his hands continued to touch her well formed butt, squeezing it gently beneath her partially lifted skirt.
"I did not hear you clearly."
"Yes." Diana nodded without hesitation.
Doom's hands squeezed tightly on her buttocks, his fingers digging into the firm flesh.
"Oh Hera! Aaah!" she moaned, the sound escaping her lips before she could stop it. It was a sound of shame and pleasure, a sound she had not made in years.
"I told you I would dominate you completely," Doom said, his lips against her neck, moving downward. His kisses were hot, demanding, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Diana smiled a reckless, almost manic smile. She was overwhelmed by lust, her body acting on instincts she had long suppressed.
She jumped, and Doom caught her effortlessly, metallic arms wrapping around her body. She locked her arms firmly around his neck so she would not fall; her legs, exposed except for her red boots, closed around his metallic waist.
"Come on, disfigured man." She said, breathless. "You still have not completely conquered me. Be a worthy match for today. Tomorrow I will destroy you for what you did to my friends. Be the great conquering king you claim to be."
Doom's mask tilted, white eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Diana, you are a nuisance on the outside, but a sex-crazed maniac on the inside."
"So what are you waiting for?" She asked, leaning in to kiss him again.
Doom did not answer with words. He accepted the kiss and then returned to kissing her neck, his lips hot against her skin while she instinctively touched his armored chest with one hand and held his neck with the other. She expected cold metal but found something else, something that felt like human flesh.
She paused, confused.
"Strange. Perhaps a spell. It does not matter."
Diana returned to her actions. She did not want to think. She only wanted to feel.
Suddenly Doom pushed both of their bodies against the wall, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. She gasped, but not from pain from anticipation. She was against the wall.
"Doom is going to have fun with you tonight." He said, his voice a low growl.
She smiled, her hands moving toward his mask. She was braver this time, braver than she had been before. She removed it, throwing the mask onto the smooth floor of the place. She expected to see the scarred, disfigured face she had glimpsed in the Watchtower.
But there was no face.
Only his white eyes in the midst of total darkness and a manic white smile beneath the hood.
"This is how you want it, darling." Doom said, his voice resonating from the void.
He lifted her effortlessly, hoisting her onto his shoulders. She gripped his head, her bare thighs resting on either side of his neck. His head was positioned perfectly, pressed against her covered intimate area. She knew what was coming.
She offered no resistance.
Doom lifted her blue skirt and tore her red panties. The sound of the fabric ripping filled the room, but she did not care. She cared about nothing except the sensation of his mouth on her.
His disfigured face was in a perfect position, observing her vagina. Then he devoured it.
Diana gasped, her hands braced on his head as his tongue explored her most intimate place. She had never felt anything like this before. Steve had never dared. Bruce had been half-hearted at best. But Doom—he was relentless, his tongue moving with a skill that made her see stars.
"Haah! Victor." she moaned, her voice filled with pleasure. "Keep going. Keep licking me."
"You are so helpless you cannot fight for your honor, Amazon. You feel trapped in a situation that disgusts you, a typical human weakness. Doom will give you a good cunnilingus like the ones you never expected in your pathetic life." Doom's voice was muffled but clear beneath her skirt.
"Oh yeah!" Diana enthused with pleasure, narrowing her eyes.
He continued his assault, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony. His hands gripped her buttocks, holding her firmly while he pleasured her.
Diana's mind was a blur. She lost herself in the sensation, her body responding to his touch in ways she could not control. Her fluids began to flow, covering his face, dripping down her thighs.
"Victor, darling." She moaned in approval. "You are doing it well."
Now she was about to explode. The pressure built inside her, a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her. She tried to pull away, but Doom refused. He continued licking her, his tongue relentless.
"I'm going to come…" She gasped harshly, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Do it, Di. Doom wants all your fluid on his face," he exclaimed as if he were an incubus. "Do it right now."
"Aaah!" Diana cried out, her body convulsing as she released all her fluids onto Doom's exposed face.
The orgasm was powerful, overwhelming, the most intense she had ever experienced. Stains appeared on her blue skirt, a few drops falling onto Doom's robe and her red boots.
She was satisfied.
Diana's eyes opened. She looked around, heart pounding. The sauna was empty. There was no Doom. No white eyes in the darkness. No hands on her backside. No face against her vagina.
"It was a dream. It can't be… I had an erotic dream about… him."
Something was wrong with her—and below.
Her right hand rested on her exposed right breast. The towel had slipped, revealing her full pair of breasts. Her left hand was between her legs, her fingers wet with fluids.
She looked down at the bench beneath her. There was a wet stain, evidence of what she had done.
"Oh, Hera. Oh no. No, no, no."
She pulled her hand away, staring at her shiny fingers in horror. The fluids were unmistakable. She had climaxed. While sleeping. While dreaming of Doom.
"What's wrong with me? What have I done?"
Panic surged through her. She grabbed the towel clumsily and frantically wiped her hand, trying to erase the evidence. But the stain on the bench remained, a humiliating reminder of her body's betrayal.
"He's still playing with me. His tricks. His pheromones…"
She stopped. The towel she was holding smelled of her own fluids. Disgusting. She threw it aside onto the bench, exposing her naked body.
"If Doom saw this… if he knew… he would mock me."
She cleaned the bench with the towel, her movements frantic and jerky. She couldn't believe what had happened. Her tragic dream had turned erotic. She had dreamed of Doom murdering her friends, of his demonic power, of his promises of vengeance—and then she had let him take her. She had begged him to continue. She had climaxed at his fictional touch.
"What am I becoming?"
She stood up, leaving the towel behind. Her legs were unsteady, her mind reeling. She looked at the sauna bench one last time, making sure no trace of her shame remained.
"I have to leave. I need to get out of here. I need to…"
She stopped.
Where would she go?
Back to the room?
Back to the pool?
Back to the solitude that had led her to this moment?
"There's nowhere to go. There's no escape."
She thought of Steve and Bruce, the men she had loved. She had never felt like this with them. Not like this. Not with such intensity, such abandon.
"What am I going to do? I can't keep having erotic dreams about that man…"
She had no answer.
***
The room where Wonder Woman was staying was bathed in the soft amber light of sunset. The green-tinted windows cast long shadows across the stone floor; the light was fading as the sun died behind the Carpathian Mountains. The air was still, heavy with the silence of isolation.
After taking a long shower, Diana Prince sat cross-legged on her bed in the lotus position, hands resting on her knees, eyes closed. She wore a simple long white robe, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. Her body was still, but her mind was a storm.
"The pool. The dream. The mark… The sauna… The dream… What's happening to me?"
The memories played on a loop, each one more humiliating than the last. She had kissed him for the third time in that erotic nightmare. She had climaxed thinking of him. She had touched herself in the sauna, moaning his name, begging for a touch that had arrived in her dream.
She needed to understand. She needed to know how his power worked, how that pheromone trick had affected her so easily when she had resisted so many other forms of manipulation in the past.
This was different. This was something she had never encountered before, a power that felt strangely familiar, like an echo of her own gods. When Doom had trapped her with that trick, she had felt a small energy that reminded her of Olympus, of the divine essence that flowed through her own veins.
"How did he acquire such a trick? A power supposedly related to my gods?"
She needed to interrogate him. The only way was to confront him with the same detective skills Bruce used.
"But I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to… I'm not Batman."
Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a faint humming. She opened her eyes.
Green smoke materialized in front of her, swirling and coalescing in the center of the room, right in front of the bed. Before she could react, the smoke took shape—a translucent, ghostly figure she recognized instantly.
Doom.
He appeared as an astral projection, his form glowing with emerald light, his mask and armor rendered in ghostly detail. She wasn't surprised. She had witnessed similar feats before—astral projections performed by Doctor Fate, Zatanna, or other sorcerers and witches from her own world. Victor von Doom was an expert in magic, after all.
She did not move. She simply looked at him, crossing her arms in annoyance.
"Did you like my gifts?" Doom's voice was calm, without any objection.
Diana did not respond. She didn't even blink. Nor did she want to tell him about that erotic nightmare.
"I see you've gone mute during your time of self-exile." He observed. "Did you enjoy the pool and the sauna?"
She remained silent, jaw clenched.
"Diana, I see you are ungrateful. I give you everything to ensure your happiness in my empire, yet you still refuse to acknowledge it."
"You have no right to speak to me, you damned bastard." She finally spoke, her voice cold.
"Has our last kiss made you even more bitter?" Doom's ghostly head tilted.
"Forget about that." She snapped. "Leave it in the past. There has never been a real kiss between us. It will never happen again."
"I share the same opinion." The ruler of Latveria replied dryly.
Diana's eyes narrowed. She stood up from the bed, arms falling to her sides.
"What do you mean?" She exclaimed.
"We rushed things, Diana. We still don't know each other that well yet. The kiss in the cabin was only a trial. The other was simply comfort. There are no romantic kisses. You will never have that from me. You will still be my future wife."
"You disappoint me. That's not how a relationship works, the kisses…" She stopped, shaking her head.
"Better not go there." She thought.
Then she fixed him with a hard look.
"Forget about it. Now I want you to tell me what you did to my sisters and my mother." She interrogated her captor.
"What are you talking about, Amazon?" Doom's ghostly form flickered.
"Don't play dumb with me, von Doom."
"Explain yourself." Doom waited for her next response.
She stepped closer to him, her deliberate steps bringing her to within a centimeter of Doom's ghostly figure, her anger rising.
"The roses. You stole them from Themyscira." She explained.
"I did not steal them. Doom does not commit that kind of vandalism." Doom did not flinch.
"You did." She insisted. She pointed to the vase of roses the Servo-Guard had left on the metal stand beside the nightstand. They had retained their color; their petals were still vibrant and fresh.
"There they are. You took them from my mother's garden."
"There you have it, darling. Do I have them? They are not for me." Doom's voice was calm. "They are for you. Doom pieces the puzzle together, a piece of your home joins with mine."
"That doesn't change the fact that you stole them."
"I took them with your mother's consent."
"What do you mean? My mother would never let my sisters or tourists take what is sacred from my island." Diana froze.
"My Doombot, disguised as you, did it. It asked for permission. Your mother agreed because the Doombot was you. Her favorite daughter. The exception." Doom explained, his voice measured.
Diana's mind raced. Her mother. Her favorite daughter. It was true: she had always been Hippolyta's favorite—the child she had created from clay, the daughter she had loved above all others.
"But that doesn't make it right. That doesn't make it…"
"So…" Diana's voice rose with fury. "What did your robot do to my mother and my sisters? Tell me the truth right now before I go after you and pull it out of your metallic mouth."
"I have done nothing to them. Doom does not touch or threaten any of your loved ones unless they truly bother me enough. You are the reason they are not dead." Doom's ghostly eyes met hers.
"You're a…" Diana's voice was sharp.
"Think whatever you want of me, Diana. Doom does not care about your objections." Doom interrupted with a mocking tone.
She felt her anger rise, hot and immediate. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, wipe that smug tone from his voice.
She didn't control herself. She did it, she struck Doom's ghostly face. Her fist passed through him without losing her balance.
"Pathetic." He murmured.
Diana couldn't. He was still a ghost, a projection, untouchable.
"Are you a coward, because you won't come yourself to my room to talk? Are you afraid to face me?" She threatened.
"First, this room is not yours. it is my property. Second, fear is only a fly beside me. Third, I am not in Castle Doom; I am somewhere else."
"Where are you now?" Her voice was complaining.
"You will know tonight. On the other hand, my servant told you to dress well." Doom's voice cut off her question.
"For what? Why do you want that?" Diana asked violently.
"Another dinner." He revealed.
"I refuse." She shook her head.
"With guests. You will like meeting them. They are special people."
"I still don't want to." She turned her back on him, crossing her arms.
"Diana, that is an order!" Doom's voice was sharp.
"I won't do it, not after you stole the roses." She barely turned her face, eyes burning.
"You're a spoiled child." He said.
"Who are you calling a spoiled child?" She demanded.
"You. You have been given everything: comfort, luxury, security. You have been treated like a queen, not a prisoner. And yet you whine and complain and refuse to cooperate. You are no different from the children I see in Doomstadt, throwing tantrums when they don't get their way." Doom's voice was cold, cutting.
Diana fell silent. His words stung because they were true. She had been treated well—better than she had expected. And yet she had resisted at every step. The image of him himself drove her to these acts.
"Do it. If you don't…" Doom's voice softened, but only slightly.
"Will you punish me?" She asked, interrupting.
"I will send you back to your universe." He said dryly.
"What?" Diana's heart stopped.
"You heard me, Amazon. I will send you back and forcibly erase your memory. You will know nothing of my universe or of Doom. As if you had never been here. So it is your choice."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
"He would send me back. He would erase my memory. I would like to forget everything: the captivity, the forced kisses, the shame, the mark, and the dreams. I would forget him. I would completely forget Victor von Doom." She calculated in her mind.
She should have felt relief. She should have welcomed the chance to go home, to forget this nightmare, to be free of him. To return to her friends.
Something was off. Doom had shown her that he was a man who did not give up on achieving his goals.
Something was wrong.
Why was he giving in so easily if she didn't attend the next dinner?
Must it be something serious?
Important people of rank from Latveria or from another allied nation?
"Here's the best part if you refuse. Will you be replaced?" Doom continued.
"Replaced?" she questioned.
"Your replacement. I have thought of other options. That magician woman with that pathetic hat, the flying blonde woman in that white suit who claims to be an alien, or the other tall alien who comes from the planet of that Darkseid." Victor von Doom's tone was terrifying.
"Damn it! He's referring to Zatanna, Karen, and Barda. That miserable man has me against the ropes again."
"They would be good options, don't you think, Diana? You with no memories of me in your universe while I have fun with one of them the way I did with you. A Doombot replacing the presence of one while you are alone without the weak soldier or the billionaire womanizer." He provoked her, mocking.
"You bastard! You won't dare lay a hand on them. You'll regret it if you do." She threatened him, defending her friends.
"It's your choice, Diana. I'll wait for you at 8 in the main dining room." His voice lost the provocation.
"You won't get away with this, I…"
She stopped because Doom's ghostly form began to fade rapidly, leaving only small fragments of green magic around. He was gone.
Diana was alone in the dimming light, her heart pounding, her mind racing. She was in shock at what he had said. He would seek one of her friends as a replacement for her if she didn't go to him today. Imagining Zee fighting against his magic only to fall into erotic dreams with him, Karen being controlled so he could fondle her large breasts without her consent at a dinner, or Barda sucking his cock while he sat on a sofa here. She didn't know if that gave her fear or jealousy. The thought itself was terrifying.
"What do I do? Hera help me…"
She looked one last time at the roses on the nightstand, their crimson petals glowing in the fading light.
She had to choose the right thing.
***
Diana stood in front of the wardrobe, its dark wood polished to a shine, the mirror set in the door reflecting her image back at her.
Approximately three hours had passed since Doom's warning. She calculated the time from the clock in the nearby hallway.
Her black hair was straightened and gathered into a tight ponytail, leaving her natural waves behind. The style was severe, almost severe, a sharp contrast to the loose, flowing hair she usually wore. It made her look different, sharper, more controlled. Less like Diana of Themyscira, princess of the Amazons. More like someone else entirely.
She wore a long red dress she had found in the wardrobe, one of the few items she considered American while in Latveria. The fabric was soft, silky, clinging to her curves in a way that felt both elegant and uncomfortable. The dress covered her entire figure except for a slit that revealed one leg, and it featured a somewhat plunging neckline that left half of her pair of breasts visible. In addition, she had a pair of pointed black heels.
"I don't know why I left it like this." She thought, fingers tracing the edge of the neckline. "Maybe because of the heat. Maybe because I wanted to feel something other than shame."
She sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. Her reflection stared back at her—a stranger in a red dress, her eyes hollow, her expression unreadable.
"Sisters, you will not witness that man's machinations."
The words echoed in her mind, a bitter truth she could not escape.
She thought of her mother, Hippolyta, standing proud on the shores of Themyscira, her golden crown gleaming in the sun. She thought of Antiope, her aunt, fierce and loyal, her sword always ready to defend her people. She thought of Nubia, her sister, strong and wise, her heart as vast as the ocean. She thought of Donna, Cassie, and Yara, her sisters in arms, her students and her friends Clark, Lois and Bruce.
"What would they think of me now?"
She imagined their faces: shock, disappointment, anger. They wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand how she had fallen, how she had surrendered, how she had kissed him, dreamed of him, and climaxed thinking of him.
She turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of her own reflection. She walked to the window, unlatched it and opened it, her heels clicking against the stone floor, and looked down at the city below.
Doomstadt stretched before her, its medieval rooftops gleaming in the light cast by the half-moon of the night, its streets quiet and peaceful. The Carpathian Mountains loomed in the distance.
"This is his world. And now it is mine."
She pressed her palm against the edge of the window, her breath fogging the surface.
"I could run. I could fight. I could refuse."
But she knew she wouldn't. She had made her choice or rather, the choice had been made for her. Doom had given her an ultimatum, and she had chosen to stay.
"Why? Why did I choose this? Why am I going crazy over him?"
She had no answer. Or perhaps she did, but she didn't want to admit it.
"Sisters. Now I belong to Doom." She whispered.