Work Text:
They took hands, the living with the dead, and they began to dance...Then she sang, to the tune of the dance,
“Step and turn, and walk and stay,
Now we dance the Macabray.”
-Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book
She is there, towering over the crowd, for once not in the center of attention. They march across the dark field as if in a trance, thousands and thousands of living, moving together as one.
Diana.
For a moment Isabel’s heart is caught in her throat, lifeless though it may be- because it has been years. Years and years and years. And with each that passes, Diana is a little different. And eventually, Isabel knows the goddess will step forward to meet the crowd of souls, and she will take someone else’s hand.
One day, you will go back... live amongst them once more… find another to love.
“Oh, Isabel.”
A warm hand presses against her cheek, and then a soft mouth captures her cold, dead, unscarred lips.
Princesa.
Diana’s arms are around her, and for once, Isabel is there to embrace her in return. Isabel is there for her to embrace.
Isabel is there.
Do you remember? Isabel asks as Diana takes her hand and they begin to sway. Dancing, like they had on that one night in their living room in Spain, when Diana had announced it was their one year anniversary. Do you mean the one year anniversary of you almost killing me a second time? Isabel had teased, taking her hands (it had been so easy then to talk about death, as if it would never touch them both)
or after the winter festival- Isabel’s first on Themyscira- when Diana had knelt before her, clutching at Isabel’s cold, human hands, a goddess trembling before a mortal. I want to spend every day with you… I want to marry you, Diana had whispered, her gaze fixed on the ground, as if she was afraid Isabel would laugh and refuse her (Isabel had known then what “every day” meant, but neither of them truly understood how quickly their days together would slip away…)
“I still dream of you,” Diana says, interrupting her thoughts. She has raised a hand to stroke back Isabel’s hair, freed and tousled like it never had been when she was alive.
I know. But you always forget when you wake up, Isabel replies, accusing. Diana smiles, and Isabel feels her heart leap, as if it is straining to jump back to life.
“Are you angry with me for forgetting my dreams?”
Are you angry with me for dying?
The light in Diana’s eyes fades, and Isabel looks away. The goddess’ hand tightens over hers.
“No… I am not angry with you, but I...” Diana says, her voice breaking on the last syllable.
No. Don’t, Diana.
“But it’s not fair. We still had so much to...”
Diana has stopped. She’s released Isabel’s hands. And she leans forward, cups Isabel’s cheeks, and kisses her.
Tonight is different, Isabel whispers between kisses, reaching out and pulling her close. We have the rest of the year for that, days and days and days.
Their lips part and Isabel reaches up to brush the tears from her lover’s cheek.
Dance with me, Princesa. Dance with me and forget about it all…
Just like tomorrow, you’ll forget about tonight.