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Valentine’s Day had a way of sneaking up on Zatanna.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know what month it was. She’d seen the red-and-pink vomit in every storefront window in Gateway City for the past two weeks. Plus, she never really forgot dates. Birthdays, death days, execution schedules—whatever it is, she knew. She could even recite them without faltering.
It was more than February had a talent for slipping through her fingers. One minute she was getting freed from being chained up, then standing in the wreckage of a museum exhibition with the Suicide squad, and well what’s next is that she was waking up in the Hieron where her target had welcomed her in.
She stared at the ceiling of her room in the headquarters then groaned.
“Valentine’s,” she muttered. “How terribly festive.”
Valentine’s wasn’t her holiday. There was too many expectations, too much sincerity, and too much red. The only three red she liked seeing are the princess’ eyes when she performed magic, the tattoo on her arm, and well.
The entirety of Wonder Woman herself. The blood that she carries within her body, her weapons, her heart that was no joke is pure.
She rolled onto her side and watched the light crawl slowly up the wall. The air smelled faintly of just pure nature, which she found calming. The Hieron didn’t smell like cities or the prison she was trapped in. It was simply clean and uncomplicated.
It irritated her.
Because nothing about her being here was uncomplicated.
Just a month ago, she’d been under Veronica Cale’s thumb again. Freed from prison, handed a leash disguised as an opportunity, and sent off to kill a witch.
The witch, apparently, was Wonder Woman.
That part still felt surreal.
She could’ve done it. Probably. With enough preparation, ruthlessness and fewer morals. But when she had seen her up close in greece and saw the Amazon’s eyes (that were absolutely stunning), she knew she couldn’t really do it. She saw the tiny crease between her brows and Zatanna knew she was not going to finish her mission the way Cale expected her to.
Diana’s eyes had met hers that in the museum when she and the Suicide Squad had broken in. She looked angry, but was not. She was hurt, yes, but she was searching. Searching for an answer, a reason—and that was it.
Zatanna had broken the binding spell herself.
Which was a wildly inconvenient decision. But thankfully, also the right one.
Because the princess had been restraining herself. Diana could’ve crushed her, bound her, thrown her into some other places in earth or another damn option, in hell. Instead, her first resort was to try and talk to her. Even kept her distance, as if hesitant.
Zatanna hated hesitation. It meant feeling.
Now she was brought here.
“Under protection.” “Given sanctuary.” “A guest.”
The princess herself had said it like it was sacred.
She swung her legs off the bed and stretched. The room made for her was simple—stone walls, woven rugs, a small wooden table with a pitcher of water.
It was freedom, technically.
Freedom gifted by the very woman she’d been sent to kill—and who was still not asking for anything in return.
The sorceress pushed herself up and padded to the balcony. The forest stretched out beyond the Hieron, green and endless. She leaned against the railing and sighed.
She then flipped a coin and let it vanish in a puff of smoke.
“Nioc eht hsinav.”
A knock at the door.
It wasn’t loud enough to disturb her thoughts, it was polite.
She didn’t turn. “If this is about a heart-shaped wreath, I am not participating.”
The door opened anyway.
“I do not know what a wreath shaped like a heart would accomplish,” Diana said, voice warm and steady as ever. “But I promise I did not bring one.”
Zatanna glanced over her shoulder.
Diana stood there in simple civilian clothes—dark jeans, boots, a fitted jacket that did absolutely nothing to disguise the fact that she could probably lift a tank with one hand. Her hair was loose today. No, her hair was always loose—but maybe like, looser? She doesn’t know.
Zatanna narrowed her eyes.
“Di, are those new?” she asked.
Diana blinked. “My boots?”
“No. The—” She gestured vaguely at Diana’s entire existence. “—everything.”
Diana’s lips curved faintly. “You are restless.”
“Insightful,” Zatanna said dryly. “Did you consult the oracle or just look at my face, darling?”
“You have been tapping your heel against the railing for seven minutes.”
She glanced down. Then stopped. “Alright, I’m bored.”
“Then perhaps you would join me.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow. “For what, cutie? Another heartfelt discussion with a squirrel?”
Diana did not look offended. If anything, she looked mildly amused. “The forest is lively today.”
“It is February.”
“Yes,”
“That’s not lively. That’s seasonal depression with branches.”
Diana stepped closer. Close enough that Zatanna had to tilt her head up to meet the princess’ eyes.
“The sun is bright,” Diana said calmly. “The animals are well-fed. The earth is not at war in this small corner. That is lively.”
“You could be exhausting sometimes,” she said, but softer.
Diana extended her hand.
She stared at it like it was a loaded weapon.
“Come walk with me.”
“Is that an order, darling?”
“It is an invitation. But if you would prefer to remain here—”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah,”
Zatanna eyed her for another moment, then slid off the railing. She didn’t take the hand. She brushed past her instead.
“If I get sap on my boots, I’m billing you.”
The forest outside Gateway was enchanted, that she knew. But there was no sight of glowing trees or singing dryads. Just tall evergreens, patches of stubborn winter flowers, the faint scent of pine and damp earth.
Diana walked like she belonged there. (Of course she did, she bought the land.) She paused occasionally to murmur to a bird or crouch beside a baby deer that didn’t seem remotely afraid of her.
“You know,” she said casually, “in my experience, when someone brings you to a secluded forest on Valentine’s Day, it usually ends in either a confession or a duel.”
“Should I prepare for one?” Diana asked.
“Depends. Are you planning to confess undying devotion?”
The princess glanced at her, thoughtful. “I am planning to understand you better.”
She laughed softly. “That’s worse.”
A small fox darted across the path, pausing near Diana’s ankle. She crouched, murmuring something too soft for Zatanna to catch. The fox leaned into her hand like it trusted her with its entire fragile body.
Zatanna watched with folded arms.
“Most people would be concerned about rabies.” she said eventually,
“I am not most people, Zee.”
“Arrogant.”
“Observant,”
She snorted.
Diana stood, brushing her hands together lightly. “You are quiet.”
“I’m observing.”
“Arrogant.”
The sorceress shot her a look. “Careful,”
A breeze moved between them. For a second, they just stood there, taking in the breathtaking forest that surrounds them.
Just two women in a forest.
Diana’s gaze softened, but she didn’t step closer.
That hovering distance again.
It drove Zatanna insane.
“You can stand normally,” Zatanna said abruptly.
“I am standing normally, am I not?”
“No, darling, you’re not. You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That hovering-but-not-hovering thing. Like you’re one breath away from either tackling me or fleeing.”
Diana’s expression stilled.
“I am… cautious,” she said.
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
That wasn’t the answer Zatanna had expected.
She tilted her head. “I thought you were some sort of a fearless warrior?”
“I am not afraid for myself.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Do you think that I’ll hurt someone suddenly?”
“I think you have been hurt,” Diana said evenly. “And those who are hurt often strike first.”
Zatanna felt something tighten in her chest. She masked it with a grin.
“You’re veering into therapy, darling.”
“If you prefer, we may discuss the migratory patterns of crows.”
“I do not.”
“Then we shall remain here.”
She looked away first.
A few steps ahead, a clearing opened where sunlight spilled through bare branches. Diana moved toward it.
“Di,” Zatanna said.
Diana stopped immediately.
She hated that. That instant attention.
Diana turned slightly.
“Yes?”
Zatanna shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Why’d you free me?”
The question landed between them heavier than expected.
“I mean, it’s ridiculous. You free a woman sent to kill you, you give her a room, and you introduce her to woodland creatures.” She added, even gestured vaguely. “You realize this is how villains get confused?”
“I do not consider you a villain.”
The sorceress scoffed. “That’s because you’re dangerously optimistic.”
Diana stood tall. “I consider you someone who has been used and hurt.”
The bluntness of it made Zatanna blink.
“Oh, princess,” she said, recovering with a smirk. “Careful. If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking you care.”
Diana stepped closer.
“I do care.”
Zatanna’s throat felt unexpectedly tight.
“So this is what?” she asked, softer now. “Charity? Rehabilitation?”
“It is an invitation,” Diana replied. “To choose differently.”
She searched her face for irony or strategy. She found none, just like back in the museum.
“You’re too good,” she murmured.
The princess shook her head. “I have made mistakes. I have fought wars. I have lost control—like back when I turned into Medusa and began to attack what I was supposed to protect,” Her voice dipped, shadow passing briefly through it. “Goodness is not absence of failure. It is persistence.”
By Hecate, she was unbearable.
Zatanna stepped forward until there was barely a breath between them.
“And what if I don’t fit into your hopeful little narrative?” she asked, tone slipping low and teasing to cover the tremor underneath. “What if I prefer chaos?”
“Then I will stand beside you in it,” Diana said. “But I will not let it consume you.”
That did it.
Zatanna let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“That’s almost romantic, princess.”
Diana’s brow furrowed slightly. “It is simply the truth.”
“Oh, it’s Valentine’s Day. Everything is romantic.”
“Yes,” she said.
The sorceress blinked. “That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”
“I am aware of the date.”
“And?”
“And I wished to spend it with you.”
Her brain stalled.
“Jokes aren’t the highlight of the day, princ—”
The princess reached behind her back.
Zatanna had not noticed she was holding anything.
Two sunflowers emerged into view and was held out for her to take.
“Di,” Zatanna had spoken, disbelief clear in her tone. “If this is an execution disguised as a floral arrangement, I applaud the creativity.”
“It is not.”
“You got two?” she asked faintly. “Are you trying to start a collection?”
“I was told that here in your world, not only that one flower can be interpreted as insufficient effort—” Diana stopped for a second, her cheeks reddening. “And something about a theory regarding these flowers. Are you aware of what it is about?”
She held back laughter at how shy the princess looks. “No,”
“The theory regarding these sunflowers is that when the sun shines brightly, they turn towards the light. However, when the night falls, they turn to find light in each other.”
Something in Zatanna’s chest flipped.
“So why give them to me?” she managed.
“Because even in the dark, you are my light.”
“Who told you all that?”
Diana considered. “A merchant vessel passed near our shores last week. One of the women aboard was quite passionate about the symbolism of flowers and numbers.”
“Of course she was.”
“I wish to offer you something simple,” The princess says. “Not as a gesture of obligation, but because today seems important in your culture.”
“Do you give every former assassin flowers on Valentine’s day?” She asked.
“No,”
“Just me?”
“Yes.
Zatanna studied her for a long moment.
“You’re aware,” she said slowly. “That I dislike Valentine’s day.”
“You have said so.”
“It’s commercial. It’s shallow. It’s—why did you even still decide to participate?”
The princess nodded. “Because you dislike it.”
She frowned. “That makes no sense.”
“If a day has been unpleasant for you,” Diana said gently, “I would like to offer a different memory of it.”
Diana was no longer just hovering nearby, she was simply standing there.
Not demanding anything. Not even expecting.
Zatanna exhaled slowly and took the flowers.
Her fingers brushed Diana’s. The Princess did not pull away neither did she. It was warm skin against warm skin.
“You’re too good,” she muttered.
Diana’s mouth curved faintly. “You have said that before.”
“It is suspicious, Di.”
“Compassion is not deception.”
“Says the warrior raised in hell and raised by the goddesses.”
“Says the woman who chose mercy,”
Zatanna looked down at the sunflowers.
“…You’re not going to ask me about the museum, are you?”
Diana shook her head.
“When you wish to speak of it, you will.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we will speak of other things.”
Zatanna glanced back up.
“You’re infuriatingly patient.”
“So I am told.”
A beat.
Zatanna stepped closer.
Just a fraction.
“Hypothetically,” she said, voice lighter now, slipping back into familiar mischief, “if I wanted to repay you for this extremely confusing romantic gesture… what would the Princess of Hell request?”
Diana didn’t hesitate.
“For you to stay.”
Zatanna’s breath caught.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
Diana’s eyes softened.
“As long as you choose.”
Zatanna laughed, because that was safer than reacting honestly.
“You’re going to regret this,” she said quietly. “I’m not easy to be with.”
“I do not want easy,” Diana replied.
She lifted one sunflower, twirling it between her fingers.
“You know,” she said, tilting her head, “if this is a date, you’re doing terribly.”
Diana blinked. “I am?”
“Yes. No dramatic declarations. No sweeping gestures. You didn’t even attempt to sweep me off my feet.”
Diana looked thoughtful.
“That can be arranged.”
Before she could process that, the princess stepped forward, one arm sliding around her waist.
And lifted her effortlessly.
Zatanna yelped, clutching the sunflowers so she didn’t drop them.
“Oh, absolutely not—!”
“You requested a sweeping gesture.”
“Put me down, Di!”
“Are you displeased?”
“…No.”
Diana’s eyes held hers.
She cleared her throat, looking away first.
“You are ridiculous.”
“I know.”
She glanced back up, something sly returning to her smile.
“Don’t get too used to this, princess.”
The princess’ gaze did not falter.
“I would not dare.”
A moment passes.
Diana does not put her down.
“...You know,” Zatanna says slowly, adjusting her hold on the sunflowers so she doesn’t accidentally smack Diana in the face with them, “this is technically kidnapping.”
Diana’s arm remains firm around her waist, the other bracing beneath her knees like this is the most natural configuration in the world.
“You requested to be swept off your feet,” Diana replies calmly.
“I meant that metaphorically.”
“I am not fond of half-measures.”
Zatanna squints at her. The woman is walking. Walking. Like Zatanna weighs nothing more than a scarf tossed over her arm. Gravel crunches beneath Diana’s boots as she heads further up the forest trail.
“Where exactly are we going?” Zatanna asks.
“The northern ridge.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is scenic.”
“That’s what ominous places always say.”
Diana hums, unconcerned. “The trees thin near the top. You may see the city from a distance.”
Ah.
So that’s what this is.
Zatanna leans her head back slightly, looking at the canopy overhead as it shifts from thick evergreen to lighter branches. Sunlight filters through in fractured gold ribbons. The air smells colder up here, hell, even cleaner than from Hieron.
“You just want to keep me away from civilization,” she says.
“I would like to continue existing in your presence without the interruption of city noise.”
Zatanna blinks.
“…That was suspiciously specific.”
Diana glances down at her. “You suspect me?”
“I absolutely do.”
“For what crime?”
“For enjoying my company.”
Diana’s mouth curves faintly. “I plead guilty.”
She presses her lips together, trying very hard not to grin like an idiot.
The trail slopes upward. Diana doesn’t even breathe heavier.
“You can put me down,” The sorceress offers after a moment, though she doesn’t actually try to get down. “I do have functioning legs.”
“I am aware.”
“And?”
“I do not wish to put you down.”
Zatanna feels that in her stomach annoyingly.
A bird darts across their path, bright blue against the trees. The princess’ gaze follows it briefly.
“The jays are returning,” Diana says. “They prefer the higher branches this time of year.”
She glances around. “You really know all of them, don’t you?”
“I try.”
“Do they talk back?”
“Not in words you would recognize.”
“That’s cryptic.”
The princess smiles faintly. “Yes, they do talk back. But their language cannot be understood unless you are given the gift of animal empathy.”
Zatanna considers that, watching as a pair of small deer freeze in the brush ahead. They stare at Diana. Not at her.
One steps forward.
Zatanna stiffens slightly. “If that thing licks my boots, I’m blaming you.”
“It will not.”
The deer tilts its head, then lowers it in what looks almost like acknowledgment before retreating.
“…Show-off,” Zatanna mutters.
Diana’s hold shifts slightly—not loosening, just adjusting.
Zatanna becomes acutely aware of how steady Diana’s heartbeat is where her ear rests near her chest.
“Are you comfortable?” The princess asks quietly.
That softness again.
“Tragically,” She replies. “Yes.”
“If you are not, you must tell me.”
“Oh, I’ll complain. Don’t worry, darling.”
“I have no doubt.”
They continue upward. The trees thin gradually, the air growing brighter. Zatanna watches sunlight catch in Diana’s hair, turning it almost bronze.
“I wished to show you something beautiful,” Diana admitted. “I could’ve brought you to my mother in hell but I was told that it would be too sudden so I just chose this instead.”
“That’s dangerous phrasing.”
“Why?”
“Because now I have expectations.”
Diana looks amused. “You are difficult to impress, Zee.”
“Correct.”
“I accept the challenge.”
The path grows narrower, edged with low winter shrubs dotted with stubborn yellow flowers. Zatanna reaches out absently, brushing her fingers across one as they pass.
“Do you ever get tired?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“No, I mean—tired of being this?” She gestures vaguely with one sunflower at Diana’s entire heroic aura.
Diana considers the question seriously.
“I grow tired of violence,” she says. “Not of purpose.”
Zatanna studies her profile.
“That’s very noble of you.”
“It is simply honest.”
“You’re going to ruin my reputation if you keep being like this.”
Diana glances down. “Your reputation is formidable.”
“I have standards, Di.”
They crest the ridge slowly, the trees finally parting. Upon reaching the hill, Diana finally set her down—but not abruptly. Slowly. Like she was reluctant to break contact.
Zatanna’s boots touched the ground, and she swayed just a little from the transition. Diana’s hand remained at her waist for half a second longer than necessary.
“You can let go,” Zatanna murmured.
Diana’s fingers eased away, but her gaze stayed.
The wind caught Zatanna’s hair, tossing it across her face. She made an annoyed sound and pushed it back.
“This is your big romantic gesture?” she asked, glancing around. “A hill?”
“It is my favorite place here.”
Zatanna softened despite herself.
“Oh.”
Diana stepped beside her, close but not crowding. “When I first came to Gateway, I would stand here to listen.”
“To what?”
“The quiet between things.”
Zatanna snorted faintly. “You’re so poetic it’s painful.”
Diana’s shoulder brushed hers as the wind shifted.
“I wished to share it with you.”
That did something to her. Something slow and warm and dangerous.
She sat down abruptly on the grass before she could think too hard about it. The ground was cool but not uncomfortable. She set the sunflowers beside her carefully.
Diana watched her for a moment, then joined her without hesitation.
They sat shoulder to shoulder.
The city in the distance glowed softly.
A hawk circled somewhere overhead.
Zatanna leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out. “You know what’s funny?”
“What is funny?”
“I’ve handled Veronica Cale on three hours of sleep and spite alone. And being talked to while I was treated like a dog, wearing a damn muzzle.”
Diana tilted her head slightly. “Yes.”
“But still, somehow,” Zatanna continued, “this is the thing that makes me nervous.”
Diana didn’t respond immediately.
She reached over instead to gently take Zatanna’s hand.
She froze.
Diana’s fingers were warm, calloused, and steady.
“You do not need armor here,” Diana said quietly.
Zatanna swallowed. “Bold of you to assume I ever take it off.”
Diana’s thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles.
“I would wait,” she said simply.
There it was again. That impossible patience.
Zatanna squeezed her hand before she could second-guess herself.
“Careful,” she murmured. “If you keep being like this, I might start believing you.”
“I hope you do.”
The sun dipped lower. Gold shifted into amber.
Without really thinking about it, Zatanna leaned sideways.
Just a little.
Her shoulder pressed more firmly against Diana’s arm.
The princess adjusted instantly, opening her posture without comment. An invitation without pressure.
Zatanna took it.
She leaned fully this time, resting her head against Diana’s shoulder.
Diana went very still. She wasn’t tense, but instead, aware.
“You’re stiff,” Zatanna mumbled.
“I am attempting not to move you.”
“I’m not glass.”
“I know.”
“Then relax.”
Diana exhaled slowly.
Her shoulder softened beneath the sorceress’ cheek.
One of her arms came up, hesitated, then settled around Zatanna’s back. Not tight or possessive, just there.
Zatanna closed her eyes for a second.
“Okay,” she said softly. “This is acceptable.”
“I am relieved.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Zatanna felt Diana’s heartbeat under her ear—steady, unhurried.
It grounded her in a way she wasn’t used to.
After a few minutes, Diana shifted slightly.
“May I?” she asked.
Zatanna cracked one eye open. “May you what?”
Diana’s fingers brushed a strand of hair away from Zatanna’s face.
Oh.
Oh.
Zatanna’s breath hitched—barely.
“You ask permission for everything,” she murmured.
“I respect you.”
“That’s new.”
“It should not be.”
Zatanna looked up at her then.
Really looked.
The sunset caught in Diana’s eyes, turning them into a brighter hue of blue.
“You’re so unfairly beautiful, Diana.” Zatanna said.
Diana blinked, surprised.
“You are,” Zatanna insisted, lifting a hand to lightly tap her jaw. “It’s distracting.”
Diana’s lips curved softly. “I do not intend to distract you.”
“Liar.”
“I have never lied to you.”
“That’s worse.”
Diana laughed quietly. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t grand.
It was warm.
She felt it in her ribs.
Impulsively—because she was Zatanna and restraint had never been her strongest skill—she shifted in Diana’s lap.
Not fully. Just enough that she was half-turned toward her, one knee brushing against Diana’s thigh.
“Is this still a date?” she asked.
“If you wish it to be.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then it is simply two women watching the sun.”
Zatanna studied her.
“You’re not going to push?”
“No,”
“Not even a little?”
“I have already carried you up a hill.”
Zatanna grinned.
“That’s fair.”
She reached back, grabbing one of the sunflowers.
She twirled it between her fingers, then—without ceremony—tucked it behind Diana’s ear.
It looked ridiculous.
And perfect.
Diana stilled.
“Zee—”
“Shh,” she said lightly. “Let me do something nice without turning it into a mythic event.”
Diana’s hand slid to her waist again.
“You are extraordinary,” Diana said quietly.
Zatanna rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I am not starting. I am stating.”
“You’re dangerously close to poetry again.”
The princess leaned in slightly.
Close enough that their foreheads almost touched.
“Then allow me to be dangerous.”
Her pulse spiked.
“Princess,” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“…You’re really going to make me like Valentine’s, aren’t you?”
Diana’s thumb traced a slow, absentminded circle against her side.
“If you do,” she said, “it will be because you chose to.”