"Can I ask you something… personal?"
"Doom understands your doubts. Ask carefully."
"Cynthia von Doom… is your mother? Right? The name was in the book about the Zefiro clan."
"You deduce very well, Diana. She was."
"I would love to hear what she was like. What was her personality like?"
"She was a kind and strong woman for my clan, but the whole city at that time hated her, from what I can remember."
"Because of her sorcery?"
"It was. I repeat, she did it to protect us from that miserable Fortunov. She loved my father and especially me. Doom."
"You must have loved her a lot to rename your capital in her honor. But she must be disappointed in your actions now…"
"She is. Her soul lives in peace alongside my father's."
"Wow! This is the first time you have given me the right."
"I have seen it, Amazon. I have seen her disappointment, right before my eyes. It is a price Doom is willing to pay."
"How…"
"One day you will know everything. Just submit completely to me. Doom will grant you such a wish."
"I will never do it. I love…"
"That is another sign that Doom is winning."
"What was your father like?"
"My father, Werner von Doom, was a healer by excellence. A good man who dedicated his life to helping the sick in our Gypsy camps, even when the world only offered contempt. One day he tried to cure Fortunov's wife, he could not succeed and that damned…"
"..."
"The deaths of my parents gave me the foundations to build my empire."
"Understood. On the other hand. This country, Symkaria? What is your full history with them?"
"You do not deserve to hear my full history with those democrats, Diana. It does not need to be discussed."
"Still, you have alliances with them."
"Doom orders you not to mention my dealings with Symkaria."
"Fine… Where are you taking me? Who do you want to introduce me to? More of your robots? Some of your banished relatives?"
"Stop your bad taste jokes, Diana."
"Then, who are they?"
"You will see. You will like them. We are almost there."
///
The sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, pink, and ever-deeper purple.
The carriage stopped gently in front of a modest but well-kept wooden cabin, with no other homes around. Doom helped Diana down from the vehicle with delicacy. Diana looked around. They both stood on a kind of ordinary farm, surrounded by gentle hills and patches of forest. The carriage driver Darian tipped his tall hat respectfully toward both of them before urging the horses back toward the city, leaving Doom and Diana standing in the fading light.
Diana took in the peaceful scene. Cows, chickens, and sheep grazed contentedly in nearby enclosures, their soft sounds mixing with the evening breeze. In the distance, a hot-air balloon drifted lazily among the mountains, its body proudly displaying a large image of Doom's masked face — a floating testament to his omnipresence even in the countryside. The cabin itself strongly reminded her of the Kent family home in Smallville: simple, warm, and grounded in rural charm, with smoke curling gently from the chimney and flower boxes lining the windows.
Doom moved toward the door with determined steps. Diana followed him, her sandals crunching softly on the gravel path.
"Who lives here?" She asked, curiosity edging her voice.
Suddenly, a voice called from the side of the cabin, warm and respectful, though unknown to Diana.
"Lord Doom, it is good to have you back."
Both turned their faces. Approaching them was a young man of about twenty-five years, with toasted brown hair and an open, friendly face. He wore simple farmer's clothes, pants and boots dusty with earth from the fields. He bowed deeply and respectfully as he drew near.
Doom responded with surprising cordiality, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Andrei, young lad. How is this new stage of your life going? Doom misses the presence of your family."
"You are always welcome here, master. Mirela and I were praying for when you would return so you could dine with us." The young Andrei straightened, a genuine smile lighting his face.
"Today is the day, my young subject." Doom's masked head tilted slightly, a note of satisfaction in his tone.
"My little one will be happy and calm at your return."
Diana listened to the exchange of words between both men. It felt strange to her to see Doom in an ordinary conversation with other mortals who were not royalty. She recognized the way the young man behaved: curious, loyal, and completely at ease in Doom's presence. The young man's youth gave him an air of the Daily Planet photographer and friend of Clark Kent, Jimmy Olsen.
Andrei noticed Diana's presence for the first time, his eyes widening slightly at her unexpected appearance. Doom leaned toward him and whispered something in a low voice in Latverian near the young man's ear, his arm now wrapped in a friendly manner around Andrei's shoulders.
"Ich praesento dikhen miri nächste Eroberung, la von weitem."
Diana heard those words that she still did not understand.
The brown-haired young man listened carefully, then replied in a low voice in the same language, a note of surprise in his voice.
"Oh! Herr Doom, me na džanav so te phenav, la si wunderschön, du weißt, wie man gut wählt."
Doom formed a mysterious smile behind his mask.
Diana still did not understand what the two of them were talking about. It had to be about her. She sighed silently.
"I have to be cordial with this boy. I do not even know who he is or why Doom brought me here."
Suddenly, a female voice called from inside the cabin, warm but harried by the small cry of a baby.
"Andrei, can you help me here? Luka will not stop crying. He has soiled his diaper and I have to change it."
The door opened. A young woman of about twenty-four years came out, holding a baby in her arms who was still crying. She was a redhead and wore a long purple tunic. Her eyes landed on Diana, widening with clear surprise at the tall and striking stranger. Then her gaze shifted to Andrei and, with even greater deference, to the ruler of Latveria.
"Lord Doom." She said, quickly composing herself, offering a respectful greeting and a smile. "It is a pleasant surprise. I did not expect you to come today."
"Mirela, young lass. I am here so you can meet someone special." Doom inclined his head with grace.
Andrei, still a little nervous but excited, turned toward his partner.
"Mirela… meet… Lord Doom's new partner."
Mirela's surprise deepened as her gaze returned to Diana more closely, taking in her regal bearing and unusual presence. The baby's crying in her arms began to calm.
Diana remained silent for a moment, unsure how to respond.
"Who are these people? Why bring me to a simple farming family?"
The young couple exchanged a quick glance. Andrei seemed genuinely pleased, while Mirela's expression held a mixture of awe and cautious warmth.
Doom's arm still remained wrapped around Andrei's shoulders as he regarded the small family with what almost passed for affection in his imperious manner. The sunset continued to fade behind them, casting long shadows across the quiet farm and bathing the scene in a soft, golden light.
"Lord Doom and my lady. We invite you to come in. We will prepare tea and cookies for you." Andrei offered to the newly arrived duo at his home. "We would love to hear the story of the two of you."
///
The interior of the cabin was warm, bathed in the soft golden glow of oil lamps that flickered delicately against the wooden walls. The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows over the simple but well-kept furniture. The air smelled of pine, wood smoke, and something earthy — perhaps the herbs drying in bundles above the kitchen door.
Diana sat at a medium-sized wooden table in the center of the main dining area. Her pink tunic was slightly wrinkled from the day's journey. The cabin was small but cozy; its interior once again reminded her of the home of the married couple Clark Kent and Lois Lane. The same warmth, the same simplicity, the same feeling of a life lived with honesty. But this was not Smallville. This was an unknown farm in Latveria. This was not her home, nor her Earth.
She listened to soft murmurs from another room: the deep voice of the brown-haired young man, the gentle replies of his partner, and the occasional cry of the baby. They were changing the little one's diaper, an everyday act that felt almost strange in the context of her captivity. A domestic scene in the middle of a nightmare.
"What could be the reason he brought me here? What is he trying to show me?"
She looked toward the kitchen doorway. Through the opening, she saw Victor von Doom standing beside the small stove, his armored figure strangely out of place in that modest space. He was preparing tea, at his own request, so the young couple could attend to their child in peace. The scene was so unexpected, so incongruous, that Diana felt a strange knot in her chest.
The tyrant of Latveria preparing tea in a humble peasant cabin. She no longer knew what to think of him.
Night was now present through the windows of the place. The day had been long, full of revelations and contradictions. She had seen Doom's empire, his people, his monuments, and his university. She had seen the legacy of his mother in the books. Now she was sitting in a cabin, watching him perform an act of quiet domesticity.
"What kind of villain does this?"
She heard the creak of a door and then footsteps. Andrei came out of the room, his face flushed from the effort of helping his wife. He offered Diana a respectful nod as he passed, a gesture of deference that made her skin prickle.
"Hera, why do they treat me like a queen? I am not my mother. I am a prisoner. I am not their ruler."
Andrei walked past her without a word, his boots echoing softly against the wooden floor as he headed to the kitchen. Through the threshold she heard him speaking to Doom in Latverian.
The princess sighed. She wanted to know if Doom intended to marry her ever since she heard that murmur in the city. If he did, she would reject him outright. Despite everything she had seen that day — the beauty of Doomstadt, the kindness and devotion of his people — he still did not allow her to make her own decisions. He would not force her. He had captured her. He had violated her mind with his pheromones. He had touched her without her consent.
"Showing me a beautiful nation does not make you a good man."
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she did not notice the arrival of the brown-haired young man's bride, named Mirela. The young woman came out of the room with the baby in her arms, his small face peeking out from under the blanket. Mirela moved with delicacy, soft and measured steps. Her red hair reflected the firelight, giving it an almost ethereal glow.
She sat across from Diana, settling into a wooden chair with a sigh of satisfaction. She adjusted her baby in her arms; her movements were a little uncertain.
Diana watched as Mirela tried to position the baby to nurse, opening the top of her tunic a little and lowering her bra. She carefully exposed her breast. The little one squirmed, kicking in protest while she tried to guide the nipple to his mouth. He began to cry, his face turning red.
"Come on, sweetheart, please…" Mirela bit her lip, frowning.
The Amazon princess understood the problem at once. The position was wrong: the baby was too upright, his head poorly aligned. The poor child was having trouble latching, and his mother's frustration was growing.
"May I?" Diana asked quietly, rising from her chair.
Mirela looked up, a flash of surprise in her eyes.
"Of course… my lady. I would be very grateful." She spoke with respect.
Diana moved around the table with care and without hurry. She knelt beside Mirela and extended her hand, carefully adjusting the baby's position. She gently tilted the little one's head, guiding him toward a better angle at his mother's breast, despite the cries and the child's restlessness.
"Like this." She murmured. "Make sure his head is aligned with his body. He needs a straight line to latch properly."
The baby stopped crying. With a better position, his mouth found the nipple and began to nurse with soft, satisfied sounds.
Mirela exhaled a sigh of relief, relaxing her shoulders.
"Oh, thank you for your help. It has been so difficult since I took on the role of mother."
"I can see that and I understand you," Diana said calmly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her right leg over the other.
"This is my first time I have faced motherhood. I did not expect it to be so… exhausting. Attending to my child every moment." The young mother looked at her with gratitude, her eyes warm and open. "It is a sacrifice I am willing to make."
"You will get used to it. All mothers do, in their own way." Diana nodded gently.
"I see you are an expert with babies." Mirela smiled, looking down at her nursing son.
"I am. My experience with my sister's son has given me a certain skill with babies." Diana's smile faded; a shadow crossed her face.
"Do you have a sister?" the young redhead asked, looking up with curiosity in her eyes.
"You could say she is adopted. We are not blood sisters but she will always be my little sister."
"You are lucky. I always wanted a little sister to play with in my childhood. My parents never granted me that wish because at that time we were bankrupt." Mirela's expression softened. "Actually, it was the whole country. We did not have enough resources to live. They could only support me."
"Latveria bankrupt? But that would be impossible… here. From what I have seen…"
"Did the master not tell you about the time of that damned Zorba Fortunov's rule?" The redhead asked.
"No. I know something about Vladimir Fortu…" Diana tried to speak.
"The father. That is the one. I am talking about the son, my lady. Poverty, hyperinflation and famine returned because of that man. Giving freedom according to his way." Mirela interrupted respectfully. "He banished the master from the throne at that time. The country was heading toward misery. Several of us died for opposing him."
Diana listened attentively to the young woman's sincere revelations. It meant that Doom had once been removed from his position. That was predictable. The son reclaiming the throne from his father's murderer. It was all a fight between dictators. Definitely, there had been civil wars here.
"The master returned and killed Zorba. He solved the problems in a short time. We are not willing to have any other ruler who is not Victor von Doom or someone from his family." The young woman continued.
Diana felt a nervous twitch at the word "family." The future child of the ruler and herself. The murder of the Fortunovs by her captor. All these people were willing to live forever under Doom's command.
"Let us change the subject. I am sorry your childhood wish was not fulfilled," the Amazon said, coming back to herself. "But now you have a son with whom you can fill that void. He will grow, and you will see him become a good person. That is a gift, and especially a wish."
"Thank you for those words, my lady. They mean a great deal to me." Mirela's eyes shone.
"Leave the formalities aside, girl. It feels strange to be addressed that way. I am not with Doom." Diana shook her head softly.
"That cannot be true. The master brought you here to introduce us to our next queen." Mirela blinked; her expression shifted from gratitude to confusion.
"He forced me to come. We are only just getting to know each other. There is nothing romantic. I am sorry to disappoint you. I feel comfortable here in your home, but not with Doom." Diana clenched her jaw. She kept her gaze fixed on Mirela, her voice firm but not harsh.
Mirela remained silent for a long moment, studying Diana's face. Then, slowly, she spoke, with a voice that carried a strange heaviness, as if reciting something memorized.
"I have read stories of our ancestors, as well as those of Symkaria. In all of them, the future queens say the same thing at the beginning. They resist. They deny it. They fight. And in the end, they fall before their king, loving him with devotion."
Diana felt a shiver run down her spine.
"I am sorry for overstepping so much, my lady." Mirela continued in a soft but firm voice. "But no one can escape the claws of my master. Keep that in mind. Unless you have the same magical abilities as that Romani woman."
Diana stared at her, her mind racing.
Was Doom manipulating this family?
Had he programmed them, brainwashed them, to serve his narrative? Or was this genuine?
How far had that wretched man fallen?
What did she mean by that Romani woman with magical powers? Cynthia von Doom was ruled out.
"Are you blind, Mirela? Do you not see that I am a prisoner?"
She did not speak the words aloud. She could not shatter this woman's faith, not while she held her small son with such tenderness.
"On the other hand, I see that you are neither Latverian nor Symkarian. I detect a foreign accent in your voice." Mirela tilted her head, observing Diana with renewed curiosity.
"I come from an island in the Mediterranean Sea that has Greek influences." Diana kept her origins compressed; she did not want to draw more attention from Mirela or her partner.
"That makes sense. Are you some kind of soldier or warrior from your island? You have the physique of one. You are tall. You must be strong." Mirela's eyes lit up.
"I am that obvious." Diana sighed; an ironic smile appeared on her lips.
"I see why Lord Doom chose you. Latveria will be safe in your hands and also in the master's. I hope the two of you marry soon." Mirela laughed softly, with a light and melodious laugh.
The Amazon felt a new shiver at the thought of marriage. She disliked it intensely. She wanted to shout at Mirela that her master had kidnapped her from a different Earth, that she had not participated voluntarily in any of this.
But she could not frighten the young mother, younger than Bruce's first protégé. Not while she held her son, nursing him. It was not her moral code.
"What is your name, my lady? Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" Mirela's voice interrupted her thoughts, soft and curious.
Diana sighed, a sigh heavy with resignation. She looked at the fire, the dancing flames that seemed to mock her.
"Diana." she said quietly. "My name is Diana Prince. My home is called Themyscira. A pleasure to meet you."
"Diana Prince of Themyscira. It is beautiful. The pleasure is mine. You've already heard my name." Mirela repeated the name softly, as if savoring it. "Do you miss your home, my lady?"
A knot formed in the Amazon princess's throat. "More than I can express."
"You should not, my lady. Here you will be well and safe with us."
Diana felt another knot in her throat.
"Mirela. I see you are getting along well with my lady." Andrei's warm voice interrupted them.
Diana turned her gaze in that direction. She saw Doom, his armored figure seeming almost too large for the modest cabin. In his gloved hands he carried a wooden tray with four cups of tea from which steam rose. Behind him, Andrei brought a plate of cookies whose surfaces shone with dark red jam.
Doom moved with surprising grace, his cape brushing the wooden floor as he placed the tray on the table. Andrei set the cookies beside it with careful, respectful movements.
"Lady Diana has a pleasant air. It is a pleasure to speak with her." Mirela nodded calmly.
Before sitting, Andrei turned toward Diana with a serious but kind expression. He inclined his head slightly, hands together.
"My lady, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Andrei Ivanov. You will always be welcome here. My master's companion has every right to be respected by the entire country."
Diana felt a knot in her chest. She did not know what to say. The respect in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. They felt wrong. She was not their queen. She was not Doom's companion. She was a prisoner. But she could not break their faith. Not there. Not now.
With a respectful gesture she extended her hand and took his, firmly but gently.
"Call me Diana Prince." She said, her voice firm despite the confusion she felt. "I hope that… we get along… well."
Andrei smiled, his eyes full of warmth. He released her hand and sat beside his wife, wrapping his arm around her naturally. The couple looked at Diana with curiosity, with a simple and uncomplicated welcome.
Diana doubted the false life Doom offered her. But deep down, these people were good. They simply lived their lives, grateful for the security their ruler provided them.
Doom sat beside Diana, his armored figure settling into the wooden chair with surprising care. His presence was a constant weight at her side, a reminder of why she was truly there.
"Andrei, Lady Diana told me she comes from a Greek island." Mirela looked at her husband, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"A Greek island? Are you serious? At least her beauty and her accent justify it." Andrei raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Diana felt a slight forced smile appear on her lips.
"Thank you," she whispered, taking a sip of her tea. The liquid was warm and herbal, with a touch of honey and something she could not identify.
Mirela took a cookie, broke it, and dipped it in her tea without neglecting her baby.
"Can you tell us about your island?" Andrei asked, his voice curious but not demanding. "There must be more beautiful women and men like you."
"There are only women. There are no men. We rely on ourselves. We survive alone." Diana spoke, setting down her cup with a distant gaze.
"Is there any specific reason why there are no men on your island?" Andrei blinked, frowning.
The question was innocent to Diana, but the answer was wrapped in a history of pain and loss she was not prepared to share. Not here. Not with strangers.
"I prefer not to talk about it," the Amazon said in a low but firm voice.
"I understand. Do not worry, my lady. I apologize if my question bothered you a little." Andrei nodded at once, his expression softer.
"Everyone asks the same thing when they want to know about my island. It is something I am used to. Do not worry." Diana offered a slight smile, the first sincere one she had felt in hours.
"The island where Lady Diana lives is called Themyscira." Mirela leaned toward her husband with a hint of mystery in her voice.
"Themyscira? I have never heard of it, nor have I seen it on any map." Andrei frowned, confused.
"It is a hidden island. They are a people difficult to deal with for outsiders." Doom's voice interrupted the conversation, soft and authoritative.
Diana felt a flash of annoyance at his comment. He made it sound as if the Amazons were hostile, as if they were the ones who had isolated themselves from the world. In reality, they had been forced to hide, to protect themselves from a world that did not understand them.
"You are going to like this, my young subjects. Diana is the princess of that island." Doom continued, with a tone of quiet triumph in his voice as he drank his tea.
The couple's eyes widened. Mirela brought a hand to her mouth. Andrei's jaw dropped.
"Princess?" Mirela whispered. "Are you a princess, Lady Diana? Are you royalty?"
"What he says is true." Diana sighed, a sigh heavy with resignation.
"Lord Doom, how did you meet Lady Diana?" The young man asked, eating a cookie.
Doom extended his hand, and his metallic hand found Diana's on the table. His fingers closed around hers, firm and possessive. The contact was gentle, but Diana felt a shiver run down her spine.
"Through diplomatic relations with that island. They are a difficult people to deal with, but Diana was the only different one." The ruler of Latveria said softly. "Doom claimed her and she came to me voluntarily."
Diana felt a surge of anger at his words. Claimed. Voluntarily. The lies wrapped around her like chains, binding her to a story she had never chosen.
But then his thumb drew a small circle on the back of her hand, and she felt something else. A warmth. A betrayal of her own body.
"No. Not again. Not his tricks."
She tried to pull away, but her hand did not obey. She felt comfortable. She felt somewhat safe.
"Her mother. The queen is an obstacle to what is ours. Doom does not fear that woman." The man in the green cape continued.
The couple smiled at their master's gesture and words, their faces radiant with approval.
"You could kiss. I would feel comfortable seeing that demonstration of love." Mirela's eyes shone.
"We have not yet seen you kiss, my lords." Andrei nodded.
Diana's mind raced.
"Kiss? No. This cannot be happening. This is not real."
Doom turned toward her; his mask hid his expression, but she could feel his burning gaze through the slits of the mask.
"Doom will grant your wish." He said, with a tone of dark satisfaction in his voice. "It is the reward for your good behavior."
Victor leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper meant only for her.
"We will be quick, dear. If you resist, you will face Doom."
Diana's heart pounded in her chest.
"Do not do it. Do not you dare."
She tried to pull away; her body tensed with resistance. But then, suddenly, she felt the urge to kiss him. The same sensation as before. His lips. His presence. His control.
"No. No. No."
Doom's face drew closer. She could see his brown eyes through the slits of his mask, burning with an intensity that took her breath away. She tried to turn her face away, but her body betrayed her. The supposed pheromones. The damned pheromones. The young couple watched them with great expectation, their faces full of hope and excitement.
And then Diana kissed him.
The instant their lips met, she felt a jolt she could not describe. His lips were cold at first, the metal of his mask pressing against her skin. But then they softened, and she felt something more. Something she could not describe.
He returned the kiss, his coldness giving way to a warmth that surprised her. His hand tightened over hers, their fingers intertwining. He kissed her as if she were precious. As if she mattered.
Diana felt her mind spinning. She had kissed before. She had kissed Steve Trevor with intensity and roughness. She had kissed Bruce Wayne with intensity and caution. But this was Doom. Her captor. The man who had torn her from her world, who had violated her mind, who wanted to force her to bear his child.
It's the first kiss she shared with Doom.
Yet his kiss felt broken. He kissed her like a man who had been deprived of intimacy for far too long. He kissed her like a man desperate for something he could not name.
"He is broken," She thought. "This man is more broken than Bruce. More broken than anyone I have ever known. Perhaps because of the deaths of his parents?"
She felt herself returning the kiss. Her free hand rose, almost of its own accord, and began to caress his mask. Her fingers traced the cold metal, as if trying to reach the man hidden behind it.
"What am I doing?"
But she could not stop. The passion grew, a heat spreading through her chest that made her forget, for an instant, who she was and where she was. She felt his fingers tighten against hers and heard a low, involuntary gasp escape her lips — a sound of annoyance or perhaps something more.
She realized, through her intuition, that he was suffering. He suffered and he hid it.
She did not know why that drove her to kiss him with more intensity. She did not know why she drew closer, why she allowed her lips to brush his, why she permitted her fingers to touch the edge of his mask.
But she did.
The seconds stretched, and Diana lost herself in the kiss. She felt more passion, anger, confusion, and something else she could not define. She cursed herself for continuing, but her body refused to obey. She was trapped in a moment she had not chosen.
"You are going too far, my lords. I think that kiss excited you. I can see how much you love each other. I liked it." Mirela's voice, soft and amused.
Then Diana pulled away, her cheeks burning. She looked at the couple, at their warm smiles of approval, and felt a wave of shame.
"They believe I love him. They believe this is real."
Doom released her hand, recovering his composure. He took his tea and drank a measured sip, as if nothing had happened. His mask betrayed nothing.
Diana's mind was a whirlwind of contradictory emotions. She felt passion. She felt anger. She felt confusion. She felt a strange and unwanted tenderness toward the broken man sitting beside her.
"Everything is confusing. It is confusing."
She looked at Doom, at the way he sat so calm, so controlled, as if her kiss had meant nothing.
Diana needed to change the subject. She needed to think of something else. Anything else. Forget that uncomfortable moment. Her gaze returned to the young couple, to Mirela cradling her sleeping son while drinking her tea and Andrei's arm protectively around his wife's shoulders. They were so calm, so happy. They had no idea of what she was suffering.
"Mirela. Andrei… how did you meet… Victor…?" Diana asked in a careful, measured voice. It was the first time she had spoken her captor's true name. She hated saying it. "In person..."
The question hung in the air. Mirela and Andrei exchanged a glance, a silent conversation between them.
Then Mirela smiled, her eyes full of nostalgia.
"Well, we saw the master in paintings twenty years ago." She began in a reverent voice. "His image is everywhere in Latveria. His speeches in the central square. We grew up knowing his face, knowing his protection."
Diana nodded slowly. Doom's face was everywhere, a constant reminder of his presence.
"But we met him in person three months ago." Mirela continued, lowering her tone. "The day Luka was born."
"The day of your son's birth?" Diana blinked.
"Lord Doom is the godfather of my little one." Andrei nodded, taking his wife's hand.
Diana's eyes widened. She looked at Doom, who sat beside her with his usual imperial composure. His mask betrayed nothing, but she could sense a quiet satisfaction emanating from him.
"Godfather. He is the godfather of this child. Is that why he brought me here? To meet him?"
The couple caressed the sleeping baby, who had stopped nursing. Mirela's fingers gently brushed his cheek. Luka stirred slightly and then returned to his peaceful sleep.
Diana did not know what to think. Doom, the tyrant who had kidnapped her, who had violated her mind, who wanted to force her to bear his heir, was also a godfather. He had taken on the role of spiritual protector of this child.
"Is there anything you cannot do, you damned man?"
Mirela looked up and her eyes met Diana's.
"Lord Doom saved my life and my son's that day. I had a premature birth and he saved my child."
"Mirela suffered a great deal during her pregnancy. At one point she bled heavily. It was terrifying. I thought I was going to lose them both." Andrei nodded, his voice breaking.
Diana felt a knot in her chest.
"We went to the health center." He continued. "The Doombots helped us but it was not enough. Mirela was losing a lot of blood. The healers did everything possible, but…"
He paused, swallowing with difficulty.
"We were lucky that the Master appeared. He saw us arrive and came to help us."
Diana looked at Doom, studying his masked face. He had not moved, had not spoken. He simply remained seated, observing the scene with quiet satisfaction.
"He stabilized Mirela." Andrei said, his voice still breaking. "He used his magic. He stopped the hemorrhage. He saved her life. And then he saved Luka. He brought my son into the world with his own hands."
"He saved two lives that day. My son's and mine." Mirela's eyes shone with tears.
Diana absorbed their words, her mind full of thoughts. They were not lying; that was clear. She had seen Doom cruel. She had seen him calculating, possessive, and controlling. She had seen him use his magic to manipulate her, to force her submission.
But she had never seen him save a life.
She looked at him, truly looked at him. His mask hid his expression, but she could feel his gaze on the family, on the child he had saved.
"You are a contradiction." Diana thought. "A monster who builds hospitals. A tyrant who saves children. A captor who kisses like a shattered man."
"He is his godson; in fact, he is the second on his list. The master told us he has a goddaughter but she is American." Andrei continued, his voice full of gratitude.
The Amazon's heart skipped a beat. A goddaughter. American.
"Congratulations, Diana. You are the godmother of little one." von Doom exclaimed.