If Prologue's bore you feel free to skip, but it might get confusing later if you don't read the prologue.
Prologue
Hippolyta Olympianus-Anthos had in her day been a great beauty, born to a very wealthy family in Athens Greece she experienced an idyllic childhood. Since she was his only child, her father, Zeus Olympianus gave his daughter the best education his vast wealth could buy. And by the time she was 7 years old Hippolyta was fluent in Greek, French, and Italian. Her mother, Hera Olympianus had died upon her birth, but was made so real to the young Hippolyta through her father's stories that she felt as if she had known her. Of course as is the case with most memories they became sweeter with age. The Hera of Zeus's memory grew kinder, more beautiful, more intelligent, and more greatly missed with each passing year, until the image of the woman projected to her sole child was so glorified, that the real woman would have paled in comparison had she been alive.
As a result Hera became a thing of reverence to her daughter, almost more of a goddess then a mother. For as she grew, the young girl could hardly believe that the woman she had been told of had ever actually walk the earth with mortals. It simply did not seem right, so to compensate for the loss of the mother she never knew Hippolyta recreated her in her mind as a benevolent being above this world, meant to be admired and worshipped, even in death.
When she was only 9 her father's broken heart finally took him to his dear wife, and he left behind the daughter who needed him much more than did the wife whose charms he had fabricated through the pain of loss. Upon her father's death Hippolyta was placed into the care of her Uncle, Jason Olympianus, a self-serving man with no desire other than his own comfort. Having no affection for his late brother, and possessing no admiration for the species of women. He longed for the day when he could be rid of the burden of his niece for good.
Life with Uncle Jason was unkind to Hippolyta, after being petted and cherished, to being ignored and rudely insulted day in and day out took its toll on the young girl. So at the hands of her negligent uncle who spent her fortune and ignored her woes, Hippolyta's heart began a very dangerous metamorphoses, changing from trust, and love, to uncertainty and stubbornness. The longer she was forced to remain in her uncle's house the more she began to hate him, and the more Hippolyta began to despair of the male species of having any redeeming qualities. Slowly the memories of her kind and benevolent father where erased, instead being replaced by thoughts of the angelic mother she had never known. As a child clings to a fairy tale as a means of escape, so Hippolyta clung to the image of her mother through her ordeal. In fact so much would her mother's glorious, although mostly fabricated example illuminate her thoughts, that by the time of her death the only memory she would retain of the kind father who had loved her to distraction, would be that of a bewhiskered kiss on the forehead after falling from her horse. All other memories of him, and her happy childhood would be blurred beyond recognition, or remembrance.
Three days after her 16th birthday Hippolyta was sold off by her uncle to a husband twice her age. Where her experiences with her uncle had caused her to despair of men, the abuses felt at the hands of her new husband would turn those feelings to bitter loathing. So much was her disdain for the man, that on the only occasion she ever mentioned him to his child she could not even bare to say his name, but instead referred to him as the horrible viper Monsieur Anthos. The physical and emotional brutality inflicted by her husband finally climaxed during a trip to France. And although 5 months pregnant with his child Hippolyta could see no escape from the man who in her mind had come from Hades himself. So she ran, as fast as she could.
One night while her husband was out for drinks Hippolyta grabbed a carpet bag and filled it with her most treasured possessions, things her husband wouldn't even notice where gone: the twin silver bracelets that had been her mothers, the miniature portrait of her parents, and her three favorite books, the Odyssey, a book of Greek mythology, and the world atlas. Then she walked out of the hotel and ran down the dark street never looking back.
After three days of wandering through the streets of Paris, Hippolyta, cold and tired, found her way to the back alley next to the whore house of one Madame Marie. Fatigued from hunger and stress, Hippolyta decided to simply lie down in the alley and await death, convinced it was the only escape from her tortured life. Suddenly she felt something warm being wrapped around her shoulders, she turned to see a middle aged woman laying a shawl over the freezing young woman. Her face was smeared with makeup that had been worn so long it was impossible to see what the wearer's real face looked like. The woman's face stretched into a somewhat grotesque, hungrily eager smile, similar to that of a man buying a horse who has just seen something worth his money.
"You poor thing. How long have you been here?"
Hippolyta didn't reply she was still trying to decide if this horrifying woman was real or if she was hallucinating.
"Don't you worry now ma cherie, Madame Marie will take care of you, and once your petite fille is born you will work for me to repay my kindness."
"How do you know it will be a girl?"
For some reason that was the only thing Hippolyta could think of to say to this woman who both comforted and terrified her. The Madame didn't respond but with the look of an old soothsayer she helped Hippolyta inside the whore house, and so in attempting to escape one form of slavery Hippolyta sold herself to another master.
Three and a half months later Hippolyta's daughter was born, she named her Diana. And despite the life she would live, Hippolyta was determined that her daughter would be educated, in order to further protect herself from the evils of men. So before the child could even speak Hippolyta began schooling her in the art of languages. Making sure that despite the poor grade of people she conversed with, her daughter would possess immaculate speech, not only in French, but Greek, and Italian as well. So effective in fact was Hippolyta's schooling of her daughter's speech that the other prostitutes began to refer to her as La Princesse Diana which was later shortened to Princesse.
As for Hippolyta her life in the Parisian whore house only lessened her view of men even more. She was convinced that there was nothing of any value in any of them, and couldn't possibly imagine why God would allow them to remain on the earth, except for the fact that He was also a male. As the years went by Hippolyta's contempt became even harder to conceal. In fact it became so obvious that the clients began referring to her as The Amazon, in reference to the men-hating females of legend. Surprisingly enough, instead of her obvious loathing of men dampening her appeal to the clients it had the reverse affect. There was something intriguing about this beautiful woman who loathed men. The way she would look at men was viewed by them as a challenge. Hippolyta however, took a certain amount of deranged pride in seducing these men. Each time she felt as though she had won a secret battle, proving that men really were nothing more than pleasure driven animals, brutes incapable of feeling.
Attempting to instruct her daughter of the villainous ways of men, Hippolyta ordered her child to examine those around her, the men who frequented the establishment that was Diana's home. But where Hippolyta viewed men with contempt and hatred, Diana couldn't seem to form an opinion against men. Yes they seemed to be rather pointless creatures, but without them her mother would have no living. So although Diana was an obedient student of her mother, Hippolyta's teachings never found the fertile soil she looked for. In the end Diana gave men very little thought. They were there to purchase a service, which once provided they left. However she did inherit her mother's fears of men's power. Diana had been born with a warrior's spirit for Justice and Honor; sadly neither of these things were existent in her life, so as to make her long for them all the more, and the opportunity to be forever freed from being sold to the highest bidder. For if there was one thing Diana did fear it was of forever being trapped in a life that was not hers to control.