Chapter 36

"Are you sure you're okay to fly?" Donna asked, needlessly helping her sister as they walked to the beach of the main Island of Themyscira closest to Exile.

"Yes, Donna," Diana said, her smile saying that she was charmed by her sister's compassion, but just a little bit annoyed by the persistence and mothering that she was receiving.

"But, alone? What if something happens? What if Circe comes back?" the younger sister persisted, holding on to her older sister's wrist around the silver bracelet they all wore.

"Shayera and her team are tracking Circe," she reminded her sister. "I will be fine." Her smile was gentle, but she was losing her patience. Since she woke up, Diana had been treated like an invalid, unable to do anything for herself. Donna had even insisted on helping Diana pin her robes and hair. To her credit, however, Donna had taken much more care than Diana would have. The younger sister had always been more conscious of image and where Diana would rather just get her hair out of the way, Donna had a flare for doing it with style.

"It's a shame you lost the diadem..." the younger sibling said, looking to the ground. The words that hung between them were obvious, because the diadem had belonged to their mother before it was Diana's, and by losing it, she had lost part of her Mother's legacy.

"I know," she whispered, tilting Donna's head up to look at her. "But Mother would tell us it is only gold and jewels, an object without any meaning or purpose other than that which we invest in it."

Donna laughed. "You really are like her," she said, and for once in their long history of rivalries, it was meant as a compliment.

"You pay me the greatest compliment, Sister," she said, wrapping her arms around the slightly smaller version of herself and embracing her before taking off to the Island for what might be one last trip.

The barren chunk of rock was quite like how Diana remembered it; desolate and incredibly lonely. The first thing she did upon arrival was go to the temple she had erected in memory of the lost souls from the war, her mother, her own innocence and Mera.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Diana knelt down in front of the shrine built for Hippolyta and prayed.

Her head bent, the Queen fought back tears as she lifted her head to the statue bearing her mother's resemblance only to find it had gone from stone to flesh, or at least a representation of flesh.

"Why do you cry, child?" her mother's voice, always warm and consolatory, asked.

"Because I have caused so much pain, if only I had listened to my heart, if I had listened to Arthur, to Donna and Philipus… The war could have been avoided; Atlantis wouldn't be in ruins, the world would not be fearful of us… Circe would not have escaped," She hung her head. "It is all my fault."

"Such foolish non sense, Diana," her mother's voice echoed from beyond the corporeal world. "Pentisilla and Orm would have found another way; your Aunt knew what she was doing, she would not have had a hard time to convince Mera that your death would mean her right to be Queen, and in that she would have found a powerful ally. How do you think Circe was freed?"

Diana's eyes went wide when her mother spoke of Arthur's mistress turned Queen, and confirmed what she had feared about Circe's release. "Pentisilla passed the information to Orm who let it be known to Mera, but do not blame the poor woman, your arrival turned her world, her future, on its head."

Diana nodded. "Like you and Circe?" she offered, her blue eyes watching the reflected image of herself, much like in Donna but older, wiser, but no less regal.

The older woman's mouth drew into a line as she heard her reference the complicated relationship between Hippolyta and Circe, one that centred, much like Diana and Mera, around a man, but rather than king of an ancient and "lost" civilization, Ares was the God of War and Chaos. "Perhaps I should explain the whole story to you," Hippolyta said with a smile.

"It would be nice to hear it from you," Diana agreed, nodding her head slightly. "Is he really my father?"

"Physically?" Hippolyta shook her head. "I do not know; he is a God, and while we were lovers, you were not born until long after we had drifted apart, but as a God, it is not outside the realm of possibility that he could impregnate me without my knowledge. He is, however, your guide. You are his Champion as much as you belong to his blessed sisters Aphrodite and Athena, and whether you know it or not, every battle you've ever been in he has watched over you, including in your fights with Arthur."

Hippolyta continued to explain what had happened, from her first meeting with Ares, to the Rape of the Amazons, which threatened to split Themyscira into two tribes, to Diana's birth, rearing, her military training, going right up to the point of Hippolyta's death.

By the time the former Queen was done, the sun was hanging low in the sky, the large, deep orange orb reflecting in the calm serenity of the ocean made Diana long for contact with Arthur.

"My child," Hippolyta called. "The diadem of the Queen? You do not wear it?"

Diana put her hand to her forehead and swallowed hard. "I… uh," she looked away, unable to look her mother in the eye as she admitted she lost the diadem. "I lost it."

"Where?"

"In battle, I suppose," she said, a confused look on her face. Truth be told, she could not remember the last time she had worn the piece, or where she could have lost it. She supposed she could have lost it during a fight with one of the Gorgons on Circe's island, in which case it would be lost to her forever.

"It was just gold and gems," her mother said, exactly how Diana had thought she would. "The meaning is what we inscribe to it, and if it was lost in the heat of righteous battle, then it shall not be lost, merely a sacrifice to the God of War."

Diana nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered as her mother's image began to disappear.

"Don't tell that to me," the voice said with a gentle smile as the figure returned to stone. "You have nothing to apologize to me for…"

She had been fighting back tears, tears of anger, of loneliness, of hate, of exhaustion for hours, for days, and here, in front of Hippolyta's shrine, she couldn't hold them in any longer and out they flowed.

By the time Diana was finished, she was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life and the sun had set, calling the moon to rise, reflecting cool, white light throughout the barren island she had called home for well over a year.

Some might find navigating the rough, rocky terrain in the dark difficult, but by now it was second nature to Diana, and she had no difficulties making it to her home. Inside there were no lamps lit, and a cool dampness hung in the bed chamber, mixing with and holding in the last lingering vestiges of Arthur's scent.

Without thinking, the queen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply; the salty, musky smell of his skin and hair was still there, all be it extremely faint, faint enough for someone who had never spent a night in his bed to pass it off as simply the fresh sea air blowing in from outside. Diana knew better. Though they had never consummated their relationship, she had been invited to sleep in the Master Bed during her stay in Atlantis; where Arthur had spent that night was lost on Diana. She had always assumed he had spent it with Mera in her chambers, as he certainly did not sleep next to her that night, either through lack of interest in the Amazon or respect for her staunch, strict culture – she was, after all, a disciple of the Virgin Goddess, Athena.

Pulling back the sheets on her bed, she was assaulted with Arthur's scent once again, only stronger. She let it wrap around her as she crawled between the linen blankets, still dressed in her regal, purple robes.

Her eyelids were heavy as her head touched down on the pillow, and her last thoughts of the day were off the one man she had ever trusted, and was beginning to trust, and long for, once again. Her experience with him, fighting with him as an ally rather than against him as an enemy, was eye opening. His loyalty, something she had always questioned, even when they were "happy" together, was steadfast and, while she might have problems admitting it to a wider audience, she felt bad about second guessing where his heart lied.

He had once told her, when they had spoken after the war, if she had wanted him to end his relationship with Mera, all Diana would have had to do was ask. At the time, she didn't believe it, but it was becoming clear Arthur was as much a man of his word as Diana was a woman of hers, and if he said he would do something if asked, she was confident he would have.

All of these revelations did nothing to soothe the aching loneliness of the Amazon Queen, or to slack the tears that were once again welling up in her sore, reddened eyes. But it was cathartic; a release of pent up emotions years in the making. With them gone, Diana thought perhaps, just maybe, she could move on.

Oh Arthur, she thought as she drifted off to Morpheus' realm of sleep and dreams. I miss you already…