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Last time Diana had been home, she had hoisted Donna into her strong arms and carried her far above the island, shooting up like a comet, hanging so high in the sky that Donna’s teeth chattered and they could see the horizon stretch out in every direction. The first thing she’d said had been it’s cold, and Diana had laughed, wrapping her up tighter in an embrace.
“This is amazing,” Donna had said, lifting an arm and letting it hover out over the sky. “I can’t believe you can just do this, anytime you want.”
“The gods have blessed me with gifts untold,” Diana had said warmly, kissing Donna’s forehead. “I have been very lucky.”
Donna stared out at the vast horizon. She did not say I wish I could do this too. She did not say I wish I was so blessed. She did not say I wish I was more like you the way everyone else wishes I was. Any of them would have been ungrateful, and selfish, and proven exactly why she did not deserve those gifts.
“Do you think,” she said instead, very carefully, “That one day, you could fly me around Patriarch’s World? So that I could see it, like this?”
Diana hummed. “Sister, I would give you the world if you asked. Of course I would show it to you.”
Diana had not been home in six months.
Something in Donna was aching, twisting, itching under her skin. The palace was enormous and entirely empty. She needed to be somewhere else.
She wandered the halls, coming upon the door to her mother’s quarters and knocking lightly. At the answered Come in, Donna pushed it open and stepped inside.
The Queen was sitting in front of her vanity, still dressed in her sleepclothes. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes falling on Donna in surprise. “Daughter,” she said in greeting. “It is very early. I had not expected you to be awake.”
Donna was uncertain what to say in response. She shrugged, awkwardly, eyes flicking down to the floor. “I woke early.”
She could not escape the cool gaze that Hippolyta had leveled towards her. Donna watched as her mother absorbed her traveling clothes, her good sandals, and the bag strung over her shoulder.
Something complicated crossed her face.
“You are leaving for somewhere,” the Queen observed. It was neutral, but Donna could feel the hint of disapproval. “So early in the morning?”
“Yes,” Donna admitted. She squeezed the handle of her bag with one hand. “I…wanted to meet Menalippe. She always cleans the temple in the early mornings.”
Donna had not planned on seeing Menalippe until this moment. Her only plan had been to get away, as far as I can, at least for a few hours. But the look on her mother’s face stayed her heart.
The corners of Hippolyta’s lips twitched slightly. “And you will return in time for your lessons?”
“Of course,” Donna assured immediately. “Of course I will. And I won’t cause any trouble. I promise.”
“I know you won’t,” the Queen said, acquiescent. She turned back to her mirror. “Alright, my daughter. Say hello to the oracle for me. Stay on the path.”
“Yes, Mother,” Donna said solemnly, and quietly left the room.
***
The temple was cool and hushed, almost silent. It felt hallowed in a way other buildings on the island didn’t. Donna walked silently, tiptoeing up behind the hanging purple curtain that led to the altar. She hid, only peeking out around it a tiny little bit.
Now that she had arrived, nervousness coiled in Donna’s stomach. Perhaps she bothered Menalippe too often. And it was very early. Maybe this would be unwelcome. She could come back later. She could tell her mother she had gotten distracted by a herd of deer while walking through the wooded path.
Donna caught sight of Menalippe’s bright rusty curls, falling against her back as she stood from her kneeling position. She reached for something on the table in front of her, then paused, smiling to herself.
Donna gasped quietly, ducking back behind the curtain.
“Princess,” the oracle called, still facing forward. “Good morning.”
Slowly, Donna stepped out from behind the curtain, anxiously clasping her hands in front of herself. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” she mumbled quietly.
Menalippe turned and smiled. “Everyone is welcome in the temple, Donna. You know this.”
Donna shrugged minutely. She didn’t move.
Menalippe gave her a long, probing look.
Eventually, she sighed. “Why don’t you come help me burn this incense,” she asked, holding out an arm to the altar.
Donna let out a relieved breath. She made her way down the aisle, accepting the lit candle that Menalippe offered to her.
“What…what do I do with it?” Donna whispered, apprehensive.
Menalippe smiled softly. “Use the candleflame to light these bowls,” she explained patiently, gesturing to the two golden bowls on the table in front of them. “And once they’re burning, kneel and pray to our lady Hestia. I do this every morning, to sanctify the temple’s hearth before each new day.”
Donna’s fingers gripped the wax of the candle tightly. She had never helped with anything this important before. “What if I do it wrong?” she asked. “What if my prayer isn’t good enough?”
Menalippe laid a hand on her shoulder. “Donna,” she said gently, “if you pray to the gods in earnest, there is no wrong way to do it.”
Menalippe was one of the only Amazons who often called her Donna. Like she was a child, instead of a princess. Donna had always liked this about her.
She leaned over, lighting the incense in the first bowl and then the second. Blowing out the candle, Donna knelt on the stone floor in front of the altar.
She glanced up at Menalippe, who was arranging flowers in a vase and humming to herself.
“Will you pray with me?” Donna asked solemnly. Mine might not be enough.
Menalippe glanced down at her, eyes crinkling. “Of course I will.”
She dropped to her knees beside Donna, and- to Donna’s surprise- held out a hand. Donna reached out and took it.
“Hestia will feel doubly honored this morning,” Menalippe said, squeezing Donna’s hand. “I am very grateful you came to see me.”
For the first time that morning, Donna smiled. Then she closed her eyes and prayed, as hard as she could.
When they were both finished, Donna stayed to help Menalippe tidy up. She found herself humming the same song as the oracle. The ache of missing Diana faded into the peace of the temple.
***
(Donna said goodbye to Menalippe and skipped out of the temple. The Amazon Queen stepped out of the shadows not long after.
A moment of silence.
“Good morning,” Menalippe said brightly, not looking up from the sweeping she was doing. “It is a beautiful day. There is no reason for you to be in here.”
Hippolyta pursed her lips, crossed her arms, dug her heels in.
More silence.
“She loves you,” Hippolyta observed, with only a slight grimace.
“She loves you, my queen,” Menalippe corrected. She offered a sympathetic smile. “She is simply afraid.”
“Of what?” Hippolyta scoffed, pacing to the edge of the room. Of me?”
“Of disappointing you.”
“She spends too little time with me at all to be disappointing me.”
Menalippe frowned, sweeping bristles through the fireplace to catch the ash. “You are an imposing mother to have, my sister. She knows she is different. She cannot help but feel it.”
“We have done everything in our power to help her not feel that way.”
“She is intelligent. Her bones break, in ways ours do not. She feels…lesser.”
Hippolyta drew a long, labored breath in. She pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “How,” she asked slowly. “do I fix that.”
Menalippe’s arms paused, the broom laying still. She turned to look Hippolyta in the eyes.
“You have the sweetest daughter on the gods’ earth,” she said. “I think she would believe you if you said the words. If you said them and meant them.”
Hippolyta swallowed. She looked at the ground. “I have always told Penelope you were too wise for your own good,” she sighed.)
***
“I’m very glad to have your help,” Ipthime said, sharply and quickly, like she said everything. “Hellene and her delicate fingers are usually too busy in the studio to ever do any real work out here.”
This made Donna laugh, while Hellene next to her rolled her eyes. The three of them were wandering through Themyscira’s largest orchard, plucking ripe red apples. Donna had her arms wrapped around a large woven basket.
“As if I do not constantly offer to assist you,” Hellene said sweetly. “And you refuse, because you know how I value my moments of solitude.”
Ipthime scoffed. “Do not listen to her, Princess. She is a liar, a deceiver, a snake.”
Hellene had beautiful golden curls and calloused hands, while Iphtime was tall with choppy rust-colored hair and smatterings of freckles. Ipthime kept the orchards, and Hellene was the island’s sculptor. They lived in relative isolation at the southern tip of Themyscira.
Donna liked them. She liked them a lot. It was hard to fathom why it sometimes seemed like no one else did.
“A snake, Ipthime?” Donna asked serenely. “Surely that was going too far. Especially for someone you love so much.”
“What makes you think that?” Ipthime asked, pausing in her apple-picking to wind her fingers through Hellene’s and kiss her cheek. “Surely you are mistaken, Princess.”
Hellene blushed, chuckling. “You are being embarrassing, my love.”
But Donna just beamed, hugging the basket against her chest.
“You remind me,” she said, before she could think, “of my mother and Philippus.”
There was a pause. It was brief, nearly unnoticeable, but Hellene’s smile dropped and Ipthime’s eyes cut away from Donna back to the treeline.
Everything was suddenly cooler than it had been. Donna realized then, the mistake she had made, and cleared her throat hastily. Before she could say anything, though, Hellene raised a hand.
“How wonderful is that, Donna,” she said gently. “That you can recognize their love in ours.”
Donna realized this was a great kindness Hellene had given her. She looked over at the Amazon with wide, earnest eyes. Thank you, she tried to say, Thank you.
“Does that one look ripe?” she said out loud, realizing Ipthime’s discomfort. “You are so much more of an expert than I.”
“It does not take much to recognize the color red,” Ipthime quipped, but she smirked at Donna. “I could train you in a day and have you take over the orchards from me. Then I could be like Hellene and laze around all day.”
Donna gave her a little smile, approaching the tree she’d pointed to and picking the apple from its stem. She turned away from the two Amazons, settling the apple into her basket.
It meant something. First, because Donna knew how much Ipthime valued Hellene’s creations. Second, because there was a kind of question beneath her words.
I could train you in a day. Everyone knew Donna was useless at what Amazons were supposed to be good at. She was a human. Weak, slow, fragile, easily broken. There was no place for her in the training grounds of the capital. She was no warrior.
I could train you in a day. Meaning: I know you are unhappy. Is this something you would want? I could give this to you. I could give you a way out.
She wandered back over to them. “You are too modest, sister,” Donna said, as humbly and kindly as she could. “I know much work goes into these orchards. I could never presume to take your place. But I would like to come back, if I can. To learn more from your wisdom.”
I do not think that will be possible. But I like it here. Let me visit again?
Ipthime looked at her, for a long moment, and smiled wryly. “Who taught you to speak like that,” she scoffed, reaching over to squeeze Donna’s shoulder. “You are too good, Princess.”
Donna beamed. My mother, my mother, my mother.
***
Donna was on her bed reading when there was a knock at her door.
“Come in!” she called, closing her book and smiling at the door.
“Sweetheart,” Philippus said, cracking the door open. “Can you come with me for a minute? I have something to show you.”
“Of course!” Donna followed her mother out into the hall. “Is it one of Delphine’s new murals?”
“No,” Philippus said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Is there cake?”
“No again.”
Donna furrowed her brow. “Despina’s done something silly again?”
“Definitely not,” Philippus said, this time with a wry smile. “Oh, here we are.”
Philippus had led them out onto one of the palace’s terraces. Donna didn’t usually like to come out here; it overlooked the whole capital, which made her feel terribly exposed. There were two people standing out there. Hippolyta, and…
“Diana!” Donna cried, stopping in her tracks. “Diana, it’s really-”
Before she could finish her sentence, Diana had rushed over to her and swallowed her in a hug.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Donna said with a delighted laugh, forehead pressed into her sister’s shoulder. Diana’s dark curls tickled her ear.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Diana said, pulling back and smiling. “Oh, Donna. I missed you.”
Missed you more, Donna wanted to say, because that was most certainly true. But instead she just smiled back, and hugged her again.
***
“You should have scheduled meetings with every individual Amazon,” Donna said, finger playfully poking Diana in the shoulder. “It would have been simpler.”
Diana laughed, which made Donna’s heart feel warm. “Perhaps you are right.”
It had been a long, full day, in which practically every sister within walking distance had come to call. No matter where they were, or what they were doing, hordes of Amazons had found them. Diana took it all with such grace, never once letting on that she felt smothered. She was so, so loved. Donna couldn’t blame any of them. It was so easy.
Now, they were both perched on the roof of the palace. The wind was chilly but Donna didn’t mind. One of the things she loved about having Diana home was that she could fly the both of them to places Donna couldn’t get to normally. It gave her a little thrill to be high up, far from everything.
“They were all there for me,” Diana said, sounding a bit faraway. Like she wasn't really talking to Donna. “When I was little. I was the only child on the island, the only child for a thousand years. I was always the center of attention.”
Sometimes it hurt, when Diana was honest with her, because it reminded her how often the other Amazons weren’t. How they hushed their serious conversations when she entered the room. How they insisted she should get to just be a child.
“Was that hard?” Donna asked, not even realizing that her voice had dropped to a soft whisper.
Diana turned to her, quirking a curious eyebrow. “No,” she answered. “It was the most wonderful thing in the world. There were…so many people who loved me. So many people there for me to love in return.”
She made it sound so simple. So easy. Donna felt like an ugly, ungrateful thing.
“That does sound nice,” Donna said quietly, eyes trained on the horizon. “I bet they were so excited when you were born. And sad, when you grew up and left.”
“Perhaps,” Diana agreed gently. “But I like to think they were happy for me, too.”
Donna, who tried very hard to be happy for Diana and her doings in man’s world but could never quite manage it, could only nod and say “Mm.”
It was quiet for a minute, and then Diana gave her a big, stunning smile. “Besides,” she said. “Now they’ve got you to love. To look after.”
Donna’s heart squeezed and twisted. “Sure,” she said hoarsely, before her lips could babble something like even though all I do is run away from them or everyone wants me to be like you and I’m just not, I can’t be, or I don’t think they’ll ever love me the way they loved you.
The wind tugged at Diana’s magnificent dark curls, splaying them out behind her. Donna shivered in her sleeveless chiton.
“You’re cold,” Diana said automatically, reaching an arm around her and blanketing Donna against her side. “I can take you inside if you want.”
“No,” Donna said, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. “No, it’s okay.”
If they went inside, there would be any number of Amazons waiting for them, bombarding Diana, asking all sorts of questions, and there would be both of their mothers, and Donna got such precious few moments of Diana to herself. She wasn’t willing to give it up yet.
They sat there, huddled together. Diana watched the bustle of the city with a fond fascination. Donna sunk against her sister, letting her eyes fall closed.
Eventually she swallowed, thickly. “When are you leaving?” she asked, trying her best to make the words toneless.
Diana’s arms tightened around her. She sighed, just softly. “Two days,” she answered, rather sadly.
Donna remained perfectly still. She willed herself not to react.
“Just two?” she asked, and felt as small as she’d ever been.
“There is…a meeting, I must attend. With the Justice League.” She sighed again. “It’s all so new and fragile, I- I should really be there.”
Donna tried to say Of course, tried to say I understand, tried to say anything at all. Instead, she buried her face deeper into Diana’s side.
“I miss you so much when I’m gone,” Diana mumbled into Donna’s hair. “You know that, right?”
Donna nodded mutely. I miss you every minute, she didn’t say. I miss you so much it’s killing me.
She did not say, Take me with you. She never said it, no matter how much she wanted to.
“I won’t let you out of my sight for two days,” Donna said eventually, and Diana laughed, which was one small mercy in a sea of melancholy.
***
Donna wandered through the forest in the center of the island, pressing deeper and deeper into the trees. She had been walking for a long while. She had allowed herself to stray from the path, sandals crunching over twigs and fallen leaves. The foliage here was thick, and healthy. It was hard to see much of anything through the greenery.
She was never supposed to leave the path. It was very easy to lose your way. But there were days when Donna sort of wanted to be lost, just for a little bit. She had never acted on that impulse before. Maybe her soul got a little weaker every day. Maybe she was slowly becoming a worse person.
She had no idea where she was. All she knew was that it was completely silent. There were nothing but trees in all directions; the sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy. There was no one here to watch her, or judge her, or worry over her. Donna found a tree with a wide, steady trunk. She sat down at its base, leaning back against the bark and resting her sandals on the roots.
She just breathed, in and out. She thunked her head back against the tree trunk and closed her eyes.
You’re fine, she tried to tell herself. Very sensibly. It is normal to miss Diana. It’s expected, even. You are fine. There is nothing wrong with you.
Before Donna could decide whether or not she believed herself, there was a thundering sound of footsteps coming from nearby.
Her heart skipped a beat. Only one thing could be making that noise: a herd of wild boars. There were several, that roamed the forests of Themyscira. It was why she was instructed to never leave the path. The wildlife was untamed and dangerous. Necessary to the ecosystem, and something to be respected, but never confronted.
It was getting louder. Donna scrambled to her feet. She got flashes of reddish-brown through the trees. They were close now, and- and she wasn’t going to be fast enough to get out of the way-
She froze. Donna climbed as far up on the roots as she could and huddled against the tree trunk. She pressed her forehead against it, squeezing her eyes shut.
The stampeding sounds got louder, and louder. It felt like she was standing there for an eternity. The hoofbeats abated eventually, but she stayed nestled against the rough bark.
Something touching her arm.
Donna screamed, but realized a half a second later that it was just a hand. She whirled around, and there was Philippus, holding up two pacifying arms.
“The boars are gone,” she reassured, “don’t worry. I came to find you. You’re safe.”
Donna sucked in one deep breath. And started crying.
Philippus hugged her briefly, releasing her and grabbing hold of her hand. “Come. Let’s get back to the path, before the boars return.”
Donna nodded, hurrying after her.
“Why are you out here?” Philippus asked, sounding almost at a loss.
Donna sniffled. “I don’t know,” she answered in between hiccups. “I just wanted to- to- go walking.”
“This deep into the forest? Without informing anyone?”
“I don’t know,” Donna said again, breath coming in shallow gasps. “I wasn’t thinking, I-”
And Philippus surprised Donna, then, but stopping short. She knelt down, pressing one knee into the dirt of the path, and squeezed one of Donna’s fists in her own.
“Before we return home,” Philippus said firmly, “Daughter, you must tell me what is the matter.”
Donna blinked down at her, shocked. “I…”
“Just say it. Please. Be honest. I cannot help if you are not honest.”
Donna squeezed her eyes shut.
“Diana is gone,” she choked out.
“I know,” Philippus said, nodding. “I miss her too. I know how hard it is. But it…it has never bothered you this deeply in the past. Is that truly all this is?”
Donna opened her eyes. She stared down at Philippus, whose eyes were big, imploring, earnest. Her mother.
She could not lie. Her tongue would not allow it.
“Mama,” Donna said with a sob. “I don’t think I have a soul.”
A small noise came from Philippus’s mouth that was almost a gasp. “What?” she asked aghast, pressing Donna’s hand harder. “What?”
“All the Amazons are the souls of women given new life by the gods,” Donna continued, stumbling over her words, “and- and even Diana was brought to life from clay by the gods’ power. But not me. I was just…found. What if the gods can’t hear me? What if they don’t- don’t care about me? What if I’m different and everyone knows it and I’m just- I don’t know- I pray and I pray and I don’t know if-”
She ran out of words. She ran out of breath entirely. Donna cried, gasping in air, and Philippus crushed her against her kneeling form. Her head was buried in Philippus’s chest, like she was six again, and her mother’s strong warrior’s arms were around her.
“Donna,” Philippus said, very calmly. “Do not worry about this. Of course you have a soul. And I know the gods love you as much as we do, because they saved you and sent you here to us.”
She could do nothing but cry.
“The gods hear your prayers,” Philippus continued. “They watch over you just as they watch over all of us. Because you are our daughter, and theirs. Do you believe me?”
Donna swallowed. She nodded against Philippus’s chest.
“Good,” said Philippus. “I’m going to carry you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Donna hiccupped.
“I’m going to anyway.”
“Oh. O-okay.”
Donna was hoisted into the arms of the general of Themyscira. And carried all the way home.
***
Donna sat cross-legged on the edge of the grassy cliff. She was almost as far southern as you could go on Themyscira; the ocean stretched out before her, waves crashing onto the beach below.
Diana had been gone for five days now. Her warm laughter was still missing from the halls of the palace. Nothing in the world felt right.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Donna glanced up. Beside her on the cliff stood Hellene, her golden curls swaying softly in the wind.
She stared up at the other Amazon for a moment, and then ducked her head towards the ground in shame. Hellene knelt next to her, folding her knees beneath herself. She paid no heed to getting her chiton dirty; this was something Donna had always liked about Hellene.
“Does the Queen know where you are?” Hellene asked.
Donna nodded. Then winced. “I told her I would be back by supper.”
“Will you be?”
Donna’s lips pressed together. “Maybe. Probably.”
Instead of scolding her, Hellene just chuckled. They sat in silence for a minute.
“Here.” Nudging Donna’s shoulder, she opened her palm to reveal a lump of pale clay. “Take this.”
Donna frowned up at her, confused.
“It’s for you. Play with it, make something. Distract yourself.”
With a little shrug, Donna did as she was told. Her hands started kneading it absently.
“You know,” Hellene said, leaning back on her elbows and looking out over the ocean, “it took me a long while to accept my role as a sculptor.”
Donna rolled the clay between her palms. “It did?” she asked. “But you make such beautiful things.”
“I do,” Hellene said, pleased. “And no one has ever been unkind. Certainly not cruel. But that does not make it easy, to be an artist in a nation of warriors.”
Donna locked her eyes on the clay, but listened intently. Usually the Amazons did not speak of such serious topics with her because of her age.
“I understand,” Donna murmured.
“I know you do,” Hellene said gently.
Donna thought of herself as intelligent, or at least acceptably so. She heard the message in this. You are like me. Different and strange and out of place. You are not like your mother.
Hellene ventured into the capital rarely if at all. She was known, mostly, for her reclusiveness. She kept most of the other Amazons at a distance, besides her wife and neighbors. She was, unquestionably, different. There was a reason Donna went running to the south to feel like she could breathe again.
“I know,” Donna said, very carefully, “that you and my mother do not always see eye to eye.”
An awkward pause.
“The Queen and I,” Hellene began, and Donna waited and waited for her to say more but no words came. There was just silence, and the distant noise of the waves crashing and crashing below them.
When Donna’s eyes darted over to her, the Amazon had her head bowed, her eyes closed, and her brow was tightened as if remembering something painful. Donna’s heart lurched. On instinct, she reached out and gently squeezed Hellene’s wrist.
Hellene smiled faintly at the touch. She swallowed. “I,” she said softly, “am often angry.”
Donna thought this through. “You have never seemed angry to me,” she said nervously.
“Ipthime has always been the more abrasive one,” said Hellene ruefully, opening her eyes to look out at the horizon. “I try not to show it, in my words and actions. I keep it inside me.”
Donna stared at the side of her face. Hellene had always been so careful, so measured, so subdued. Almost melancholy. Awkward. Distant. Unhappy, sometimes. If Donna looked hard enough, she thought she could maybe see the anger tightly contained beneath it all.
She could think of nothing helpful to say.
“Sometimes,” Donna whispered, very quietly, “I am very angry with Diana.”
She braced herself for Hellene to flinch, or recoil, or even frown; any expression of shock. Instead, the Amazon just gave her a faint look of what seemed like amusement.
“You are?” she asked, lightly curious. The lack of any judgement gave Donna the strength to elaborate.
She stared down at her lap, fingers pressing idly into the clay. “She is never home,” Donna explained. “She says she is my sister but I barely see her. She…she stays with another family. She calls another woman mother, another girl sister. They’re human. Normal. She loves them.”
Hellene laid a comforting hand on Donna’s shoulder. “Go on,” she coaxed.
Donna shook her head rapidly. “I’m human,” she said softly. “And it makes me lesser. Weak. But Diana loves Julia and Vanessa because they are human. It isn’t fair. I-“
Donna cut off, realizing how childish the words had become. “It isn’t fair,” she mumbled lamely. “I wish she was home. With me. I wish I was enough.”
Hellene reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Donna inhaled sharply, surprised. Hellene so rarely was physically affectionate with anyone except Ipthime.
Donna swallowed. She furiously blinked away little pools of tears that had begun forming in her eyes. “Are you going to tell me I’m selfish and ungrateful?” she asked hollowly. She didn’t really need Hellene to say it. She knew it already.
Hellene’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “Donna,” she said, and the word was honest. “Everyone acts selfishly sometimes, even Amazons. But it is certainly not selfish to miss a beloved sister. If anyone says differently, you can tell them how vigorously I disagree.”
There was a promise in this statement. I am not like the others. I will not judge you. I will always defend you if I must.
Donna sniffled. “Okay,” she said. “I believe you.”
Hellene chuckled lightly. “I’m glad.”
It was quiet for a moment. Hellene rubbed Donna’s back slowly with the palm of her hand.
“Princess,” she said. “Themyscira is not an easy place to be different. Ipthime and I know this. But it does not mean we are not loved. We are always loved. There is never a deficit.”
Donna was silent.
“Do you understand what I am saying?” Hellene asked firmly.
Donna nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed.
“Good,” said Hellene. “Please remember it. There is always enough love.”
They watched the ocean together.
She was sent back home just in time for supper.
***
She found her mother out on the terrace, the same place Diana had surprised her a week ago. The Queen of the Amazons was standing in the fading light of evening, hands grasping the railing, watching over her kingdom.
Donna tiptoed up behind her, sucking in deep breaths of air. Steady, Donna, she chided herself. Don’t be so scared. It’s just your mother.
“Mother?” she asked, quieter than she’d meant to. “May I speak with you? For a moment?”
Hippolyta turned around, taking her in with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, Donna,” she said, seeming amused to be addressed so formally. “Is something wrong?”
Donna pursed her lips. “I just wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “For…avoiding you. And running away to be by myself so often. I know you’ve been disappointed in me. I just wanted- to say I was sorry.”
She waited, holding her breath. There was a long moment in which Hippolyta did nothing but stare at her, the Queen’s gaze surprised but discerning.
“My daughter,” she said eventually, lifting a hand. “You- you do not need to apologize to me. I am not angry. Only a bit worried, about you.”
Donna gave her a miniscule shrug. “I guess I was just feeling,” she said, tongue feeling like lead in her mouth, “a little…lost.”
“Lost,” Hippolyta repeated, like she was trying to find the meaning of the word. “Mm. I only wish you would come to me when you feel like that.”
But I can’t find you, Donna thought sorrowfully, I can never find you, that’s the whole problem. To her horror, tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes.
Hippolyta swallowed. She took a step forward, and held out her arms. Donna fell into them like she was a toddler again.
Her mother wrapped her in a hug, and they both ended up stumbling into a heap on the floor, Donna half slumped in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, furiously blinking away tears. “I know I’m not the daughter you wanted. I’ll try harder. I’ll try to be better. I’ll-”
“How can you say such things?” Hippolyta said, aghast. Her hand reached over to brush hair from Donna’s forehead. “Have I- made you feel that way?”
“It’s just the truth, Mother,” Donna said miserably. “I am not really an Amazon. I’m not like any of you. I can never hope to be.”
“Donna,” Hippolyta insisted. “You are a gift. A miracle. Just as Amazon as any of us.”
“Diana was the miracle,” Donna said, even though she knew it was cruel. “I’m nobody. A little human girl you took in out of pity.”
Hippolyta’s arm froze from where it had been rubbing Donna’s back. She shifted, making sure to look Donna in the eyes.
“My daughter,” Hippolyta said, very seriously. “Listen. None of us are- we aren’t any more special. We were not born onto this island. The gods blessed us with a home and new bodies, yes, but all of the women on this island…we were all human, once. Unremarkable human women, living unremarkable lives. Women that the gods loved dearly anyway. You are just like us.”
And it was true, maybe, that Donna had not thought of it that way before. She knew the history of the Amazons, of course, but…still. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that they hadn’t always been immortal warriors. That once they’d been as human as her.
“Oh,” she said eloquently, staring into her mother’s piercing eyes. Donna could think of nothing else to say, nothing that would fit, so she leaned her head back against Hippolyta’s chest and said nothing at all.
Hippolyta rocked her back and forth, ever so slightly. “You and Diana,” she said softly, “are the brightest things in my life. My daughters. I cannot describe the depth of love I have for you. The whole ocean could not contain it.”
Donna smiled. “Really, Mother? But the ocean’s so big.”
“And it does not compare to the love I hold for my dearest, darling daughter.”
Donna tried to stave off her tears, and failed. She cried, for a minute, while her mother held her.
Eventually they stood, looking out over the city together. Donna leaned her head on Hippolyta’s arm.
“I spoke with Hellene a few days ago,” she said.
“Yes?”
“She told me,” Donna whispered, “that there is…always enough love on Themyscira. That there is never a deficit.”
“Hellene,” Hippolyta said, “is very wise.”
“I think so too,” Donna hummed, and stood with her mother on the terrace, watching the sun trace its way through the clouds before settling over the vast, vast ocean.