Previously in Wonder Woman…

Hidden from the world is the island of Themiscyra, home to the Amazons of old, and guardians of the Gateway to Tartarus. Legend tells that should a man set foot on the shores of Themiscyra that the Gateway would fly open, heralding a new dark age on Earth. For thousands of years, an immortal sisterhood has watched the Gateway until the present when without explanation the mystic barrier started to crack.

In search of a champion to remedy their plight, Queen Hippolyta determined a competition of skill and speed. From it emerged her daughter, Diana; a child born to Themyscira, sculpted from clay and given life by the goddess Hera. With determination and sorrow Diana left her native land on a quest, never to return again, and in doing so became a heroine to all humanity known as Wonder Woman.

Having learned of her mother’s death at the hands of the Amazon Asteria, Diana sinks into mourning. In this new world, she has but one steady friend to turn to, Steve Trevor.

EULOGY

PART I

By Miranda Sparks

Diana was the most fortunate of her sisters, for as the sole daughter on an island of immortals she was largely untouched by death. Not ignorant, of course, as the story of the amazons was one rife with bloodshed – but it wasn’t until entering man’s world that she grasped the permanence of it.

And now, her mother.

It hadn’t occurred to her that one day Hippolyta could die, let alone in so bloody a manner; let alone so soon after Diana’s parting. She’d assumed that the queen of the amazon would survive her for generations to come, long after the princess had shed this now mortal coil.

Given all that she had seen – brutal insight in the form of a dream, Asteria’s confession – she’d yet to make sense of the fact. This was now a world without Hippolyta, the woman who’d guided her every step of her life.

Being separated by an ocean was one thing, but this…

She was silent along their journey; devoid of the curiosity and amazement that made her a presence. She ate and she drank when she was encouraged to, but only in little bites that she chewed a little too long.

Colonel Trevor sat in the aisle seat and waited. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say; not until the shock had passed. Then all he could do was be there, and listen.

Fifteen hours later, their plane set down in Greece.

They wandered the beach like lost spirits, retracing the steps to Themyscira, or as close to it as Diana could manage. It was only a few months before that she’d met a crone named ‘Ettahcandei’ – an amazon like herself, exiled from home, who’d made it her mission to guide those who followed.

Such kindness was a boon when she’d arrived in the world of men, and maybe it would be again. If anyone could comprehend the scale of her loss, it was her.

Diana and Steve scaled the path leading from the shore to the cliffside, and to the worn stone anachronism held over from the ancients. It had once been a shrine to the Argonauts, and their captain, Jason; though the great bronze statues lay in ruin – less than Diana had when she had faced them.

Steve called out, “Hello!” No answer came.

The ashes of a former bonfire were cold for days, longer. And there were cobwebs recently formed over the windows and entrances.

Diana choked. “She’s… she’s not here…”

She sank to her knees. The tide of emotion she saved for mourning spilled over the walls of her heart. She was alone. As dear a friend as Steve had become, he could never fully appreciate the weight of her loss. Another amazon, perhaps – one who knew Hippolyta and the ways of their people, but not an outsider.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate his presence. Diana collapsed into the sudden arms around her and wept. Sometimes any port in a storm will do; and kindness, no matter its source, a balm.

By the time evening fell, Steve had a fire going. Ettacandei had more than enough firewood, which said something about her absence. ‘Asteria,’ Diana had figured, and it made sense.

He joined her on a nearby log and accepted the offer to join her under a blanket. Being this close to her was a gift, no matter the circumstances, no matter their preferences. In the back of his mind, he could hear his squad crying foul, about her affection being ‘wasted’ on a gay man.

Diana’s affection was never a waste, especially to him.

She curled into his collarbone and lost herself in the fire. What thoughts circled her mind? One didn’t need to be a believer to be curious.

Opening his mouth seemed blasphemous, but he did it anyway.

“My mom died when I was young,” he said. “She met my old man in the Air Force. I only know her from photographs and stories, but I still miss her. I still feel loved by her. Crazy as that sounds…”

Diana half-smiled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know what you meant,” Diana said, “and I appreciate it. Thank you, really. I know it’s not easy to share.”

For her, maybe. There was something about Diana he couldn’t put his finger on. Something different. The death of a loved one had a way of changing a person, but this was more profound.

He pulled her closer.

“Tell me about your Mom,” he said.

So she did.

Themyscira, long ago…

It started with a shriek that filled the palace.

Phillipus knew the cry of her protege and sprinted down the halls as fast as her feet could carry. She stopped, however, when she caught the captain of the guard, the queen’s sister, Antiope, leaning on a pillar, as though all was right with the world.

“What’s happening? Why is Diana screaming?”

Antiope smirked without humor. “The princess,” she explained, “bleeds.”

Of all the answers Phillipus could have received, that was the least expected.

“She’s still a little young, isn’t she?”

Antiope shrugged. “Nature moves at nobody’s pace but its own.”

The shrieking continued, filling every corner with indignant rage. It was then that the princess, still in her stained robes, charged through the portal, slapping her sandals down with all the weight she could muster.

She was a child then, growing ever longer and leaner, but still clinging to the last remnant of baby fat around her cheeks. Though her hair remained the same as always; wild black locks that bowed to none, much like Diana herself.

“Hera damn you! Damn you all!” she roared. “Curse the world! From the peaks of Olympus, to the deepest pits of Tarturus!”

Phillipus and Antiope knew better than to stand in her way, and made room for the girl to charge. To where was anyone’s guess.

The Queen followed soon after, her usual grace shaken.

“Is everything alright, your majesty?”

Hippolyta straightened her skirts, and drew a sharp breath. “I have explained to my daughter that her experience is a natural part of womanhood,” she said, “and that she can expect such occurrences for five days, every month, for the rest of her natural life.”

The two amazons nodded sagely.

“She’s taking it rather well,” said Antiope. Phillipus couldn’t help but agree.

Adolescence proved the red flag to herald rebellion. Where once was a sweet natured if cheeky girl was now a high-spirited hellion for whom no level of restraint was too oppressive.

No longer did she adhere to the pretense of study when staring out the library windows, and all but scoffed at her tutors as they guided her through texts. Weaving and crafting became tedious when there were better ways she could be spending her time. What ways they were Diana failed to articulate, save to say they were more worthwhile than fiddling with wool or cotton.

Even the combat arts, an ideal avenue for her frustration, proved too rigid for her liking. 

Too many mistakes, too many corrections, too much control. Diana could no longer abide having her so-called ‘shortcomings’ pointed out to her, and raged at her instructors. Phillupus especially.

“What does it matter that my stance is too wide?” she spat.

Phillipus eased, allowing the scornful tone to roll off her.

“You know why,” she told the girl for the dozenth time. “Too wide a stance, and your opponent can throw you off balance.”

But Diana was having none of it.

“What opponent? You mean one of my sisters in the arena games. What do I care if she throws me to the dirt? It’s not as though my life is at stake. It’s all a farce, and I won’t have anything more to do with it!”

There is a manner of petulance that only royalty can capture, and young Diana was dishing it in spades.

Phillipus sighed, and with a sweep of her wooden sword knocked Diana to her back. It was a blow that would have been easily deflected for one invested in their training. The princess, however, was anything but.

“One day your life may depend on it,” the teacher said. “You’ve been blessed with a life of simple conflicts thus far, but that is subject to change. Who knows what the fates have decreed for you, Diana?”

The girl sneered. How dare she. How dare Phillipus, that hypocrite! Yet Diana held her tongue, and endured, carried by the sheer power of spite.

“I hate it here. I wish I could be anywhere else.”

Hippolyta sat at her daughter’s bedside and rested a hand on her shoulder. The way Diana shrugged her off stung in a way she wasn’t prepared for, but one she fought not to take personally.

She asked, “where would you go, my sweet cherub?”

Diana had no answer. She hugged her legs to her abdomen and pouted. There was only paradise, but that was not enough for her.

It pained Hippolyta to see her this way. To call it ‘growing pains’ would be too simple. Perhaps it was the yearning for purpose, for direction, free from the suggestion or influence of others.

Something that belonged to Diana, and Diana alone.

Hippolyta reached out again, but thought better of it. What was the best way to move forward? It had been so long since she’d been a child, even known a child, that she struggled to appreciate their nature. All she had was the sage wisdom of the handful of amazons who’d been mothers in times long past.

“Tell me what you need,” Hippolyta said, “and I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”

She was the vision of concern that stayed with Diana all her life, but failed to appreciate at the time; with the rarely seen nurturing touch that begged to help, to heal. If only she’d listened then – hadn’t been too stubborn, or proud.

The princess turned away. “All I want is for everyone to leave me alone.”

“I can give you space,” she said, “but I’ll never leave you alone. You’re my only daughter, my greatest love. It’s my duty to protect you, now and always.”

I don’t want your protection, the girl didn’t say, but her curling under her blankets more than conveyed the message.

Queen Hippolyta left as quietly as she was able. She was not accustomed to such belligerence, but youth and family afforded special consideration.

The hour was late. The moon was full, and the palace was at rest – but not Diana.

Her lessons, it seemed, were not for nought, for without them the princess would have neither the skill nor guile to evade the guards. Perhaps they were also complacent. Diana had never known anything more dangerous than a boar to charge the steps.

She dropped down the walls and hugged the shadows, making stillness her ally when a sentry moved too close. With padded sandals Diana moved without a sound, and was soon clear across the town square.

Her only obstacle from that point on was the wilderness, and in that arena she was more than capable.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Just as she was on the cusp of freedom! Diana fled, abandoning stealth in the name of swiftness. The dark held many dangers, but they impeded her pursuers just as they did her, so she pressed ahead with wild abandon.

What would her mother say if she could see her now? Or her aunt, or Phillipus? Her rebellious streak of late was an irritating thorn, but this she would never live down.

Success was her only recourse. Speed. Fury. Perseverance.

Yet as fast as she was, the grown guards were faster. At that age she’d yet to be gifted with Hermes’ flight of foot, or a demigod’s endurance.

Panic took over her breathing, leaving her short and exhausted. But she wouldn’t allow a trifle like shortness of breath stop her. Diana pushed beyond the aches in her chest with eyes married to an invisible target.

One way or another, she would be free.

Diana fell into the bushes, her squeals quieted by a sudden hand. She snapped her teeth, but her assailant’s hold was too firm.

“Hush, or they’ll find us!” the woman hissed.

It wasn’t until she lowered her guard that Diana realised the woman was not garbed in leather like her aunt’s soldiers, but a traveling cloak the color of midnight. She eased, trying to make sense of the silhouette holding her.

This woman was a stranger. A stranger! In paradise! Diana was certain that she’d met all the inhabitants of the islands and accapelligos that made up greater Themyscira. They were only a small civilization – a few thousand at most – and all had made a point to greet the princess in her short lifetime, except her.

They huddled together as the guards passed, not daring so much as to breath lest they be discovered. But Antiope’s guards moved on without incident, moving their search to parts beyond.

“Come,” said the woman, whose hold on Diana was vice-like.

The girl followed without hesitation, for though her prized independence had been thwarted, an alternative to the confines of home remained welcome.

That this woman should prove dangerous was the furthest from her thoughts.

She led Diana to a cottage decorated with foliage, supported by a network of branches, just as much a forest as anything that surrounded it. All that set it apart were the moss covered rocks that made up the walls, and the near-invisible door tucked around the far side.

There were no wood nymphs in Themyscira, but if there were Diana imagined they’d live in a house just like it. Unless the stranger was a wood nymph! They were a secretive, secluded people, after all.

Inside was as warm and cosy a hearth as anyone could imagine, with the kitchen and bed clustered on either side, separated by a fur pelt in front of the fireplace. Diana was short enough that she could move through it, but the stranger was forced to bend.

“Sit,” encouraged the woman, and she did.

Diana studied the face under the hood and found her to be all too human. However, there were many magical creatures that took on a human guise. The stranger’s red frizz and wide eyes were not the most accurate indicators of her status.

The woman smiled. “My name is Trifine,” she said.

“Diana,” the girl replied.

She did not balk at the name, as though she was ignorant of Diana, daughter of Queen Hippolyta, princess of Themyscira, and the only child to occupy these lands. That should have been suspicious, but a child often accepts these things without question.

“Are you hungry, Diana?”

The woman offered her dates. Diana plunged her greedy little hand into the bowl. How could she turn down such a treat?

“Now,” Trifine said, “tell me why those guards were after you. Were you a prisoner?”

Diana frowned. “Worse. I’m a princess.”

“A princess!” she gasped. “I don’t understand. Why not simply order them to leave you alone?”

With a mouth half full and juice spilling down her chin, Diana threw up her arms in disbelief. “I don’t know! I’m the queen’s daughter, but they won’t let me do anything! ‘Diana, do this.’ ‘Diana, do that.’ I receive a lot more orders than I give. I’m not even allowed to leave the palace without supervision!”

“That sounds ghastly,” Trifine said, hanging onto every word.

Finally, someone who listened! And she listened intently, validating the girl’s every feeling, no matter how self-indulgent. Not that Diana recognised them as such. All she knew was that the supervision of her mother, aunt and mentor was stifling her.

“If you were my daughter you wouldn’t care for anything,” Trifine mused. “Forget dusty old scrolls and combat training. Our home is paradise, and we have all the time in the world for learning! Why not run free in the fields and chase rabbits? It’s what young girls were made for.”

What pleasant sentiments. Diana couldn’t get enough.

“I wish my mother had your wisdom,” she said. “I’d be a lot happier.”

“You certainly would, my darling.”

How stranger that she should address her with something so familiar, but the girl thought nothing of it; nor was she concerned when the room started to blur. Her head swam like a water skin turned on its side. Suddenly, she could no longer stay upright.

Trifine encouraged her. “Sleep.”

And she did.

When she woke it was to a sickly roll in her stomach; worse, even, than her burgeoning adolescence.

Diana rolled in the strange bed. Though it was dark, the warmth radiating from the ceiling told her it was day.

How long was she out?

The lingering smell of some noxious brew didn’t help, either. She rolled to the edge and emptied her stomach with such force it felt like her eyes would pop. More and more spilled onto the invisible floor, until Diana was in tears, coughing up bile.

She couldn’t remember feeling worse. Once she’d fallen off a pegasus, breaking her leg, but it was a different kind of pain. This was more than the upset that followed Antiope’s cooking a thousand times over.

The poor girl heaved again, trying to get the sickness out of her. It wrenched so that she could not stand, barely crawl.

Was this a curse? Hera help her.

The door opened, and in fluttered the silhouette of a woman, light catching hair like sparks from a smithing anvil. She was familiar, though Diana could hardly remember.

“M… mother…”

No, it wasn’t her mother. Hippolyta was far from that place.

Yet Trifine did not refuse the title.

“I’m here, sweetness,” she sang. Her slender fingers ran the length of Diana’s cheek, ignoring the splatter that ran down her chin.

Diana recoiled, though she couldn’t say why. Trifine had been nothing but kind to her; hid her when she ran, gave her a bed to sleep in. So why did her touch, tender as it was, strike her as dangerous?

“You’ve nothing to be afraid of here,” Trifine said. She had no reason to lie.

It was in spite of herself that Diana drew closer, finding a home against Trifine’s breast. She wasn’t Hippolyta, but it was close enough to maternal comfort that she felt free to need, to cling.

The pain didn’t stop. She’d given all she had to put it out of her, and still it churned!

“I suppose I’ll have to show you my secret garden another day,” Trifine sighed.

Secret gardens were the last thing on Diana’s mind.

She ached for Hippolyta, but it wouldn’t do to appear ungrateful. So she said something else.

“I’m sorry… about… your floor…”

“Don’t fret about it, sweetness,” said Trifine. “I’ll be the one to take care of it. You rest. Then we’ll fix you something to eat.”

Just the thought of food made Diana wretch. Nothing came out. Only sobs and despair.

“I want… I-I want my mother,” she whimpered.

Trifine ran gentle circles down her back with a finger, and broke into a melody. “It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m here.”

Only the might of Hera herself could tear Hippolyta from the search; Hera, or the mounting exhaustion brought on by alarm.

The Queen of the Amazons was revered by her people as a figure of fairness and reason, tempered by compassion. She performed her duties well, offering discipline to the righteous who’d done wrong, and reserving punishment for the truly wicked. And always she kept the well-being of her people – both as individuals and as a whole – in her thoughts.

If anything existed to confound her, it was Diana.

When the gods breathed life into the girl, Hippolyta second guessed her wish. All she knew of being a mother, in large part through anecdotes before coming to Themyscira, was thousands of years old. Memories of memories of memories; academic, ill-equipped to gird her for reality.

Yet by some miracle Diana grew under her care; happy, healthy, thirsty for the fruits of knowledge and experience. And she continued to grow, with new eyes absorbing an immortal world.

What changed? Had their home become too small?

Phillipus ushered the queen toward the chambers with an arm around her shoulder. She said nothing, for no words could console Hippolyta. Only Diana’s return could do that. At best she could encourage her to rest; an impossible feat if there was one.

Hippolyta’s eyes were red and swollen from tears. She wasn’t given to crying, but having a daughter inspired them often, for good reasons and ill. 

When it came to Diana, the queen of the amazons was lost. Her composure wavered, her concern raged out of control. The guardianship of a small life proved greater responsibility than a whole island nation; one which she would draw upon often to help raise this girl of wonder.

She fell onto the bed, a husk of her usual self. A waking nightmare filled her thoughts; visions of her daughter as victim to any number of fates. She’d ordered soldiers to their doom with less struggle.

“Do you think I’m the reason she ran away?”

“No,” said Phillipus, not hesitating for a moment. “She’s growing, Hippolyta. Girls at that age are keen to shuck off childhood, and eager to become women. It was never something you could stop, even if you wanted to.”

What a bitter truth. It seemed only yesterday that Diana was a babe in her arms. Time did little to change the citizens of Themyscira, except for one. How quickly it flew her by.

“I never warned her,” Hippolyta gasped. “I never wanted her to be afraid in her own home. She has no idea of the dangers out there.”

The weight of blame came down upon the queen, no matter how deserved. In fact she welcomed it, begged it to come down harder.

Phillipus pulled Hippolyta into her arms, and held her as only she could in private company.

“Hera above,” they prayed, “bring Diana back to us.”

NEXT ISSUE: The story of Diana as a wayward youth continues in ‘Eulogy’ Part Two…