"That really is a kind of power I've never seen before," Diana murmured. "But it feels… comforting."
Her hand slid up Thea's shoulder. Maybe it was the texture of her skin, maybe it was the energy radiating beneath it—but Diana didn't stop after one touch. Her fingers traced slow, absent circles, soft and sure, every motion strangely intimate.
Thea's whole body trembled. "Uh… your mother's the queen, right? What about your father?" she blurted, desperate to redirect the conversation.
It worked. Diana's mood instantly dimmed. She stirred the water with her fingertips and said quietly, "Mother says my father is Zeus, King of the Gods. But I've never met him. He probably doesn't care about me."
Thea disagreed. Doesn't care? He gave you divine-level stats and a full legendary gear set! Compared to you, I'm practically a beggar. The daughter of Zeus versus the girl who clawed her way up from Star City—what kind of cosmic joke is this? Superman's dad left him a flashy cape; Zeus gave his kid a complete arsenal, from offense to defense to crowd control! That's absolutely a doting father.
"I'm sure he loves you in his own way," Thea said carefully.
Diana smiled faintly, then turned the question around. "What about your parents? They must be kind people, to have raised someone with such a bright aura."
"My parents? They were… good to me," Thea answered vaguely. Sure—if you ignored Malcolm's casual murder habit and Moira's gift for lying without blinking.
Diana tilted her head. "Were you born naturally? Through your parents' union?"
Thea froze. What kind of question is that? "That's… how it works, yes."
"Did you see them mate?"
"WHAT?!" Thea nearly jumped out of the pool. "Of course not! What kind of—No! Absolutely not!"
But then she realized Diana's expression was pure, serious curiosity—not perversion.
"I mean," Diana clarified, "how does life begin? Is it truly grown inside the body? What was it like, when you were born from your mother's womb?" She even touched her own flat stomach, wide-eyed in wonder.
Thea sighed. The conversation had gone completely off the rails. "You're asking about biology, not—never mind."
So, half laughing, half exasperated, she launched into a basic rundown of reproductive science—cell division, fertilization, human gestation—everything she remembered from high school and documentaries.
From outside the cave, anyone listening might have thought two expectant mothers were discussing childbirth. In truth, they were light-years away from that stage of life.
Diana eagerly compared every word to what she'd read in her "forbidden" books, nodding excitedly each time Thea's explanation matched. "So the theories are right!"
Thea rolled her eyes. "Theory means nothing if it's not tested in practice. Here—lie back. I'll show you in practice—"
...An indescribable scene drifted by in the steam...
Later, feeling strangely refreshed, both women returned to their quarters. Diana's curiosity was bottomless; she fired questions about everything from sky mechanics to ocean currents, and Thea—equal parts older sister and reluctant teacher—answered as best she could.
By the time she ran out of mental energy, Thea was nodding off mid-sentence.
"Wake up, Thea! Do all outsiders sleep this long?" Diana scolded the next morning. She'd already trained, eaten breakfast, and returned—only to find Thea still passed out.
Thea sat up groggily, stretching. "What time is it…"
Before she could finish yawning, a robed elder appeared in the doorway. "Good morning, Miss Thea. You look well-rested. Today we'll be holding the first round of Artemis's trial at the square. Make sure to keep your strength up."
The woman patted Thea's shoulder with mock sympathy and left without another word.
Diana frowned. "That wasn't right. She didn't even tell you what the trial is! That's against the rules!"
Thea waved it off. "She's one of the queen's opposition. Just checking the box. She can claim she 'informed' me later."
Inwardly, she sighed. Classic political sabotage. Petty, underhanded, and familiar. I've seen this in every boardroom back home. Still, it left her simmering. Fine, old hag. I remember your face. When the war breaks out and the Germans land here, I'll watch you die without blinking.
She got dressed, pulled the still-fuming Diana along, and said dryly, "Come on. Let's get breakfast."
When they reached the dining hall, Thea froze. Not a single plate left.
"Morning drills burned a lot of calories," one Amazon said with faux politeness. "You'll have to come earlier tomorrow. We run on military discipline here."
Thea's smile twitched. Fine. Let them starve me. She could go ten days without food and not even feel it—sunlight or no sunlight, her altered body didn't need much.
Still, she couldn't help missing Gideon's breakfast service aboard the Waverider. Whatever that AI thought of her, it had never let her go hungry.
Humans, she thought bitterly. Born or molded from clay, they're all the same. No wonder AIs want to wipe us out—too much malice for machines to stomach.
"Forget it," she said, pushing away the irritation and walking toward the plaza with Diana. "Let's just get this over with."