[The longer she looks at the girl, the more Diana can see that she has the build of a fighter: lithe but muscled, with calloused hands that speak of hard work. But she also sees the uncertainty in her face, and her brows draw together as she reaches out to place a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. They may not know it yet, but they are of the same ilk. Diana had been trained as a diplomat, instructed in the arts of diplomacy and politics. But she had been born with the heart of a champion, much to Hippolyta's dismay. Only Antiope had recognized Diana for what she truly was: a warrior. Diana will forever be grateful that her aunt had been willing to disobey the queen's direct orders to prepare her for the battle to come.]

We cannot all be what our mothers want.

[They do not deserve you. The words are still burned into her heart, especially now that she realizes they are true--just not in the way Hippolyta had meant.] Sometimes, we can only do what feels right, and hope they will understand in time.