anyone;

[Hestia]

She can see his surprise. His words echoing in her mind. Yes Hestia, why do you remain. Why? the voice mocks her from its unique perch. Why stay with those that spat on you? Rejected you? her lips thin and quirk in a downward turn. She pauses for a moment growing as quiet at him. Pondering on how to help him understand. The black queen begins walking gesturing for him to follow. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead she leads him among the people; they nod to her in respect. They touch her with familiarity. They offer looks reserved for a beloved leader. When she looks in their eyes she sees the purpose and the fire of hope restored. They do not look dead and haunted as they once did.

She listens to his words nodding in acknowledgement. He's turned her question back on her. She remains quiet as they pass through the kingdom, not stopping until they reach the curled tip of Nerine looking inland. It’s only then, when they stand there an onslaught of salty air stinging her eyes, does she turn to him. She inches closer to him, a pulsing need for him to understand her, urging her forward. She doesn’t understand why. But there is something that compels her to make him understand. He asks her questions peering into her eyes searching for the answers. They stand there searching one another looking for that thread that narrowly eludes their grasp. I vowed to remind the Amazons of their true heritage. I vowed to always uphold the true ideals of the sisterhood until death. The scars present on her leg, chest and hip are a constant reminder of this vow. A wry smile quirks her lips. A dance between death and herself that has been going on since before she bound herself as a sister. Marked as death’s possession since birth they toy with one another never fully grasping one another. Luring one or the other into a dance that wires them to the edge but fuses them to their separate realms.

She couldn’t know why she opens up to Castile, just as she couldn’t know why she opened up to Walter. But the experience with Walter changed her. Would this one with Castile do the same? So much bitterness. Yet she feels their pain and longing as it is her own. Hers even more so as she remembers. As Nayl must have remembered. She’s close enough to him that her breath may tickle his skin. An urge to make him understand overtakes her. He continues questioning, not taking her simple answers of children and vows at face value. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t grow angry. He doesn’t have to. He just continues to press her. pushing beyond physical motivations. Needling her with questions that she has been afraid to answer for herself. Thoughts slipping from her mouth she didn’t know she harbored. Before she can stop them, before she can think to answer all his questions. The words spill from her. Quiet and filled with her pain. How can I abandon them to a darkness that I helped create? Beqanna’s punishment is as much mine as it is theirs. The pain in her voice flows with her words until she stops abruptly, startling herself.

Yes she blames herself. She abandoned them so many times. Scorned their new ideals and smugly thought herself better than them. She fell along with them in this way. Thinking them not worthy of the knowledge and hope she could have provided. Thinking she could wait until they were broken too show them the way back. She left them to their desired fates. Hestia squeezes her eyes shut hanging her head in shame. If only I’d stayed. whispered words hang between them in answer. So maybe she does scorn others, but she also scorns herself just as badly. If not worse. If only I fought harder. Her head turns from him, unable to look at him. Looking out to the ocean she searches for her own answers to questions she doesn’t know how to ask. The Amazons caused Beqanna to break in their own brokenness and she stood by watching, smugly aware that she had already warned them of this. Instead of humbling herself and coming back to help them she lashed out at them by refusing to come to their aid. Watching until even Beqanna lost hope in them. She knows that even she does not deserve to be called a sister.

This is why she wants to change, why she wants to bring back the wholeness of who they are capable of being. The other kingdoms hold no promise of being more than they already are. But Nerine does. There is hope for Nerine. If they believe there is hope for her, then she must return their belief. Hestia also knows that she must make up for her own sins. For her own pride and mistakes. She dedicated herself in blood so long ago, and now it’s time that she fulfill that oath. Before it’s to late for any of them.

She usually leaves the past as something unchangeable. But there are some regrets that weigh too heavily to be left as they are. So young and foolish she was when they forgot who they were. She could have talked till she was blue in the face, but they would not have listened. Did she know that Nerine would take after the new legacy of the Amazons? Yes, but she had hoped to catch it before that happened. To change it before it cemented itself. But she didn’t try very hard, at least she believes that she didn’t. Destroy? No, she holds no intent of destroying more to build and strengthen. Do the people really only want women? She gestures to the growing kingdom as they thrive in the equality and bonds she intends to build between them all. She watches as diplomats, and visitors move comfortably among them, smiling, jesting, and building friendships that otherwise would never have been possible in an all female kingdom.

What I want is for them to be whole, and healthy. To be protectors again. If they can’t let go of their bitterness then what hope is there for me? Or other’s like me? What happens to Beqanna when there is no one left to protect it? When all there is, is selfishness? She’d already seen the results of that twice over. She looks up at him finally, her own brokenness apparent in the smile she offers. Once again she’s been pressed into a corner until her anger and coldness cannot protect and shield her. Once again someone sees through her hard edges and opens her up exposing her to more than she feels capable of handling.

She came back to Nerine believing that she would help them heal. Not knowing how deep or crippling her own brokenness was. As she reshapes it, mending the broken, they do the same to her. Together the kingdom and herself heal. Something she never thought would be possible. She doesn’t realize she’s leaning against Castile. Her head pressing along his neck. Of course, this can easily change should he choose so. But for now, she takes comfort where she can. We needs to change, or else we’ll break. The black queen states the words quietly, speaking of herself and Nerine in them. Maybe this is wrong of her, but she indulges in the moment anyways. A yearning for something more than the calculated banter of politics and the cold hope that grows dimmer by the day of finding her children. She needs something more. And while her friends and those that support her allow her to lean on them. She knows that she needs a constant. This she does not have as of yet. So she steals moments like these soothing herself in her wait for that rock to find her and keep her from drowning in a sea of political bullshit. She steals them and treasures them. Keeping them as a refreshing oasis in her darker days.

HESTIA

The devil whispered in my ear, you’ll never survive the storm
I whispered back, I am the storm

No worries <3 let me know if you need me to change anything.