Training and New Revelations
Chapter 3
Somewhere, hidden from the view of the rest of the world, is an island — the only inhabitants being women.
The shouts of the island’s warriors mingled with the cries of seagulls as spars occurred in each designated area. Further down, away from the training grounds, a more private session had been going on, since the morning.
She groaned as her head hit the ground, hard. Dust swept the area, disrupted from where it lay on the ground.
“Again, Estelle,” commanded her instructor and aunt, standing above her. Estelle slowly got up, fighting the aches and her body’s protests, and glared up at her.
“Hurry up, your enemies won’t wait for you,” Antiope barked, waiting for her niece to get back into position. The seven-year-old girl rolled her eyes once more before correcting her stance. Estelle charged towards her mentor, swinging her practice sword above her head, yet still missing the target.
She tried to raise the sword again but somehow tripped over her feet, and fell to the ground. She swallowed a cry and cradled her injured wrist. Panting hard, she looked up to find Antiope holding her sword.
Mentor and mentee halted their session as Diana and Hippolyta descended down the rocky hillside they had watched the spar from. “Estelle, go get your arm checked,” Diana ordered.
“But mother-”
“Listen to your mother, child,” Hippolyta gently urged her grandchild. Estelle sighed in defeat and shuffled off to go find medical attention.
“Antiope, a word,” Diana waited until her daughter was out of view and turned to the Amazon in charge of her daughter’s training. “How is she doing?”
Antiope sighed. “She’s quick on her feet and cunning, but she has difficulty in combat and handling weapons and is rather… uncoordinated.”
Diana narrowed her eyes at the amusement leaking into Antiope’s voice, yet she knows she can’t disagree. Unless she was dancing or doing gymnastics, Estelle was a rather clumsy girl, often tripping over her own two feet.
“She would be better and would be able to improve her battle tactics if she resided on the island,” Antiope said, heavy emphasis on resided. “You know we can’t do that. I want her to have at least a somewhat normal life,” Diana sighed. During the summer, both mother and daughter travel to Themyscira, spending the rest of the year in D.C., where Diana worked at her job and Estelle went to the local school.
“I know Diana, but you know she is an Amazon.”
“I know, and I want her to succeed. But she’s so much more than that.”
Antiope muttered something that sounded like, “I understand,” before straightening up and leaving — saying that she needed to go train some of her other students.
Diana dusted off her clothes and nodded towards her mother before walking towards the direction her daughter went, her long strides the only indication of how much she wanted to hold her child. Hippolyta smiled and shook her head. Diana was much more protective and happier when Estelle was around. It was a wonder what her granddaughter had done for Diana.
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Estelle sat on the edge of a rock which was the only one that wouldn’t hurt or and was comfortable enough to sit on. She picked at the skin surrounding her nails, her mother glanced at the bandages that adorned her wrist, stabilizing the injury that she had acquired during her training.
The sound of waves crashing into rocks scattered across the shore mingled with the sound of footsteps. Estelle felt someone sit next to her, as a slight breeze blew her hair.
“That’s a nasty injury you’ve got right there.” She glanced back up at her mother, before looking out into the horizon.
Diana sighed and hesitated, before grabbing her daughter’s uninjured hand.
“Are you mad at me?” Diana started in surprise at the question aimed at her, looking back at her daughter in poorly concealed confusion.
“Why would you think that?” Estelle looked down at her hands, picking at her fingers once more until her mother placed her hand on hers, as if to say stop.
“I don’t know, I mean I’m not as fast or agile as any of the other Amazons and I’m uncoordinated and- and-” her rant was cut off by Diana raising her hand.
“Estelle Dorea Potter,” her eyes widened at the mention of her full name, “You are much more than a fighter. You are smart and kind and compassionate. And most importantly, you are your own person.”
“I’m proud of you for you. You may not be as good as the others at fighting, but you are great.”
(I hated that speech so much but I’m sleep deprived so it’s the best you’re getting)
Estelle buried her head in her mothers shoulder, her tears finally falling and dampening her shirt. Diana wrapped her arms around her, the mother and daughter duo relaxing in each others presence.
----
Antiope swerved and dodged each strike, taunting her student. “Is that really the best you can do?” she crowed, darting a jab that could have potentially caused a lot of damage.
Estelle gritted her teeth in rage and forgot about her sword. Blinded by rage, she impulsively tried to punch her mentor. The next thing she heard was a yelp and a crash that could only come from someone slamming into something.
Estelle stood very still, unable to comprehend what just happened. Diana rushed out, hearing the loud noise, Hippolyta right behind her. The sight that welcomed them was her daughter standing with a fearful look etched on her face, while Antiope was sat up against the wall. She looked dizzy, and a small trail of blood streamed down the side of her face. A couple of Amazons rushed to help her, while Diana and her mother stayed back.
Estelle’s hands started to shake. Understanding dawned upon her as she saw the terrified look her daughter wore. Diana gathered her precious child in her arms and rubbed her back.
They sat in silence, the only sounds were a few hushed whispers and Estelle’s sobs. She clinged to her mother like she was her lifeline.
Once her crying had subdued, she gathered enough courage to ask a question that was plaguing her mind.
"Mom, what am I?"
Diana shared a look with Hippolyta, before looking back at Estelle. Taking a deep breath, she told her something that would change her life.
“You’re a witch, Estelle.”