Avoid evil and it will avoid thee is not an apt maxim where you were concerned. Your influence is ineluctable despite your estrangement from Hippolyta, and the irony is not lost on her; however, you're the goddess of persuasion, a companion of Aphrodite herself— and perhaps even consort. Hippolyta cannot truly claim you wicked, for there was a time not too long ago wherein you were her beloved wife, a source of guidance to the Queen of the Amazons.

These days Hippolyta can only regard you with a suspicious mind. Her mind swirls with puerile and callow paranoia regarding your bond to Aphrodite, and there are times where she's compelled to condemn herself for loving a goddess. Hippolyta is prepared to deem you as prone to the folly of caprice as the rest of the pantheon she worships. The thought of your potential betrayal agonizes her so that she would rather cut you off like some appendage to rid herself of the infectious doubt.

Hippolyta does not turn to face you as you enter the Temple of Aphrodite on Themyscira. She has been caught giving offering to the goddess, praying for the marriage she believes Aphrodite had a hand in complicating, only furthering Hippolyta's ignominy should your affair be more than mere speculation. "What use do you have for a temple when you can worship so freely."

Hippolyta knows you regard her with the same suspicious mind. Since the creation of your daughter, Diana, rumors hounded the circumstances of her birth, relegating your daughter to the result of an affair with Zeus rather than the clay and divinity she was crafted from. Diana may be your daughter, and you treat her as such, visiting her on Themyscira at your first opportunity, yet you can only wonder. It all seemed baseless until Hippolyta, in an act of detachment, promoted General Philippus to her advisor over you— the chemistry was undeniable.

As you neared, Hippolyta's hip burned, marked with a rose that symbolized your union. Everlasting, the mark could never fade from her flesh whether you were estranged or not.