Chapter Text
Queen Hippolyte had taken to strolling on the shores of Themyscira alone in recent months. For centuries she had been contented in the safe haven of the Amazons, with the purpose of keeping the monsters trapped beneath it enough to satisfy her soul. But of late, she had begun to harbor an impossible wish. It had been three millenia since she had last seen a man, and her memories of that time were not pleasant. But now, she yearned for the one thing only a man could give her. Unless the gods granted her a miracle.
Just as she had that thought, the Queen looked up at the stars, in time to see her miracle being provided.
The shooting star became visible just over the statue of Demeter, and fell in a glittering arc to land a few yards away from Hippolyte. As she gazed in wonder at the odd metal case with its undecipherable symbols, a door in the case opened. Within, looking startled but unhurt, was a perfect, beautiful baby girl.
"May the gods be praised," Hippolyte breathed, kneeling to take their gift in her arms. "I shall call her... Kala!"
The Waynes observed all the ancient rituals scrupulously. They never doubted that the gods would grant their request, in time. Though the method the gods took was a surprise.
The Waynes spoke and read ancient Greek and studied how the Hellenes had revered the gods and did their best to worship as they had done. They weren't alone, but those with the patience to revive a long-dormant faith in as close to its original form as they could manage were few.
It was on the feast day of Artemis that it happened. They both recited the ancient words and offered up their own prayers (in Greek, of course) in the little outdoor chapel they had set up themselves in a secluded nook on their estate. It was a beautiful morning, and they felt the presence of their gods very keenly.
Yielding to a sudden impulse, Martha fell to her knees and began forming a statue of an infant out of the soft, yielding black soil. When it was finished she and her husband both raised their faces to the sky.
They would have settled – with gratitude – for receiving a child in the ordinary way. But perhaps the long-neglected Olympians were ready for something more spectacular. There was a tremendous flash of light, and when the Waynes were able to open their eyes, the statue had become a real child.
Contrary to what some of their coreligionists assumed, they did not name her after the debased Roman form of Artemis. Thomas's mother had died only a short time before, so it was natural to name their miraculous daughter after her.
Over the years, many of the other Reconstructionists fell away from the faith, but the parents of Diana Wayne had too clear a miracle before their eyes to do that.
Little Bruce Kent came into the world in the ordinary way. His parents went about getting him the way parents always have, and Martha Kent's belly swelled and caused months of happily endured discomfort just like every woman's. It was good enough for most people and it was good enough for him. There was nothing miraculous about it, except that the expressed love of two people forming a new, conscious, feeling, unique life is always a miracle no matter how many times it happens.
It wasn't until later that he seemed different. And even then, not so different that his parents had to wonder if capricious gods had intervened, or if he was from another planet, though they might have joked about that once or twice.