Memoriae of The Minerva (Eliza) Part 1

“No?” You fight to keep your voice level but your fists are clenched so tight that you’re worried you may have drawn blood. “What do you mean, ‘no?’”
Dione sighs, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I think that’s relatively straight forward, don’t you? Or are you so addled with infantile affection that you can no longer understand basic language?”
“I asked Her blessing as a courtesy.” You protest through grit teeth, resisting the temptation to spit an incantation at your sister. It wouldn’t end well for you if you did. Not with Her watching over her. Instead, you cross the distance between the two of you, jabbing an accusing finger at Dione’s chest. “Just because She chose you when mother died doesn’t mean that you can deny me in Her name.”
Dione turns her eyes down at your finger, then back up to your face. “Doesn’t it?” She asks.
“No! No, it doesn’t!” You throw your hand in the air, stalking a few steps away and biting back the first word of a petrification spell. That would only result in spending the next two hundred years as an ornament in your own garden.
Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a long sigh before turning back to face your sister again. “I’m the eldest.” You reply, forcing cool into your voice and commanding your pulse to calm. “I don’t need your approval. Moreover, he asked me, not you. I’m reasonably certain that means that I have the final say.”
“Then you are reasonably mistaken.” Dione says with a wry smile that speaks of a regret you’ve not seen on her face in decades. “You know that our fates are not our own. Not when we were children and certainly not now. We have to think about our mission, not just our own happiness.”
You shake your head. “It’s not our mission.”
Dione’s eyes go wide and she takes a startled step backwards. “What?”
“It’s not our mission.” You say again, a little shocked at the adamance in your own voice, “It never has been. Mother lived a full life and she wouldn’t wish us to waste our own trying to bring her back.”
Outrage twitches at the corner of Dione’s lips, but it’s too late to hold back any more. “You don’t remember.” You continue, reaching out to take both of your sister’s hands in your own, “You were so young. You only remember what you wanted her to be, not who she really wa-”
“This stopped being about mother a long, long time ago.” Dione interrupts, ripping her hands out of your grip and storming away with a furious, dismissive gesture. “Your Minerva has spoken. You have your answer…”