Lake Rodney the hero of our own story

She prepared to turn away again, when the other spoke again. 

And when she went silent, Hydra kept the silence for a little while longer. It was Hydra's turn to look at Wraen now, fully—although her own eyes seemed to darken as what she came to figure out dawned upon her in its entirety. You give yourself too much credit, she answered simply, and though the words might sound cruel, they were simply how she felt: you are no enemy of mine, Wraen. Nor were you ever one. Come, now, you must know me better than that, her eyes flashed, as she took a step forward, after all, you know me as a woman who would not pause before striking down my own family. That was why you accompanied my brother, as you say—fear of his being hurt. Do you think, she asked, voice rich with amusement, that if you were an enemy to me—I would not have hurt you? 

A slow, confounded shake of her head. What logic ruled Wraen? 

What you must think of me, she murmured in her next breath, eyes reading the lines of Wraen's face as she searched for more. 

Hydra took a step back, licking her chops. 

And then, she spoke again. We have been apart for years, Wraen, she started, you knew a girl, once. A girl who saw her sister die, and who would kill for her sister. A girl who was hurt when those she thought were friends turned her back upon her, and built a place where her name and her family were the monsters they would warn their children about. But that girl has become a woman, a woman you know nothing of. That girl, though, she drawled, that girl still haunts you. What did you do to her, this girl, that you should ever be her focus? That she follows you everywhere? she asked next, truly curious as to why Wraen thought herself so significant to Hydra.