A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Being a first-rank white 'goddess,' Nyrkatess' mother looked about fifteen years younger than her true age. She still had the same delicate jawline, dimpled cheeks, and golden hair as always--although not a Tvokess by birth, both sides of her ancestry were so filled with them that she may as well have been one.

If only she had anything resembling good taste, then she might have had something resembling her daughter's begrudging respect, as one respects a worthy adversary, but no. She had never understood that an outfit should complement its wearer, not be so grotesquely ostentatious that it didn't matter who was underneath it. Today, she was hardly visible beneath a hairnet-veil-thing of gold thread and bloated diamonds--not even blue, for her eyes!--and her ivory gown was so puffy and heavily-inlaid that it obscured how much youth she hadn't lost. To be fair, any bigot who remembered Villacqui at eighteen, and was well aware that she was about to be in the same room as her at twenty-one, might have chosen something similar.

Such a fashion disaster would normally have her daughter twitching, but the Tvokess Heiress was currently more bothered by something else.

After three-and-a-half years of full-time self-torture, Nyrkatess had become the power-marked heir that her parents had always wanted. Her mother had sailed from the far west to the far east, in secret for fear of an opportunistic attack, to see her daughter's new form for herself. Regardless, since the moment she had disembarked, all the way through the formal introductions and subsequent conversation, she had been too transfixed by Suri and Zyriko to spare that daughter a single glance. Not a one. Nyrkatess could have worn black, or not even been here, and it wouldn't have made a mote of difference.

In a way, it was understandable. If it were Nyrkatess beholding the Sky Goddess and Sunset God after more than three years, glowing and standing outside reality, she too would have struggled to pull her eyes away. Except, not if it was her first time seeing Villacqui, after so long. Not if someone she loved were here.

There was no reason to be surprised. Being the most gorgeous mortal alive had never been good enough, so why should transforming into the most gorgeous mortal who had ever lived make any difference? And Nyrkatess didn't even want to please her loathsome parents; she held them in contempt, and wouldn't lift a finger or shed a tear if Justice smote them from orbit. At least, she had thought so, but then why could she sense that if she tried to say something, right now, her voice was going to crack?

'Are you this vain?' Nyrkatess scoffed. This was all so unbecoming of 'the Goddess of Fertility' that she wasn't sure if she could ever bare herself to Izenakee again.

Doubly embarrassingly, it was impossible for Zyriko not to have noticed, and he was very obviously making small talk to buy her time to compose herself.

<May I try to help?> he suddenly asked.

<Please do.> Nyrkatess had imagined her mental voice cracking, so as a final humiliation, it did.

<This is not an issue of vanity. You would be feeling dirty if she were fawning over you. The true cause is: You have helped many parents, and seen how they feel about their children, and now you are hurting from the awareness that you will never have a mother who asks how your day went, or sings you a lullaby, or brushes your hair, or wants to hear about your interests. Trust me, I know the feeling. For now, you must smother it like you smother your squeamishness, for the sake of every Telf and Fi and Bryll whose fate will be determined by this conversation.>

If that was supposed to keep Nyrkatess from crying--well, it didn't matter.

'Not like anyone's looking at you.'

She simply cleaned the wetness from her eyes, as discreetly as possible, before the tears fell.

'Behold the Goddess of Fertility!' she mocked herself.

<Villacqui has been admiring you, the whole time,> Zyriko corrected. <And fantasizing about shoving those stupid diamonds down your mother's stupid throat.>

Nyrkatess needed to bite her lower lip to keep a giggle from escaping.

<I'm not invading her mind,> he added. <She's, uh, her fantasizing is very loud, so to speak.>

...It couldn't be helped. Nyrkatess took the quickest of peeks behind her.

A pet as loyal as she was lovely, eyes gazing off at nothing in a stare so serenely vacant that she seemed almost mindless, like she probably didn't fully understand what was happening or where she was. Just passing the time until her beloved master gave her some attention. More a self-moving doll than a pet, really. And apparently, dreaming of violent murder.

Playing her character, as she always had.

Since the very first night.

How long had it been, before Minye had started to feel angry on Nyrkatess' behalf? Before all the praise had been genuine? Villacqui seemed to imply that it had happened a long time ago.

<I'll steer this to a close,> Zyriko warned.

Nyrkatess tapped her ear, where the crescent earrings would normally be--golden disks, today--and drew in a breath to greet her mother.

"Thank you for risking the journey, mother, on my account. I was ever so worried for your safety, what with the envious fools infesting our continent."

Head jerking to her right, Nyrkatess' mother belatedly remembered what she was ostensibly here to do.

"Huh," she muttered. "Well, there you are..."

It was hard to see her face, but her head turned a little back toward Suri. A quizzical look?

"It's genuine; see for yourself." Suri extended a hand toward Nyrkatess. "As I suspected, Nyrkatess has the gift, and We have succeeded in unlocking a portion of it. Moreover, due to her own dedication and talent, We have managed it on the earliest possible timetable. Soon, her aging will begin to slow, and not long after, halt entirely."

Nyrkatess wished she could see her mother's face better, through that ridiculous veil.

"...What is necessary, to get her looking like this?"

Her mother's question was ambiguous on its face, but Nyrkatess knew exactly what she meant. She allowed herself a full smile, to avoid smirking.

"This is my natural appearance, mother--no cosmetics whatsoever!" she answered. "Like Suri and Zyriko, the marking of my body had no ill effects. If you like, apply a cleaning blessing. Nothing will come off me."

With another short glance at Suri, Nyrkatess' mother waved her over. It was only a few steps.

"Your vessel is...bright?" she questioned, staring through Nyrkatess into the immaterial. "Larger, of course, but that cannot be the whole explanation."

"We infer that it's the beginning of my glow," Nyrkatess 'explained,' and gestured to Suri and Zyriko.

"Hm."

Her mother pressed two long-nailed fingers to each of Nyrkatess' shoulders, between the base of her neck and the straps of her gown, and did indeed cast a cleaning spell. It made Nyrkatess' eyes sting a little, like being dunked in soapy water.

"Hm," her mother repeated, and withdrew her hands. "You have always been a fortunate one, haven't you?"

"Not luck at all," Suri corrected. Nyrkatess resisted an urge to throw her arms wide and prance over. "Your daughter has the true gift. Little by little, with meticulous diligence, We are bringing it to the surface. The results speak for themselves."

Nyrkatess' mother scrutinized her daughter's face and pool while listening, and for a while afterwards.

"Nyrkatess, I will speak plainly," she declared at last. "Your father and I expected you to fail. We thought that you only ever intended to stall, but hoped that you would at least learn from your hosts what you have been unwilling to learn from us. You've surprised me, but now I am left wondering how this works. You must have learned, yes? We fully acknowledge that such precious information should be shared only in-person, privately. So, I would hear it now, and I am prepared to spend as long as it takes."

"It is not my secret to share, moth--"

"Why did my blessing not clean your perfume?"

...Oh.

"And why does the scent not fade?"

Passing it off as someone else's perfume was impossible--it would have grown noticeably stronger when Nyrkatess approached her mother. Denial would backfire.

Nyrkatess peeked at Suri. She seemed completely unperturbed, but that meant nothing--internally, She might be frantic.

"Something is strange," Nyrkatess' mother concluded. "Explain. I must insist."

Her parents weren't flustered this time around. They'd had three years to puzzle over the whole affair. Tvokess forces had needed to repel an invasion and break a blockade, for the sake of this alliance. Nyrkatess had been foolish to think that her mother would be so delighted with her precious power-marked Heiress that she would have no interest in the details.

"It's a fair request," Suri replied, projecting calm reasonableness. Nyrkatess nearly collapsed with relief; Suri always knew what to do. "Go ahead, Nyrkatess. Our secrets only need to be kept from Our enemies." That was a warning to keep secrets from this bigot. "Show your mother the blessing you have been learning, and tell her how the last Tvokess Matriarch will be known in the new age to come."

Nyrkatess caught herself about to press a finger to her lips, absentmindedly. She smoothly converted the motion into slipping the hand behind her neck, and theatrically flourished her waves of pearl out behind her, as if readying herself, or opening a grand performance. In the meantime, she thought more feverishly than she had ever thought before.

Suri must be referring to the immortality spell. Was it safe to show? Yes. Nyrkatess' mother was strong, but not nearly strong enough to put the spell to any real use. Not talented enough to cast it, anyway, or fully understand the mechanism. Could it leak? No. Her mother would sooner die than share something so precious with any rival, even if she could remember enough to share.

How Nyrkatess would be known?

Ah. Nyrkatess smiled. Suri had told everyone exactly Who She was, with carefully chosen words.

The last Tvokess Matriarch paused for one more heartbeat before speaking, to make absolutely certain that the Language of the Goddesses wouldn't slip out.

"Suri has devised a family of special blessings," she began. "When cast with sufficient skill and power, they remove flaws, both material and immaterial. A candidate of the most illustrious ancestry carries so few of the flaws of mundanity that removing those few which remain elevates a mortal to True Divinity."

Nyrkatess tapped her shoulders between the base of her neck and the straps of her gown.

"I will demonstrate with the bridge of my nose. Observe."

After her mother pressed her fingers to the same patches of skin as she had to cast the cleaning spell, Nyrkatess began 'singing' a Song of Salvation. Soon, the stupid hairnet-veil was jostled, as the head underneath it jerked in amazement.

Menelyn called Her spell 'mostly tedious.' Nonsense. Had Nyrkatess devoted two centuries to full-time study of white magic, she might--might--have been able to develop it herself. She had not yet entirely mastered it, nor did she have enough mana to power a full-body version, but she had mastered the skin portion. Her mother observed, as only a white mage could, while flesh corrupted by the imperfections of mortality was cleansed of all defects, at the molecular level. Nyrkatess well remembered how sobering it had been, when she had first seen Menelyn cast this spell.

"Shall I continue?" she asked. "It is a laborious process. I've repeated it for many hours every day, for years."

"...No..." her mother muttered. "I've...seen enough."

She was scrutinizing Nyrkatess' face again, with a newfound appreciation of where it had come from. Allegedly.

"The Heiress has always been so very talented," Villacqui gushed. "Every day, her Villacqui is awed!"

----

"And? What happened next?" Menelyn prompted. She was lying on Her back, looking with Izenakee toward Nyrkatess' star.

...The thought gave her chills, but not enough to dull her excitement.

<So, so I had to show off my Villacqui.> There was no choice. Anything less would be simply out of character. <I waved her over, and I said, I said to mother, 'Look at the wonderful stones the Keyics found! Aren't they perfect?!' Mother agreed, that they were well-matched, and she said, 'You do love spoiling your Villacqui.' Heheheh.>

<She's not wrong,> Villacqui pointed out.

<Akeetakeetakeet!> Well duh! <So next, next was, 'I've refined away enough flaws to learn what my ideal form is.' Then I, You know, I showed her my mana, and I said: 'Suri's mana reveals Her to be the Sky Goddess, and mine reveals me to be both the Moonlight Goddess, and the Flower Goddess. I inherited these divine attributes from my illustrious ancestors, whose lineages have come ever closer to attaining True Divinity by nurturing each trait, until in me, they have at last fully bloomed.' And she bought it! She totally bought it!>

"That was clever, to credit your ancestors," Menelyn praised. "It made it easy for your mother to accept."

<Mmhmm! That's always the key, with her type!> Nyrkatess' chest was bursting with pride...Was that Izenakee's pride?!

"Yours and Mine, combined," Izenakee answered. She giggled when Nyrkatess blushed.

"Alright, can We talk about that woman's outfit?!" Kennalaria flashed into view. "Dis-as-ter!"

A finger wagged as She sang each syllable.

<I know!> Nyrkatess groaned. Dreadful.

The Goddess of Glamour raised both hands near Her shoulders, palms up, and grimaced while shaking Her head.

"Someone needs to tell her that abusing fashion to flaunt wealth is not fabulous. At this rate, she's bound to try covering herself in gold foil."

<Oh, don't give her ideas!> Nyrkatess wouldn't put it past her.

Ugh. What a disturbingly imaginable image.

"And that reminds Me! I understand why you had to wear that golden gown, this time, but please tell Me it won't leave the closet again."

<Never.> No promise could be more fervent. <Well, Villacqui could wear it.>

<I look too good in pearl,> Villacqui stated flatly. <We can add it to the options for people to borrow.>

"Speaking of pearl," Izena interrupted. "I have wanted to ask: Is Nyrkatess' hair as silky as it looks?"

<Yes! It's so wonderful!> Villacqui raved. <The brush never snags. Never! It's as if every strand has a non-stick coating. I can't get enough of feeling it glide through my fingers so smoothly.>

Izena's hands reached up toward Nyrkatess' star, fingers clenching and unclenching a little. She heaved a sigh.

"Some day."

"Oh-oh-oh!" Kennalaria chimed. "How's your sing-ing?!"

<I...sing to flowers more often,> Nyrkatess answered, a little sheepishly. <People like to listen.>

"Ohhh! I can't wait!" Menelyn squealed. "Keep practicing!"

Well, she wouldn't stop so long as Villacqui kept asking, so...

This bursting in her chest was...nice.