A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Suri hadn't left the tropics for ten years, and She had never been this far south, or north. The aching, icy numbness biting at Her fingers, nose, and ears was very unfamiliar. But while She would be the first to admit that Her judgment of such things may be distorted, She was reasonably certain that even Twilight would find this gale, roaring from the ice of the far south as daylight faded, positively bone-chilling. According to Zyriko, it was unusual for the first of autumn's storms to strike this early, in the closing days of summer, but also far from extraordinary, no more than a bad omen for the coming winter.

Cautiously, Suri removed Her hand from the flower in Her hair, to check whether She'd secured it firmly enough.

<Good?> She asked. Even after years of telepathic conversations, it was difficult to resist the instinct to 'speak loudly' enough to be 'heard' over the tempest, but She managed.

<Looks like it,> Zyriko answered. Likewise, it felt bizarre that he was so comfortably 'audible,' almost like his voice muted the background. <Some petals might blow away, but the flower as a whole seems stable.>

<And My hair?> Suri twisted Her head back and forth. <Does it look too rigid?>

A curtain of ringlet curls hung 'loosely' to Her shoulders, from the edge of one eye to the other, but seemed totally unaware of the storm, because She had meticulously coated every strand with a subtle film of stiffened mana.

<Not at all. It's...eerie. In a good way. Supernatural.>

Suri knew what he meant. The tunic's magic already made Her body look out of phase with reality, so Her hair not blowing in the wind, juxtaposed with Her violently flapping clothing, would be synergistic. That was a very welcome bonus, because looking as supernatural as possible was important.

In the eyes of Her Zyzz in-laws, Suri was no less than the comprehensively perfect final stage of feminine divinity. Zyzz had produced the ultimate god, Keyic had produced the ultimate goddess, and they were joined in eternal marriage. It was right and proper. Nothing could be more prestigious.

Suri planned to give them no reason to doubt their perception of Her, at any point during this visit, because it was the single most crucial cover for what was happening in Keyic territory. So long as the Zyzz continued to believe that the Sun was unworthy of shining on their daughter-in-law, even rumors that the Sky Goddess had come to punish the false gods could be dismissed with 'knowing' snickers. But if there was even the tiniest crack in Suri's aura? If Her prestige was eroded just enough for the world's second-strongest red mage to decide that maybe it couldn't hurt to check in, just a little more closely, now and then, on what his allies were up to?

What would sound like melodramatic nonsense on any sane world was a cold fact on this one: something as trivial as Suri momentarily losing Her balance could begin a chain of events that ended in the enslavement of tens of thousands of little faces.

Fortunately, as berated daughters and granddaughters worldwide could attest, the goddess of goddesses had been setting an unreasonable standard for decades.

In retrospect, Suri was kind of impressed with Her younger self. It had been significantly more challenging to present as an immaculate goddess who never farted before She'd transformed into an immaculate Goddess Who never farted.

Satisfied with Her test results, She retreated back inside, and tried to rub some warmth into Her hands.

How could Twilight possibly prefer chilly climates?! This was summer!

<It may be hard to believe right now, but the palace's area is relatively mild,> Zyriko said, now staring grimly out the window at the Zyzz domain. <In the interior, away from the ocean, and on the southern coast...the people pray for a little warmth, until a volcano decides to be funny.>

Suri huddled against him, asserting a wife's inalienable right to body heat, and followed his gaze.

The Zyzz palace was some distance inland, mostly obscured by a conifer forest. Suri could see only the tops of broad, rounded towers clad in a polished obsidian facade, like the harbor's buildings and dock. Solid crimson banners, thrashing in the wind, hung from every parapet, balcony, and tapered spire.

Far to the west, looming over the palace and forest, was an intimidating string of snowcapped summits, backlit by the setting Sun.

The Tvokess palace and environs had a shining, sunny splendor that belied the evil. Here, there were no such pretensions. This cage wasn't even gilded.

Normally, Suri might have gotten stuck staring at the sunset. Instead, She blinked at the volcanoes, unsure whether to be alarmed.

<That's mostly snow blowing off the slopes,> Zyriko assured Her. <But I can't say for sure that none of it is smoke. And yes, an active fumarole would be as bad an omen as it sounds.> He sighed. <Not that my parents will be losing any sleep. Don't bring it up, except to ask if the lava flows would look magnificent or something. If You ask about the people nearby, they'll be offended.>

<Financially.> Suri was no stranger to the thinking of false gods.

<Right. They're sensitive about Zyzz being poor by first-rank standards. I wouldn't put it past my father to have an attendant maimed or killed on the spot to prove that losing a few worshippers isn't significant.>

...Eighteen years, alone.

Suri looked up at Her empath.

In a few minutes, anyone without a direct link to Zyriko's mind would see a triumphant Heir making a glorious return to his beloved homeland, swaggering forth to present his incomparable wife to his illustrious parents, and at the same time, show his wife all that She had gained by marrying him.

The truth was closer to an escaped prisoner voluntarily returning to his cell and strapping himself back onto the instrument of torture he'd been born on, while feeling guilty for having abandoned the other victims.

And...hurting. Hurting because he did want to bring his wife home and show Her to his family, but absolutely not to the home and family he actually had.

He was ashamed that Suri needed to deal with this visit as a consequence of marrying him.

...Ah.

So this was how Nyrkatess felt about the names on her list.

Zenik, Patriarch Zyzz.

Sinnil, wife to Zenik.

Suri's usual guidance was 'It is not Our forgiveness that they need.' Not these two. This was different. This was personal.

<I'll tie your hair,> Suri said softly.

She moved behind Her husband, a band already materializing in Her hands.

<My parents propose to move most of the formal introduction ceremony inside--'in consideration of Keyic's worshippers,' of course,> Zyriko relayed, as She worked. <I've graciously agreed. We'll only walk to them, then ride to the palace for the rest. And...> He sighed. <It's better if I warn You now.>

An image appeared in Suri's mind.

Both sides of a lane leading from the readied gangway to Zyriko's father were lined with five rows of one hundred Zyzz attendants. All were prostrated, noses pressed to the obsidian dock, arms crossed behind their backs, motionless aside from the flapping of their crimson-over-black livery.

For something doubtlessly intended to impress and honor Her, it felt an awful lot like a targeted mocking.

<I am so, so sorry,> Zyriko apologized.

Suri spun him around and rose to Her tiptoes for one last long, slow, soft, lingering kiss.

<I love you, Zyriko. I understand why you're hurting, so consider this: just before I married you, you introduced Me to Keekee. Let's be honest: She raised you, more than anyone else. I met Our family in the Temple of the Stars, and They told Me stories about you, and it was wonderful.>

The link deepened.

For not the first time, Suri felt genuine pity for everyone who wasn't in love with a historically powerful empath. Her heels flopped back to the floor.

<Good,> She said. <That's better.>

Of all the miraculous powers that the Blue Goddess had at Her disposal, this was the one She was most proud of. It was the only one She'd earned.

Alas, the performance would soon begin, so prudence obligated Zyriko to relax the link back to its usual strength. This wasn't the time for Suri to be a blushing, intoxicated, giggly mess.

She tottered over to Her vanity, leaned against it, lowered Her head, and closed Her eyes, seeking a depth of focus akin to a trance. The task ahead required nothing less.

Both She and Zyriko would be performing, but first and foremost, it would be a test of Suri's grace, poise, and discipline.

A trial of how well She could simulate a false goddess.

'Sense shifting gusts before they shift,' She told Herself, in preparation. 'Zyriko is not expected to move with effortless grace, but to be immovable--use that. Brace against him, subtly, when necessary. He'll know. He'll be ready.'

Suri had not invested thousands of hours drilling how to act the part of first-rank goddess so that She could fail today--how she glided, how she flowed onto a chair, how she spoke and when she didn't deign to, how she sneered and what she didn't bother sneering at, and on and on and on.

Nerves were for motivating practice. They no longer had any reason to exist.

When She was ready, Suri opened Her eyes.

Look.

The Blue Goddess was here. A True Goddess, in person. Nothing could go wrong.

<Let's do this.>

Zyriko answered by offering his arm--protocol dictated that husband and wife link and enter as a pair.

As a pair, the Zyzz Heir and Keyic Heiress strolled onto the deck. Their attendants and guards were well trained, quickly assembling into the proper formation despite the gusting storm. When the time came, the procession flowed across the gangway. Upon reaching the dock, all knew to peel away and let the Heir and Heiress continue alone. The Zyzz worshippers prostrated on either side of the lane ahead had not come to honor attendants and guards! No, the glory of their worship was reserved for the Heir of this domain and his illustrious wife.

Lesser beings might have rushed it in the storm, but the divine were too transcendent to be bothered by such trivialities as weather. The Zyzz Heir sauntered toward his father, radiating pride and grandeur, but the real center of attention, the guest of honor, the star of this visit, was the goddess of goddesses gliding at his side.

No children toddled up to Suri, from out of this crowd. There was not a single instance of eye contact followed by a wave and smile. Not a giggle to be heard. No skips. No twirls. No joy.

There would be no murals painted. No slaying of eldritch monsters. No fireballs, or shields, or any flashy spells. The Blue Goddess couldn't fight Her battles that way, so She didn't.

Her weapon was mimicry. Perfect impersonation. Today, of an unrealistically flawless daughter-in-law.

No raising an arm to block the icy wind.

No hunching over.

No tensing. No shuddering.

No giving any sign that even True Goddesses could feel chilled to the bone.

Definitely no stumbling. No squinting. Absolutely no sign that breathing with the wind in Her face was impossible--the tunic could draw a little extra mana to handle that.

Precise gait. Aloof, regal elegance. A goddess bored by how easy it was to be perfect, so beyond the trifling concerns of mortals that reality was unworthy of fully containing her. The crimson robes she wore thrashed like the banners hanging from the palace, but her body was too holy for the wind to touch directly. How generous of her, to allow those lesser creatures to prostrate themselves in her vicinity. Her hosts must feel honored, to be granted the privilege of such an illustrious guest.

Not even the Blue Goddess' Sisters could have pulled it off so convincingly. They wouldn't have needed to, but They also wouldn't have been able to.

But next time, Suri would ask Twilight if She could find a way to squeeze in, like, five more layers, without compromising style. Tropical creatures lacked the adaptations required to survive in polar climates.

With the bulk of Her willpower expended on elegance and the elements, Suri had precious little to spare. Once She stood before the agent of tragedy whose name was engraved atop Her list, it was a struggle not to glare damnation.

Unrealistically flawless daughter-in-law. Nothing more.

"Welcome, son and Heir," Zyriko's father intoned, straight-backed and imperious, somehow clearly audible despite the roaring gale without using magic--Zyriko's protection made that impossible.

Zenik, Patriarch Zyzz, was a man of countless faults, but no one would ever accuse him of being apathetic or sniveling. His wife had long since retreated to one of the waiting transports, but Suri sensed that even if lightning were striking all around, even if a barrage of hail were cratering the dock, even if the wind finally succeeded in stripping off his robes, or lava were streaming into the sea, still the Patriarch's pride would have compelled him not to budge or bend.

His eyes swung to Suri, appraising Her and the traditional Zyzz robes She wore. The appropriate reaction was to be almost imperceptibly pleased with the attention, so that was the reaction Suri simulated.

Until this visit, there had been a lingering chip on the Zyzz Patriarch's shoulder. Regardless of what the unconventional Keyic-Zyzz marriage agreement formally proclaimed, ancient custom labeled Zyzz as the junior partner: Keyic's Heiress was stronger. Moreover, it would be hard to argue that Zyzz wasn't, to some extent, riding Keyic's tide.

Keyic had expanded its territory. The Zyzz Heir glowed his wife's color, wore Her armor, and had moved to Her domain. She was the incomparably illustrious goddess of goddesses.

But there the Keyic Heiress stood, arm-in-arm with Her husband, wearing Zyzz robes, and physically, visually, She was the shorter and slighter of the pair.

In-laws who felt valuable and properly respected had no reason to disrupt the status quo.

"And welcome Suri, Heiress Keyic." The Zyzz Patriarch signaled his approval with a single deep nod. "You shall find your Zyzz family's hospitality finer than any in the world."

"I've been wanting to show Suri our thermal springs, father!" Zyriko proposed, feigning enthusiasm. "The Keyic palace has nothing like them! Suri will never admit it, but I bet She'll find Herself pining for another soak, when we're back in the north!"

...Suri really was married to a God. At the moment, thermal anything sounded like a wonder of the Sacred Realm, but seeming too eager would be beneath a haughty aristocrat's dignity. She side-eyed Zyriko with an enigmatic ghost of a smile.

"Will I?" She demurred, with appropriate coyness. "It is true, I suppose, that Keyic has nothing of the sort."

"Heh!" Zyriko's father seemed pleased. "Then it's decided!"

Suddenly, over Suri's shoulder, the thousand prostrated Zyzz attendants rose together to their feet, but kept their eyes fixed strictly on the ground. Some headed to the ship to assist their Keyic counterparts with baggage--a god and goddess of the highest rank didn't travel light--and others to transports. All moved silently, with purposeful precision, or at least knew to give the appearance of it.

Suri took care to look the perfect degree of almost-impressed by the display of red magic. She was no easily-wowed second-rank bumpkin, but neither was She too clueless to appreciate true excellence when it was on display. The goddess of goddesses was a carefully calibrated hard to get.

And...that was it. No hug. Not so much as a shoulder pat. After almost five years, 'welcome, son and Heir' was all Zyriko got. He simply pushed through the wind toward the transport while Suri glided alongside.

"You look well, mother!" Zyriko greeted, as he climbed in and took his seat. "All of my siblings stayed abroad, after all? A shame."

"...Mmm," his mother replied, distracted by awe of her own son.

Suri graced the seat to his left with Her presence, and Her mother-in-law's awe was pulled to Her.

The goddess of goddesses turned Her palm upward, off to the side, and began casually thinking a miracle into existence, just like the cleaning flowers She had made as gifts in the Tvokess domain. This time, Her creation would have the form of a miniature meysifruit tree, sculpted with exquisite detail, and imbued with the power to make ocean water drinkable.

"Do not waste your breath on them," Zyriko's father scoffed, taking his own seat. A twitch of his wrist signaled the transport's driver to begin the brief journey to the palace. "All your siblings remember their Zyzz heritage only when it suits their needs."

This time, he scanned Suri starting from the enchanted item materializing in Her palm, then from the hem of Her robes up to the flower in Her hair. It was exactly what She wanted, and still felt violating.

"But I think it's good that they've recognized their proper place," he declared. "The legacy of Zyzz does not lie in them."

For the sake of tens of thousands of little faces, and countless not yet born, the Goddess of War mirrored his sneer.