A Real Goddess Would Let Nobody Die

Nyrkatess had been looking forward to tonight. Villacqui had requested a moonlit dancing date, and this was supposed to be the night. Instead, Zyriko had dispatched them to a birth gone wrong. But that wasn't unusual.

It had become common knowledge that the blessing of the Full Moon Goddess protected against miscarriage, unhealthy babies, death in childbirth, and so on. The average day had nearly a hundred births scattered across the baby-booming liberated territories, which meant that whenever Nyrkatess wasn't in pain that felt rather similar to being split open from the inside, her life consisted mostly of pregnancy and childbirth.

Most mothers seemed to be more-or-less happy about the whole thing, so that was good. Nyrkatess much preferred her perfectly sanitary, completely non-invasive, wholly abstract agony. Knowing that the pain of pool expansion was all in her head helped to make it endurable.

They'd arrived at the home of tonight's young mother--younger than Nyrkatess herself! She was laid out with an arm across her eyes, groaning in pain, with an older woman serving as midwife. Villacqui smoothly veered off to speak with the friends and family. After three years, the two of them were a well-practiced pair.

Nyrkatess' mana had developed a flowery scent--Villacqui's favorite perfume--growing more and more noticeable as she had come to understand what it was that she wanted to achieve, her answer to Menelyn's question. Alerted by the smell, the midwife looked up toward the door.

Briefly, she froze in a wide-eyed stare, before jolting into a bow, and stepping aside. From her perspective, the literal patron Goddess of her profession had just shimmered into the doorway within a few minutes of it becoming clear that She was needed, replacing the stench inside with the fresh sweetness of spring.

Nyrkatess smiled and dipped her head in return, then stepped straight to the patient. Laying her hands below the poor woman's navel, she dulled her pain while assessing the situation.

"Ahaha," the young woman gasped, removing her arm from her eyes.

'Like a pleasant meadow breeze, blowing away the birth pangs,' Nyrkatess had heard. 

"Hello Bryll!" she sang softly, smothering her revulsion. "Your son is healthy, but the silly boy is trying to come out feet-first. You've done nothing wrong. It's impossible to push him out the normal way. I shall need to remove him myself."

Saying 'he needs to be cut out' would be too bluntly insensitive, but more importantly, people tended to like it when Nyrkatess emphasized her personal role in whatever would be happening. And also, when she knew their names without asking. Indeed, Bryll began sobbing, and not from despair or pain or fear.

For hundreds of generations of Bryll's ancestors, and Villacqui's, her current status would have meant a gruesome death was on its way, definitely for her and perhaps also for her son. Bryll, her husband, their families, and the midwife all knew it, yet not a single one showed any signs of worry, because they knew something else: the world had changed. True Goddesses, and a God, now walked among the common people, answering prayers.

Tonight, the Goddess of Fertility Herself was present, in the flesh, filling the air with the scent of flowers and shimmering in the light of the Pearl Moon. Nothing bad could happen. She wasn't omnipotent, but this was Her arena. She had everything under control. The mere touch of Her hands soothed the birth pangs, just like everyone said.

Suri spoke of the burden She felt from such heavy expectations, and Menelyn of butterflies. What it did for Nyrkatess was more akin to what Kennalaria described.

Behold.

Fulfillment. This was what she had always wanted to be.

Except, she was still mortal, still ignorant, still unrefined. Every day it burned at her. She itched with the need to transcend, to grow more enlightened until she fully bloomed, immune to wilting. Every hour of pain she endured brought her one hour closer to What she needed to become, in order to be able to live with herself: A real Goddess Who would ensure that every bud had a chance to grow, to blossom into the best possible version of itself, never starved by the gluttony of weeds, never trampled by the ignorance of bigotry, and never belittled by the envious and insecure.

Admittedly, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be associated with pregnancy and menstruation, but flowers, fruit, pampering, and youthfulness were perfect, and the connection to certain aspects of reproduction was delightful for teasing Villacqui.

Tonight, there was a little bud who needed Fertility's help, lest his family end up one blossom short.

Nyrkatess' wife had already rejoined her. She removed the glossy black flower from Nyrkatess' hair, then the golden one from her own, and handed them to Bryll. When the stems were held to the chest, the petals formed a good screen.

"It's better if you don't watch," Villacqui advised. "There will be a slight pinching, but not bad, and you will feel some prodding and a sense of wetness. It's all normal."

"I'll stay like this, 'til it's done," the young mother answered quietly, eyes closed.

With the patient's view blocked, Villacqui began laying out the tools. They were exquisite, like everything Suri created. The Sky Goddess could make a very sharp edge, when one was called for. In the meantime, Nyrkatess cast disinfection spells on everything--best practice--while keeping one hand on Bryll, so the pain-dulling breeze never stopped.

Nyrkatess' father had one thing right: her ancestors would be appalled. For a hundred generations of Tvokesses, Matriarchs had needed to empty their vaults before receiving this service, but this inept Heiress wasn't much for bargaining.

----

"All set!" Nyrkatess announced, clapping her fingers, and glancing around to triple-check that she had cleaned everything perfectly. "See?! Not even a hint of a scar!"

Between wailing son and blubbering mother, the greatest miracle of the night would be if anyone heard her. 

"Will You return to the sky?" an older man asked, as they left the room. He stopped short of presuming to offer to activate the portal for them, but his meaning was clear.

Villacqui gently shook her head. "We like to spend some time outside, on nights when the Pearl Moon is full."

Nyrkatess hid a grin behind her hand. She wasn't the only one who had been mourning their date night! Here in the south of the former Vanic domain, near what used to be the western border of Emmoyer, the weather was perfect. And it was safe to be outdoors at night.

"We'll stay out until sunrise, and ask somebody headed to Telf's session to bring us along with them," Nyrkatess told him.

"I'll make sure to be there, crack o' dawn!" he promised.

To that, they simply smiled and bowed. It seemed better for him to spend that time with what appeared to be his first grandchild, but too many repeated refusals could be interpreted as some kind of divine disfavor.

They departed into the night, toward the path leading to the village's portal area, which was on a hill overlooking a river, and rolling plains on the far side. Nyrkatess could have lit the way, but that was unnecessary, with such a bright Moon high in the sky.

Once they had left the housing area behind, Villacqui spoke softly in the Language of the Goddesses.

"Last Moon. Are you nervous?"

The last, in the sense that by the time the Moon was next full, Nyrkatess' mana coloring transformation should be underway.

"More excited, than nerv--hahk." Nyrkatess had started to answer, but was cut off by a gasp when she turned to look at Villacqui.

Her wife turned to smirk in triumph, but ended up gasping herself. Precious nights like this one were what had caused them to pick 'Moon Goddesses,' after all, so precious that Nyrkatess' love for them had been imprinted on her soul.

"...But I am a little nervous, yes," Nyrkatess confessed, once the stun waned enough. "Because it doesn't always come naturally. Menelyn--She will hug someone covered in sewage, without a second thought, but I hesitate. I need to force it."

She swallowed.

"My mana looks fine, so I'm not that nervous, but it's no guarantee. My flaws may show, on the outside."

They had reached the portal area, above the river and fields stretching to the stars beyond. Villacqui placed her hands on Nyrkatess' waist, planted a kiss, and murmured cheek-to-cheek.

"Nyri, if you are flawed because you push through things you don't like, putting your responsibilities to others ahead of your own preferences, then flaws are beautiful."

Going from that to the planting of a second kiss was just about the limit of what Nyrkatess could survive.

Without waiting for her to recover, Villacqui began the very same dance as they had performed to open the investiture ball. Nyrkatess did her best to push through the bliss and follow the steps.

"Your soul smells like a flower garden, my love," Villacqui added, as the stars whirled around them. "I think you'll turn out just fine."

...This was how a person could endure three years of pool expansion.

Nyrkatess' wife twirled away until their arms were fully stretched, then twirled back in.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to awaken, every morning, in a room and bed saturated with the scent of my wife's soul?" She pointedly inhaled--being supernatural, noses never adjusted to it. "I needed this date to practice behaving normally even when I am so thoroughly captivated."

Diamond eyes glittered beneath the starry sky, and glossy black brows and lashes glimmered in the moonlight.

Nyrkatess was thoroughly captivated.

"Minye," she breathed. "I cannot think of a single decent thing to say. You're too stunning. Sorry."

Her wife, so incapable of clumsiness that she slept gracefully, tripped over her own feet. With the spell slightly broken, Nyrkatess was able to find some words. She spoke as they came to mind.

"I am who I am because of you. You are why I know what it means to care about someone. I doubt I would have had the confidence to endure my parents, if you hadn't liked me as I was. I

am the one who was saved. And thank you for all the cuddles."

Nyrkatess would have gone mad if she had spent the last three years on an island, suffering most of every day with only birds for company. Instead, she had spent that time with Villacqui.

"...You're welcome. Do you still plan to continue doing this to yourself, even once your father is satisfied? Like Menelyn says, it's not a healthy way to live."

Nyrkatess sighed.

"I'm sorry, my Villacqui. I know what you mean, but...I need to be like Suri. I can't stand feeling like I'm an inferior version of what I could be. The thought--it makes my skin crawl. And, I know it's bad of me, but--but the truth is, the idea of slowing down now, and...then, for the rest of forever, I..."

"If you don't go as fast as possible, you'll look noticeably older than the Others?" Villacqui wasn't actually asking. She smiled, and Nyrkatess smiled back. "If you're naughty, then so am I. But you know what Twilight would say?"

"We're fabulous, we know it, and there's nothing wrong with that, so long as we aren't conceited and use it to inspire people," Nyrkatess answered, and they giggled. "I've also been thinking, the sooner I am immortal, the sooner I will be completely free to do other things, which will be important as our population grows. I would like to make it so Suri doesn't need to spend so much time and mana charging Her healers. And, I'm potentially racing against Keikoji."

Unless she met her own Villacqui some day, the power-marked Fijoji three-year-old was unlikely to bloom into someone as enlightened as Izena.

...Endarkened? Hm.

Anyway, if they were lucky, she'd be content to menace her own continent. If they were unlucky, envy and insecurity, or perhaps competitiveness, would draw her to this one. Nyrkatess would need to be strong enough, before that happened.

"Your shields are improving," Villacqui encouraged.

Calming her turbulent mana as best she could, Nyrkatess covered them both in a film of flower-scented moonlight. That her shields no longer collapsed immediately was gratifying, but at their current strength, she would only be able to protect herself. Nyrkatess knew it was that fact, more than anything, which caused Menelyn to accept her choice without complaint.

"I bet the village would love it, if you sang to the flowers at the shrine," Villacqui suggested, breaking Nyrkatess out of her brooding.

That was Villacqui code for 'I want to listen while you sing to the flowers at the shrine.'

"But not until the morning fog makes the ground too wet to dance," Villacqui clarified.

Heh. Nyrkatess was just some amateur at singing her spells aloud, but from the perspective of villagers approaching the shrine in the pre-dawn fog, it would make for quite a scene.

----

"Ready!" Villacqui called.

Nyrkatess opened her eyes. Her irises were now mostly floral green rather than their former sea green, but dotted with flecks of pearl, which together evoked a copse of blooming moonflowers.

Villacqui twirled in place. She had begun swapping out her golden wardrobe for pearl alternatives months ago, but Nyrkatess' mother was visiting today, to verify that the power-marking was genuine. So, like Nyrkatess herself, she was wearing a more formal class of gown than their usual light sundresses, though their chosen style was still simple by ballroom standards, hanging loosely from the shoulders to the ankles. This much, Nyrkatess had expected, but the Keyics had somehow managed to obtain earrings, a necklace, sandals, and bracelets that mixed pearls with stones of the perfect shade of floral green.

To play her own role, Nyrkatess had reversed the color scheme she had always used for formal family occasions, wearing all-gold to complement her 'ivory' hair. She had tried wearing an ivory gown first, but an ivory gown on ivory skin with 'ivory' hair and brows and lashes had made her look like a drawing that the artist had forgotten to finish coloring

'Ivory,' because her hair was definitely lustrous, shimmering pearl, not ivory, and not Menelyn's mirror-like, metallic shiny silver, either. Nyrkatess was wearing it loose today, to make it shout 'power-marked!' as loudly as possible. Ah, also, that floral scent? Definitely just an exquisite perfume from a rare flower found deep in the Keyic jungle, somewhere. Nothing weird. Nothing suspicious. Just a power-marked Tvokess Heiress, on time, as promised.

"Well? How do I look?" Villacqui prompted.

"Mother won't be able to heal the damage to her ego," Nykratess affirmed, then exhaled the rest. "Black goes well with everything."

Looking down at herself, she sighed. The Full Moon Goddess should be made of pearl and dressed in midnight, not gold! This washed-out, un-glamorous travesty of a fashion sense disaster forced upon her was a crime against good taste. Kennalaria would be so disappointed. Never again.

"Nyri," Villacqui purred. "It's good that you're not at full strength today, because otherwise..."

Diamond eyes performed a thorough inspection, and Nyrkatess' wife bit her knuckle.

"...I think your mother would suspect."

Villacqui took a deep breath. A switch flipped, and the walls were up again.

"Whenever the Heiress is ready to greet her mother, her Villacqui will follow. Two steps behind."

Sometimes, a Goddess needed to smother Her revulsion, and force it.

Nyrkatess took a moment to unclench her fists and jaw, relax the tension in her shoulders, roll them back, and arrange herself into the image of regal, power-marked prestige that her mother needed to be shown.

It was fine. Once her mother left, she would make it up to Villacqui with some extra special pampering.

...If there were any emergencies, please let them be at night, or she'd need to invent some excuse to slip away.