The Gods’ Beloved. It’s a title, but it’s not an accurate one.  A better version would be “Tolerated by the Gods”, though perhaps that’s still too generous.  I suppose the best description is “whatever unlucky idiot the Crown finds to be their go-between because the gods can’t kill them” but that’s far too long for the average person to say.  While the heralds certainly love reciting titles and accolades during processions, at some point you have to shorten it down to “Lady” or “Duke” for practicality’s sake.

The Gods’ Beloved.  Or when used as a title (because what’s the point in a position if you can’t turn it into a title as well): Beloved Alyere.

That’s me.  Alyere, formerly Lady Alyere, the youngest daughter of the Degae family.

Usually I ask people to simply call me Lady Alyere.  I say it’s out of humility (lower gaze, smile bashfully) or because I feel it is an honorific that should be used by the gods and priests alone (raise eyes, clasp hands together, look sincere).  My strategy varies depending on who I’m talking to.  I’m very good at reading people and showing them what they want to see.  It’s all I learned to do, after all.

Being the youngest daughter of a noble family tends to limit one’s prospects.  We didn’t have much going for us other than reputation.  Stable holdings so that we didn’t have to worry about finances so long as no one was foolish.  No ancestors of particular renown, no heroes, no particular talents for the sword, strategy, or magic.  All we had was longevity and loyalty.  Which, if you’re not particularly ambitious, are excellent assets.  It’s all people expect of you and my family was not inclined to upset our role in the kingdom.

At least, so I thought.  It turned out that my father was more ambitious than I thought.

But we’ll get to that later.  For now, suffice to say that I intended to live a quiet and comfortable life.  Perhaps I’d open a business of my own, but a modest one, and hire someone else to manage it so I could contribute only when I felt like it.  Or maybe I’d marry, if I found someone with a similarly unimpressive background that I got along decently well with.  Since I wasn’t preparing myself to inherit the family estate - as my elder twin brother and sister were - there wasn’t much I had to do other than know how to navigate high society.

Which I was quite good at.  The perfect picture of an obedient daughter, loyal to the crown, genial and easy to get along with.

That is precisely what landed me in this current mess.

Loved by the gods.

Hah.

I’d heard the gory stories growing up, same as everyone else.  They’d done nothing to prepare me for what it was like seeing them for myself.  The city steward had done his best to warn me - but delicately, because I was a noblewoman, and we have a reputation for fragility.  I saw the worried expressions of the guards that escorted me up the steps to the temple, however.  They were throwing the lamb to the wolf and they knew it.

There was nothing to do about it.  I was the only one that could enter at this point.  So they pulled the door open - only enough for me to enter - I took one last bracing breath of fresh air, and stepped inside.

The courtyard was strewn with bodies.  They were mostly distributed around the perimeter as those thrown inside tried desperately to escape, but a handful were scattered more towards the interior.  A modest pile lay in the exact center and I had to assume they had been shackled so that they couldn’t flee, although the advanced decomposition made it impossible to see.

The people that were supposed to clean them up were also among the dead, for the god had taken to stepping out into the open while they were here, same as when they sent in the criminals.  That was why they called for The Gods’ Beloved.

Me.

I stumbled away from the door, taking frantic, shallow breaths.  I only had to cross the courtyard and reach the interior.  The god would be waiting inside and I could talk him out of this madness.  I lifted the hem of my skirt and hurried briskly across the cobblestones.  I kept my gaze on the far door.  The courtyard gardens were overgrown, a testament to how long they’d gone unattended.  This had been going on for months now, as the Queen was rightfully annoyed to send the Beloved to rectify a situation they’d created themselves.

My gaze happened to fall to the ground as I stepped around a poor youth that had likely been the temple gardener.  His face was gone.  Hollowed out and charred, like a fire had burned inside his skull.  I froze in place.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I gasped, clasping both hands over my mouth.

“Close your eyes,” a male voice said from just behind me, slightly to the right.  A hand took my elbow and I jumped, squeaking with surprise.  “I’ll guide you inside.”

Well.  At least the god had the decency to come meet me.

I did as he said.  I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to picture something else - a meadow filled with flowers, a lovely little brook, a meadow filled with heads with their eyes and faced burned out -

I threw up.  

“Well, okay, at least that’s over with,” the god sighed.  “Can’t say I miss that part of being human.”

I bit back a sharp retort pointing out his lie.  It was a sign of how flustered I was that I even considered it.  He was trying to be approachable.  It wasn’t his fault that he remembered nothing of the time when he was mortal.

“I-I’m Alyere,” I said, falling back on my script to maintain my nerves.  “The Gods’ Beloved.”

“My beloved.”

He said it so tonelessly.  I grit my teeth together.

“Yes,” I replied sharply.  “Your beloved.”

“I didn’t think much of the title when they told me, but… you feel… right.”

He struggled with finding words.  I was accustomed to that.  Our language lacked a way for the gods to express how I felt to them.  One of the few benefits I’d gained when anointed.  The gods couldn’t help but like me.  His hands tightened on my shoulders, a bit possessively this time.

“Let’s go inside,” he said.  “We’ll talk there.”