Danmachi: Exception

Quetzalcoatl swirled her wine glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the artificial light.

"You're brooding again," Demeter said, refilling her own glass. "That's the third sigh in as many minutes."

"I do not brood." Quetzalcoatl took another sip. "I contemplate. There's a difference."

"Mm-hmm." Demeter's knowing smile made her want to throw something. "And what are we contemplating today?"

"¿Sabes qué?" Quetzalcoatl sighed again. "Maybe I'm being too picky."

Demeter's laugh rang across their corner table at the Hostess of Fertility. "You? Never."

"I mean it." She took another sip. Good vintage - Mia always kept the best stuff hidden away for divine patrons. "Five years, no children. That's... sad."

"You had Miguel."

"Had." The word tasted bitter. Quetzalcoatl set her glass down harder than intended. A few heads turned at nearby tables before quickly looking away.

"Sorry." Demeter reached across the table, covering Quetzalcoatl's hand with her own. "I shouldn't have brought him up."

"No, it's fine." She managed a smile. "Can't avoid his memory forever, no? Besides, that's exactly my point. I keep measuring everyone against him."

"There are worse standards."

"Standards that keep me alone while you have what, forty children now?"

"Thirty-eight." Demeter's eyes softened. "And they're not soldiers, Quet. Most just tend the fields."

"I know, I know." Quetzalcoatl grabbed the wine bottle, refilling both their glasses. "But even your farmers have more fire than half the 'warriors' I see nowadays. All these children walking around with borrowed strength, thinking fancy equipment makes them worthy of the dungeon."

"You sound like an old woman."

"I am an old woman. We both are."

"Speak for yourself." Demeter's mock offense drew another laugh from Quetzalcoatl. "I'm eternally twenty-eight."

"That joke was old when we were still upstairs."

They fell into comfortable silence, watching the tavern's afternoon crowd. Mostly adventurers grabbing late lunches or early dinners before heading back to the dungeon. A few merchants. One group that had to be new arrivals, based on how they gaped at everything.

"What about that one?" Demeter nodded toward a muscled youth at the bar. "Seems strong enough."

Quetzalcoatl didn't even look. "Joined Ganesha's bunch this morning. I watched the ceremony."

"The twins by the door?"

"Freya has her eyes on them."

"Of course she does." Demeter sighed. "That woman collects pretty things like some collect magic stones."

"Can't fault her taste though."

"No, but-" Demeter stopped mid-sentence, eyes fixing on something outside. "Well that's interesting."

Quetzalcoatl followed her gaze through the window. A man ran past, carrying what looked like an injured elf. Nothing too unusual for Orario, except...

Oh.

The divine spark within her resonated, recognizing something in the stranger. Not his power - but there was something there, burning beneath the surface. Like looking at banked coals and knowing they could ignite into an inferno with the right breath.

"Dibs," she said, already standing.

"You don't even know him."

"Don't need to." She tossed back the rest of her wine. "That's the real thing."

"The real- Quet, wait!"

But Quetzalcoatl had already slipped between tables, heading for the door. The crowd parted instinctively - mortals might not consciously recognize divinity, but their bodies knew to make way.

She caught another glimpse of the stranger turning down a side street. Even at this distance she could see how he moved - like a jaguar in human form, all contained power and deadly grace.

More importantly, she saw how he cradled the injured elf. Careful despite his obvious haste. Protecting rather than simply carrying.

Interesting.

She followed at a distance, watching him ask directions and head for the Blue Pharmacy. Smart. Miach's place was closest, and the god's skill with healing rivaled her own agricultural talents.

The stranger kicked in the door rather than waste time knocking. Quetzalcoatl smiled. Very interesting.

She waited until he emerged before making her move. The sun had started to set, painting everything in red-gold that reminded her of home.

"Quite an entrance," she said, stepping out of an alley's shadow. "Most people use the handle."

He spun, dropping into a fighting stance so smoothly it had to be instinct. Then he actually looked at her, and something flickered across his face. Recognition? No - more like déjà vu.

"Most people," he said carefully, "aren't carrying poisoned elves."

"True enough." She walked closer, letting him get a better look. Let him see she wasn't a threat - at least, not to him. "I'm Quetzalcoatl. Friends call me Quet."

"Cyrus." He straightened but didn't fully relax. Smart boy. "Should I know that name?"

"Depends. How much do you know about gods?"

"Enough to recognize one when I see one." His lips quirked. "Though I admit, the Aztec pantheon wasn't high on my study list."

That made her pause. "You know of the Aztecs?"

"Let's say I'm... well-traveled."

"Hmm." She circled him slowly, taking in details. No blessing yet, but that would change soon enough. Someone would snatch him up if she didn't move fast. "And what brings a well-traveled man to my city?"

"Your city?"

"I have a stake in it." She completed her circuit, coming to face him again. "You didn't answer the question."

"Because I don't have a good answer." He met her eyes directly - brave, considering what she was. "One moment I was somewhere else, the next I was in a forest saving elves from bandits."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"And now?"

He shrugged. "Now I figure out how to be an adventurer."

Quetzalcoatl laughed. She couldn't help it - the sheer audacity of him, stating it so matter-of-factly. As if becoming an adventurer was as simple as deciding to do it.

"What's funny?"

"You are, mi amigo." She wiped tears from her eyes. "So casual about it. You know most people who talk like that end up dead within a week?"

"Most people aren't me."

"No." Her smile sharpened. "They're not. Tell me, Cyrus - what do you know about Familia?"

"Divine blessing. Power in exchange for devotion." He tilted his head. "Is this a recruitment pitch?"

"Would you accept if it was?"

"Depends on the terms."

She hadn't expected that answer. Most mortals jumped at the chance to join a divine Familia, especially one without members. The fact that he wanted to negotiate...

"You're either very confident or very foolish."

"Why not both?" But his eyes had gone serious. "I meant what I said about becoming an adventurer. But I won't swear myself to just anyone, goddess or not."

"Even if it meant power?"

"Power without purpose is meaningless."

"And you have purpose?"

His smile turned sharp. "I'm working on it."

Oh yes. This one will do nicely.

"Then let me make you an offer." She stepped closer. "Three days. Watch me, learn about my Familia - or lack thereof. Ask questions. At sunset on the third day, give me your answer."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you say no." She shrugged. "There are other gods in Orario. But I think you'll find we're well matched, you and I."

He studied her for a long moment, head tilted like a bird considering something shiny. Then he nodded.

"Three days," he said. "Starting now?"

"Mañana. Tonight you should rest." She gestured at his blood-stained pants. "And perhaps find a shirt."

He glanced down as if just remembering his state of undress. "Ah. Right. Any suggestions on where I might do that?"

"As it happens..." She grinned. "I know just the place. Follow me."

They walked in comfortable silence through Orario's darkening streets. Quetzalcoatl kept her pace leisurely, giving him time to take in the city. His eyes missed nothing, cataloging details with almost mechanical precision.

"Question," he said eventually.

"Shoot."

"Why me?"

She considered several answers before settling on the truth. "Because you saw someone in trouble and acted. No hesitation, no calculation of profit. Just action."

"That's it?"

"That's everything." She stopped, turning to face him. "Do you know how rare that is? Real courage, real fire - not the borrowed kind, not the manufactured kind, but the real thing?"

"You make it sound like I'm special."

"You are." The words came out fiercer than intended. "I've waited five years for someone like you. Someone worthy of my blessing."

He raised an eyebrow. "No pressure."

"Ha! I like you already." She resumed walking. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

They reached a small inn tucked away on a side street. Nothing fancy, but clean and well-maintained. The owner - a gruff cat-person named Marcus - owed her a favor.

"One room," she told the innkeeper. "Put it on my tab."

Marcus grunted acknowledgment, already reaching for a key.

"I can't pay you back," Cyrus said quietly.

"Consider it an investment." She handed him the key. "Room's yours for a week, whether you join me or not. Get some rest. I'll find you in the morning."

He weighed the key in his palm, then met her eyes again. "Thank you."

"De nada." She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Cyrus?"

"Yes?"

"Welcome to Orario."

The walk back to the Hostess of Fertility took longer than strictly necessary. Quetzalcoatl used the time to think, to plan.

Demeter still sat at their table, a fresh bottle of wine waiting. She took one look at Quetzalcoatl's face and smiled.

"Found one, didn't you?"

"Maybe." Quetzalcoatl dropped into her chair, reaching for her glass. "We'll see."

"You're practically glowing, Quet. I haven't seen you this excited since..."

"Since Miguel." She took a long drink. "I know."

"Are you sure about this?"

"No." Another drink. "Yes. Maybe. He's different, Dem. There's something there, something special."

"That's what worries me." Demeter leaned forward, voice dropping. "The special ones burn brightest, but they burn fastest too."

"You think I don't know that?" The wine glass creaked in Quetzalcoatl's grip. She forced herself to relax. "Sorry. It's just..."

"You miss having children."

"I miss having purpose." The words spilled out before she could stop them. "What's the point of coming down here if we don't do something with it? Create something? Build something?"

"Not everyone needs an empire."

"I don't want an empire. I want..." She gestured vaguely. "Something worth building. Worth protecting."

"And you think he's the key?"

"I think he's a start." Quetzalcoatl drained her glass. "He has that fire, Dem. The real kind. And he actually thinks before accepting a blessing."

"Most would consider that a red flag."

"Most aren't me."

Demeter laughed. "No arguments there." She refilled both their glasses. "To new beginnings?"

"To new beginnings." Quetzalcoatl raised her glass. "And to not fucking it up this time."

"Language!"

"Oh please, like you're any better after a few drinks."

They spent the rest of the evening trading stories and deliberately not talking about the past. About Miguel, about loss, about the price of caring too much.

Tomorrow would bring what it brought. Tonight was for wine and friendship and pretending the world was simple.

But part of Quetzalcoatl's mind kept returning to that moment - that first glimpse of Cyrus running past, caring more about saving a stranger than his own safety. The way he moved, the way he thought, the way he burned.

Three days, she thought. Three days to convince him.

She could work with that.

The wine kept flowing, and the night grew older, and somewhere in the city a young man with borrowed purpose slept in a strange bed, dreaming of strength and second chances.

Tomorrow would be interesting.