Much of what exists comes from after her death, so allow me to caution you from one whose own mother has had tales told about her for countless generations; the truth is buried in there, somewhere, but fashioned to fit however those who came after need it to suit their telling. 'tis easy to put words in the mouth of a woman long dead and gone when all is built just so.

And why is that? [Why does any deity really deserve the strange brand of the unconditional extended their way, so easy to overstep. Then again, she's her mother's daughter in an unfortunate sort of way.]