A woman spends her life meeting the expectations placed upon her, and failure to meet those expectations is considered a serious character fault by society as a whole. Ava learned this lesson at a very young age.

While some young girls were taught to cook, sew, and care for their siblings, Ava was taught how to worship and care for the temple of Eupheme, the goddess of womanhood and those in labor.

The expectations placed upon her were simple and straightforward: pledge yourself only to Eupheme, care for the women who enter the temple, keep the sacred temple clean, never break your vows of loyalty and chastity, and never seek for a life outside of the temple.

Ava had accepted this fate, and played her role well… for a time.

Ava was cursed with something powerful: a sympathetic heart. Within this heart bloomed something both wonderful and terrible, a deep longing for the love of a strange and spectacular woman who unexpectedly came into her life.

-

Ava bid good evening to the other matrons before she started cleaning. She always requested this unpopular duty. She enjoyed this time of solitude. It was a time for her to reflect on herself, and commune with her goddess.

The candles within the inner chamber had grown dim as their wicks burned throughout the day. The flickering flames were still used to light incense, which was placed at the bottom of an ornate marble statue.

The smell of sage clung to the humid air. Ava allowed the smoke to fill her lungs as she cleared her mind of all other thoughts.

She closed her eyes as she knelt before the idol, worshipping her goddess. The stone floor was cool against the gossamer of her dress as she leaned forward.

“Oh, goddess divine Eupheme, patroness of women in…”

A loud clattering snapped her from her ministrations and reverberated down the inner sanctum. She opened her eyes and turned around. She thought she’d been alone in the inner chamber, but the bronze saucer spinning on the floor showed differently.

Ava gasped as she realized the food which had been an offering to Eupheme was gone.

Had someone been so bold as to steal from a goddess? 

Ava noticed movement behind one of the large temple curtains. She felt bile in her throat. She was keenly aware that her small frame was no match for the aggressive men of the village, but it was her job to protect the temple and honor Eupheme. She silently prayed that whoever it was would be merciful if a confrontation arose. She plucked up the courage to speak.

“Who’s there?” she called out. “As a maiden of the temple, I command you to tell me why you’ve come here.”

After a moment of hesitation, a silky voice replied. “I’ve come here seeking refuge. Is that not the purpose of the Goddess Eupheme’s Temple? To give protection and aid to the women that need it?”

Ava gave a sigh of relief. It was another woman. She was probably safe for the night.

“Eupheme is a generous goddess, but stealing an offering is unacceptable. If you return the food to me, I’ll feed you from our kitchen.”

Ava hesitantly walked towards the opaque curtain, holding the saucer before her. “Please, place it on the tray. If you don’t, I’ll have to travel to the village to collect more fine meats and fruit. I don’t want to travel there alone at night.” She hoped another woman would understand why it was such a dangerous quest. “The villagers start drinking and…”she trailed off.

The men of Arlen had left her alone when she was a child, but now her rounded hips and buxom chest seemed to grab the attention of every lech in the area.

A pale, long fingered hand slowly made its way through the curtain as the offering was set down. “Stop your blubbering,” the stranger sighed. “I understand.”

Ava grabbed her slender wrist; it was surprisingly cold. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Come, let me bring you to the kit--”

“No!” the woman shrieked, recoiling her hand as if it had been burned. “Bring the food here.”

“Do you not trust me to lead you there?”

“I...I do not trust you to look at me.”

Ava paused at the unusual situation. A multitude of scenarios flitted through her mind. Why did she desire such secrecy? Was this the wife of a notable townsperson? A runaway slave? A criminal? A harlot who was with child?

“Well… Can you at least tell me your name?” Ava asked.

There was a beat of silence before the voice replied. “Damalia. My name is Damalia.”

“Damalia,” she repeated. “That's a beautiful name. I’m Ava, the youngest maiden of the temple. Are you from around this village?”

“No,” she replied with a sense of finality.

“Then welcome to the village of Arlen and the Temple of Eupheme,” Ava beamed. “Stay here and I’ll bring you your food.”

Damalia did not reply, which Ava took as agreement. She scampered off to the kitchen, adrenaline thrumming through her veins at the excitement of the situation.

She rarely had the chance to converse with strangers- and a mysterious stranger at that! Maybe she would bring out some of the stored wine and they could share a drink together.

It didn’t matter if they couldn’t look at each other, sitting side by side near the curtain was enough as long as they could talk. She rarely had a chance to learn about the world outside of Arlen, so she wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

Ava put together a simple basket of bread and cheese before returning to the sanctum. What a fun mystery this was!

“Hello?” Ava whispered. “Damalia?”

There was no reply. To her immense disappointment, the stranger was gone.