“Baby Ori!” said the voice of a child. “Baby Ori! Get up, that girl is outside again!”

Baby Ori sat up straight in her bed. She looked out the window and shivered.

The girl-who-smiles was outside their home, standing in the dark, looking up at Baby Ori’s window and smiling.

Baby Ori gripped her sheets in fear.

When she had met the-girl-who-smiles on the mountain, it had been the last day of her adventures. There had been no more abandoned Ori’s, and when she had closed her eyes and opened them again, she was home with the other Ori’s.

Chills ran up and down Baby Ori’s spine. This speck of the unconscious was meant to be their paradise. Why was that girl still coming here?

“Can you tell her to leave?” Whispered the other Ori, tears in her little eyes.

Baby Ori gulped. “I don’t know, I’m scared.”

“Okay.” Said the other Ori, patting Baby Ori’s hand.

No one could sleep that night.

The girl-who-smiles wouldn’t leave.

—-

It was dark; a night with no moon. Lady Ori lay on the cold floor of her building, staring at the enormous panting of Bona Dea. The goddess seemed to flicker and dance in the candlelight, Juno by her side.

It was a strange sight, but no one was around to see. Boxes of lingerie lay here and there.

“I read about you,” Lady Ori said to the painting. She rested her hands on the stay over her corset and closed her eyes. “I think you and I are similar.”

Lady Ori smirked at the painting then, an angry sarcasm cracking into her voice. “Did you know, Bona Dea? I’ve been murdered twice.”

Lady Ori laughed. “I remember both times, even though I was two different people from two different worlds.”

“So if anyone understands what you went through, it’s me.” Lady Ori’s lips trembled. “Bona Dea, did you get revenge on that man that beat you to death? Or did you forgive him after you became a goddess?”

She felt like she might throw up. “I hope you never forgive him. I hope you drink sacrificial ‘milk’ every day and watch him writhe in hell.”

Lady Ori exhaled. “Everyone claims you protect women. I heard you like to be worshiped through blood sacrifice. I guess that’s why you’ve always ignored me.”

Lady Ori closed her eyes again. Her chest felt as if it was on fire. “I have something to say.”

With slow, bumbling movements, Lady Ori stood up. She poured wine into a crystal chalice. “Have some ‘milk’.” she chuckled.

Next to the chalice of wine was a silver plate, where a tiny piglet lay dead in a pool of its own blood.

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Lady Ori stepped away from the offering, and took a deep swig from the bottle of wine. She took a breath, then drained it. She stood over the makeshift altar, blurry eyed.

“I know you hate men, Bona Dea, but for me, I hate everyone.” Tears began to slip down her cheeks. “I don’t rely on anyone, or trust anyone. I didn’t even want to marry him, Bona Dea. I swear I didn’t.”

Drained, Lady Ori lay down on the cold marble flooring again. “I don’t have a mother to tell this to, because I killed her.” The cackling of her laughter filled the room. “Isn’t that fucked up? I don’t even feel bad about it, I just feel sorry for myself!”

She sighed, feeling the room warp and spin now that she was truly drunk. Three empty bottles of wine lay to the side.

“That offering I gave you, I hope you enjoy it. It’s a bribe.” She slurred to Bona Dea, “Protect my business, and the women I hire. Fuck up anyone who tries to fuck us up. Have my…fucking back.”

Lady Ori’s mouth went dry, “—and if you don’t mind, let me talk to you like this. Let me beg you for things. Let me think that you will help me.”

The words that left her mouth were incomprehensible. She stood up again, screwed open the last bottle of wine, and drank from it.

“It’s just you and me, bitch.” She cackled, pointing at Bona Dea’s expressionless face. “‘Ganst the wholllllle fuckin’ world, bitch.”

—-

Lady Ori woke up with a horrible hangover. She had fallen asleep on the floors. The dead piglet was starting to stink.

She stared at the bloody plate in a fog. Not sure what else to do, she threw the entire offering into the kitchen trash and walked away from it.

She wandered through the halls and into the makeshift bedroom she had designated for herself. It was once the living quarters of the Head Matron who oversaw the Postpartum ward. It was spacious—even more so since Lady Ori only had a bed.

No furniture, the familiar ache of a hangover, and nearly out of money. This was the sort of atmosphere Julie had liked best, and Lady Ori enjoyed it too. It was a lifestyle that promised nothing and gave nothing. It was familiar.

The only difference was that now there was a slight tear in her heart, where her romance with Vellim had been.

As she had told Bona Dea, her love for Vellim had been a complicated sort of feeling that came from Baby Ori.

But now Lady Ori could only blame herself for the pain she felt. She had to admit it now: she had caught feelings after being with him too often. When the Broglie’s inevitably threw her away, she began to feel the weight of indulging in something like love.

Heartbreak over a man; it was a whole new shitty world.

She dressed herself in simple clothing in preparation for hiring staff. The interview process would start in a few hours, and so she busied herself opening the windows and airing out the rooms.

It was then that someone began rapping at the door.

Lady Ori groaned and hoped it was not Vellim. She tired of watching him sob, asking her to take him back. He wanted her to debase herself by begging his parents to let them marry again.

There was no way in hell.

She pushed open the door. It wasn’t Vellim, thank Bona Dea and all her protections.

The man in front of her was a stranger. She scanned Baby Ori’s memories and couldn’t find anything but a vague sense that she’d seen his face before.

He stood only a head taller then Lady Ori, but what he lost in height he gained in his beauty. It was hard to find a man who exuded the same sex appeal as a woman. He had long, silver hair neatly tied back with a ribbon that matched the rest of his immaculate outfit. His eyes were a soft lavender. It was obvious he was nobility.

“How may I help you?” she purred.

This seemed to catch him off guard, which was good.

“Please excuse me, My Lady. I am Leven, the third son of the Artois family.”

Lady Ori’s smirk grew, and her heart began to beat in excitement. “Oh?” She held out her hand to kiss, “I am Lady Ori, troublesome niece of the Foix family.”

He chuckled and relaxed, taking her hand into his and kissing it for a beat longer than is usually acceptable.

“May I come in to talk to you, my Lady?”

She leaned her hip against the door and sized him up.

His soft smile never faltered.

“No.” She decided, “Walk with me to a cafe.” Taking the keys from her dress pocket, she locked her doors and began to walk.

“Oh, please let me escort you.”

She smiled at him and linked their arms. “Of course. I’m quite intrigued by your sudden visit.”