Mechora was this woman that Father had met long ago while he was still doing the knight-in-shining-armor tasks. Mother told him it was the proper thing for a king to do to have his people respect him, fear him, revere him. I'm not sure on the where, just the when and extenuating circumstances there of. From what I recall of Mother, I almost don't blame him for falling for the woman. Almost. But I do. I don't blame him for having a mistress, but I do blame him for getting involved with that one.
Mother never had an idea, but I was always a smart child and I could see what was going on around me rather easily. Perhaps mother really was lazy in the head. Goodness knows that things didn't become any easier for any of us when that woman appeared on the doorstep one day claiming she needed to see Father. She hadn't seen him in months and worried something terrible had happened. Nothing did, of course. After he had learned the woman he had been having his lurid sexual affair with was carrying his illegitimate child, well he hid himself away. How could you blame him? She came, that woman, that succubus, plump with child, but the servants turned her away saying they didn't know what she was talking about. There I was, hiding in the other hall and that is where I got my first peek at the woman who would soon create terrible chaos in my home.
She wasn't an average woman or much of a woman at all, really. Her clothing hung awkwardly on her as if it really didn't belong there and it was protesting visually. She had this awful aroma to her, pungent and overwhelming. I didn't know what it was then, but I do now. There is a reason she is called the Goddess of Blood Lust, that gypsy tramp. An entire sect of foul folk worshiped this woman in ways I would never desire to describe. She truly was a satanic hell spawn come merely to tear my family apart. It would have been impossible for me to believe at that age or even at this that Father was a part of this wide spread sect. So, due to impossibility, I never thought about it and still wave away the question. Now Father is gone and many of his secrets were buried along with him.
The most remarkable thing about this woman, though, was that inked birthmark she wore. Whether it was painted on or she was born in that manner, if she even was born at all, it wound around what of her body could be seen. If I had to bet on it, and I am not a gambling woman, I'm certain that it continued far beneath her attire. It was as if she was marked for life so anyone could easily tell her to be Mistress to the Lord of the Underworld himself. And she flaunted it happily. How could anyone want to flirt such knowledge on the populace? I, myself, can not understand why one would desire to try and be part of a world where they didn't belong. And she did not belong. If I had known that this child of hers and Father's would show the same signs, I would have done all I could to end that life before it began. I knew enough of what was going on, so perhaps I could have informed Mother. That would have been the end of that.
Needless to say, it was a few months later that she returned again in tears holding the swaddling baby. But this time I wasn't the only one in the other hall to listen to this woman's sob story once again. Father and I were about to go outside together for my riding lesson he had promised me, so we were on our way down the great hall just when the bell rang throughout the estate. Perhaps Father had forgotten about the woman, but we were beside the door when it opened and the woman was there in tears that flowed even harder gazing upon him. And then a raging anger hit her and there became a screaming match there in the door-way as I held Father's leg, glaring at this woman. This woman tore apart my home with her mere presence there that very day. The yelling eventually gripped the attention of Mother and from there all the realizations hit in for everyone. Mother realized Father had been having an affair. That woman Mechora realized Father had been lying to her all this time about not having a family. Father realized that life would never be the same in this household ever again. And I realized that I was about to have a startling change in my life.
Niokala, I would later learn she was named, ended up staying with us after that moment. Mechora decided that she desired not to have a reminder of the mistake she made. But more importantly, she gave the child to Father because she wished to place a curse where this child of theirs would watch the death of us all. A curse where she would become the true ruler. Hogwash, I figured. This woman, this Mechora, she only wished land to call her own. She placed a curse to rid the land of us so she could then reclaim her daughter and take over the land in the name of the Goddess of Blood Lust. At least, that was what I felt and still do to this day. And Niokala seems to be the key to it all. If I rid the world of that child, even though Mother and Father are gone, I will remain safe. The curse can never be completed.
