My name is Midori Mac Lochlainn. At least, that's what I was born as. I've had many aliases. In these modern times, you probably think that I meant to write "McLauchlin", "McLauchlen" or maybe even "McLaughlin". Well, I did not. The name is spelled correctly. Technically, my last name was changed to Cojocaru when my mother remarried, but as grateful as I am for all that the Cojocaru family has done for me and my mother, I prefer to represent my own bloodline. I am 19-years-old but my mind is...not young. I am one of the few remaining blood descendants of the Ashbourne Druids. My mother, a Celtic woman taken by hostiles from her family at 16-years-old during what we call "The Last Raid" of Ireland, was transported to Russia via her captors. She was used repeatedly for things that I care not to mention, before finally being sold into slavery and forced to either marry her Master or be killed. She of course chose death. But the fucker reneged on the offer and married her anyway. I've always been conflicted by this a bit...had she died I would not have been born. But surely my non-existence would have been better than what she endured in her first marriage. Had I been alive at the time, I would have killed the pig bastard myself. Of course had I already been born at that time, I would not have been related to him.
A buzz of conversation among persistent psychologists insists that it is actually because of my mother's first husband that I, out of innate rage and spite, subconsciously chose the profession that I have excelled at and maintained for the past 6 years. Maybe that's true, maybe not, but I seem to not have much of a conscience and I greatly enjoy what I do. Did you think that I was a famous singer? *laughs* That's what you are supposed to think. Yes...the Gods gave me an alluring voice but no, it is not my real career. I have a much greater purpose in life. Anyway moving on...it's most unfortunate that the fucker got my mother pregnant and so became my father. I hear that he had deep Norse roots and was only half human. Well, I didn't get to see this rumored mystical feral side before he was killed. As a matter-of-fact I never even saw my father at all. Probably a good thing too since had he been alive when I was born, I would have grown up and killed him anyway. But my mother told me all about him when I was very young. She never kept any secrets from me, good or bad. My life is full of harsh truths. Speaking of harsh truths it wasn't long before I discovered that whatever my father was, combined with my mother's Druidic blood, it all passed right into me. I am...something else altogether. Oh but let's back up a moment. Many who don't know my life story are thrown off by my lack of Gaelic accent. Well, I was not born in Ireland. Hell, I wasn't even born in Russia where I was conceived. By location I am actually Romanian. My heritage is celtic, but my culture, lifestyle and nearly everything that I know revolves around Romania. That's where I was born and raised, hence the odd accent that confuses everyone. I learned of my roots and history from mom and my biological family but, I'd never even travelled to Ireland until about a year ago.
You see, for obvious reasons, my mother never loved her first husband. She hated him indefinitely. Yet, ironically, over the years she formed quite a bond with a Japanese slave trader who visited their Moscow home quite often with new...merchandise...at my father's frequent request. Mom had earned the title of "first girl", which is pretty much the slave at the top of the totem pole of slaves. Was she happy about that? Of course not. She despised her life and actually tried to kill herself. It was the slave trader who found her unconscious in one of the empty dungeon cells beneath the house. It was also he who not only saved her life but began training her in the Master's absence, in five to fifteen-minute combat sessions, just a couple times a week, as it was all the time they could sneak in alone. The trader had started teaching her japanese too, as well as coaching her on how to be the perfect slave which, for the plan, was actually teaching her how to be a damn good actress. And oh was my mother good. Being Master's first girl allowed my mother certain freedoms that the others in her predicament did not have. So while my father was off getting one of his other slaves pregnant (he had at least 8 to choose from at the time) my mother was in their enormous garden behind the house, planning to escape with her male friend. And that's before I was even conceived. As a matter of fact, with resources very limited, it took my mother and the slave trader nearly two years to orchestrate the perfect getaway and leave no traces behind. The other slaves either enjoyed belonging to her husband or were too afraid to leave, so she knew it would be a bad idea to let them in on the plan. But thanks to the slave traders tie to most of them, he was able to determine which could be trusted, and which would help my mother kill her husband and escape. There was only one. Nadia Cojocaru. She was several years younger than my mother but, in my mother's words, had the heart of a dragon.
When mom found out that she was pregnant with me, she didn't even miss a beat in following the plan. In fact, her need to get away became even more urgent and her character traits three times more deceptive than when she began. Her heart colder, her soul with less of a conscience than before, she accepted Nadia as her second friend as advised by the trader and together they lured the unsuspecting Master straight to his demise. I won't get into the details but, unlike my own work, their scheme ended in the sloppy and gory mess of my father's body. But I know that cleanliness was the least of their concerns. On another note, to this day I occasionally find myself wondering what happend to the other slaves in that household. Did they make it back to their own families? Did they kill themselves or weep over their Master's mangled body? Maybe some even attempted to find my mother and the other girl and avenge his death. But if they did, they never found her. This much I know. As far as the trader and the two escapees, they then ran off to Bucharest, Romania, where Nadia had a family to return to and would offer my mother shelter for as long as she needed to get her life back in order. It turns out that Nadia was the little sister of Vasile Cojocaru. I won't disclose Vasile's title right now, or tell you exactly how important he was (and still is) in Romania but...let's just say the Cojocaru family could afford anything, even in the worst of times. They offered to pay to send my mother back to her family, which she was very grateful for, but mom didn't want to travel until after my birth. In the meantime, my mother had also fallen in love with her best friend, and I guess the fact that he gave up the very lucrative profession of black-market sales showed that he had fallen as well. He found work crafting expensive weapons and armor. It was the only thing that he knew how to do other than selling slaves, that was guaranteed to pay the bills. And it was a lot safer. At least that's what they thought at the time, and with everyone going to war with everyone else it was easy to do. So while my mother's belly grew, so did their savings. Their plan was to get married and reunite my mom with her parents and siblings. I heard that the wedding was beautiful. Unfortunately, two weeks before I was born, Mikado (the former slave trader) was killed on the road while delivering a huge shipment to one of the shop-owner's top clients. It's said that the culprits were just thieves looking for a score, but I suspect otherwise. Either way, the client never saw his order and Mikado, like my biological father, would never see me nor the light of another day.
In honor of her true love, the man who she'd wanted to be a father to me, my mother named me Midori. The name came to her the second I opened my eyes as "Midori" is the japanese word for "green". She also enjoyed the likeness of my name to my would-be stepfather's name, no matter how slight. When I reached about 6-months, my mother finally took Vasile up on his offer and went back home to her parents. But it was just to scan the parameters, so to speak. She left me behind with the Cojocaru family and a promise to return for me as soon as she knew that all was safe in Ashbourne. Things had been so bad when she was taken that she didn't want to take any chances, even if it had been almost 3 years since. When she arrived, her family celebrated her return with several days of drinking, time off from work and many visits from other families to welcome my mom back home and thank the heavens for her safe return. Everything seemed to have calmed down but the living conditions were very poor compared to where she resided in Bucharest. She immidiately proposed to her family that they come back to Romania with her. Her younger sister and brother thought it was a great idea. Her older brother was inbetween and her mom was skeptical but her dad just would not hear of it. He didn't understand why she would want to leave again so soon after being away from home for so long, and had no interest in leaving his homeland. Mom told him that they would never have to worry about money again, but he didn't care about that. Finally she explained to everyone that she'd had a child. She refused to go into full detail but told her parents that they had a 6-month-old granddaughter and that her siblings had a niece. Needless to say, they were all shocked by this new information. Shocked and confused but elated. They wouldn't promise to live in Bucharest forever but they agreed to visit at least and maybe stay for awhile. After having settled some business and gathering their most precious belongings, my aunt, uncles and grandparents left Ashbourne with my mother two weeks later. My grandparents later returned to Ireland but my aunt and uncles stayed in Romania with my mother.
When I was 3-years-old, my mother became engaged to Vasile's oldest son, Anton, who'd been courting her since my first birthday. I was raised in Manicaru (the Cojocaru's clan) as one of their own. I'm closest to my aunt Rhea (Vasile's youngest daughter) who is actually my age, and will never call Anton my stepfather as he is my father...the only father that I have ever known...and I love him as such. He was there for me when my mother was alive and he has continued to be here for me since her brutal death. He lost the only woman that he ever truly loved and I lost...well...I don't really know how to describe my loss. A large part of me went with her. I think my father felt the same but his strength was remarkable and my bloodline aside, it's because of he and his family's lifestyle that I am the strong woman that I have become.