La Muerte had spent hours enjoying the raucous atmosphere of El Gato Negro, watching as humans laughed and shouted around her about all aspects of their mortal lives. She found an incredible peace in surrounding herself with the people she knew one day would be under her care in the Land of the Remembered. She reveled in this community of families, bound both by blood and friendship, and sometimes would catch herself imagining what her experience would be if she had herself been born a mortal in this little town of San Angel.
She knew there'd be much she couldn't even fathom about the mortal experience, but at the same time her role in the cosmos as a goddess gave her an indescribable joy, reassuring her that she'd be there to serve as a heavenly mother to those of San Angel when they passed on.
Somewhere in this reverie however, La Muerte found her mind drifting to her experience at Micte's wedding.
Lord Xibalba…
She couldn't figure out why this dark lord remained on her mind so fervently since their encounter. She had certainly met other lords she was intimidated by, including none other than Lord Mictlan during his courtship of her sister.
But this wasn't a feeling of intimidation…it was something more.
Curiosity?
That must have been it. After all, Xibalba's reputation went beyond those of other dark lords. He was known to be not only cruel, and coldhearted, but much of his story is a mystery to many in the Pantheon. Even those members as old as time itself – like her sister – knew little of Xibalba.
Well. Let's just forget it for now. I came for the sake of clearing my mind of this, not festering this strange, unfamiliar feeling.
In that moment she closes her eyes, trying to focus on the stories encompassing her in El Gato Negro – stories of loss, healing, love, heartbreak, joy. She finds herself giggling, trying to keep her low profile while basking in this instance.
As she leaves El Gato Negro, she heads down the path to the main plaza of San Angel, hoping to see how the stars look there.
Suddenly, she hears an unfamiliar voice, piercing the tranquil silence of the night with a raspy tone,
"Would a lovely lady like yourself care for a drink?"
She looks up and sees an excessively handsome, almost artificial face peer down at her. She could immediately tell this was not a mortal speaking to her. Yes, he hid his aura quite effectively, but he'd have to do better than that to fool her. She replied,
"How kind of you sir. However, I'd rather have tonight to myself. It is rare to enjoy the Land of the Living so aimlessly is it not?"
And with that, La Muerte disappears in a flutter of marigold petals, scattering the ground by the mysterious man's feet.
Weeks passed in the Land of the Remembered since La Muerte encountered that strange 'man' in the Land of the Living. She wondered who in the Pantheon would want to observe her – and follow her all the way to San Angel. Today her father – and the Land of the Remembered - was hosting the Pantheon's annual Corte Abierta, where gods from all realms came together to discuss the more unpleasant topics. Alliances, marriages, war… before her mind could drift further about who she might encounter at the Corte, she heard a familiar voice drift in from the doorway to her bedroom,
"Muertita, mi amor. What troubles you so?"
"Nada, hermana. Just pondering which issues will be addressed today, and whether Papa will be able to handle it all."
Despite being the ruler of the Land of the Remembered, his daughters always wondered how el Rey Mori was able to obtain the most coveted realm in the Pantheon. They found it difficult to respect him, despite being their king and their father. He was a larger, colorful man with a beard of canela. He avoided conflict at every turn, to a degree that even his daughters feared they might be bargaining chips on his table one day.
As if they both were thinking it at the same time, the sisters looked at each other, and grasped each others hands.
"Muertita, by my marriage to Lord Mictlan I am safe from Papa's idiocy – but I promise, should he try anything today that would compromise your future, I will be the first to stand up to him."
La Muerte felt a huge gust of air escape her chest, releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she'd held this entire time. She was afraid. So much was swirling in her mind at once – her idiot father, the Corte Abierta, the mysterious god that chased her down in the mortal realm…..she feared that all of these loose ends would find themselves today.
La Corte Abierta was a lavish affair, grander even than the wedding between Lord Mictlan and the Lady Micte that had occurred in the Underworld. The Land of the Remembered would not only be hosting each member of the Pantheon, but each of their courts; squires, handmaidens, generals and the aristocratic backbone of each realm arrived to La Muerte's doorstep on this day.
As expected of the hosting realm, an incredulous arena had been erected for the occasion. Each realm had ample space to oversee the proceedings, with the gods seated alongside each other towards the center. In the middle, stood Rey Mori surrounded by his entourage, but more importantly sitting alongside his sole heir, La Muerte. Lady Micte had relinquished her title after her marriage to Lord Mictlan, leaving La Muerte the newest prey for all the gossiping mouths and prying eyes of the Pantheon.
Her beauty didn't help either. The arena was rife with rumor, which if all true, would have provided La Muerte with 10 different suitors, 5 illegitimate children, and 3 secret lovers.
La Muerte was keenly aware of the buzz surrounding her, trying her best to focus on her responsibilities. As she took some deep breaths, she felt as her father Mori stood up, bellowing.
"Amigos! Let the Corte begin!"
With that, the arena fell silent. The gods were sat in magnificent thrones along the inner rim of the area, each built and decorated to best define the deity they served.
La Muerte, in trying to prepare herself for her eventual role as ruler, tried to identify each Realm that had presented themselves to the court. As she eyed the semi-circle of seated deities before her, she noticed one was missing – a god that happened to capture her attention a few weeks prior and who she was convinced was related to the debacle in San Angel.
Xibalba.
It was incredulously rare for a deity of the Pantheon to miss the Corte Abierta, and it especially surprised her that one with such a ferocious reputation would provide such a flagrant absence.
With a whisper to her father Mori, she asked,
"Papa, a god is missing."
"Mija, surely you are mistaken. Which one?"
The moment Lord Xibalba's name exited his daughters' lips, she could see his eyes darken immensely.
"How in the absolute universe do you know about him?"
La Muerte was taken aback by her father's sudden change in demeanor. She had never seen him like this before – and all it served was to spark her curiosity in the dark god even more.
"He was at Micte's wedding, Papa."
She could sense his tenseness gradually leave…she had provided a logical reason for their meeting. His worst fear hadn't come true…yet.
With that, before the first god on the roster could approach Mori to begin the first discussion for the day – on some boring alliance no doubt – a grand explosion of black tar manifested before the thrones of Mori and La Muerte.
The entire arena was in shock. No one has ever DARED before to undercut this important occasion with a glamorous – or threatening – entrance. Even Lord Mictlan, with his reputation, seemed incredulous.
Before a figure even emerged from the tar, El Rey Mori stood belly-first and shouted,
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
"Well, señor. I come with a wager."
The arena released a collective gasp.
La Muerte couldn't breathe. Her gasp had been trapped inside her as she tried to comprehend all that was happening before her.
"Xibalba…" El Rey said with a hiss. "You know the decorum for el Corte"
"Why of course I do, Mori…but since when have I been one for following rules? Especially when I'm in pursuit of something I really want…."
Mori's eyes widened with fear as he saw Xibalba glance almost impossibly quickly to his daughter beside him. He knew exactly what was happening.
"Señor….you love your land don't you?"
"Xibalba, enough with the games."
"And you love your daughter, yes?"
The entire arena had not said a word since the initial shock. All were waiting, listening, observing with bated breath. No one could believe what was happening.
"Xibalba…"
"La Muerte, I offer you a wager."
La Muerte felt her body turn cold as she realizes the entire arena was waiting for her to speak. The area didn't scare her nearly as much as the attention of this mysterious god before her….but she could never refuse a wager.
"My Lord Xibalba, what is it you wish to wager?"
"Well it's a very simple wager really….I give you the choice to come stay with me in the Land of the Forgotten and become my wife. Should you choose to join me, the Land of the Forgotten shall join with the Land of the Remembered, a joint realm of immense wealth and power – which then we shall inherit together."
La Muerte felt tears well in her eyes. She sensed her life was about to change forever, she was to be kidnapped, bargained off by her father, anything. She was to be his wife, and she would have no say. "Or…."
"Or I take over your land, destroy it, and make you mine anyways."
The arena had finally exploded in raucous discussion, lasting mere seconds before Mori shouted,
"BASTA!"
Before Mori could say anything, La Muerte stood up and said to her father,
"Papa, I know what you wish for. I will go with him."
Mori looked at his daughter, heartbroken. He realized in that moment that all of his years avoiding conflict had cursed his children – not because he would have ever bargained them, but because they felt the need to. He had just lost his Micte to Mictlan, he couldn't bear the thought of losing Muerte as well.
"La Muerte…."
"Then it's settled! Wonderful doing business with you ALL."
With that, he grabbed La Muerte by the waist, pulling her beside him. As he gently whiffed her sweet scent of sugar and marigolds, they both disappeared in a puddle of tar to his realm.