As Chimalli and his entourage departed the courtyard, their footsteps echoing into the bustling streets of Tenochtitlan, the merchant's gifts remained like spoils of a bloodless raid with crates overflowing with turquoise beads, cacao pods heaped in baskets, quetzal feathers spilling like vibrant waterfalls, and the macaws now caged in a corner, their squawks a discordant symphony. The air hung heavy with the scent of spices and luxury, a testament to the warlord's absorbed loyalty, his networks now feeding the empire's veins. But the true prize stood quietly amid it all, the beautiful girl Chimalli had "picked specifically" for Ehecatl, her mid-teens form clad in a finely woven huipil that hugged her curves, her dark hair braided with gold threads that caught the afternoon light. She kept her eyes downcast, posture proud but tense, a survivor of raids etched in her silent stance.
Ehecatl circled her slowly, his charismatic gaze appraising, the home now laden with these new additions, a tangible symbol of the empire's growing grasp.
Malinalli watched from her reed mat, smirking as she rubbed her swelling belly, while Catalina paused in her folding, her devotion mingling with a flicker of curiosity.
The girl flinched slightly as Ehecatl's hand came down in a firm slap on her ass, the sound echoing playfully in the courtyard, his touch possessive yet teasing.
"Don't worry, sweet cheeks," he said, his voice low and reassuring, laced with that effortless charm. "You'll be better off here than where you were in the raids, chains, uncertainty. Under this roof, you're claimed, protected. No more wandering horrors."
She gasped softly at the slap, her cheeks flushing, but she didn't pull away, her eyes lifting to meet his with a mix of wariness and intrigue. Ehecatl stepped closer, his hand lingering on her hip as he tilted her chin up gently, his tone shifting to genuine interest.
"Now, tell me about yourself. What's your name? Your age? Chimalli said he acquired you from a Tlaxcalan raid, but are you actually Tlaxcalan, or from elsewhere? Where are you truly from? And… what are your dreams, your goals? Speak freely—I'm listening."
She hesitated, her voice steady but soft, accented with the lilt of eastern valleys. "My name is Xochiquetzal, my lord. I'm fourteen summers old. Not Tlaxcalan by birth but Cholulan, taken in a skirmish before the raids turned… uglier. My home was a village near the temples, where I wove and tended herbs. Dreams? To heal, not harm, to grow something lasting, away from the blood. Goals… survival, perhaps a family untouched by war."
Ehecatl nodded, his hand sliding to her lower back in a reassuring caress, drawing her a step closer as Malinalli chuckled softly from the side.
"Xochiquetzal… fitting, like the flower goddess herself. You'll fit here. And you'll help out my women—Malinalli and Catalina. They're both pregnant, carrying my children, and they'll need the extra hands such as fetching water, preparing meals, tending the courtyard. It'll give you purpose, safety. In time, perhaps more if you choose it."
Xochiquetzal's eyes softened slightly, the tension easing as she glanced at the two women, Malinalli's smirk inviting her in with a nod, Catalina offering a gentle smile. The courtyard settled into a charged quiet, the new addition weaving into the fabric of Ehecatl's growing household, the empire's shadows lengthening with each absorbed thread.
He had nodded thoughtfully at Xochiquetzal's words, his hand lingering on her hip for a moment longer before releasing her, stepping back to give her space amid the courtyard's new opulence with the crates of turquoise and feathers a backdrop to their conversation. Malinalli watched with her usual smirk, lounging against a pillar draped with Chimalli's gifted silks, while Catalina offered Xochiquetzal a gentle smile, her hands folding a velvet-trimmed manta as if to welcome her into the fold.
"I've recently reabsorbed Cholula back into the empire," Ehecatl said, his voice casual yet laced with that charismatic warmth, drawing her gaze back to him.
"Through the priest Cuauhmecatl. A devoted man, sees the winds of change as Quetzalcoatl's will. Have you heard of him? His name carries weight in those eastern valleys."
Xochiquetzal's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Cuauhmecatl… yes, whispers in the temples before the raids. A fanatic, they said he was preaching renewal through blood and fire."
Ehecatl chuckled softly, leaning against the low table piled with cacao pods. "Fanatic, perhaps, but useful. If you give me the specific name of your village, I could ask him to check on your family to see if they're okay, safe amid the chaos. Cholula's under our banner now; his word opens doors."
Her breath caught, hope mingling with caution in her expression. "My village… Acatzinco, near the sacred springs. If… if they're alive, I'd give anything to know."
He nodded, his tone reassuring. "Consider it done. And since you aim to be a healer tending to herbs, mending wounds I can help with that too. The Mexica archives hold knowledge of every plant and herb in the land: bark for fevers, roots for strength, flowers for the soul. If they've remained untouched through the wars, you're more than welcome to read them, take notes, even experiment in the chinampas here. Knowledge like that rebuilds empires, and healers like you will be the ones to keep our people strong."
Xochiquetzal's posture softened further, her eyes meeting his with a tentative gratitude, the weight of her past easing in the promise of purpose. Malinalli chuckled from the side, "The boy's full of gifts today," while Catalina reached out a hand, offering quiet solidarity as the new addition began to weave into their world.
Ehecatl chuckled at Malinalli's quip, the sound low and warm as it echoed in the courtyard laden with Chimalli's gifts with the turquoise beads scattered like fallen stars, feathers heaped in vibrant piles, and the macaws now settling into a colorful cacophony. He turned back to Xochiquetzal, his hand coming down in another firm slap on her ass, the impact playful yet possessive, drawing a soft gasp from her as her cheeks flushed deeper.
"All I'm doing is making sure sweet cheeks feels comfortable here," he said, his voice laced with that charismatic tease, his eyes meeting hers with a wink. "And if your dreams of being a healer pay off, then all the better, since our empire needs hands that mend as much as they wield."
Xochiquetzal steadied herself, a tentative smile breaking through her caution, her body relaxing slightly under his touch as the promise of purpose sank in. Ehecatl stepped back, gesturing to the two women lounging nearby. "Speaking of which, let me introduce you properly. This is Malinalli—sharp as obsidian, and the fire that keeps this house alive."
Malinalli smirked, sitting up straighter on her reed mat, her swelling belly prominent as she eyed Xochiquetzal appraisingly, extending a hand with mock formality. "Welcome to the den, flower. Don't let the boy's charm fool you. He collects us like trophies, but we bite back."
Ehecatl laughed, turning to Catalina, who rose gracefully despite her pregnancy, her pale features softened by a gentle smile as she approached. "And this is Catalina—devoted, kind, the calm in our storm." Catalina nodded, her voice soft in accented Nahuatl, reaching out to clasp Xochiquetzal's hands warmly. "You'll be safe here, sister. We all are… with him." The courtyard settled into a tentative harmony, the new addition weaving into the fold amid the empire's growing shadows.
As the conversation wound down Malinalli shifted closer to Ehecatl on the reed mat, her eyes glinting with that familiar venomous curiosity. Her hand trailed idly over his thigh, nails grazing lightly as she glanced at Xochiquetzal, who stood awkwardly nearby, still adjusting to the space.
"So, boy," Malinalli purred, her voice low and teasing, "are you going to fuck Xochiquetzal tonight? Break her in like the rest of us prizes?"
Ehecatl chuckled, pulling Malinalli into his lap with a possessive grip on her hip, his other hand brushing Catalina's arm in reassurance. Xochiquetzal flushed, her eyes dropping to the floor, but Ehecatl shook his head, his tone casual yet firm. "No, not tonight. I'm already feeling tired, and I got to report to the tecpan early in the morning, inform Cuauhtemoc about most of the warlords now handled. Cuetlachtli absorbed, Cuauhmecatl pledged, Chimalli flipped… the pieces are falling into place. Can't afford to slack."
Malinalli pouted mockingly, nipping at his ear. "Pity. She'd make a fine addition to our little harem." Catalina smiled softly, rising to her feet despite the weight of her pregnancy, and approached Xochiquetzal with a bundle of velvet-trimmed blankets from Chimalli's gifts and a spare reed mat.
"Here," she said gently, her accent soft in Nahuatl, "take this spot by the wall—it's quiet, warm. We'll all rest easier together."
Xochiquetzal nodded gratefully, her cheeks still tinged with color as she arranged the mat, the soft fabrics a luxury amid her uncertainty. The group began getting ready for bed, the candlelights flickering out one by one, casting long shadows across the courtyard until only the moon's glow filtered through the vines. Ehecatl lay with Malinalli that night, pulling her close under the new covers, their bodies entwining as Catalina settled nearby with Xochiquetzal a short distance away, the air thick with the scent of spices and unspoken tensions.
In the dimness, Malinalli's lips found Ehecatl's neck, her whispers turning dirty and toxic, laced with that venomous edge that always ignited him.
"You think you're so in control, boy," she murmured, her hand sliding down his chest, nails digging just enough to sting. "Absorbing warlords like they're your whores. Bet you'd fuck that new one if I wasn't here, claim her rough, make her beg like the Cholulan bitch she is." Her tongue traced his ear, her body pressing against him, hips grinding slowly.
Ehecatl growled low, his hand gripping her ass hard, pulling her on top as he kissed her fiercely, tongues clashing in a heated, possessive tangle. "Maybe I would," he whispered back, his voice rough with desire, biting her lip just shy of drawing blood. "But you're the one I crave you toxic little traitorous bitch. You'd like watching, wouldn't you? Jealous, wet, begging to join." Their kisses deepened, messy and urgent, breaths mingling in gasps as hands roamed. His squeezing her breasts, hers clawing his back, the sounds carrying softly in the quiet night.
Nearby, Xochiquetzal lay wide-eyed on her mat, her cheeks burning as she overheard every word, every heated whisper and muffled moan. She pulled the blanket higher, heart pounding, the intimacy of the empire's heart both shocking and strangely alluring in the moonlit shadows.
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Xochiquetzal's POV
As I lie here on this reed mat, wrapped in these strangely soft blankets that smell of far-off spices. Gifts from that scheming pochteca, no doubt—my mind swirls like the sacred cenote's depths, pulling me under with questions I dare not voice. The moon filters through the vines, casting shadows that twist like the serpents in old temple murals, and the echoes of Malinalli and Ehecatl's passion linger in the air, their whispers and moans stirring a heat in me I can't name. Is it envy? Desire? Or just the ache of a body long denied tenderness? Gods, how did I end up here, in this courtyard that feels both sanctuary and cage? Let me unravel it, thread by thread, before sleep claims me, before I forget the girl I was, the one who dreamed of mending wounds, not becoming one.
Growing up in Acatzinco, near Cholula's sacred springs, the stories weren't just tales, as they were warnings etched into my soul. Nobles, those pipiltin with their jade and feathers, treated women like fleeting blooms: plucked for beauty, savored briefly, then discarded when the petals wilted.
"Beauty is a double-edged obsidian," my mother would whisper, her hands rough from weaving as she braided my hair with protective herbs. I'd lie awake nights, heart pounding, imagining the weight of their gazes, the way they'd claim you not with love but entitlement, planting seeds that grew into chains. It terrified me. The loss of self, reduced to a vessel for heirs or pleasure. I vowed differently to heal, to wield cuetlaxochochitl and yauhtli like shields, mending bodies without surrendering mine. No husband, no noble's whim. Just my hands, the earth's gifts, and a quiet freedom. Was that naive? Looking back, yes… but it was mine.
Then the Tlaxcalans shattered it all. Raiders in the night—their macuahuitls flashing, screams ripping through the dark. It ached, oh how it ached, to be torn from my home, bound like tribute cacao, my untouched body a curse I couldn't hide. The violation wasn't just physical though I was spared, barely, for "value", but deeper. A stripping of dignity, dreams crushed under their leers. "This one's prime," they growled, trading me like a feather cloak. Sold to Chimalli in a haze of bargaining smoke, his eyes crawling over me like insects. His "ideas" slithered out in the dark, beds for nobles, perhaps his own if I "behaved." I dreaded every dawn with him, my healing hands idle, my spirit fraying. Beauty, once a quiet pride, became a noose. Why me? Why must worth be measured in flesh?
Accompanying him to Tenochtitlan was a descent into nightmare. Whispers had reached us back then before the raid. The Mexica had risen once more, more violent than ever, as it was said that they were crucifying men in dresses, ripening fear like fruit. I imagined blood-soaked ruins, nobles worse than Cholula's tales, claiming women with ritual cruelty. My heart raced with terror, what fresh horrors awaited? But arriving… the surprise hit like cool spring water. The city bloomed, streets alive with vendors and laughter, temples patched proud, flags waving that eagle-serpent like a defiant heart. Not monsters, but a people renewed and resilient, united. It stirred something in me, hope? Or just the contrast to my chains?
Then I was given to him, Ehecatl. Chimalli pushed me forward like merchandise, and Ehecatl accepted, his eyes appraising but… not cruel. That slap on my ass was both playful, and possessive jolted me. A spark of something unfamiliar that was not fear, but curiosity. He asked my name (Xochiquetzal, like the goddess which was ironic, now), my age, if I was Tlaxcalan (no, Cholulan, stolen in the fray), my home (Acatzinco, its springs now a distant dream), my dreams (to heal, to mend without harm). And he listened, he really listened, even going as far as offering to check on my family through Cuauhmecatl, archives for my studies. It's more than survival; it's a path. But is it real? Or another noble's game, beauty's curse veiled in charm?
As I drift to sleep, their passion fading into whispers, I ponder him. Not the brute of stories, he was charismatic, yes, with a fire that draws you in, but there's care beneath. He feels protecting, providing, seeing me as more than flesh. Here, with these women who are swollen with his children, yet strong, claimed but not broken. I wonder if I could heal, and be healed. Or is it illusion, a noble's whim? For now, it feels like possibility. Gods, let it be true, let me bloom, not wilt.
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In the pale light of dawn filtering through the courtyard vines now draped with Chimalli's gifts. Ehecatl stirred awake on the reed mats piled with luxurious blankets. The air carried the faint spice of new incense burners, a lingering trace of the merchant's largesse, mingling with the earthy bloom of chinampas outside. He rose quietly, his body still humming from the night's intimacies, stretching the kinks from his muscles before donning his plain tilmatli, the fabric now edged with subtle gold thread from the recent hauls.
The empire's shadows waited at the tecpan, where he'd report to Cuauhtemoc on the warlords' handling. Cuetlachtli absorbed as a fanatic blade, Cuauhmecatl pledged in zealous fire, Chimalli flipped with greedy hooks, and the marriage to Cihuatecuhtli Ayauh sealing Texcoco's fate under her watchful eye.
Malinalli shifted beside him, her swelling form curled under the covers, eyes fluttering open with that toxic glint. Catalina lay nearby, her pale skin flushed from sleep, one hand protectively on her belly. Xochiquetzal slept a short distance away on her mat, the new woman's breathing steady, her dreams perhaps tangled in the unfamiliar safety of this place.
Ehecatl leaned down first to Malinalli, cupping her cheek and pressing a deep, lingering kiss to her lips possessive, tasting of last night's fire.
"Rest well, my venom," he murmured, his hand brushing her belly. "The empire grows because of you." She smirked, nipping his lip lightly. "Go conquer, boy. I'll keep the hearth burning."
Next, he turned to Catalina, drawing her up gently for a softer kiss, his forehead resting against hers. "My devoted one," he whispered in Spanish, his thumb tracing her jaw. "Our child will know your strength." She nodded, eyes shining with unwavering love, whispering back, "Come back safe, my lord."
As he stood to leave, Ehecatl paused by Xochiquetzal's mat, where she stirred awake at his approach, her eyes widening in the dim light. He gave her ass another firm slap that was yet again playful, and claiming that drew a soft yelp from her as she flushed, sitting up quickly.
"Help the women out with what they need today, sweet cheeks," he said, his voice low and teasing, laced with that charismatic edge. "Water from the springs, meals prepped with those new spices—make yourself useful. You'll find your place here soon enough."
Xochiquetzal nodded, her cheeks burning, murmuring, "Yes, my lord," as he strode out, the courtyard gate closing behind him with a soft thud. The women exchanged glances with Malinalli chuckling, Catalina offering a reassuring smile, as the day began, the empire's heart beating onward.
Malinalli's POV
The sun breaks through, sharp as an obsidian edge, and I stretch on the mat, my belly a proud weight under the new blankets that clings like a lover's grasp, courtesy of that greedy pochteca. Ehecatl's already up, dressing for the tecpan, his mind on empires while mine schemes in the shadows. That new one, Xochiquetzal the Cholulan flower, untouched and ripe. I watch her as she starts getting to work, cheeks still flushed from last night's echoes. Pretty thing, but fragile. Ehecatl slapped her ass again this morning, claiming without claiming, and she didn't flinch much. Good. She'll learn her place, help with the chores, water, meals, tending this growing den. But I'll keep an eye; beauties like her could stir jealousy, or worse, ambition.
Catalina's too soft, devoted like a pup, but useful. Her Castilian blood dilutes the old ways, makes our children bridges to whatever worlds Ehecatl dreams of conquering. Me? I scheme for more. Ehecatl absorbs warlords like breaths, Cuetlachtli the fanatic, Cuauhmecatl the zealot, now Chimalli's webs and that vengeful Ayauh as wife. Marriage? Hah. He collects all of them like trophies, but I'll turn it. Whispers in his ear at night, nudges toward power that benefits me. Perhaps a role in that "Yaoquizque Tlapixque," or influence over the new women's fates.
Xochiquetzal dreams of healing? Fine, let her mend, but under my watch. The empire grows, and so do I as the queen in the shadows, venom ready. He kisses me goodbye, and I smile plotting, today's the tecpan, tomorrow… who knows? Empires fall to schemes like mine.
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Malinalli, ever the instigator, struck up conversation as they gathered around the low table, her voice casual but probing, drawing Xochiquetzal in with a smirk.
"Come, flower and sit. No need to hover like a ghost. We're all prizes here, might as well talk like sisters. You've got that look, the one that says you've seen the dark side of men. Spill it in a girls' talk, what's your story? I'll start, to make it fair."
She leaned back against a pillar, her huipil loose over her belly, rubbing it absently as she dove in, her tone raw and unflinching, laced with that toxic edge that made her words cut deep yet draw you closer. "My life? Started in pain. My father died young, and my mother remarried quick and sold me off like a bad harvest to replace her new man's child he had with her. I was just a girl, tossed to the 'Mayans' first, then when the Castilians washed up on our shores like bloated fish, I was handed over as a 'gift.' Endured it all from the rapes, the beatings, the way they'd pass you around like a jug of pulque. Dark as the underworld, every twisted thing you'd fear in the night. But I survived, clawed my way through. And Ehecatl? He's not like that. Sure, he's a pervert who can't keep his hands off a fine ass, as you felt this morning, but compared to the beasts I've known, he's tame. Grew up a commoner, power's still new to him. That's why he held back last night, and didn't just take your virginity like some noble brute. He asks, he listens… in his way."
Catalina nodded along, her face flushing slightly as she chimed in with what Nahuatl she could muster, her accent thick but earnest. "My turn… I was born on Hispaniola, an island across the mainland. Father owns a tavern, drinks and fights all day. Mother died when I was six, fever took her. I dreamed of being a nun, praying in quiet cloisters, away from men's hands." She paused, switching to Spanish for the rest, her voice soft and vulnerable, gesturing for Malinalli to translate. Malinalli rolled her eyes but obliged, her voice carrying Catalina's words with a hint of sarcasm, her own experiences lending a raw edge to the retelling.
"She says she was taken by Cristobal de Olid, he took her virginity at 12, and then dragged to the mainland a few years later, thrown into the conquest like bait. Present for the occupation, the horrors, rapes, burnings, the way her countrymen treated us natives like animals. Terrified when Olid gave her to Ehecatl during the retreat, as the stories painted him as a demon. But he's not. She blushes to agree that he's a pervert, sure, can't resist a tease or a touch, but likewise he's tame compared to what she's seen. Her people chain women to hearths, no voice, no dreams beyond babies. Here? He claims, but cherishes. No beatings, no discarding."
Xochiquetzal listened, her guard crumbling under the raw honesty, the shared scars pulling her into the circle. She opened up hesitantly at first, then more freely in the girls' talk, her voice steadying as she shared her own echoes of pain from the Tlaxcalan raids, Chimalli's leers, the ache of lost dreams. The courtyard filled with their words, a tentative bond forming amid the empire's morning hum.
Malinalli leaned forward, her expression softening from its usual toxic edge into something almost sisterly, though her smirk lingered like a habit. She reached out, clasping Xochiquetzal's hand with a firm grip, her own belly a prominent reminder of survival's fruits. "Flower, that's a road I know too well. The selling, the trading, the way men turn your body into currency. It's a wound that festers, but look at you, you survived it, clawed through like I did. You're stronger for it, even if it doesn't feel that way now. The fear… it never fully leaves, but here? You turn it into armor. Ehecatl's not the monster of those stories. he claims, but he builds. You'll see."
Catalina nodded, her face flushed with empathy, speaking in a mix of halting Nahuatl and Spanish, her hand gesturing softly as Malinalli translated the rest with a roll of her eyes but a gentle tone. "Your pain… it echoes mine," Catalina said, her voice trembling slightly.
"The raids, the loss, it's like losing a piece of your soul. But you dreamed of healing, and that's beautiful. Hold to it. I was terrified too, given away like a token, but Ehecatl… he saw me, not just the prize. You're safe here, sister. We'll mend together."
Malinalli added, her translation weaving in, "She says the ache fades with time, with purpose. Your healing hands? They'll find work here, away from the beasts."
Xochiquetzal felt a knot loosen in her chest, the shared vulnerability pulling her guard down further, a tentative bond forming like threads in a loom. She wiped a stray tear, her voice softer as she glanced at their bellies.
"Thank you… both of you. It helps, hearing I'm not alone. And your children, what do you wish for them? Boys or girls? And… what kind of mothers do you dream of being?"
Malinalli chuckled, rubbing her belly with a possessive caress. "A boy, I think strong like his father, but with my fire. Sharp tongue, sharper mind. I'd be the mother who teaches him to bite back, to scheme through the world's cruelties. No softness that breaks him, but enough love to keep him loyal. A warrior, not a victim."
Catalina smiled shyly, her hand mirroring Malinalli's on her own swell. "A girl, perhaps gentle but brave, like the saints I once prayed to. I'd be the mother who shows her devotion, teaches her to find light in the dark. Protect her dreams, like I couldn't mine. Love her fiercely, so she never fears."
Malinalli's eyes gleamed with mischief, leaning closer to Xochiquetzal with a teasing wink. "And you, flower? Keep talking like that, and you'll be the next one swelling with his seed, dreaming of your own little ones. The boy's got a way of collecting us, doesn't he?"
Xochiquetzal blushed deeply, stammering a laugh as the women shared a knowing glance, the morning light sealing their budding sisterhood amid the empire's hum.
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…
As the morning sun climbed higher, warming the courtyard with its golden light, the women wrapped up their raw, tear-streaked conversation around the low table. The air still hummed with the emotional weight of their shared scars, the rapes, the betrayals, the dreams crushed under men's boots, but a fragile bond had formed, like threads weaving a manta from frayed fibers.
Xochiquetzal wiped her eyes, her chest lighter yet aching, as Malinalli rose with a stretch, her swelling belly shifting under her huipil. Catalina smiled softly, offering Xochiquetzal a gourd of pulque to steady her.
Malinalli stepped closer to Xochiquetzal, her smirk returning with that toxic edge, but her eyes held a glint of genuine kinship amid the scheming shadows in her mind. She reached out, giving Xochiquetzal's ass a firm slap that was playful yet possessive, her fingers brushing lingeringly over the curve, tracing a teasing path that made Xochiquetzal gasp and flush.
"You'll be fine here with us, flower," Malinalli said, her voice low and reassuring, laced with raw warmth from their talk. "We're all broken in our ways, but we mend together. If there's anything you need or want to spill, cry about, rage over, come to me. No judgments, just sisters sharpening each other's edges."
Xochiquetzal nodded, her skin tingling from the touch, a mix of surprise and tentative trust blooming in her chest. Catalina chimed in softly, "Yes… we're here," her words simple but earnest, reinforcing the circle.
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Malinalli's POV
As the conversation fades into chores. Xochiquetzal fetching water from those fancy new gourds, Catalina folding the new tilmatli and huipil's like it's sacred. I watch her move, that Cholulan flower with her healer's hands and untouched glow. The slap was impulse, a tease to test her, feel her flinch or yield. She blushed, but didn't pull away, good, she's pliable, not brittle. Bonding as sisters? Hah, it's a veil for the web I'm spinning. Ehecatl likes collecting his little war trophies, but I'll weave us into something unbreakable with me at the center, venom ready.
That girl's scars run deep, like mine. Sold, raided, valued for flesh alone. It cracks her open, lets her guard drop. But schemes brew, since she's a healer she could be useful for my child, perhaps potions to keep Ehecatl's eyes on me. Whisper doubts if she gets too close, or ally her against Catalina's meekness. The empire grows, absorbing warlords like breaths. Cuetlachtli fanatic, Cuauhmecatl zealot, Chimalli greedy, Ayauh soon wife. Marriage? Another thread. I'll nudge Ehecatl to make me overseer of these "prizes," influence their fates. Xochiquetzal dreams of mending? Fine, I'll let her so long as it's under my eye, birthing loyalty or secrets. The ache of my past fuels this, no more sold girl; now the queen scheming from shadows. Today's spices; tomorrow, empires bend to my will. Best to smile while the knife sharpens.