Maxixcatzin's POV
As I ride back to Tizatlan under the fading sun, the dust of the road kicking up behind my entourage like echoes of old battles, my mind replays the sit-down with Ehecatl, the so-called emissary or avatar of Quetzalcoatl. The words he spoke in that incense-filled tecpan still ring in my ears, a mix of acknowledgment and ambition that stirs something deep in my scarred chest.
He looked me in the eye, Maxixcatzin, and admitted the pain the Mexica inflicted on us for decades, the flower wars where our sons were nothing but stepping stones for their glory, cattle led to slaughter, target practice to hone their blades. He didn't flinch from it, called it harm we both caused, and then turned the mirror on us, recalling how we seized our chance with the Castilians, killing and enslaving Mexica men and boys, raping their women, looting their homes in vengeance's fury. It was raw, that admission, like ripping open old wounds to let them heal cleaner, and for a moment I saw not an enemy but a man weary of the cycle.
But he didn't stop at pain; he painted a vision of unity, speaking of other vast and distant lands filled with people who look nothing like us, speak tongues we can't fathom, live in ways alien to our own, worship gods strange and cruel. Together, he said, Nahua as one, we'd conquer them all, the Mexica and Tlaxcala forging a fist no outsider could withstand.
And the offer? An alliance, true equals, with access to their trade and weaponry, their iron and steel that lasts longer than obsidian, their grenades that thunder like the gods' wrath. No subordinates, no tributaries, a spot in their circle to dominate not just Cemenahuac but the six other great lands beyond.
I have to tell the council about the Yaoquizque Tlapixque too, those guardians we've heard rumors of, whispered like ghosts in our camps. They're real, I saw them demonstrate in their uniforms in that swirling in black-and-white spirals like battle storms, moving with a discipline that's new, completely different from the Mexica of before. Grenades exploding in controlled fury, arquebuses cracking in rotating lines that keep the fire endless, swords clashing with a steel edge we can't match yet. It's not the old arrogance; it's something sharper, more calculated.
The request for the 20 remaining Castilians hits harder, though. Hand them over, he says, in exchange for favorable trade, steel, grenades if the alliance holds. We can spin that to the council, those Caxtilteca trainers under Olid have been useful but divisive, pushing us toward fights we might not win. But the last part… that's the thorn. He asked for the fate of a mother and daughters from a raid on Acatzinco, some Cholulan village we hit hard. If they're mistreated or enslaved by our people, verified and dragged into the light, the pressure falls on us to apologize, hand over the responsible, or lose face before this "Emissary." Depending on the family who took them, old nobles protecting their kin, or young ones hungry for reform. It could fracture us from within. The elders might shield their peers, cling to old ways; the youth could push for appeasement, seeing the bigger prize.
We won't reject the alliance over this, the realpolitik's clear. Their power grows rapidly while ours barely grows, and unity could make us unstoppable. But we'll delay, negotiate, divert blame to low-status families if needed to buy time to weigh the scales. Best to frame it carefully to the lords about Ehecatl's vision tempts, but trust must be earned, not given. The road ahead feels longer now, the weight of decision heavy as the dust settling behind us.
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Maxixcatzin rode into Tizatlan under a setting sun that painted the hills in blood-red hues, the dust from his entourage's horses clinging to his feathered tilmatli like ghosts of the journey. The city-state's adobe walls rose before him, temples crowned with banners standing sentinel over wards bustling with warriors and commoners, their faces etched with the weariness of constant vigilance.
Word of his return had preceded him, and as he dismounted in the central plaza, a crowd gathered full with elders in cotton mantles, young fighters with looted swords at their hips, women and children huddled in the shadows. The council convened swiftly in the tecpan's hall, a low-ceilinged space lit by torchlight, murals of past victories fading on the walls like memories of glory long dimmed.
The lords assembled around a low table. Old nobles with scarred faces and jade plugs, their eyes hard from decades of Mexica encirclement; younger ones, ambitious and pragmatic, whispering of the Castilian drills under Olid. Maxixcatzin took his seat at the head, his voice gravelly as he unrolled the weight of the sit-down, the air thick with copal smoke and tension.
"Ehecatl, the Mexica's Cihuacoatl, acknowledged the pain outright."
Maxixcatzin began, his tone measured but laced with the raw echo of the words.
"He spoke of how they've used us as stepping stones for decades, cattle in their flower wars, kept weak and encircled to hone their blades. But he turned the mirror, admitting the harm we've caused in return from our war and alliance with the Caxtilteca, killing their men, raping their women, looting their homes. It was honest, brothers, like ripping open old wounds to let the poison drain. No excuses, just truth."
The older nobles murmured, their faces darkening with remembered grudges, one grizzled elder pounding his fist softly on the mat.
"And why now? After all they've taken?"
Maxixcatzin leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the memory of Ehecatl speaking about the unknown.
"Because he sees beyond the valley. He spoke of other lands that are vast, distant realms with people who look nothing like us, speak alien tongues, live in strange ways, worship gods we've never known. Six other great lands, ripe for conquest. Together, as Nahua kin from Chicomoztoc, we'd be unstoppable. Not Mexica over Tlaxcala, but a united fist dominating the world. An alliance as equals, access to their iron trade, steel weapons, those thunder-grenades that shred like obsidian storms."
The younger nobles exchanged glances, excitement flickering in their eyes, one leaning in with a nod.
"Equals? No more flower wars and being encircled?"
"Aye," Maxixcatzin confirmed, "a spot in their circle, treated as kin. But there's a catch, the 20 Castilians under Olid. Hand them over for favorable trade, grenades if the pact holds."
The hall erupted in low debate, an older lord scowling.
"Surrender our trainers? They've given us the edge!"
A younger one whom had been with Maxixcatzin at Cholula countered,
"An edge against what? Their Yaoquizque Tlapixque, I've seen them. Rumors don't do justice. Uniforms like those black and white ones, moving as one. Grenades exploding like Tlaloc's wrath, arquebuses firing in endless lines. The first kneels, second steps up, third prepares. No pause, just death. Different from the Mexica we knew, sharper, deadlier. We can't match that alone."
The council split, elders clinging to pride and vengeance, "Betray the Castilians who helped us topple them? No, we must go back to war now, while we have their steel!"
Younger voices pushed back, "Vision over vengeance! Conquer new lands, not bleed in the valley again."
Then Maxixcatzin dropped the thorn. "One more thing, the fate of a mother and daughters from Acatzinco raid. If verified mistreated by our people… pressure to apologize, hand over the responsible, or lose face."
The hall exploded in visceral fury, an elder huehue from a powerful family, his breath rank with pulque from drowning war ghosts as he lurched forward, his voice a guttural snarl.
"My kin took them. The mother howled like a gutted coyote under the springs' moon, her flesh torn raw as we claimed her in the mud, blood mixing with tears! The daughters… the elder fought, her screams beautiful as we broke her over the rocks, innards bruised until she went limp, enslaved now to grind maize with chains biting her ankles! The younger… throat slit when she clawed my nephew's face, her blood soaking the earth like an offering! War's harvest, earned in our spilled blood! Hand them over? We'd desecrate our dead from the sieges, their corpses rotting unavenged!"
A younger noble surged to his feet, face contorted in disgust and rage, vomit rising in his throat from the elder's confession, spit flying as he roared,
"Earned? You mean ravaged like beasts in heat! If Ehecatl verifies this filth. Mother and sisters raped until their spirits shattered, enslaved with whips cracking skin to bone he'll prosecute us like Cortes, brand us as 'war criminals' in his unholy rites, chain us in shit and slime! And the 20 Castilians? Surrender them too, and we're gutted pigs against his 'thunder'! This poisons everything, reform or fester like open sores under our own rot!"
The elder shot back, his voice cracking with defensive fury, tears streaming from eyes bloodshot from endless vigils over mass graves.
"Protect our blood! Those women are spoils from Cholula's crumble. A collateral in the nightmare the Mexica started with their encirclement, our daughters starving while their nobles feasted on our tribute! Betray our own, and we lose the ancestor's favor, the harmony of Chicomoztoc shattered forever, our kin's screams unheeded!"
Voices overlapped in heated chaos, fists pounding mats like hearts on altars, personal stakes igniting like sacrificial pyres, elders defending "war rights" from conquest and flower wars, their confessions dripping with visceral detail that turned stomachs, youth decrying it as barbaric desecration of Quetzalcoatl's renewal, pushing for purification to align with Ehecatl's "Sixth Sun." The council split deeper, sweat-slick faces flushed from the verbal slaughter, emotions raw as flayed skin under the sun, their "earned rights" a festering wound threatening to infect the alliance's fragile birth.
Finally, a compromise clawed its way from the fray. They'd stall on the topic of the Cholulan women. "Lost in the chaos," they'd claim, delaying verification to silence or relocate the survivors while offering a marriage alliance to divert and cement.
"Tecuelhuetzin." Maxixcatzin suggested, his voice steady amid the storm.
"Xicotencatl the Elder's daughter, once given to Alvarado. She's beautiful, fierce and a bridge of blood, her nobility and beauty would be sufficient in tying us closer. Send her as 'gift' to the Cihuacoatl; her presence softens the blow if the truth outs."
The elders grumbled but nodded, seeing the ploy. Her as reparation without admitting guilt, her "purity" (despite Alvarado) a symbol of renewal. The youth agreed, envisioning her and if possible the children she'd have as seed for unity. The decision hung heavy, the tecpan's air thick with unresolved tension, as Maxixcatzin prepared to return to Cholula with the counter-offer once Tecuelhuetzin was ready to accompany him.
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The council dispersed with murmured assents, the weight of compromise hanging like a storm cloud, but the path forward clear. An elder, huehue from Xicotencatl's line with eyes clouded by age yet sharp with cunning, volunteered to inform her. He made his way through the city's winding paths, past adobe homes where commoners whispered of Maxixcatzin's return, to the semi-secluded compound where Tecuelhuetzin resided. A modest structure on the outskirts, its reed roof sagging slightly, a far cry from the glory her father's status once afforded.
Tecuelhuetzin was in the courtyard when he arrived, weaving a huipil with fingers callused from labor she'd taken up to fill the empty days. Her dark hair fell in loose waves, her huipil simple but clinging to her curves, a quiet beauty that belied the storms within. She looked up as the elder approached, her eyes were as always sharp and unyielding, shadowed by memories to which she narrowed with suspicion.
"Huehue," she said, her voice steady but laced with the weariness of one who'd been a pawn too long. "What ill wind brings you?"
The elder sat across from her, his tone grave as he informed her of the council's decree.
"Tecuelhuetzin, daughter of Xicotencatl the Elder, the council has decided your fate in these talks with the Mexica. Ehecatl offers alliance as equals, conquest of distant lands, but demands the Castilians and probes old raids. To seal it and divert his wrath, you'll be offered in marriage to him, he's both the Cihuacoatl of the Mexica, and is said to be the avatar of Quetzalcoatl."
Her hands stilled, the thread snapping under sudden tension, her face paling but her jaw setting like flint. The word "marriage" hit like a macuahuitl strike, dredging up the ghosts of Alvarado who'd claimed her as "gift" to seal the alliance against the Mexica. She remembered the night in the tent, his rough hands tearing her huipil, forcing her down amid laughter from his brothers, the pain ripping through her as he took her virginity in brutal thrusts, her screams muffled by his palm.
"Scream all you want, india," he'd growled, his beard scratching like thorns as he thrust harder, his men watching from the shadows, their leers burning into her soul. Nights after, the abuses continued. Beaten for "defiance" when she spat in his face, forced to "perform" before his brothers, her body a tool for their amusement, innards bruised until she bled, spirit fracturing like obsidian under hammer. Yet she'd survived, whispering doubts in his ear during pillow "talk," influencing raids to spare Tlaxcalan kin, and help make them stronger, all while turning her trauma into subtle power.
"And if I refuse?" she asked now, her voice cracking with raw defiance, tears welling but unshed, her hands trembling as she set the huipil aside.
The elder's eyes softened slightly, a rare crack in his armored facade. "Refuse, and we lose the alliance before it even begins. Ehecatl's steel, his grenades that shred like Tlaloc's wrath. Your father's legacy demands this bridge. It's not submission; it's strategy! use your influence as you did with Tonatiuh (Pedro de Alvarado)."
Tecuelhuetzin stood, her curves shifting under the huipil as she paced, the weight of her past crashing like waves. Alvarado's death in the canyon had "reclaimed" her, but the stigma lingered. She was "tainted" by the Caxtilteca, the stain began after the retreat of Tenochtitlan for the second time. her nobility and story a whisper in Tlaxcala's halls. Now this, being a pawn again, but this time to their very own blood enemy. Yet… a spark ignited. Ehecatl, the "avatar," "emissary of Quetzalcoatl", "Cihuacoatl", "conqueror of the Caxtilteca", "Caxtilteca killer", offering equality.
Perhaps a chance to wield real power, turn pain into vengeance. "Fine," she said, her voice steadying with resolve, tears drying as determination set in.
"I'll go as bridge, not broken. But tell the council if this fails, their 'earned rights' will be the noose around their necks."
The elder nodded, leaving her to prepare, the compound's quiet broken only by her pounding heart.
Tecuelhuetzin bathed in the springs, her body a canvas of scars from Alvarado's cruelties. Bruises faded but memories don't easily fade. She began dressing in her finest striped huipil, the fabric clinging to her full breasts and hips like a second skin, ready to seduce and scheme. The alliance teetered on her, a dark thread in this potential alliance's weave.
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Tecuelhuetzin's POV
As the council's messenger left my compound, his words hanging in the air like the stink of burning copal.
"Marriage to the Ehecatl, Tecuelhuetzin. To seal the alliance."
I felt the old chains tighten around my soul, but this time, I'd twist them into a weapon once more. The council's decision wasn't a surprise; I've been a pawn since Father handed me to Alvarado like a tribute cacao bean to buy Castilian steel against the Mexica.
"For Tlaxcala." he said. His voice heavy with the weight of our encircled people, but I saw the calculation in his eyes, the same one that kept us weak for decades under Mexica flower wars. Now this marriage to Ehecatl, the Mexica's "avatar," conqueror of Castilians. The council offers me as sweetener, hoping my beauty diverts his wrath over that Acatzinco raid's horrors. Fools, they don't know I scheme deeper.
I'll go, not as victim but viper. Marry him, yes and then use the bed to bind him. Let him humiliate and use me as Pedro once did, as I'll be whispering during thrusts "The Castilians plot mutiny under Olid, strike now." Protect Tlaxcala's place as equals, ensure our "earned rights" from raids go unpunished. If he pushes for those women, the mother and daughters my kin ravaged, their screams "beautiful" as the elder boasted thenI'll divert and twist the truth. "Low raiders did it, not our nobles." Or, if truth outs, turn it to advantage, as I'll reveal Alvarado's cruelties on what he did to me, and use that to stoke Ehecatl's ego and pride saying things like "they took and claim your property my lord." to stoke his hate for Castilians, push for their handover while shielding my people.
This alliance? A double-edged sword as yes this'll unite Nahua against outsiders, conquer the six lands as Ehecatl visions, but I'll weave Tlaxcala as the serpent's head, not tail.
If Ehecatl's kink mirrors Pedro's rough, and claiming then I'll yield in ecstasy, bodies entangled in temple alcoves or under stars, my moans masking schemes. Trauma birthed this cunning; from Alvarado's hell, I'll rise like the Mexica did from ashes. The council thinks me a gift; I'll be their dagger in his heart if needed. As I prepare bathing in scented waters, dressing in striped huipil that clings like a promise, my reflection smirks back.
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As the procession rode onward through the rolling hills toward Cholula, the sun climbing higher and casting a warm glow over the fertile valleys dotted with maguey fields, Tecuelhuetzin turned to Maxixcatzin once more, her voice low enough to keep their words from carrying to the other envoys trailing behind. The rhythmic clop of horse hooves and the distant calls of birds provided a natural veil for her inquiry, her dark eyes sharp with calculation beneath the surface of calm.
"Maxixcatzin." she said, her tone measured but probing. "What type of women is Ehecatl into? What does he like in a woman? If I'm to play this role for our people's sake, I need to know so that I may ensure the alliance holds firm."
Maxixcatzin glanced at her sideways, his scarred face thoughtful as he adjusted his grip on the reins, the weight of his years in Tlaxcala's endless struggles evident in his steady gaze. He considered her question for a moment, the wind tugging at his feathered tilmatli, before responding in his gravelly voice.
"Tecuelhuetzin, I've heard whispers from our scouts and allies, but meeting him in person gave me a glimpse. He's no simple noble chasing skirts; power's fresh on him, like a commoner wearing jade for the first time. Besides the Castilian girl Olid gave him during the retreat, and that Cholulan girl he was gifted by some pochteca whom by the way is who's mother and sisters we took in the Acatzinco raid, I wouldn't know his exact tastes. There's also another Cholulan one, though… from what the priests let slip, she's got a nice figure, full and inviting, the kind that turns heads in temple rites, and is also a pipiltin. She's been keeping him company ever since he arrived, so perhaps he favors beauty with spirit, women who yield but don't break. But that's guesswork, his eyes lingered on strength as much as form when he spoke of unity."
Tecuelhuetzin internalized his words, her mind turning them over like a scribe examining codices, adjusting her posture subtly on the horse to emphasize the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts beneath her striped huipil, the fabric shifting with the motion to catch the light. If Ehecatl favored figures like the Cholulan's that are full, and resilient then she'd play to it, weaving her own scars into allure, turning submission into a tool for Tlaxcala's gain. The road ahead felt less like exile and more like opportunity, her resolve hardening as Cholula's pyramid loomed on the horizon.
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On the outskirts of Cholula, under a midday sun that baked the earth and cast shimmering waves over the maguey fields, the Tlaxcalan delegation paused in a secluded grove to change from their dust-caked traveling clothes into their finest attire. The men moved with quiet purpose, shedding rough tilmatli worn thin from the road and donning embroidered mantles in red and white, glyphs of eagles and spears woven in gold thread that caught the light like flames. Their loincloths were of fine cotton, cactli sandals laced with leather, and feathered headdresses crowned their brows, transforming them from weary travelers into proud emissaries.
Maxixcatzin adjusted his jade-plugged ears, his scarred face set in determination, while the younger lords whispered hopes that the talks would go well, their voices laced with the weight of Tlaxcala's survival. The alliance a lifeline against the Mexica's re-growing shadow, yet a risk that could swallow them whole.
Tecuelhuetzin, riding at the rear, dismounted with grace, her heart pounding beneath her calm exterior as she slipped behind a screen of reeds to change. She shed her simple huipil, the fabric sticking to her skin from the journey's sweat, and donned her best. A striped garment in vibrant reds and blacks, the patterns swirling like serpents across her full breasts and hips, clinging in ways that accentuated her curves and drew the eye. Her dark hair she braided with gold threads, jade necklace draping her neck to accentuate the swell of her chest, earrings chiming softly as she moved. As she dressed, her mind wandered to the man she was to be given to. Ehecatl, the Mexica's Cihuacoatl, avatar of Quetzalcoatl in whispers. From Maxixcatzin's accounts, he was charismatic, a commoner risen to power with a fire that bent men to his will, his knowledge of distant lands and weapons like thunder hinting at divine favor. She imagined him to be tall, commanding, his touch possessive yet calculated, perhaps rough like Alvarado's but with a purpose that could elevate her from "tainted" exile to queenly influence. Her body warmed at the thought, a flush creeping up her neck as she adjusted her huipil to reveal just enough skin, her scheming mind already plotting how to yield in bed while wielding power in whispers.
Satisfied with their transformation, the group walked into the city, the men exchanging tense glances, their hopes fragile as reed boats on a river. Praying the alliance would hold, that Ehecatl's vision of Nahua unity against outsiders would outweigh the blood between them. Tecuelhuetzin walked with head high, her curves swaying with deliberate grace, imagining the avatar's eyes on her, ready to turn submission into her greatest weapon. The streets of Cholula welcomed them with crowds lining the paths, pilgrims and priests murmuring in reverence as the pyramid loomed ahead, the stage set for fates to entwine.
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The Tlaxcalan envoys arrived at the tecpan in Cholula under the watchful gaze of the Great Pyramid, its massive tiers casting long shadows over the courtyard as the midday sun beat down. Maxixcatzin led the group, his scarred face set in determination, flanked by his warriors in red-and-white feathered tilmatli, their looted swords and arquebuses slung at their sides like uneasy trophies. Cuauhmecatl and his priests stood ready, bone masks rattling softly in the breeze, while Ehecatl waited at the center, his Yaoquizque Tlapixque forming a disciplined line behind him, their spiraled uniforms swirling like contained storms. The air hummed with tension, incense mingling with the dust from the road, commoners and pilgrims lining the paths to witness the historic sit-down.
Maxixcatzin stepped forward first, his voice gravelly as he gestured to the woman at his side. "Cihuacoatl, before words of peace or war, we offer a bond of blood. Tecuelhuetzin, daughter of Xicotencatl the Elder, to seal our alliance in marriage. Why speak of unity without forging it in flesh?"
Tecuelhuetzin emerged from the envoys ranks, her presence commanding immediate attention. Dressed in a see-through huipil of finely woven mesh patterned with red diamonds and zigzags, the fabric clinging transparently to her full breasts and hips, her dark nipples faintly visible through the weave, her skirt a plaid of gray and red falling to her ankles in layered fringes that swayed with each step. Her long black hair cascaded freely, framing a face of striking beauty, her expression a mix of pride and guarded resolve, earrings glinting like stars as she stood tall, barefoot on the warm stone.
The envoys exchanged glances, their warriors hoping the gift would sway the talks, easing the sting of potential concessions like the Castilians' handover. Cuauhmecatl nodded approvingly, his priests murmuring prayers to Quetzalcoatl for harmonious unions, while the Yaoquizque Tlapixque remained stoic, Cuetlachtli's fanatic eyes narrowing slightly at the Tlaxcalan offer.
From Ehecatl's perspective, the sight of Tecuelhuetzin hit like a thunderclap. Hot, she was undeniably hot, her see-through huipil a teasing veil that made his blood surge, the mesh hugging her full breasts so tightly he could trace the curve of her nipples, the fabric dipping low to reveal the swell of her cleavage, her hips flaring out in a way that screamed to be grabbed. He wanted to rip that shit off right there, pin her against the tecpan wall, suck on those tits until she moaned his name, bite and lick until they hardened under his tongue, then flip her over and fuck her senseless, claiming every inch until she begged for more.
But he controlled the horny rush, his face a mask of charismatic calm, though even without his cheat he knew exactly who she was. Tecuelhuetzin, originally given to Pedro de Alvarado as alliance fodder, bearing his kids in history back when he lived in the 21st century. A twisted thought crept in, as yet again here he was claiming yet another woman destined for conquistador seed, now she'd bear his instead. A petty victory over the ghosts of history, her body will be battlefield he'd conquer savagely and plant his flag where Alvarado had failed. The irony stirred a cold satisfaction, his gaze lingering on her curves as he stepped forward to accept the presentation, the alliance teetering on this seductive edge.
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Ehecatl's gaze then shifted to Maxixcatzin's with unyielding charisma, the tecpan hall falling into a profound silence broken only by the faint crackle of braziers and the distant hum of Cholula's rituals. Tecuelhuetzin stood beside the Tlaxcalan tlatoani, her see-through huipil a tantalizing veil over her curves, her presence a living symbol of the alliance's fragile promise. The envoys from both sides leaned in, the air thick with copal smoke and anticipation, Cuauhmecatl's priests murmuring prayers to Quetzalcoatl for harmony.
"Indeed, if we are to move past our blood feud and hatred." Ehecatl replied, his voice resonant and warm carrying the weight of a visionary bridging chasms.
"Why not start by setting an example for the next generation of Mexica and Tlaxcalans by intermarrying? I accept your offer. You can have her stay in your quarters or mine, but now we've got business to talk about."
Maxixcatzin nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his scarred face as Tecuelhuetzin stepped forward slightly, her dark eyes meeting Ehecatl's with a mix of defiance and curiosity. The hall stirred with murmurs, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque shifting subtly in their spiraled uniforms, while Cuauhmecatl's priests chanted softly in approval, the alliance inching closer to blood-tied reality.
They transitioned smoothly to another sit-down in an adjacent chamber, reed mats arranged in a circle under the pyramid's symbolic shadow, gourd vessels of pulque passed to ease tensions. The groups had settled, Tlaxcalans on one side, their warriors' hands resting near sword hilts; Mexica and Cholulans on the other, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque standing guard like silent storms. Maxixcatzin leaned forward, his voice gravelly but measured, the weight of his council's debates evident in his tone.
"The lords of Tlaxcala are interested in this alliance." he said, his eyes locking on Ehecatl's with the caution of a man who'd bled in too many fields.
"Unity against outsiders, conquest of distant lands. It stirs the blood. But the handover of the 20 Castilians… it makes us uneasy. After all, both sides are once more on equal footing in terms of swords, horses, arquebuses, and cannons. You know Olid's men have trained our warriors, given us the edge we lacked. Handing them over feels like weakening ourselves deliberately by stripping our thunder to trust your vision. We hope you understand; it's not refusal, but a plea for balance."
Ehecatl nodded in understanding, his expression calm and empathetic, leaning forward with that charismatic pull that made men feel heard.
"I do understand, Maxixcatzin. Equal footing is the foundation of true alliance, not subjugation. Since we're to form This Thing Of Ours, a bond of Nahua blood against the world, it's only fair to help train your Tlaxcalan brothers in the same manner I'm training not just the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, but the Mexica as a whole. Share our formations, our upgrades such as the rifling for accuracy, grapeshot for devastation. No secrets between kin; we'll forge you stronger, as equals."
The chamber murmured with renewed hope, Maxixcatzin's face softening slightly as the envoys exchanged glances. The path to unity clearing amid the tecpan's sacred hum.
"Before we delve deeper into the alliance's terms, Maxixcatzin." Ehecatl said, his tone shifting to one of quiet sincerity, eyes locking on the man with empathetic weight.
"Tell me the fate of Xochiquetzal's mother and sisters from the Acatzinco raid. I gave my word to learn it, for her peace if nothing else."
Maxixcatzin's expression tightened, his fingers drumming subtly on his knee as he circled back, stalling with a gravelly deflection.
"The raids were chaotic times, Cihuacoatl. Records scattered, families lost in the fray. Perhaps we focus on the future first, the shared conquests you envision, before dredging old wounds that time has buried."
Ehecatl nodded understandingly, his smile warm but unyielding, leaning in to bridge the gap. "I expected the worst, Maxixcatzin. War spares no one, and those days were dark for all. All I want to know is if they're alive. If they are, I'd like to buy them, bring them to safety without blame or retribution. Regardless of who harmed them, it won't cause friction or justification for my war crimes court. This is pre-alliance, a personal matter, so let's not let it shadow our new path."
Maxixcatzin exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight lifted, his voice dropping low with reluctant honesty.
"They're alive, but broken. The mother and elder daughter… taken by a low-raider family during the frenzy, raped repeatedly in the camps until their spirits dimmed, now enslaved in household drudgery. Grinding maize with chains on their ankles, bodies marked by whips and worse. The younger… didn't survive the night, throat slit when she clawed at her captors. It's a stain on us, but war's cruel hand."
Ehecatl's face darkened with genuine sorrow, his voice soft yet firm, the empathy interweaving with his resolve like threads in a manta.
"It's a tragedy, Maxixcatzin. One too many in these times. But as I've said before, this was done pre-alliance, a dark shadow of the Fifth Sun. I won't push further if buying them isn't possible; let the Sixth Sun dawn clean."
Maxixcatzin nodded, relief evident in his scarred features as he rose slightly.
"Then I'll head back to inform the rest of my people of the alliance's promise, and this mercy, will sway many."
The chamber's murmurs rose in cautious optimism, as the groups dispersing with the weight of potential unity hanging like copal smoke. Ehecatl's thoughts turning to Xochiquetzal and the delicate task of delivering the news upon his return.
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Tecuelhuetzin's POV
As Maxixcatzin speaks, his gravelly voice filling the tecpan hall with cautious hope, I stand beside him. My heart pounding beneath the see-through huipil that clings to my skin like a lover's whisper, the mesh teasing the outline of my nipples and the curve of my hips in the torchlight.
Ehecatl's eyes lock on mine, dark and commanding, stirring a heat that flushes my chest and tightens my core, a familiar ache from nights I'd rather forget but can't escape. As i took my place beside Maxixcatzin, the words Ehecatl had spoken to him replayed in my mind like a ritual chant, stirring a storm of thoughts that twisted between resentment and reluctant admiration.
He accepts the marriage so readily, calling it an example for the next generation, his voice warm and commanding, like a serpent coiling around its prey with gentle insistence. Intermarrying to move past the blood feud. He speaks of harmony as if the scars on my body from Alvarado's thrusts were just ink on a codex, easily erased. Yet there's truth in it, a vision that pulls at the Nahua blood in my veins, shared from Chicomoztoc's caves, a unity that could heal the wounds Tlaxcala and Mexica inflicted on each other.
His eyes lingered on me as he spoke, tracing my curves through this huipil like a promise of possession, making my skin flush with heat, nipples hardening against the mesh as I imagine his hands ripping it away, his mouth claiming what Alvarado bruised. But he holds back, shifting to business with a control that intrigues me. Perhaps he's not the brute I feared, but a schemer like me, using flesh as a tool for empire.
The "quarters" choice amuses me, a subtle power play, letting me decide where to yield, but I know it's mine to navigate. We've suffered under Mexica encirclement, our people starved while they feasted, but if this binds us as equals, conquering distant lands together, perhaps my body as a bridge is worth the ache. I'll play the role, let him claim me, but in the shadows, I'll weave Tlaxcala's and my fate into the Sixth Sun's dawn.
Then As I sit in this reed-matted chamber, the air thick with copal smoke that clings to my skin like a lover's breath, I listen to Maxixcatzin and Ehecatl exchange words on the fates of that Cholulan girl's mother and sisters, my heart twisting in a knot of secrets and shame. Maxixcatzin stalls at first, his voice gravelly as he circles the truth like a cautious warrior around a trap, but when he opens up, it's a half-truth wrapped in lie. The rapes repeated until their spirits dimmed, the youngest's throat slit in her defiance, the survivors enslaved in household drudgery. Yes, that did indeed happen, but "low-raider family"? No, that's the veil he throws to protect our own, for I know the noble house that claimed them, one of our council's kin, their "spoils" hidden in shadowed compounds where screams echo only in memory. The mother's howls under the moon, the daughters broken like tender reeds. I've heard the whispers in our halls, the elders boasting in drunken nights of war's "harvest," their cruelty a stain on Tlaxcala's honor that now threatens to unravel this fragile thread.
Ehecatl's response stirs something deeper, his voice warm and steady, like a wind that caresses rather than storms, acknowledging the tragedy without rage, offering to buy them without pushing for vengeance.
"It's a tragedy." he says, his eyes distant yet sincere, "But as I've said before, this is was done pre-alliance, a dark shadow of the Fifth Sun." His charisma pulls at me, making my body flush with unwelcome heat, nipples hardening against the mesh of my huipil as I imagine those words whispered in intimacy, his hands on my curves, claiming without breaking. He's not the brute Alvarado was, thrusting with animal grunts that tore me open, but a visionary whose power tempts, his restraint in not demanding justice a sign of calculated mercy that could bind us truly.
Maxixcatzin's half-lie hangs heavy in my chest, a lie to shield our nobles from Ehecatl's "war crimes" charges, but if it frays, the alliance crumbles. I know the truth, and the high-born family who took them. Their rapes were not random but deliberate, the mother's body was used in front of her daughters to break their spirits, the youngest's blood spilled when she clawed at her attackers' faces. To reveal it would fracture us, elders defending their "rights" from ancient customs, but perhaps in Ehecatl's bed, during the heat of submission. I could whisper fragments, turn the lie to our advantage without shattering the whole. His voice speaks of unity, Nahua blood conquering distant lands, and it ignites a fire in my core, my thighs pressing together subtly as I feel a damp warmth build, imagining yielding to him not as pawn but partner, my curves a tool to ensure Tlaxcala's place in this new sun. The fates of those women weigh on me, a dark echo of my own scars, but for now, I'll let the lie stand. Better to weave secrets in shadows than burn in the open light.
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Ehecatl led her into the tecpan's private dining hall after the formal presentations were over. The air thick with the scent of roasting quail and spiced tamales wafting from the comal, gourd vessels of pulque already set on the low table surrounded by reed mats. Torchlight danced across the murals of Quetzalcoatl's serpent weaving through starry skies, casting a warm glow over the space. Tecuelhuetzin stood poised beside Maxixcatzin, her see-through huipil catching the light in ways that made her full breasts and hips a tantalizing silhouette, the red-diamond patterns swirling like invitations across her skin.
To honor the alliance's spirit, Ehecatl turned to her with a charismatic smile that warmed like midday sun, extending a hand.
"Tecuelhuetzin, join me for dinner first. Let us speak as soon to be husband and wife before the council's shadows fall. Words of unity deserve a meal shared in peace."
She accepted with a nod, her dark eyes meeting his boldly, and they moved to a secluded alcove off the hall, a low table set with platters of avocado guacamole, frothed chocolate, and fresh tlaxcalli, the space intimate under flickering torches.
They sat close, her knee brushing his as she arranged her huipil, the mesh revealing just enough to draw his gaze to the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips pressing against the mat. Ehecatl's eyes lingered, tracing the lines of her body with undisguised appreciation, but he held back from touch, focusing on the food as he served her a portion of quail, his fingers brushing hers briefly in the exchange.
"Tell me of your brother." he said, his voice low and engaging, leaning in slightly to catch her scent of faint herbs and earth from the road.
"Xicotencatl the Younger, why did he rebel against the Caxtilteca? The stories vary; I'd hear it from one who knows."
Tecuelhuetzin met his gaze, her full lips curving in a subtle smile as she took a bite, the motion drawing his eyes to her mouth.
"He saw their greed poison the alliance." she replied, her tone measured but laced with the ache of loss, leaning forward so her huipil shifted, the see-through fabric teasing more of her cleavage.
"Alvarado's cruelties of taking what wasn't his, breaking promises that turned his heart. But you… what drives a commoner to claim godhood?"
Ehecatl chuckled, his hand "accidentally" brushing her thigh under the table as he reached for pulque, the touch lingering a beat too long, electric against her skin.
"Vision, perhaps. The Sixth Sun demands more than old feuds. And beauty like yours… inspires alliances."
His flirt deepened, fingers tracing a light path up her arm as he served her chocolate, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver through her.
She held his gaze, her body responding with a flush, and leaned in closer, her breast pressing against his arm as she whispered, "If you want to fuck me, you can. Seal this 'unity' in flesh." The words hung heavy, her eyes challenging yet yielding.
Ehecatl's restraint snapped, his hand groped roughly against her breast while the other held her waist firmly as he pulled her onto his lap in one swift motion. Their mouths crashing together in a fierce kiss with tongues tangling hungrily, his teeth nipping her lip hard enough to draw a gasp, tasting the pulque on her tongue.
"Oh we'll be united in a second." he growled, ripping the see-through huipil from her shoulders with a tear that exposed her full breasts, his mouth descending to suck and lick them ravenously, tongue flicking her nipples until they hardened like jade, her moans filling the alcove as she arched into him.
He then stood, laying her over the table spreading her legs wide as he thrust into her with a piston force. Her body rocking with each deep drive, slaps on her ass echoing as she begged "Degrade me… call me your whore."
"You Tlaxcalan slut, you like this kinda stuff huh whore? Alright, I'll then you're my whore, my fuck toy, my stress reliever. The only thing you're useful for is to please me and take my seed." he obliged while pounding her hard with each degrading insult thrown at her, as he also began choking her with one hand as the other pulled her hair, her submission complete in the degradation, her walls clenching in ecstasy. They shifted to spooning on the mats, his arm around her neck in a rough choke as he entered from behind, thrusting slow and deep, whispering humiliations of "You're nothing but my conquest now. Your tits, ass, hips and the rest of your body were made for me to use. That is your reason for living."
That made her sob with pleasure, her body trembling in release.
The night escalated in different positions. Happy scissors with legs intertwined, her grinding against him in scissoring bliss as he called her "broken prize" her climax shattering with cries; him telling her the concept of a lap dance and then had her do it on a cushion, her riding him with teasing circles as he slapped her face roughly, her moans turning to begs; then later on in the temazcal rinse, soap-slick bodies slipping as he groped her breasts and ass roughly, fingers pinching nipples until she whimpered, leading to anal where he drilled and jackhammered the shit out of her from behind in doggy, her ass rippling with each thrust, hair pulled as she swallowed his spit during a messy kiss, choking her throat hard as she gasped "Humiliate me more… I'm your slave."
The release came in waves, as if her pussy were Niagara Falls multiple times, convulsing around him with sobs of ecstasy. Her trauma turning to cathartic bliss; his following, spilling onto her face with a groan. Once she gave him a little blowjob clean up and they both were sated they collapsed. Her head on his chest, and his hand around her waist, as the other kept groping her tits.
'This alliance is DEFINITELY sealed in flesh and fire.' He thought as he drifted off to sleep.
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Hours later Maxixcatzin arrives back from Cholula. The Tlaxcalan council rushes to meet in the tecpan's dimly lit hall, their faces etched with anticipation and the scars of past debates. Elders and younger lords alike gather quickly around the low table, the air thick with the scent of copal and unresolved tension. As Maxixcatzin enters, dusting the road from his tilmatli, they lean forward eagerly, voices overlapping in urgent whispers.
"What did he say?" one elder demands, his eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Did he accept Tecuelhuetzin for marriage as expected, or did he scorn the offer?"
Maxixcatzin settles on a mat, deadpanning as he thought mentally that it should've been obvious since she isn't here. Nonetheless his gravelly voice cutting through the murmurs as he recounts the sit-down.
"Ehecatl accepted the marriage without hesitation, calling it a bond to set an example for the next generation. He spoke of unity as equals, no tributaries, access to their iron and thunder-weapons. The talks flowed to the Castilians' handover; he understood our unease but promised to train our warriors in their ways. No secrets between kin, he said."
The younger lords exchange hopeful glances, one murmuring, "Equals? Their formations could make our lines unbreakable."
But an elder presses, "And the Acatzinco women? Did he push?"
Maxixcatzin nods solemnly. "He asked, but when I stalled, he relented, saying it's pre-alliance, a personal matter not to shadow the path. Even said he wouldn't push the matter any further if he couldn't buy them."
Relief ripples through the council, though the elders faces harden with guarded satisfaction, the younger ones buzzing with visions of conquest.
"The marriage seals it," Maxixcatzin concludes. "Tecuelhuetzin bridges our blood; the avatar's mercy sways the doubters."
The elder huehue, his voice a ragged growl from years of shouting over battlefields, slammed his fist on the mat once more. "Buy the women? Fine, let the boy pay for what our raiders earned in blood. Gunpowder for the mother and elder daughter's chains, if it quiets his 'personal matter.' But the Castilians… Olid's twenty have forged our boys into thunder-wielders, volleys that echo their fire. Surrender them, and we're lambs to the Mexica's wolf!"
Maxixcatzin leaned forward, his scarred hands splayed on the mat like maps of past wounds, his tone steady amid the storm. "Lambs? No, we've seen his Yaoquizque Tlapixque, spirals like death's embrace, grenades shredding like Tlaloc's wrath, arquebuses in lines that never break. Rifling spins their shots true, grapeshot turns men to mist. The Mexica counter everything the Castilians brought and forge their own iron now, steel that bites deeper. We scrape by with scraps; they build arsenals. This leap of faith isn't weakness it's vision. Hand over the 20 if Ehecatl keeps his word on training, formations, upgrades. Equals, not tributaries."
The younger lords murmured agreement, their faces flushed with the fire of ambition, one adding, "The alliance promises conquests beyond the valley. Six lands ripe for Nahua blood. Why cling to the Caxtilteca when the avatar of Quetzalcoatl offers better thunder we can wield as our own?"
The elders grumbled, their wrinkled faces twisting in reluctance, but the logic sank in like rain on parched earth.
"So be it." the huehue conceded, his voice bitter as unsweetened pulque.
"The Castilians go, if the Mexica deliver. But if betrayal comes…" The council dissolved into plans, the decision a fragile bridge over the abyss of enmity, their faces a mosaic of hope and lingering distrust as night fell over Tizatlan.
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Then it happened. Throughout the night, the Tlaxcalans launched their raid under a moonless sky, shadows cloaking their movements as small groups of warriors, faces painted black with charcoal to blend into the darkness, crept toward the Castilian camp on the outskirts of Tizatlan. The 20 remaining Castilians under Olid slept fitfully in their makeshift tents, the air heavy with the scent of pulque and unwashed bodies, their arquebuses stacked nearby like silent sentinels. The Tlaxcalans struck swiftly and silently, bursting in with macuahuitls drawn but not swung, restraining the groggy men with ropes woven from maguey fibers, gags stuffed into mouths to muffle shouts.
Olid himself thrashed like a caged jaguar, his beard matted with sweat as he cursed in Castilian, but a swift blow to the gut silenced him. His eyes wide with betrayal as the Tlaxcalans hauled him and his men into waiting carts, chains clinking softly in the still air.
While at the same time, in a noble compound within the city, the family who held Xochiquetzal's mother and sisters was awakened by armed envoys entering their quarters. Their torches casting flickering light that danced like vengeful spirits across the adobe walls. The household stirred in confusion, the noble lord stumbling out in his loincloth, his face paling as the envoys announced the latest news on what the council decided.
The mother and elder daughter, their bodies marked by faded bruises and chains at their ankles, were roused from their drudgery in the maize-grinding hut, their eyes hollow from months of repeated rapes and enslavement. They were made to bathe in scented water drawn from the sacred springs, the steam rising like ghosts as rough hands scrubbed their skin clean, dressing them in nice huipils of striped colored cotton that clung to their curves. The fabrics were colorful and vibrant, a mocking contrast to their hollow and broken spirits. The women moved in numb silence, tears streaking their faces, while the envoys watched with detached efficiency.
An armed envoy of Tlaxcalans was set to escort the Castilians and the women to Cholula, the warriors mounting horses with spears at the ready, the carts rumbling into the night under guard, the prisoners bound and gagged, the women huddled together in quiet sobs, the journey a dark procession toward an uncertain dawn.
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In the morning, Ehecatl rose to the sounds of Cholula's awakening, the distant chants from the pyramid blending with the courtyard's bird calls and the soft footsteps of priestesses preparing the day's rites. Cuauhmecatl joined him in the tecpan's hall, his bone mask casting shadows as they discussed the alliance's next steps. Maxixcatzin arrived soon after, his scarred face set in determination, and after a brief exchange, they agreed on a plan to bring their nobles in Cholula in a month to officially seal "This Thing Of Ours." the bond of Nahua unity against the world.
Maxixcatzin clasped forearms with Ehecatl in a warrior's grip, his voice gravelly with resolve. "A month, then. The council will rally."
He took off with his envoys, the dust of their horses fading into the hills, leaving the tecpan in anticipatory quiet.
Ehecatl turned to his Yaoquizque Tlapixque, issuing quiet orders. "Escort Xochiquetzal's mother and sisters to my quarters; treat them with care, no chains."
The guardians moved swiftly, bringing the womenl into his lavish quarters. where he had priestesses attended to them with gentle hands, offering baths and fresh huipils.
Ehecatl watched from afar, his chest tightening with a mix of sorrow and resolve, the tragedy a stark reminder of war's cost, but he pushed it aside for the task at hand.
He then assessed the 20 Castilians, the men Olid had led, now bound and disheveled in a guarded courtyard, their beards matted, armor stripped to loincloths, bodies bruised from the night's raid. Ehecatl kept count of who was who, with Olid at the front, his defiant glare unbroken; Bernal Díaz del Castillo, the chronicler, clutching a tattered journal like a lifeline; the others, remnants like Gonzalo de Sandoval's former aides, their eyes darting with fear. Smug satisfaction curled in Ehecatl's gut as he locked eyes with Cristobal de Olid, the man who'd given Catalina to him on Victory Day to appease his wrath, the "gift" now swelling with his child back home.
Ehecatl approached Olid, his voice low and mocking, laced with that charismatic edge that made mockery sting like obsidian. "Olid, still alive, I see. I appreciate the gift. Catalina's been quite exquisite, a devoted prize in my household. I swear you Castilians can be quite passionate in fucking. I'll try to remember your gift to me when I accommodate your eventual jail cell; perhaps a view of the lake, to watch." Olid spat at his feet, his face twisting in rage, but Ehecatl laughed loudly, turning away as the guards dragged them to holding cells.
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Ehecatl left to his queaters. Xochiquetzal's family and their fate a loose thread he needed to tie off.
Entering the lavish chamber, the air thick with lingering incense and the faint scent of herbal oils from the night's before's indulgences. He found Xochiquetzal's mother and sisters laid out on the floor like offerings on an altar. They were naked, their bodies arranged on reed mats with a mechanical precision, eyes hollow and distant as if awaiting command, their spirits dimmed from their time of torment. The mother's form, once full and strong, now bore the marks of whips and bruises faded to ugly scars, her breasts sagging slightly from age and abuse, hips wide from bearing children. The elder sister, in her late teens, had a similar build with curves that spoke of youth twisted by violation, her skin marred by chain burns on her ankles, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. They didn't move, didn't cover themselves, as if conditioned to submission, their breathing shallow and resigned.
The sight ignited an animalistic heat in Ehecatl, his blood surging as he took in their naked vulnerability. The mother's full breasts heaving slightly with each breath, the sister's smooth thighs parted just enough to tease, their bodies waiting like personal fuck toys for his use. Temptation clawed at him, as he could take them right then and there, pin the mother down and thrust into her with rough dominance. The thrill and rush of her moans either being forced or silent as he claimed her ass in doggy style; put the sister in mating press for pounding in front of her mother. Her cries echoing as he slapped and groped, using them to vent the day's frustrations in a frenzy of degradation and release. Perhaps he could even nut in them, and not even worry about it. Afterall they've already been passed around, might as well get a quick nut, perhaps even nut in xochiquetzal too, oh the thought of impregnating the mother and her daughters sent thrill to him. The pulque from earlier stirred the urge, his length hardening at the thought of their submission, a dark indulgence to add to Cholula's luxuries.
But then as he thought of Xochiquetzal, her hopeful eyes back home, her dream of healing that he'd promised to nurture, and then the heat cooled somewhat. He presumed the Tlaxcalans hadn't given them the full story, if any, likely telling them they were sold to new lords, mere chattel in the alliance's game. That would explain why they're naked and on the floor… Best not to indulge yet; he'd keep the view for now, savor the sight of their naked forms. The mother's scarred yet inviting curves, the sister's youthful smoothness, but hold back. It was best to play the long game, build trust or at least compliance.
He didn't tell them to wear clothes, wanting to maintain the visual temptation as he approached, his voice steady and charismatic to mask the lingering desire.
"I'm Ehecatl, Cihuacoatl of the Mexica." he began, kneeling to their level, eyes flicking over their bodies before meeting their hollow gazes.
"Your daughter, Xochiquetzal, came to work for me after the raid. She was sold to a pochteca whom I know and was then given to me as a gift. She's safe, valued in my household, pursuing her dream of becoming a healer with access to our archives. She's fond of her role, and I've grown fond of her spirit."
The mother stirred slightly, her eyes focusing with a flicker of hope amid the emptiness, while the sister remained still, her breathing quickening. Ehecatl continued, his tone empathetic yet firm.
"I learned of your fate from Maxixcatzin while forging this alliance with the Tlaxcalans. The raids took much from you, but now, with peace on the horizon, I can arrange for you to head back home if you wish. To Acatzinco, to your husband and father, or wherever you choose. The decision is yours; no chains here."
The women exchanged glances, the mother's tears welling as she whispered, "Truly… free?" Ehecatl nodded, his gaze lingering on their naked forms one last time before standing, the temptation fading into resolve as he signaled for clothes and food to be brought.
They were then dressed in simple but clean huipils by the priestesses, but curiosity and a pervy impulse drew him to watch discreetly as they changed into finer attire provided from Cholula's stores. He stared from the shadows, his eyes tracing the mother's full, scarred curves as she slipped into the fabric, her breasts swaying slightly with the motion, and the elder sister's youthful form, her hips flaring as she adjusted the skirt, the sight stirring a heat in him that he pushed aside for the moment. The women moved with numb obedience, their hollow eyes betraying no awareness of his gaze, but he indulged the view, his mind flickering to darker fantasies again before duty called him back.
He joined them for a simple breakfast of tlaxcalli and pulque, the air thick with the scent of spices from the previous night's feast. The mother and sister sat quietly, their faces etched with the weight of their traumas, but they ate slowly, giving him their decision in soft, broken voices. They wished to return home to Acatzinco, to their husband and father, if possible.
Ehecatl nodded, his tone empathetic yet firm. "It will be arranged," he said, arranging escorts from his Yaoquizque Tlapixque to ensure their safe passage.
They then asked what he intended to do with Xochiquetzal, their voices trembling with a mix of hope and fear for their kin. Ehecatl leaned back, his eyes softening as he explained. "I've got women back home who are pregnant with my children, so until they give birth, I'd like Xochiquetzal to keep working for me. She's capable, and her healing dreams align with our needs. Afterward, the choice is hers if she moves back home or continue with me. I'll respect whatever she decides."
The mother wept quietly, gratitude breaking through her hollow gaze, while the sister nodded, a flicker of life returning to her eyes. Ehecatl arranged for their departure that day, watching as they were led away, the weight of their suffering a reminder of the alliance's fragile stakes. With the matter closed, he turned to the day's indulgences,using Tecuelhuetzin as an outlet for said indulgences.
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A month has passed and the nobility for both the Mexica and Tlaxcala arrived in Cholula. They all were escorted Into a private dim room of the Cholula tecpan, torchlight flickered across walls adorned with murals of Quetzalcoatl casting long shadows over the assembled nobility from Mexica and Tlaxcala. The air hung heavy with copal incense and the metallic tang of anticipation, statues of Camaxtli, Huitzilopochtli, and Quetzalcoatl standing sentinel in the corners like silent judges. Ehecatl stood at the center, his noble tilmatli flowing in cochineal red, embroidered with quetzal feathers that caught the light like flames, his presence commanding the space with that resonant charisma that made men feel part of something eternal. The lords sat in a circle on reed mats, their faces a mosaic of scarred resolve and wary hope, the weight of decades of enmity pressing on them like the pyramid's ancient stones.
Ehecatl's voice filled the room, warm and unyielding, drawing them in like a storyteller unveiling destiny.
"All of the men in this room will be bound by blood. This will be a family, this will be… This Thing Of Ours. And in this family we will follow a code of honor. This will be a way of life, a brotherhood. We're all here because of our deeds, and our prowess. This life will be one of secrecy. If you make a friend, meet a woman, or even have kids they must not know about our thing. This will be binding, and it is not forgiving. To betray one of us here is to betray all of us here. Mexica and Tlaxcala pipiltin, do you wish to commit yourself, your life to this family?"
The nobles exchanged glances, the air thick with the gravity of the oath, before they responded as one, their voices a chorus of solemn affirmation.
"Yes." some said firmly, others adding "Yes I do." their commitment echoing off the walls like a vow to the gods.
Ehecatl nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval as he gestured to the bloodletting thorns prepared on a low altar. "Then, before the eyes of all here present, join me."
They rose in unison, each man taking a thorn and piercing their ears, tongue, chest above the heart, thighs, and genitals, the sharp pricks drawing blood that dripped onto bark paper laid before the statues. The crimson drops mingled like rivers converging, symbolizing their shared life force.
Once complete, they burned the paper in a brazier, the flames leaping high in respect to Camaxtli for the Tlaxcalans' hunting prowess, Huitzilopochtli for the Mexica's warrior spirit, and Quetzalcoatl for the Cholulans' wisdom in hosting this union.
Ehecatl watched the flames consume the paper, then turned to them, his voice rising once more in passionate fire. "To become a man of honor, repeat these words. 'I swear my loyalty to my family. My flesh will burn like this piece of paper with blood on it if I do not keep my oath.'"
The nobility repeated the oath in unison, their voices solemn and binding, the words sealing their fates like glyphs carved in stone, the brazier's heat a tangible promise of the consequences for betrayal.
Ehecatl smiled warmly, his charismatic presence enveloping them like a shared mantle, drawing them into the brotherhood's fold.
"Welcome to everyone here. Today we celebrate This Thing Of Ours. Come tomorrow we plan on carving out this world and the others to our liking." The room filled with murmurs of agreement and relief, pulque passed around as the new family began to bond, the Sixth Sun's dawn feeling closer in the tecpan's sacred glow.
The after-party erupted in the tecpan's grand hall like a tempest of unleashed desires, the air thick with the heady aroma of roasted quail mingling with the sweet tang of spilled pulque and the musky scent of sweat-slicked bodies. Tables groaned under platters of tamales bursting with spicy quail and chiles, avocados mashed into creamy guacamole that dripped from fingers like liquid sin, chocolate-frothed drinks foaming over gourd rims as men toasted with roars that shook the reed roofs. Beautiful women from Cholulan priestesses, to macehualtin and ahuiani in striped huipils that clung to their curves like wet leaves swirled through the crowd, their laughter husky and inviting, bodies pressed close in dances that devolved into open indulgence.
Tlaxcalan and Mexica nobility, once blood enemies now bound as brothers, fucked the women without restraint. A Mexica lord pinning a priestess against a mural-covered wall, her legs wrapped around him as he thrust deep and commanding, her moans echoing "Take me, warrior" while his Tlaxcalan counterpart slapped her ass in rhythm, the smack of skin blending with the flutes' melody. Groups formed in corners, women on their knees sucking with devoted fervor, heads bobbing as nobles groaned, "Suck harder, priestess." their hands tangled in pigtails, faces buried in breasts heaving with each pull. Others bent over tables in doggy style, asses presented high as men claimed them from behind, slaps and grunts filling the air, "You're our prize now." the women whimpering in ecstasy, "Dominate us… fill us with your seed." The hall pulsed with the sights, curves arching, breasts bouncing, fluids glistening in the torchlight as the men indulged, their brotherhood sealed in shared conquest of flesh.
Amid the debauchery, other nobles talked amongst themselves over cups of pulque, their voices slurred with drink but alight with ambition. "The loot from those distant lands of gold rivers, cacao mountains!" a Mexica pipiltin laughed, groping a woman's breast as she rode his lap. "And the women are said to be exotic, begging to be taken, fucked, claimed as ours." a Tlaxcalan added, thrusting into another from behind, their grunts punctuating dreams of empires carved in blood and pleasure. It was a sight no one would expect to see, former blood enemies now blood brothers, laughing and toasting as bodies entwined in a frenzy of unity, the Sixth Sun's dawn celebrated in raw, carnal glory.
Cuauhtemoc pulled Ehecatl aside to a quieter alcove, the Huey Tlatoani's turquoise tilmatli shimmering in the low light, his face a mix of pride and concern. He praised and congratulated him for averting a potential two-front war and gaining an ally, his voice low and earnest.
"You've turned enemies into kin, Cihuacoatl, a feat the gods would envy." But he also warned that this alliance may or may not go well with their people back home, after all This Thing Of Ours ensures that the Tlaxcalans are their equal.
Ehecatl got smug, his smile widening as he leaned in, his voice laced with that charismatic certainty that made schemes sound like destiny. "Yes on the surface that's what it seems, and to an extent it will be. However all I really did was gain a tributary state without explicitly calling the Tlaxcalans as such. The Tlaxcalans will still supply us with manpower and resources, likewise the Mexica would offer them access to our markets, share the glory, and feel important without them realizing they're tributaries," he said to Cuauhtemoc to look around. The Tlaxcalans are content, and on our side, and now the Mexica can fully recover and then focus on the Michihuaque (Tarascans) without worrying behind our backs, this is a win.