The morning after the alliance's sealing dawned over Cholula with a golden haze filtering through the tecpan's reed curtains, the air still heavy with the lingering scents of last night's debauchery. Spilled pulque mingling with sweat and incense, faint moans echoing in memory from the grand hall where Mexica and Tlaxcalan nobility had reveled as brothers. The after-party's chaos had spilled into the dawn with empty gourd vessels scattered like fallen warriors, reed mats stained with the evidence of indulgence, and the occasional groan from a hungover lord stirring in the corridors. Later that day the groups parted ways, the Tlaxcalan delegation mounted their horses in the courtyard, their red-and-white tilmatli flowing like banners of newfound unity, warriors exchanging firm clasps with the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, their spiraled uniforms a stark contrast to the Tlaxcalans' feathered attire. Maxixcatzin bowed to Ehecatl with a scarred grin, "A month, Cihuacoatl. The Sixth Sun rises together."
before riding out with his men, the dust of their departure swirling like a promise sealed in blood.
The Mexica nobility lingered a bit longer, murmuring plans for the return to Tenochtitlan, their noble attire shimmering as they clasped arms with Cholula's priests, Cuauhmecatl chanting blessings for safe journeys. Cuauhtemoc pulled Ehecatl aside one last time, his voice low amid the dispersing crowd. "You've forged kin from foes, but watch the omens. The serpent coils, but does not sleep." Ehecatl nodded, his charismatic smile hiding the weight of the Michhuaque threat, as the Mexica group departed in a procession of horses along with their prisoners of the remaining 20 Castilians, the pyramid's shadow waving them farewell.
With the formalities ended, Ehecatl turned to a more personal farewell, heading to the secluded alcove where Tlazolteotl, the Cholulan noblewoman who'd been his companion during most of his duration here had awaited. The priestesses had prepared her with care, her rainbow-striped huipil clinging to her curves like a second skin, high pigtails tied with ribbons that swayed as she rose to greet him, her dark eyes gleaming with a mix of devotion and sultry knowing.
"Tlazolteotl." he said, his voice warm and resonant, drawing her close with a possessive hand on her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hip. "You've pleased me beyond measure, kept the nights alive with your fire. Thank you for your company, it's been a gift from the gods."
She pressed against him, her full breasts brushing his chest, lips curving in a seductive smile as she whispered, "Ehecatlzin, serving you was my honor… and pleasure. If the winds call you back, I'll await." He pulled her into a deep kiss, tongues tangling in farewell passion, his hand slipping to squeeze her ass one last time, the firm flesh yielding under his grip as she moaned softly into his mouth. With a final nod, he released her, the alcove's warmth fading as he stepped out, the pyramid's bridge to the cosmos a silent promise of returns.
The journey home beckoned, the alliance sealed, and the only immediate threat left is the Michhuaque to the west. Another headache, but less so now.
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The journey from Cholula to Tenochtitlan began under a clear morning sky, the air crisp with the scent of blooming maguey fields as the group set out on horseback. Ehecatl rode at the head, his noble tilmatli flowing in cochineal red embroidered with quetzal feathers, Tecuelhuetzin at his side in her striped huipil that caught the light like a rainbow promise, her dark hair swaying with the rhythm of her mount. The Mexica nobility followed in a loose formation, their feathered cloaks shimmering as they chatted in low voices about the alliance's prospects, while the Yaoquizque Tlapixque brought up the rear, and sides watching over the 20 Castilian prisoners, with swords and grenades at the ready, a whirlwind of disciplined menace.
The first day passed through rolling valleys dotted with pilgrims and traders, the road winding past canals reflecting the sun's glare, the group hoping for smooth passage amid whispers of Tochtli's distant terrors. Ehecatl exchanged glances with Tecuelhuetzin, his eyes lingering on her curves as the motion of the horse accentuated her form, building a subtle tension that made the ride feel charged. They camped by a spring that night, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque setting watch with quiet efficiency.
The second day brought them into denser terrain, maize fields giving way to forested hills where the air grew heavy with pine and earth, the nobility sharing stories of past feuds now tempered by the oath's bond. Tecuelhuetzin rode closer to Ehecatl, her questions about the Mexica's "thunder-weapons" drawing him in, his charismatic responses warming her resolve while the warriors scanned the horizons for threats, spears glinting in the dappled light.
By the third day, the lake's shimmer appeared on the horizon, the group pressing on through open plains where wind whipped their cloaks, the Yaoquizque Tlapixque's formation unbroken, a testament to their training. Conversations turned to future conquests, the nobility's hopes rising with the approaching spires of Tenochtitlan.
On the fourth day, they arrived at the city's gates, the eagle-serpent flags waving in welcome, the journey's end marking a new chapter for the alliance, the group's unity forged in the road's trials.
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Once they all dismounted in the bustling outskirts of Tenochtitlan, the group handed their horses and the prisoners to the Yaoquizque Tlapixque, who took the reins and Castilians with disciplined efficiency, as they led the beasts to the stables and the Castilians to their cell to join their former Capitán-General. The Mexica nobility exchanged farewells with Ehecatl, clasping forearms in the warrior's way before heading to their own compounds, their quetzal cloaks fluttering as they dispersed into the city's hum of recovery. Cuauhtemoc lingered a moment longer, his voice low with approval.
"You've forged a path, Cihuacoatl. See it through." With a nod, he departed, leaving Ehecatl and Tecuelhuetzin to walk through the streets back to his home.
Tecuelhuetzin moved beside him with graceful steps, her striped huipil swaying gently, the fabric clinging to her curves in the warm breeze as they wove through the crowds. The city unfolded around them in a tapestry of rebirth with markets overflowing with maize bins from Chalco and salt loaves from Mixquic, masons hammering fresh lime into temple walls, children reciting pledges with hands on hearts, their voices a chorus of renewed spirit.
She gazed around in amazement, her dark eyes wide as she took in the fast recovery. "This… it's incredible." she murmured, her voice laced with genuine awe. "I was here when it was ruins, with… him. Pedro. The streets ran with blood, homes gutted like carcasses. How did you rebuild so quickly?"
Ehecatl glanced at her, his charismatic smile drawing her in as they passed a group of vendors hawking feathers from Huexotla. "The Mexica are resilient, Tecuelhuetzin. We drew strength from our roots, and from symbols like that." He nodded toward a flag waving proudly from a nearby rooftop. The green, white, and red field bearing the golden-brown eagle devouring the serpent on its cactus perch, the colors vibrant against the blue sky.
She tilted her head, her earrings glinting as she studied it. "The flag… what does it mean? It's everywhere, like a heartbeat."
"It's a symbol of the city's founding," he explained, his voice warm and engaging, slowing their pace so she could absorb the sight. "The eagle on the cactus, devouring the serpent. A sign from Huitzilopochtli for the Mexica to build here. I introduced it to give the Mexica confidence after the war, a reminder that from destruction comes renewal. It's not just cloth; it's our unbreakable will."
Tecuelhuetzin nodded thoughtfully, her expression softening as they continued, the city's canals reflecting the flags like mirrors of unity. After a pause, she asked, "And the women in your household? Tell me about them."
Ehecatl chuckled lightly, guiding her around a group of traders. "There's Xochiquetzal, the Cholulan healer I took in as a maid. You already know of her from the raid talks; she's got a knack with herbs, dreams of mending the wounded. Then Catalina, the Castilian girl Olid gave me during the retreat. She's devoted, gentle, carrying my child now. She's adapted well, a bridge of sorts. Then there's Malinalli who's also carrying my child."
Tecuelhuetzin's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Malinalli? The translator? I know of her from the conquest days. She was with Cortes. How is she in your home, and bearing your child?"
Ehecatl met her gaze steadily, his tone matter-of-fact but laced with a hint of guilt and embarrassment. "Malinalli was…. Supposed to have been charged with the war crimes as well, but… she seduced me and well ya know, the rest was history."
Tecuelhuetzin absorbed his words in silence, her mind churning as they neared his home.
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Tecuelhuetzin's POV
As we walk through these bustling streets of Tenochtitlan, the city's pulse thrums around me like a living heart, its recovery a defiant roar against the ruins I once saw. I was here when it fell, with Alvarado, witnessing the Castilians and my own people, along with those from other altepetls, tear this place apart like jaguars on a fresh kill. The air reeked of smoke and blood then, temples gutted, homes looted, women dragged screaming into the shadows while men lay broken in the canals. We fucked this city up, shattered its spirit, left it a corpse under the sun. Yet now, look at it. There's markets overflowing with maize and salt, masons hammering lime into walls that rise fresh and proud, children reciting strange pledges with hands on hearts, their voices a chorus of renewal that echoes off the pyramids. The Mexica have clawed back from the abyss with a speed that unnerves me, their resilience like the eagle rising from ashes, a testament to some inner fire I can't deny. It stirs a reluctant respect in me, this rapid healing, as if the gods themselves favor them in this Sixth Sun, while we in Tlaxcala barely had any advantages after the war.
My thoughts shift to the women in his household, these women he claims with such casual possession. Catalina, the Castilian girl… I wouldn't know her if she stood before me, all those Castilian men blend into one blur of beards and cruelty in my memory, their faces as interchangeable as their swords, their women seem no different as well from one another. What hold does she have on him, this foreigner swelling with his child? Then Xochiquetzal, the Cholulan healer he's so adamant about protecting, going to lengths for her family's sake that puzzle me. What's so special about her, this maid turned confidante, that he'd demand their return from our raids, buy their freedom without vengeance? Her dream of mending wounds intrigues me, a softness in this world of blades, and I find myself curious to meet her, to see if her spirit mirrors the resilience I've forged from my own scars. Malinalli, though… that's a different tale. The translator, the one who bridged the Castilians' words during the conquest. I know her from whispers in the camps, how she navigated their beds and schemes. Seduced Ehecatl to escape the noose, now carrying his child? I might've scoffed once, called it weakness, but now I respect the method, the cunning to turn a man's lust into her shield, weaving survival from threads of desire. Perhaps we'll share that fire, sisters in this web of power.
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Ehecatl and Tecuelhuetzin arrived at his home as the sun dipped low, casting a golden hue over the courtyard's blooming chinampas and the reed awnings now draped with Chimalli's silks. The air carried the familiar scent of herbs from Xochiquetzal's mixtures on the comal, mingled with the earthy warmth of the day's lingering heat. Malinalli spotted them first, her swelling belly prominent under her huipil as she stirred a pot, her smirk curling at the sight of the newcomer. Catalina paused in folding mantas, her gentle smile widening with curiosity, while Xochiquetzal set down her broom, her eyes widening in quiet surprise.
Ehecatl greeted them with his charismatic warmth, pulling Malinalli close first for a deep kiss, his hand sliding to her ass for a firm squeeze that made her yelp and laugh.
"My venom, the fire still burns bright," he murmured against her lips before releasing her. He turned to Catalina, drawing her in for a tender embrace, his forehead resting against hers as he kissed her softly, his hand lingering on her belly. "My light, you've glowed in my absence."
Then to Xochiquetzal, he gave a playful wink, his eyes lingering on her curves as she flushed, resisting the urge to slap her ass. "Sweet cheeks, glad to see the house shining under your care."
Tecuelhuetzin stood beside him, her expression a mix of pride and guarded curiosity as she took in the women. Ehecatl gestured to her with a possessive arm around her waist.
"This is Tecuelhuetzin, daughter of Xicotencatl the Elder. She's to be my wife, sealing our bridge with Tlaxcala. Malinalli, you know her from the old days, but Catalina, Xochiquetzal. Meet the woman who binds our peoples."
The explanation hung in the air, but Ehecatl continued, his voice steady and resonant as he pulled Tecuelhuetzin closer, his hand firm on her hip.
"The Mexica and Tlaxcalans have come to an agreement. We're to be allies, equals against the outsiders who threaten our Nahua blood. Tecuelhuetzin is that bridge, a union to heal the wounds and forge a new path under the Sixth Sun."
The women of the household stared in bafflement, the news landing like a thunderclap from a clear sky. Malinalli's smirk faded into a raised eyebrow, her hand on her belly as she shook her head in disbelief. "Allies with Tlaxcala? It's more believable to say the grass is blue than having an alliance with the Tlaxcalans. How did you make that come to be boy?"
Catalina's gentle face paled, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise, whispering in Spanish, "But… they were enemies, how?"
Xochiquetzal's eyes widened, her broom forgotten as she glanced between them, her voice soft but stunned. "Tlaxcala and Mexica together? After all the fighting, the blood… it's like the sun rising in the west." Their reactions swirled in a mix of shock and curiosity, the impossible alliance a testament to Ehecatl's vision, the household's dynamics shifting with this new "bridge" in their midst.
"I was able to convince the Tlaxcalans that it's in their best interest to side with the Mexica," Ehecatl began, his voice resonant and charismatic, drawing them in like a storyteller unveiling a hard-won victory. "Each side has shed enough blood from the other over the years, the flower wars, the siege, the raids. But because of the Castilians, we now know the world is vast and diverse, lands beyond Cemenahuac filled with people who speak different tongues, worship alien gods, live in ways we can't yet fathom. They came to agree that it's best to align ourselves together due to our shared culture, religion, and language over others who aren't Nahua. We're stronger as one fist against the outsiders."
The women exchanged glances, Malinalli's her raised eyebrow faded into thoughtful surprise, Catalina's hand resting on her belly as she nodded slowly, Xochiquetzal's eyes widening in quiet awe at the shift from enmity to alliance.
"We even secured the handover of Cristobal de Olid and the remaining 20 Castilians." Ehecatl continued, his tone smug with satisfaction, "A step toward purging the chaos and trouble they've created from our lands once and for all."
He then turned to Xochiquetzal, his expression softening as he took her hand gently, the warmth of his touch steady amid the news he carried.
"Xochiquetzal, about your family… your father is still alive, tending the sacred springs in Acatzinco, scarred but unbroken. Your mother and older sister survived as well, though they've endured much. Your youngest sister… didn't make it, lost in the raid's cruelty." Her eyes filled with tears, a mix of grief and relief washing over her face as she clutched his hand tighter, the weight of the loss hitting like a sudden storm, but the survival of the others a fragile light.
"I had arranged for your mother and sister to be transported back to Acatzinco." he added softly, his thumb brushing her knuckles in reassurance, "to reunite with your father, free and safe under our protection."
Xochiquetzal nodded through her sobs, whispering a choked "Thank you, my lord," as Malinalli and Catalina moved closer, offering comforting embraces, the household's bond strengthening amid the alliance's broader echoes.