(Necessary fandom background: Acatl has taken a vow of celibacy; Mihmatini is his sister.)
To give his superior some credit, Ichtaca supposed he had to admit the man was trying to be discreet. If Acatl-tzin was any other man—say, one who regularly had some sort of social life or maybe a hobby or two—it might even have worked. But Ichtaca saw him every day, and by now he’d picked up on his usual moods. Acatl-tzin was fatalistic, cautious, and diligent to a fault. He’d seen him smile perhaps once, ever.
Which meant that when Teomitl-tzin came by and Acatl-tzin lit up like a torch...well. It was enough to make Ichtaca think, and he wasn’t sure he liked the conclusions he was coming to. Teomitl was the Master of the House of Darts, destined for a life of war and politics. His brother had tried to kill Acatl-tzin. He himself had behaved so abominably during the plague that most of Acatl-tzin’s priests still wouldn’t even look directly at him, and not out of respect. It was true that he was Mihmatini’s husband, but when had marriage vows ever stopped a bored nobleman who saw something he couldn’t have? Ichtaca had seen firsthand how persuasive he could be, how easily Acatl-tzin yielded to him. Even plans for regicide had only been deferred, not stopped, and if Acatl-tzin could be persuaded to break those vows despite how hard he’d clung to them in the face of Tizoc-tzin’s instability...
(Not to mention what the Master of the House of Darts, chosen of Chalchiuhtlicue, could do to a man who turned him down. Ichtaca didn’t even want to think about that.)
It probably wasn’t his place to say anything. They were comrades, not close friends. But he couldn’t simply shut his eyes to unnecessary touches or Acatl-tzin’s smiles or the way Teomitl’s eyes gleamed like a hunting caiman’s when Acatl-tzin walked by. Finally, it was too much. I’ll ask how Teomitl is, he decided, and go from there based on Acatl-tzin’s reaction.
As he approached, it took him a moment to realize Acatl-tzin’s courtyard was occupied. Teomitl was speaking, voice clipped and distant, and he slowed down to listen.
“—rgive me, Acatl-tzin. I overstepped. I don’t mean to press my affections where—where they’re not wanted—mmph.”
Ichtaca knew what he would see and that he didn’t especially want to, but he cautiously peered around the entryway anyway. There was Acatl-tzin with his arms around Teomitl, kissing him with surprising ardor; Teomitl was stiff with shock, but then melted into it with a happy sigh.
Grimacing, he turned away. My lord, I hope you know what you’re doing.
Obsidian & Blood, Ichtaca, Acatl/Teomitl
(Necessary fandom background: Acatl has taken a vow of celibacy; Mihmatini is his sister.)
To give his superior some credit, Ichtaca supposed he had to admit the man was trying to be discreet. If Acatl-tzin was any other man—say, one who regularly had some sort of social life or maybe a hobby or two—it might even have worked. But Ichtaca saw him every day, and by now he’d picked up on his usual moods. Acatl-tzin was fatalistic, cautious, and diligent to a fault. He’d seen him smile perhaps once, ever.
Which meant that when Teomitl-tzin came by and Acatl-tzin lit up like a torch...well. It was enough to make Ichtaca think, and he wasn’t sure he liked the conclusions he was coming to. Teomitl was the Master of the House of Darts, destined for a life of war and politics. His brother had tried to kill Acatl-tzin. He himself had behaved so abominably during the plague that most of Acatl-tzin’s priests still wouldn’t even look directly at him, and not out of respect. It was true that he was Mihmatini’s husband, but when had marriage vows ever stopped a bored nobleman who saw something he couldn’t have? Ichtaca had seen firsthand how persuasive he could be, how easily Acatl-tzin yielded to him. Even plans for regicide had only been deferred, not stopped, and if Acatl-tzin could be persuaded to break those vows despite how hard he’d clung to them in the face of Tizoc-tzin’s instability...
(Not to mention what the Master of the House of Darts, chosen of Chalchiuhtlicue, could do to a man who turned him down. Ichtaca didn’t even want to think about that.)
It probably wasn’t his place to say anything. They were comrades, not close friends. But he couldn’t simply shut his eyes to unnecessary touches or Acatl-tzin’s smiles or the way Teomitl’s eyes gleamed like a hunting caiman’s when Acatl-tzin walked by. Finally, it was too much. I’ll ask how Teomitl is, he decided, and go from there based on Acatl-tzin’s reaction.
As he approached, it took him a moment to realize Acatl-tzin’s courtyard was occupied. Teomitl was speaking, voice clipped and distant, and he slowed down to listen.
“—rgive me, Acatl-tzin. I overstepped. I don’t mean to press my affections where—where they’re not wanted—mmph.”
Ichtaca knew what he would see and that he didn’t especially want to, but he cautiously peered around the entryway anyway. There was Acatl-tzin with his arms around Teomitl, kissing him with surprising ardor; Teomitl was stiff with shock, but then melted into it with a happy sigh.
Grimacing, he turned away. My lord, I hope you know what you’re doing.