Teomitl has many siblings who share his blood, but none of them have ever really felt like his brothers or sisters. He was the youngest, the spare, the hanger-on. The one whose birth killed his mother. It’s not particularly conducive to a good family relationship in the viper’s den that is the Imperial Palace.
But then he meets Acatl and his family. Mihmatini, who has the courage of eagles. Mazatl, endlessly curious. Necalli, grave and careful. Ohtli and Atoyatl, who are astonishingly clever for their age. Ollin is too young to have much of a personality yet but he smiles at Teomitl anyway, which is adorable. And Neutemoc, the childrens’ father, who is...well. Teomitl’s never met a man who wants to sit in silence with him while they go over their armor or discuss entirely hypothetical battle strategies over dinner. Acatl is wonderful in other ways, but the affairs of warriors visibly make his teacher’s eyes glaze over and he doesn’t want to put him through that.
Neutemoc, on the other hand, listens. He has ideas. He’s teaching Teomitl how to put together a macuahuitl from scratch. He is, in short, a far better brother to him than his own ever were, for all that his relationship with Acatl is strained. (And for all that Teomitl privately thinks Acatl was in the right; if the rest of his family couldn’t see how amazing Acatl was, that was their own fault.) He’s never once made Teomitl feel unwelcome in his home or in his family’s lives.
“Teomitl!” screams Mazatl when she sees him, sprinting across the courtyard so he can pick her up and swing her around. Both of them laugh; in the background, Neutemoc and Acatl crack fond smiles.
“It’s good to see you,” Neutemoc says, and Teomitl’s heart is light for what still feels, even now, like the first time.
He does want to marry Mihmatini, regardless of how much the court fights him on it. But even if he didn’t—even if he wasn’t willing to go to war for that—there’s nothing that would make him give this up.
Obsidian & Blood, Teomitl & Neutemoc
Teomitl has many siblings who share his blood, but none of them have ever really felt like his brothers or sisters. He was the youngest, the spare, the hanger-on. The one whose birth killed his mother. It’s not particularly conducive to a good family relationship in the viper’s den that is the Imperial Palace.
But then he meets Acatl and his family. Mihmatini, who has the courage of eagles. Mazatl, endlessly curious. Necalli, grave and careful. Ohtli and Atoyatl, who are astonishingly clever for their age. Ollin is too young to have much of a personality yet but he smiles at Teomitl anyway, which is adorable. And Neutemoc, the childrens’ father, who is...well. Teomitl’s never met a man who wants to sit in silence with him while they go over their armor or discuss entirely hypothetical battle strategies over dinner. Acatl is wonderful in other ways, but the affairs of warriors visibly make his teacher’s eyes glaze over and he doesn’t want to put him through that.
Neutemoc, on the other hand, listens. He has ideas. He’s teaching Teomitl how to put together a macuahuitl from scratch. He is, in short, a far better brother to him than his own ever were, for all that his relationship with Acatl is strained. (And for all that Teomitl privately thinks Acatl was in the right; if the rest of his family couldn’t see how amazing Acatl was, that was their own fault.) He’s never once made Teomitl feel unwelcome in his home or in his family’s lives.
“Teomitl!” screams Mazatl when she sees him, sprinting across the courtyard so he can pick her up and swing her around. Both of them laugh; in the background, Neutemoc and Acatl crack fond smiles.
“It’s good to see you,” Neutemoc says, and Teomitl’s heart is light for what still feels, even now, like the first time.
He does want to marry Mihmatini, regardless of how much the court fights him on it. But even if he didn’t—even if he wasn’t willing to go to war for that—there’s nothing that would make him give this up.