"Courageous, untroubled,
mocking and violent-that is what Wisdom wants us to be.
Wisdom is a woman, and loves only a warrior.”
-F R I E D R I C H N I E T Z S C H E.
Popocatépetl gawked at her with eyes that he hoped were mocking, but knew to be awed.
Marvelled.
Surprised.
Admiring.
The princess dressed like a woman worthy of her noble title: her long cueitl opened just below the knees and was decorated with colorful sewings and precious stones; and instead of a simple blouse she used a quechquemitl-a triangular blouse that left open spaces to the sides and was only allowed for noble women, richly decorated-to cover her chest area. A long crown of many feathers adorned her head and framed her delicate face, and a heavy pair of golden earrings hung from her ears.
She didn't seem to be against the traditions, or like she wanted to.
"Do you really want to learn?" he asked, gaping like an idiot.
She nodded happily.
"Yes! I assure you there will be no problem with my father, can you teach me?"
"Umm..."
"Please, Popocatépetl!", she was clapping and jumping a little, excited like a little girl. "I won't tell anyone!"
It wasn't that promise the thing that finally convinced him. It wasn't even the way she pronounced his name, Popocatépetl, like an old familiar friend, breathing it like it was part of her very soul; or even the fact that it was the princess the one who asked.
No.
It was the way she made him feel, like his heart overflowed with molten lava, what made him say yes.
The chosen hour had been midnight, maybe in an attempt to add drama to the occasion. Popocatépetl couldn't get a wink of sleep, both excited and anxious by the date; however he found himself going up the path to the meeting point on the hill. He wondered again if maybe it was all a trap, if the chief had by some reason chosen to prove his allegiance to Camaxtli's designs; but Iztaccíhuatl's face invaded his mind and he knew it was ridiculous.
She was too sincere, too happy, too hyper to manipulate him so; and the way they had interacted had felt too... natural. Now he wondered why was she interested in war.
He had been raised for it and wasn't complaining: there was something wonderful in combat, something divine in being able to keep yourself and your people safe from harm.
Popocatépetl loved what he did for a living, but saw no reason for the princess to do so.
The war itself was chaos, an enormous mess of blood, screams, death and pain; the glory it brought afterwards was the good part for most warriors, but Popocatépetl thought that the truly wonderful thing was keeping his people alive and happy. Knowing that he and his comrades had saved them.
Popocatépetl had seen many warriors turn ruthless, cold, devoid of feeling and thirsty for blood, everything in the span of a few years, and believed that was the reason Camaxtli didn't allow women to fight in the war. Men were too selfish to let their greatest joy be as destroyed as them.
Would Iztaccíhuatl's shine go away if he taught her?
No. She was too brilliant for that.
Stones cracked under his feet, and Popocatépetl set aside a few branches to let himself into a small clearing.
"I thought you wouldn't come."
There she was: sitting on a big rock, shoulders covered by a rebozo.
"And leave the princess waiting? Never."
She smiled, he smiled, both felt their hearts turn into lava.
Popocatépetl stepped forwards, kneeling before her and taking a pair of obsidian daggers from his belt. He held them on his open palms.
"These are the weapons we will be using tonight. They are called tecpatlc, in honor of Huehuetéotl*."
She grinned mockingly.
"Aw. I was hoping I'd get to use a spear, or at least a bow."
"If you're good tonight, I let you use one tomorrow."
"Deal."
*Rebozo: It's kinda like a scarf, used still by all Latinas to cover our shoulders. A very pretty thing.
*Huehuetéotl: Aztec/tlaxcaltecan god of fire. Also revered by other mesoamerican cultures.
BOO.
DID I SHARE YOU?
NO?
I KNEW IT.
I JUST WANTED TO SAY BOO.
*disappears in a poof of smoke*
Tecpatls and mini Popos,
-IAmACaticorn
PS: Quechquemitl to the side.
YOU ARE READING
Lava: The Legend of the Volcanoes
Romance"Tomorrow, Tomorrow when I die I dont want you to be sad. To this place, to this place I will return, in the form of a hummingbird Woman, when you look to the sun, smile fondly There, There I will be with our father, Good light I will send you." -I...
