Uprise of the Rebellious Princess

What The Heavens Were Pondering To Be

The bustle within service halls did not matter to her as she dipped deep into the bowels of the palace. Palace worker swooshed in haste from one side to the other, swarming the corridors. She was far more worried about carelessly tripping with someone than her presence amongst them. It was a very active afternoon, ranks within the kitchen seamlessly disappeared as everyone helped. Besides, she always loved to be of such help. It felt so natural for her to be assisting, not minding that people considered such work to be too lowly for the prestige of the Lady of Colhuacan. She could not understand why her peers considered them to be menial tasks when she saw no difference between her public activities. It was such an honest, heartfelt devotion for her role, enhanced by pride that elevated not from mundane ego but from benevolence. And it is so that Atotoztli sprightly oversaw the movements in and out of the service halls until she received word that a servant strayed away from his assigned group.

“We need him back at once! He carries disposed vases that must be cleaned immediately to keep up with the rotation,” said Atotoztli. “I will go find the boy! Nenetl, spread the word; groups should go and return together. You two; help Nenetl receive incoming groups into their respective areas. Cluttered halls are delaying the rotation. Coyotl, if anyone asks, I will be at the Great Hall finding the vase boy.”

She showed calmness but great assurance in her doings. Atotoztli has never hesitated at any challenge, possessing an unclouded mind with clear objectives. Storming out of the service halls, the Lady passed through the wild frenzy of servants coming and going. She walked with haste until reaching the Palace Great Hall. There she slowly walked, searching for the boy with the vase. One by one, guests intercepted her. Trying to flee from those exceeding salutations was out of the question, not because she relished being inundated with flowery adulations but because of their clinginess. She had received uncountable slavish greetings and signs of affection ever since she budded from being a girl into a grown woman fair and bright. Her more adult behavior and semblance have made men apish on their approach and women eager to have rapport. It had become a burden that she does not know if she could bear it any longer. As a girl she was used to obeying her father -now she yields to protocol. All her life Atotoztli has lived under a subtle yoke. She feared her growing desperation towards social etiquette will upset her father. Therefore –yet again –she repressed those feelings.

A tumult surrounded her as she managed to pass to the other side of the Great Hall. Pipiltin men and women held her hands asking for her presence, but she excused herself courteously but in quite a hurry. Atotoztli turned and found the lost servant, and swiftly fetched him into a dark corridor behind the main stairs. When she was turning around the corner into that corridor, something was heard, or at least she thought she did. Atotoztli halted and turned to the glaring brightness from where she came. Her eyelashes winked incessantly, expecting someone or something to appear. No one showed up! Nothing appeared! So a sudden chill bolted through her body, cascading into a strange series of eerie emotions never felt before. She stood there, eager to know what was around the corner. It was the expectation she has felt for a lifetime –which the unusual will appear heedlessly at one point in her life. Was that it? Or was she just hoping to be it? She stood there confused, yearning for a new breath to make her endure her rigid life. Utterly riddled, Atotoztli remained there at the somber corridor under the stairs, with no one except the worried young servant.

“Cihuatecutli?” asked the concerned servant awaiting her orders.

Atotoztli turned slowly to the humble worker and was ready to continue her way. Suddenly, she felt something approaching her that made her turn back again at the corner which divided the lonely corridor from the opening into the Great Hall. This was different though, it was a sort of call or summon carried hidden in the air. Her eyes were avidly nervous as she tried to understand what was happening. Completely blinded by any premonition she could have, the Lady took a firm step towards the corner. Intuition always remains when all fails –but there was something clouding her very instincts, something that sunk into her deepest primary instincts. She was nervous yet willing to investigate. If all that there is to foresee ahead is gone, nothing remains but to bravely reach for it or step back in caution.

When everything else fails,

greatly in our instinct dwells,

eager to foretell of news,

with tools our mind never use;

to cheat fate and time’s loose tie.

But what would this lady dare?

When a veil shrouds her instinct,

Not by fear nor sore hating,

But when fate’s scheme blinds her

now a future unaware.

Be this golden destiny?

Perhaps an end so grisly?

The maiden wished it firmly,

Not for a tiny closing:

Surely vastly imposing!

As she drew near her calling

Out of the dim corridor

Fate ushered a whispering

Blunt but quite reassuring,

'Not still! Though time will bring

What the heavens were pondering to be!'

So she halted in midair her foot that was about to perform the next step. Atotoztli stopped and stood there in awe at something she could neither comprehend nor have knowledge. What was it? She could not even guess. But she knew with great certainty the celestial machinations –which run the threads of times that are to come –indeed know what lies ahead for her. Indeed, the thirteen heavens knew of this.

“Fortune or misery? Life or death? Success or failure?” asked herself, slowly walking away from that corner.

Whatever it was, Atotoztli figured that it was not yet the time for whoever stood around the corner. She reached the faithful servant who was still awaiting her and carried on walking in the long and obscure corridor.

She stepped into the kitchen, and immediately immersed herself to be a helping hand. She received a tower of drinking vases, and when she took them to the cleaning cue, Nenetl said to her, “You’re still here?”

“Grandmother!” another woman called her in the manner they used to name her, “You should run! It is time for you to leave!”

“So soon?” asked Atotoztli, as she continued receiving vases.

“Yes, you need to go, my dear,” said Nenetl. “What delayed you anyway? Go! They’ve started already. Go!”

Atotoztli stopped, as everyone nodded at her amiably.

“All right,” agreed Atotoztli, “but make sure to put extra hands on the cleansing of vases. And remember to return swiftly once you’re done in the Great Hall.”

Everyone briefly halted their operations to bow to her and thank her kindness with honest but tired smiles. Nenetl and her women curtsied to Atotoztli. She then ran towards a secret tight stairway near the kitchen that led her upstairs. Not minding her exhaustion, she fastened her pace, skipping stairs to arrive faster. Once upstairs, she jogged through the corridors. When Atotoztli heard an immense burst of applause, she halted for a moment, only to resume her pace more hastily. After taking a swift left turn, she almost fell to the floor but kept going. Her heart was pounding up in her throat, more by nervousness than by running. A final left turn, and then decreased her running to a walk to cool down.

“Where were you, grandmother?” asked everybody who was clogged behind the doorway’s thick walls. “We thought you would not make it!”

Atotoztli just nodded, as to not invite any further inquiries. Two ladies approached her and prepared her as fast as they could possibly manage. While she was attended, she stared at the bright imposing light that entered unopposed through the doorway, breaking the darkness within the umbra of the corridors. Such contrast reminded of her little encounter downstairs at the corridor exactly below from where she was. Something that was indeed of great significance, but she could not yet understand why. A final combing here and there and the two ladies finished beautifying, but they both retreated in awe as there was not much to do when beauty is natural and undeniable. Probably their efforts were in vain. To beautify is to mend; be it small details or vast features. But this lady did not need any mending of any sort, and thus, efforts remained futile –and even time-consuming –when they could be employed with others.

The people outside the doorway cheered and applauded in exhilaration as the herald made the announcement. A loud roar made her impossible to hear. Somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned and saw everyone gesturing at her to go out to the main stairs. It was her turn. Atotoztli straightened up her pose, pulled her shoulders to her back, curved her bottom and thighs slightly, her ribs to the front, and most importantly her hands and arms to her sides elegantly falling to her waist and hips. Even her fingers, eyes, and lips became gracefully under control! Everyone behind the doorway was in shock to the fabulous transformation they witnessed from the hands-on girl that was helping at the kitchen with a slouch into a graceful lady with a magnificent pose. She walked to the light, and the light embraced her in a welcoming manner. After all, the spotlight chooses the person and not the contrary. And what a person this light has chosen to bright upon! She stood there under the threshold columns, turned to the ladies behind the doorway in gratitude, smiled wide, turned forward again, stepping out while carrying that girly smile. A crowded hall received her, acclaiming her beauty and kindness with shouts and cheers.

“Now comes, the most cherished daughter of the people of Colhuacan, their most prized treasure, the Cihuatecutli Atototzin!” said the herald with a solemn voice.

The guests expelled a thunderous roar and endless clapping as she raised her arm and saluted the booming Great Hall. She greeted left, center, and finally to the right. The deafening signs of appreciation were too much to bear. Atotoztli approached the very aged High Ruler, who was waiting for her in the middle of the stairs. Extremely old, fragile looking, and physically withered –however Xolotl’s eyes denoted the energy of his might, his gestures showed a feisty youthfulness, and his semblance the robustness of power. She paid her respects bowing with a curtsy.

“Most respectable Xolotl, I am here to –” said Atotoztli, when the Huey Tlatoani interrupted her by pulling her by her shoulders with his wrinkled rugged hands. Atotoztli felt his hands as being of someone that endured hardships, a past of great labor, and obviously done battle. Xolotl then took her hands proudly as she stood up.

“You are the Cihuatecutli of Colhuacan! You fulfill your duty to me just by being here at my side,” said Xolotl, as he winked both eyes in a nodding gesture and an approving half smile.

Atotoztli replied nodding with a naive smile and went to stand next to her father. The Lady was mindful that she was now under the ever-watchful eye of Xolotl, just as many other pipiltin. For years, she has been learning the intricate politics of her world –to be treated like that by the High Ruler only meant that he already had something in mind for you. She has seen that same expressive behavior with generals, rulers, and ambassadors.

After her remarkable appearance, her teenage young sister was heralded as well. Ilancueitl descended to where Xolotl was. The old ruler only nodded at her, turning back to the guests below in order to give a small speech. Ilancueitl approached Atotoztli to stand next to her. She smiled at her younger sister, but Ilancueitl daringly erased that bubbly smile she bore. Atotoztli perceived her sister felt disrespected by the High Ruler’s action towards her. As she bent over to seek Ilancueitl’s face, the young sister brusquely turned away towards the guests with a smile, even when her eyes seemed enraged. Atotoztli have tried to be sincerely kind with her, more than with anyone else because she truthfully feared the growing attention towards herself would eclipse them apart. Both have been good sisters for years, but lately more eyes seem to gaze upon herself than Ilancueitl –she dreaded this could come between their friendship.

As the Huey Tlatoani Xolotl move along with her father, she followed behind both of them, next to her sister and the High Priest Itzacima of Cholula. She walked across the Great Hall smiling and greeting to her right and to her left –receiving blessings or sly exaltations of her beauty right and left, false envious smirks and sincere admiration right and left, cute amorous flirtation and direct lewd intentions right and left, petitions for worrisome issues and urges to attend banalities right and left. Such were the emotions and desires that provoked the presence of Atotoztli, reactions that rose as her body developed into that of a woman. She was not that gullible to believe it had anything to do with just her position within such a prominent altepetl. Such a frustrating situation has made her keen to become a woman of worth than of looks. She did not want to be renowned by what others think of her appearance, but by her good deeds. And yet, her physique was undoubtedly not overlooked. Atotoztli’s face and body were her tools to play in life, for good or ill. One may not like the gifts one was born with, but they are the sole tools in life from which to build upon new ones for whatever end. As Atotoztli gazed how many reached towards her in so innumerable ways, she knew how much she was desired. What if she might not have any gifts given by the upper heavens, for she could very well be the gift. How horrific if this was true! She could never imagine being a mere tool of destiny. Atotoztli always thought she could freely tame fate, but never to be forcefully toyed. A cold shiver went through her limbs. For years, Atotoztli grew thinking she had the freedom to obtain and create.

“Ideals grow away? Or do we outgrow them?” she thought.

The Cihuatecutli wished to leave a mark upon this world. She wanted weapons to fight for a better world, not to be the weapon. As such thoughts came to her mind, she gazed upon the Great Hall the result of her work –her aiding in the kitchen, with the palace’s servants, with the preparations, attending the guests. She knew she could actually do things of worth, giving her hope. But then she turned down and saw her body in her white dress framed by her curvy hips and thighs.

“Who is it that people seek help for?” Atotoztli analyzed herself, “Who do they see?”

She wanted to do things in life freely. Maybe such audacious thoughts came from the deceitful world of palatial comfort and riches she lived in.

“If my way of living has blurred my perception of things,” Atotoztli thought, “perhaps my dreams of building a better life, were just that –dreams –hollow delusional visions of childish proportions. And still I long to do things, great things, for the world to cherish and remember me by.”

All this doleful inner ruth happened inside her mind as she walked and greeted guests. While people kept approaching her, the Lady was even more convinced of her fears. She wanted to be wrong, but all pointed that she was objectified rather than humanized.

“Excuse me!” said Atotoztli bluntly to his father, retreating slowly towards the kitchen’s passage entrance with downcast head and stooped shoulders. The floor in front of her began transforming into undistinguishable blobby forms as tears crowded her eyes eager to abandon her.

“Not just yet, oh treacherous tears!” said Atotoztli to herself. “Hold till we get out of here!”

She sighed deeply, slowing her pace in confusion. Her anxious hands nervously flattened her dress’s creases here and there. She cleared her throat and lifted her eyes. Behold, someone blocked her way! A young man was standing in front of her. His eyes gazed at her in the most caring manner. Never did she felt so genuinely important for someone, least from all people a complete stranger.