HETALIA BELONGS TO HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA
Disclaimer: New Spain, Mexico nowadays, is the result of the mixture of many tribes, including the Aztec Empire or Mexicas, the Tlaxcaltecs and many more. If I link them with Tlaxcala, it's for narrative purposes and because, even though Aztec individuals like the Moctezumas did have children with the Spaniards, miscegenation happened most frequently with the ally tribes. You know the history of countries is much more complex in reality than it seems in Hetalia.
Also, don't be surprised if I mention Spain wearing a beard. Fans portray him in this period with a ponytail, but in this country I've seen the trend was looking manly.
The Aztec Empire didn't just win. She wanted to know the losers they now belonged to her, their destinies were from then on on the palm of her hand. She wanted to crush their pride, remind them at all times that they were weak and impotent and she was strong. She wanted them to feed her, with their sweat and blood.
Literally.
Tlaxcala believed this was the most terrible punishment of them all. This horrendous tax. The treatment all prisoners received. A group of men, women and children, no matter the age or state. All kinds of meat could do, as long as they were human. Human flesh had something sacred which pleased her gods, their blood was what nourished the earth and made it bloom and bear fruit.
They were forced to watch. Else, it wouldn't have produced the desired side effect. Tlaxcala many times wished she had seen the danger coming and could save her people from being captured, so she didn't have to witness that: her people being dragged to the stone altar, to the priest which chanted with a knife in hand; how he cut the thoracic cage in order to introduce his hand and rip the heart off; how he rose his hand to offer the still beating organ to his god; how he started dismembering the corpse then, to be served to Aztec and the higher classes...that group of animals devouring the remains with great pleasure, for it was a feast for them, which assured them a deep communion with their deities and strength. Sometimes the skulls and bones were used to decorate the walls to the temples. Aztec sure licked her lips with delight, knowing how it made her slaves' stomach turn, how dreadful that sight was to them. Thanks to this rite, she earned her gods' favor and made sure everyone knew their lives were her to use them as she wanted.
All the nights she had cried, unable to sleep, seeing the horror on her people's faces when the knife pierced their bodies; all the times she had fought desperately to keep Aztec at bay, because she knew what awaited her if she yield just one inch of her territory; all the desperate prayers, hoping someone would hear her and do away with the witch...
Prayers which were listened to, when floating castles arrived from the seas. With them came that man. She felt it was an equal, a god.
Like practically everyone, Tlaxcala didn't trust them much at first. They were very nosy. Wanted to cross their territories. They said—or tried, because they didn't know any of the local languages— they only wanted to trade but they knew better than to believe such poor excuses. Tlaxcala decided they had to leave and grabbed her macuahuitl to show them the way out. But it seemed their god was a warrior, and brought weapons and animals she had never seen in her life. In spite of their inferiority, Tlaxcala found herself defeated.
It seemed her fate was sealed...At least she would not be dying in the hands of her loathed enemy.
She exposed her chest for him to stick the knife. She just allowed herself to retain a last trace of dignity looking at her killer to the eyes.
The stranger looked around him, like he didn't know what was going on. Found someone who was familiar with her language, who quickly translated for him.
"His Greatness wants to know what you are doing."
"I lost. Now I must pay with my life." Tlaxcala frankly couldn't believe she had to explain something which was so simple.
The other didn't seem to believe this reaction. Tlaxcala was surprised to see he started chuckling nervously. He approached, making her cringe—all he wanted was cover her bosom.
"His Greatness says he does not wish your death."
"...But I lost...I must pay the price..." Tlaxcala muttered.
"His Greatness says God does not want the death of the enemies, but their conversion. He says, now that you have been calmed down, maybe you could talk."
Talk? Aztec didn't talk when she conquered her and the others. In spite of the smile on his face, she couldn't trust him. This was wrong...Conquerors don't talk. They just take.
"Spain insists God brought him there to save your soul." The translator added.
Spain...
Could he be the answer to her prayers?
Though still hesitant, she took his hand and listened to what he had to say. It seemed he really believed he was his God's herald, who brought him to this world to save as many souls as he could from idols and mistake. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't want her death. He wanted an alliance. He didn't have much idea of where he was and had encountered other nations he had accidentally offended, so he could use a friend in that strange place. All he was asking in return was accepting his God, repenting about believing in things he said were not true and letting his priests pour water on her head and her people's.
A small price for the benefits she saw she could get from him.
Tlaxcala then devoted herself to learn his language, so they could communicate. Regaled him with all kinds of gifts, the delicacies of her land like xocolātl, papa or tomatl, which he seemed to find absolutely delicious and wanted to grow himself. She used all the terror Aztec had inflicted her to appeal to Spain's conscience. Convince him that she was a monster, a devil, an impious creature beyond salvation which had to be eliminated. If Spain now considered her family, family, as far as she was concerned, was ready to fight when one of its members was in trouble; she therefore reminded him of all his promises to integrate her into the Hispanic Empire.
She also knew how Spain and his men looked at the 'Indians'.
Months at sea without a woman on sight had to be hard. Men had certain necessities. And the natives were something they had never seen, an irresistible novelty.
Spain was curious about this type of women, so different from his own, and Tlaxcala let him satisfy his curiosity.
She was elusive at first. She allowed him to look, touch a little, but nothing more. Not until he made up his mind and fought Aztec.
She made things extremely easy for him, just in case he came up with excuses. She knew they could count on Totonaca and many others who had also lived under Aztec's threat for too long and were dying to have their well deserved revenge. Although he brought a small army, all of them together made a pretty considerable one. She told him as well, knowing Aztec was a very superstitious person, that he fitted very well with the legend of Quetzalcóatl, the god of light which would come soon before the last day, with white skin and wearing a beard, just like Spain and his right hand, Hernán Cortés, and could use this in his favor.
When she saw Spain met Aztec and seemed to quickly earn her trust, she smiled to herself, seeing her revenge getting closer.
...But distrust started poisoning her heart.
Because Aztec was beautiful, and she also knew what to do and say, and men had these primal instincts which made them unreliable...
Things were going too slow for her taste. She wanted to end Aztec soon. She wanted to see her blood running down the streets. She wanted to have her heart on her hand. She wanted to keep her away from Spain.
She probably lost her mind.
This was not what Spain wanted, but there was no going back. He owed it to Tlaxcala. Perhaps deep down he feared Aztec would put him in the sacrificial stone sooner or later, or never trusted Aztec's kindness. The Aztec festivity of Toxcatl was interrupted by the slaughter of Aztec's nobility in the hands of Spain and Tlaxcala. Tlaxcala couldn't say she didn't enjoy this. She looked at her enemy to the eyes and smiled, the way she had done when it was her people she massacred.
Things got out of hand. Spain tried to get emperor Moctezuma's help, demand him to calm his nation and people down before they turned against them.
"So these are your friends, you treacherous snake?!" Aztec's roared.
Tlaxcala had never been more satisfied, seeing how Aztec saw how fool she had been, trusting Spain, loving him, perhaps. And she showed her with an insolent smile.
Aztec was enraged, could only see red. She grabbed a stone and threw it at her own emperor's head, killing him instantly. Then she roused her people to attack them.
Spain and Tlaxcala, along with Cortés and some others could escape. Some others, warriors and idiots who thought they could loot the city, drowned in the rivers, were killed by arrows. Those were the lucky ones. Many others were captured and Aztec sacrificed them in her gory rituals, more as a personal revenge rather than in order to please her gods. Six hundred Spaniards and thousands of Tlaxcaltecs.
"Was it worth it?" Spain recriminated her once they were safe, obviously hurt and horrified, and mourning his lost soldiers.
If it meant getting rid of Aztec...everything was...
She didn't want her to get her dirty claws on Spain. She didn't want him to fall in love with her. She saw him first.
She still had one more card to play.
Marriage was for Spain an unbreakable bond, business, just like it was for her. She and her allies had given his men his best women as a way to showing their good will and as an attempt to earn their favor.
She decided it was time to give herself to Spain.
She was aware that Spain found her way of dressing scandalous. Apparently, where he was from women wore a lot more cloth and hid absolutely everything. But she knew he had an idea of what was under all of that fabric and wanted to see. Privately, under the light of the candles and surrounded with silence, she showed him. She also got rid of the armor, the shirt, all the things he was wearing, until there were no more differences between them apart from a little bit of skin pigment—just a man and a woman. She made sure she hooked him. She did everything in her power to make him remember this all of his life and come back for more.
And he did. Oh did he come back for more after that! Did he fall in love with her lips and hips! She was always ready for him, always open to let him in.
Now there were no more excuses, no more hesitation. They just needed a moment to reorganize. Then, they lied siege on Aztec's last fortress, Tenochtitlan.
Tlaxcala would never experience a greater satisfaction than seeing Aztec, weak, withered, defeated, exhausted, at her feet. She wished she had begged. Too bad she cursed them instead. But it was alright. Her insults were music to her ears. She was so delighted by this sight she let Spain step forward and end her for good, with a shot in the head. And finally, all of her victims were finally avenged.
Spain dedicated the next days looting Aztec's treasures, while Tlaxcala became increasingly aware of the changes inside her body. Changes she told Spain about once her suspicions were confirmed.
Their alliance was definitive. They were now one.
Spain seemed to have trouble understanding. After all, having offspring was exceptional for their kin. He never thought he could...But he smiled. Tlaxcala would always remember: he smiled like he welcomed it. He kissed her hands, cheeks and lips.
"You have just made me the happiest of men!" He said.
That's what he said...
There was a lot to adjust to. Freedom and calm—after so long fearing Aztec's threat, it felt surreal not having anything to fear anymore. Spain settling in there. Her womb swelling, feeling the life growing inside her. She was a bit puzzled by it all, but she could get used to everything. She must. Things were going to change a lot from then on. She and Spain were now the most powerful couple in the continent. Together, they could do great things. Him and her. And the baby.
Something new was coming. Precisely, the name their daughter received was New Spain. A new life for him in a new place, a new way of living for Tlaxcala.
...Fool...
Of course they were not going to stop there. Of course there was so much more.
Inca was still alive. She had people who had not yet embraced the true faith. She had all treasures Spain needed.
Tlaxcala understood him fighting her. She helped defeat her, even. It was part of their dream of expansion.
But men were like dogs in heat. Love and sex were war weapons.
He shouldn't have let Inca live. He shouldn't have made that alliance with her. Tlaxcala still believed you don't open your arms to the enemy, you slit their throats.
She wanted to believe he forced her, as a way of humiliating her. She tried so hard to find a hidden, twisted intention. He couldn't be placidly lying on their bed, caressing her womb, swollen with a child, dreaming of what was going to come.
"It is not what you think." He just said to her when confronted, with no further explanation. He looked at her like she was overreacting. Like she hadn't noticed he was a man and was only doing manly things.
A girl named Peru was born from their union. There were more children, so many more to come, from Inca and some other mothers. With that, Spain sealed his domination over almost all South America.
He never told her, but Tlaxcala had reasons to know the mothers were not important. Look at Inca. Once she served her purpose, the very instant she fought after realizing she had become Spain's possession, he got rid of her, decapitating her with his own sword. That brought Tlaxcala a brief relief.
It was brief, because she realized she was no different.
She knew the very moment she knew of this Austria, who was awaiting him in Europe. His legitimate spouse.
Then she realized that children in common, fighting together, meant nothing at all. She was like all those women given to the Spanish: a lover, a relief, which was soon degraded into servant, expelled from the house or forgotten, when the wife appeared.
They had helped each other achieve what they wanted. Now he owed her nothing.
It was Austria who interested him, because they were who gave him what he really wanted. Prestige. Relations. Perhaps they were prettier and better in bed.
Spain became uninterested in her charms, probably because they were nothing new anymore. He also had trouble back in Europe which soured his usually merry character. He showed no remorse killing Inca and would kill anyone at all because back at home those he thought were his friends were turning their backs on him, betraying him—he could trust no one anymore. His deepest believes were being challenged, and it was not the time to let the flesh talk, but elevate his soul to God—that meant getting rid of all burden. He came back often, but just to see how his businesses in here were going, protect them from all those nations who wanted to steal them. His projects depended heavily on these resources. He left Tlaxcala and his children under the care of viceroys, cold bureaucrats who looked the other way when all these traders ignored his laws and mistreated the natives. He couldn't have cared less about anything that was not winning the war he had in his hands back at home.
All of it consumed it to such point he didn't notice smallpox was consuming Tlaxcala until he received the letter announcing her demise, two months after it happened.
THE END