04-26-2021, 03:53 AM
Xochuaxte Palace
1:45 am, April 25th
Yauhmi sat upright suddenly in her bed, gasping sharply as she woke. Her sharp movement jostled the nightstand next to her bed; a glass fell to the floor with a tinkling crash.
The servant tasked to her quarters overnight quickly walked into the room, a pair of Shorn Ones close behind. "Cihuātlahtoāni? Are you allright?" the servant asked, standing next to Yauhmi's bedside.
"I'm fine; it was just an accident. Everything's fine," Yauhmi said, as if reassuring herself. She shook her head gently to clear the grogginess from it, and to clear the thoughts that had forced her awake from it as well. Her servant murmured in acquiescence, quickly picking up the broken glass and using a towel to mop the spilled water from the floor. After making sure that there was nothing Yauhmi needed, the servant helped her lie back in bed before walking out with the two Shorn Ones. As the three left, Yauhmi noticed the look they exchanged with each other. They know, of course they know. This happens every night, after all. Everyone in the Palace knows, to be sure, Yauhmi thought to herself. The Royal Household had, in fact, been taking great pains to keep the knowledge of these moments confined within the walls of Xochuaxte Palace.
After the doors to her bedroom closed, Yauhmi looked back over at the nightstand. A set of pill bottles sat on the nightstand, lined up in a silent row like a team of brown-clad guards. Real guards weren't able to protect me, and these pharmaceutical ones aren't doing such a great job either, Yauhmi thought with dry amusement as she lay back down. They're a bit late, in any event. For what they're trying to protect me from, the horse fled the barn a long time ago.
During the day, Yauhmi was just fine. In fact, everyone always remarked on how strong she was. You survived a coup, and imprisonment, and torture. You escaped and became the leader of a new nation, a new movement. And at your age, even. How very impressive, Huenyan and foreign officials alike would tell her. They were always so amazed that she could continue to lead, and to serve as the image of the emerging Huenyan state.
The Huenyan public (those that didn't hate her, for being part of the old Xiomeran system, at least) always said the same. Our cihuātlahtoāni is so strong, to endure what she did and still be able to hold the throne. Everyone admired her strength and her determination so much. During the day. If they only knew, the way my servants in the palace know, the way my guards know, the way my family knows, Yauhmi thought with another shake of the head.
During the day wasn't when things were hard for her. It was at night, when she was left alone with her own thoughts and regrets - and memories - that the facade slipped and things fell apart. During the day, she wasn't haunted by the mistakes she had made, or the punishment that she had endured for those mistakes in an ASI cell. During the day, she wasn't besieged with thoughts about what she could have done differently, or not done at all.
During the day, she didn't have visions of a red-haired demon causing her pain like she had never felt before - or, even worse, the visions of her own people doing the same to her with equal glee and violence.
At night, it all came back to her, whether she wanted it to or not. No matter what she tried to do, no matter what the little pills on her nightstand tried to do, no matter what anyone or anything did, her dreams (and nightmares) brought it all back to her, in the end. Not just the torture or the coup, either, but all the myriad decisions and mistakes of her long career. During the day, she could take solace in the things she had done right, or the good things she had done. At night, the spokespeople for the other side of her karma insisted on being heard also, in visions of pain, fire and blood.
Yauhmi had already abandoned any notion of pushing those voices away. The pills kept her functional and able to work on her new mission, and that was all she deserved and needed now. She would not deny the voices of her past, both good and bad, their audience. They had earned their right to be heard, after all.
As the Great Speaker of Huenya pulled the blankets back around her and tried to find elusive sleep once more, the voices from her past prepared to pick up where they had left off as well.
1:45 am, April 25th
Yauhmi sat upright suddenly in her bed, gasping sharply as she woke. Her sharp movement jostled the nightstand next to her bed; a glass fell to the floor with a tinkling crash.
The servant tasked to her quarters overnight quickly walked into the room, a pair of Shorn Ones close behind. "Cihuātlahtoāni? Are you allright?" the servant asked, standing next to Yauhmi's bedside.
"I'm fine; it was just an accident. Everything's fine," Yauhmi said, as if reassuring herself. She shook her head gently to clear the grogginess from it, and to clear the thoughts that had forced her awake from it as well. Her servant murmured in acquiescence, quickly picking up the broken glass and using a towel to mop the spilled water from the floor. After making sure that there was nothing Yauhmi needed, the servant helped her lie back in bed before walking out with the two Shorn Ones. As the three left, Yauhmi noticed the look they exchanged with each other. They know, of course they know. This happens every night, after all. Everyone in the Palace knows, to be sure, Yauhmi thought to herself. The Royal Household had, in fact, been taking great pains to keep the knowledge of these moments confined within the walls of Xochuaxte Palace.
After the doors to her bedroom closed, Yauhmi looked back over at the nightstand. A set of pill bottles sat on the nightstand, lined up in a silent row like a team of brown-clad guards. Real guards weren't able to protect me, and these pharmaceutical ones aren't doing such a great job either, Yauhmi thought with dry amusement as she lay back down. They're a bit late, in any event. For what they're trying to protect me from, the horse fled the barn a long time ago.
During the day, Yauhmi was just fine. In fact, everyone always remarked on how strong she was. You survived a coup, and imprisonment, and torture. You escaped and became the leader of a new nation, a new movement. And at your age, even. How very impressive, Huenyan and foreign officials alike would tell her. They were always so amazed that she could continue to lead, and to serve as the image of the emerging Huenyan state.
The Huenyan public (those that didn't hate her, for being part of the old Xiomeran system, at least) always said the same. Our cihuātlahtoāni is so strong, to endure what she did and still be able to hold the throne. Everyone admired her strength and her determination so much. During the day. If they only knew, the way my servants in the palace know, the way my guards know, the way my family knows, Yauhmi thought with another shake of the head.
During the day wasn't when things were hard for her. It was at night, when she was left alone with her own thoughts and regrets - and memories - that the facade slipped and things fell apart. During the day, she wasn't haunted by the mistakes she had made, or the punishment that she had endured for those mistakes in an ASI cell. During the day, she wasn't besieged with thoughts about what she could have done differently, or not done at all.
During the day, she didn't have visions of a red-haired demon causing her pain like she had never felt before - or, even worse, the visions of her own people doing the same to her with equal glee and violence.
At night, it all came back to her, whether she wanted it to or not. No matter what she tried to do, no matter what the little pills on her nightstand tried to do, no matter what anyone or anything did, her dreams (and nightmares) brought it all back to her, in the end. Not just the torture or the coup, either, but all the myriad decisions and mistakes of her long career. During the day, she could take solace in the things she had done right, or the good things she had done. At night, the spokespeople for the other side of her karma insisted on being heard also, in visions of pain, fire and blood.
Yauhmi had already abandoned any notion of pushing those voices away. The pills kept her functional and able to work on her new mission, and that was all she deserved and needed now. She would not deny the voices of her past, both good and bad, their audience. They had earned their right to be heard, after all.
As the Great Speaker of Huenya pulled the blankets back around her and tried to find elusive sleep once more, the voices from her past prepared to pick up where they had left off as well.
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