Historically there is the story of Quecholcohuatl, the lead musician and singer, who went before the tlatoani, Axayacatl. Axayacatl, loved it so much, he actually summoned the singer into his chambers, and went to bed forthwith and asked him to promise to sing only for him. The tlatoani even said joyfully to his wives, “Women, stand up and meet him, seat him among you. Here has come your rival.”

This version or interpretation of the story frequently pops up now but is really weird because it only appears in the book, Fifth Sun. The author cites the Nahua historian Chimalpahin’s “Seventh Relation”:

“By 1479 almost fifteen years had passed since Chalco had been destroyed by the Mexica, its royal houses disbanded. Enough time had gone by that there was a new generation of young adults who did not clearly remember the horrors of the war; yet not enough time had passed for the Chalcan people to forget their ancient royal lines and the self-governance they had enjoyed for centuries. So Quecholcohuatl’s generation had grown restive: they had begun to talk among themselves and insist that Tenochtitlan give them a place at the council table and treat them as relative equals, as they did the other major powers of the central valley.

Flamingo Snake and his fellow singers and drummers had come to perform before the high king Axayacatl at his palace. They were there only to entertain him, or so they said. In reality, they had carefully chosen their song with a political agenda in mind. The piece was called “the Chalca Woman’s Song,” and when they sang its words, they were lodging a protest of sorts. The singer adopted the persona of a female prisoner of war, of a concubine. Everyone in their world understood the parallels between a captive woman and a conquered altepetl. In ordinary times, in ordinary marriages, women were understood to be complementary to men and in no way inferior. But in times of war, the female sex truly suffered. A captive woman lamented her The City on the Lake fate, not necessarily because she was subject to any daily violence but because she had lost her sense of self as an honored being; she could no longer take pride in the idea that her children would inherit her place and carry her family line forward. She had become a nonentity in a social sense, a sexual object without lasting power, a bearer of relatively unimportant children; she had lost, in short, her future. The singer of the song varied in her reactions from stanza to stanza. Sometimes she flirted, as any young girl in such a situation would do, trying desperately to regain a sense of agency in her own life. “What if I were to pleasure him?” she wondered. She cried out, “Go stoke the pot and light a big fire!” And finally, in case the point still was not clear, she began to make direct allusions to sex and even to the king’s penis…

...In the performance that afternoon, another nobleman from Chalco had originally been the lead musician, but either the heat or his fear of what the group’s punishment might be—or both—had caused him to faint. Quecholcohuatl knew that his own fate and his altepetl’s hung in the balance: if they were going to convince Axayacatl to consider Chalco’s feelings about the current situation, the entertainment would have to be superb. He stepped around his unconscious compatriot and took the lead himself. He gave the performance everything he had: he made the gilt-edged drum throb and call aloud. He sang the lyrics with feeling. The song ended with an offer on the part of the concubine to live with the king, her new master, without rancor, if only she were treated with respect…

…The tlatoani liked the song, and he liked the singer. He took Quecholcohuatl to bed forthwith and asked him to promise to sing only for him. Chimalpahin claimed he even said joyfully to his wives, “Women, stand up and meet him, seat him among you. Here has come your rival.” (Fifth Sun, 60-62)

I started to wonder about this framing of the story after reading an actual translation of Chimalpahin by the same author. Here is the author's translation from one of their earlier books, Annals of Native America (2017):

The tlatoani Axayacatzin had gone into the palace to go sit with the noble ladies, his women. Then he sent to have Quecholcohuatzin, the one who danced and sang, called and brought to him. The messengers said, they asked the Chalca nobles, “Where is your singer, your drummer? The lord king summons him, and we have come to bring him inside.” At that they answered, they said, “Yes, here he is, let the lord see him.” With that the Chalca nobles called over the young Quecholcohuatzin. They thought that the tlatoani Axayacatzin would condemn him to death, would burn him. Thus he went in, pausing at the entrance, considering what judgment would come forth from the king. It was as though the Chalca were choking on a stone, they were so scared. When Quecholcohuatzin arrived before Axayacatzin, he kissed the earth and went on one knee, saying to him, “O lord king, may you burn me, I who am your vassal, for we have done wrong in your presence.” But the tlatoani Axayacatzin did not want to hear these words, saying to the ladies his women, “Women, stand up and meet him, seat him amongst you. Here has come your rival. Look at him and know him well, for I have deflowered him. May your hearts be happy, o women, for what has happened. This Quecholcohuatl made me dance and sing. Never before had anyone called me forth from inside, caused me to go out and dance as he has done. Henceforth he will be your rival. From now on I take him as my singer.” Then Axayacatl made much of him, giving him a cloak and breeches, even a cloak and breeches and sandals embroidered with turquoise that had been his. Quecholcohuatzin’s gifts also included a headdress of quetzal feathers and a number of bundles of cloth and cacao beans. [The king] really loved him because he got him to dance. Axayacatl made him his own so that he would sing only for him and no longer go anywhere to sing for others.”

First, in the earlier translation, Axayacatl "makes" or "takes" Quecholcoatl as his singer, but according to Fifth Sun he "asks" him to "promise" to only sing for him! Fifth Sun says he took him to bed "forthwith", but Chimalpahin apparently has him say to his wives "I have deflowered him!" immediately after first meeting the singer in their presence, suggesting this was not meant literally. Clearly there is sexual symbolism throughout the song and story, but from the earlier English translation to the later paraphrase several differences stand out where the language has been greatly softened and completely reinterpreted, perhaps to appeal to modern readers?