Chapter Text
“Lee-Lee! Lee-Lee, get down from there!” Ty Lin calls from the floor, at least two stories down.
Ty Lee sighs from the empty bookshelf where she’s reclining and pulls her braid over her shoulder, which must’ve given her away.
“Mother said we weren’t supposed to climb the shelves!” Ty Lat says.
Ty Lee glares down at the twins from her perch. “Since when do you listen to what Mother says?”
Ty Lat cocks her hip. “Since always.”
They’re trailed by the triplets, Ty Lao, Ty Liu, and Ty Lum. Ty Lao is already scaling the shelves to come after her.
“Hey, stop that!” Ty Lee shoves her piles of books and scrolls against the wall as if that’ll keep her sisters’ grubby hands off of them and starts climbing down, heading off Ty Lao on the way. “I’m coming down, what do you want?”
They shrug.
“Mother just said to come get you,” Ty Lin says.
“Family meeting,” says Ty Lat.
Ty Lee sighs and follows them out of the library through the halls of the family estate, six dark brown braids swinging in sync. She walks for a few feet on her tip toes, imagining for a minute that she’s a little bit taller than everyone else, then walks the next few feet on her hands. It makes her smile, imagining five identical heads plus a pair of feet, until Ty Lum starts copying her and she comes down.
Ty Woo is already there when they reach their parents’ drawing room, and Ty Lee watches their mother do a silent head-count before beginning. “Wonderful, you’re all here!”
“We found her in the library,” Ty Lin says.
“Reading again,” says Ty Lat.
Ty Lee wonders if they plan it that way– always speaking one right after the other.
“That’s nice, dear.” After a moment of hesitation, their mother identifies Ty Lee and gives her an indulgent smile, then goes back to addressing all of them. “It’s so lovely you all have your little hobbies.”
No that it helps you tell us apart. Ty Lee rests her chin in her hands and takes a seat on one of the seven identical cushions. She’d like to clarify that reading isn’t her hobby at all, but Mother would probably forget the next day anyway. Or mix her up with one of the others.
“Anyway,” Their mother claps her hands. “I have exciting news. It took some convincing and a few special favors, but your father and I have arranged it all with the headmistress and starting this year you will all be attending The Royal Fire Academy for Girls!”
There’s a moment of silence as the news sinks in, and then everyone explodes into excited chatter. As far as their station goes, the idea isn’t that surprising. The twins were old enough to attend last year, and Ty Lee had anxiously awaited the day of their departure. Five was better than seven, and with them gone that would make her the oldest. But they never left, and she’d wondered if maybe seven from one family was too much for the Royal Academy and they would all be stuck in the house with their tutors until they found husbands.
While leaving home for their education certainly sounds better than that, something her mother said begins to register. “Wait!” she says over the din. “All of us are going? At once?”
“Of course!” Mother says. “Ty Woo is a little young, but we thought it was only fair that all of you get to start at the same time.” She smiles even wider as she spreads her arms. “Then you’ll have each other to play with.”
“But–” Ty Lee’s drowned out by everyone else, standing to bow and showering thanks and praise on their mother. She starts to regret her displeasure and follows them– she should be grateful. Mother only wants the best for them, after all.
That evening, the servants are told to start packing for them, which sends everyone running around collecting their most valuable possessions to add to their bags. Ty Lee escapes to the library and climbs up to her empty bookshelf. It’s tall for a shelf, and long, with enough space for her to lie on her stomach with her head propped up to read.
She doesn’t much care about the material, she chose the shelf because of its inaccessibility, probably the same reason it’s left empty– just a little too far from the closest rolling ladder to reach easily. But no matter what the others say she fancies herself the best climber and found a way to get to it before anyone else, and and make it her place to be alone.
To keep herself occupied, she’s been pulling books and scrolls from the other shelves within easy reach, dusty and crunchy from age and lack of use. Her favorite has always been an anatomy textbook, when she was younger because it has the most pictures. But recently she’s been reading the words as well, and by now she has the first few chapters practically memorized. She likes the way the words sound in her mouth– long and complicated and definitely more than Ty Lum or Ty Liu could understand, or even Ty Lin.
Her second favorite is the oldest scroll she’s ever seen– cracked and faded with age, but carefully preserved. It also has a lot of pictures, but not on anatomy. Or, at least not the same type of anatomy. The diagrams are human, but instead of names of joints and muscles there are just smooth lines looping up, down, and around the silhouettes in a mesmerizing pattern. She used to like to trace her finger on them, over and over until some of the paint flaked off and she stopped, settling for just doing it with her eyes. There are others with similar pictures, but none quite so old and she’d like to keep it looking perfect.
After a few minutes’ thought, she gathers all of them in her arms, including the textbook, and shuffles down the the stacks of the family library. She doesn’t have a favorite instrument or hair tie or dress (as long as all of them are pink), so she supposes these are the closest things she has to prized possessions.
Although, she pauses at the door to the library. I suppose they really belong to Mother and Father. Is it stealing if I just take them with me?
Stealing is definitely wrong, which she knows from another book with a story about a raven eagle and a tigerdillo, so instead of going back to her room she makes her way to her father’s study. The door is ajar, and when she pushes it open her father looks up.
He smiles and holds out an arm. “Well, hello there–”
Ty Lee wonders if he’ll make a pass at her name.
“–my dear.”
I suppose not. She bows and takes pity on him before returning his embrace. “Ty Lee.”
“Of course.” He nods like he knew that all along. “What brings you to your old father’s office at this hour?”
“These.” Standing on her tiptoes, she puts the books and scrolls on the desk in front of him.
“Hm.” He frowns and leans over, gently feeling the delicate parchment with his fingers. “And what are they?”
“Books,” she says. “I found them in the library.”
“Well, look at that.” The genial, indulgent smile doesn’t leave his face as he looks over the books and scrolls. He puts an absent hand on her shoulder. “Clever girl.”
Ty Lee can’t help it, she smiles. “I was wondering if I could take them with me to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Mother said we could bring our most precious possessions.”
Father raises his eyebrows. “Are these your most precious possessions?”
“Yes.” She begins to nod, then stops. “Well, they probably belong in the library but I really like them and I was wondering if I could bring them with me anyway.” She pauses, considering. “To remind me of home.”
“Oh.” He still looks confused but nods. “Well, of course you can bring them if you want to, Darling.” He looks back at the scroll, thumb running over one of the drawings near the top.
“Do you know where they came from?” She’s never seen anything like them in lessons, and wonders if that will change at the Royal Academy.
“No, not really,” Father says. “Heirlooms from your mother’s side, I should think. Her grandparents weren’t from the Fire Nation.”
“Huh.” Ty Lee cocks her head, looking more closely at the drawing Father indicates. She wonders if she should feel ashamed for this. If there’s one thing she knows from lessons is that there is no greater nation than the Fire Nation.
But Father just gathers the books and scrolls from his desk and places them back in her arms. “Now, isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Yes,” she says. “Thank you for letting me take these.”
“Anything for my daughter.” He smiles and returns her clumsy bow. “Goodnight, Ty Lin.”
“Lee.”
“Sorry?” He’s already turned back to his desk again, pen halfway to the ink.
“It’s Ty Lee.”
“Of course.” The pen clinks against the edge of the inkwell. “So I said, didn’t I?”
“…Yes.” She performs another awkward bow. “Yes, you did.”
He gives another absent smile. “Goodnight, Darling.”
“Goodnight, Father.”
Despite what Mother said, Ty Lee does not want to play with her sisters during free periods at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Three teachers have already called her five different names in the first week alone, and because the twins and triplets are rooming together, Ty Lee is stuck with Ty Woo, who snores and still carries a stuffed turtleduck with her everywhere.
At recess, all the other girls give them weird looks– seven identical sisters all clustered together turning cartwheels and practicing backflips. Briefly, Ty Lee is the only one to have mastered a roundoff-back-handspring, but soon enough Ty Lat can do it too, and then Ty Lao, Ty Lin, and Ty Lum. To separate herself, she takes to climbing the trees at the edge of the yard. From up here, everyone begins to look the same, not just her sisters, dressed in various shades of red, hair up in tight braids or topknots. There’s only one girl who still looks different, and when a teacher yells at her to come down, that’s where Ty Lee goes.
She’s sitting against a tree towards the other side of the yard, and as Ty Lee approaches she watches her slip a paring knife from her sleeve and begin digging it into one of the roots. Ty Lee has never been allowed to play with knives before, and she wonders where this girl got hers.
The girl doesn’t look up or acknowledge her at all until Ty Lee kneels down in front of her. “Hello.”
The girl briefly raises her eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
“My name is Ty Lee.” She waits for the girl to introduce herself, but she stays silent, digging her knife deeper into the tree root. “What’s your name?”
“Mai.”
“That’s a really pretty name.” Again, she waits for Mai to respond, but she never does. “I like your knife. Where did you get it?”
The knife stills. “I found it.”
“Where?”
Mai considers it, but before she can answer, can another voice comes from behind them. “Who are you talking to, Mai?”
Ty Lee turns around to see another girl approaching them.
“She said her name was Ty Lee.”
She got it on the first try! Ty Lee feels her heart swell. The new girl levels her with hard stare, but Ty Lee just smiles back and stands up so she can properly bow. “Nice to meet you. You’re very pretty. I like your hair.”
She isn’t lying– even though she’s on the edge of scowling, the new girl has a perfectly symmetrical heart-shaped face, framed by neat strands of shiny black hair.
The new girl’s expression doesn’t soften, but she tilts her head at the compliment, as if confused. “Mai is already my friend.”
“Oh.” Ty Lee hides her disappointment with a cartwheel so she isn’t standing in between them anymore. She ends it with another bow. “I’m very sorry.”
The girl doesn’t acknowledge the apology or return her bow, but her frown deepens. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“What you just did. Turned upside down and then right-side up on your hands.”
“Oh, this?” Ty Lee cartwheels again. “That’s just a cartwheel!”
“I want to do that,” the girl says. “Show me how.”
“It’s easy.” Ty Lee can barely keep still, she’s so excited. She hasn’t met a lot of girls that aren’t her sisters, and these girls are nothing like her sisters. “You just put one hand down, and then the other while picking your feet up one at a time, and then put your feet down again one at at time.” She demonstrates. “Hand-hand-foot-foot.”
The girl watches closely, then nods. “Let me do it now.”
Ty Lee watches as she raises her hands and performs a near-flawless cartwheel, applauding when she comes upright again. “That was perfect!”
The new girl actually smiles at that, but only with one side of her mouth. “It will be a good move to incorporate into my next firebending set.”
Ty Lee feels her eyes widen. “You’re a firebender?”
The girl’s smirk grows. “Of course. I’m a princess.”
Ty Lee’s mouth drops open and she falls to her knees in a deeper, proper bow as soon as she remembers her etiquette lessons. She should’ve known. “Princess Azula. I’m honored.”
After a long minute, Azula nods, allowing Ty Lee to rise. “What did you say your name was?”
“Ty Lee.”
Azula nods again, the other side of her mouth beginning to curl up. “Ty Lee. I think perhaps you can be my friend, too.”
Ty Lee can’t stop herself from clapping her hands. “That sounds wonderful! I would love for us to be friends.”
Azula is dangerous. Ty Lee knows– she watches her burn the tail feathers off a turtle-duck for snapping too close to her shoe. But she can’t bring herself to pull away. She thinks maybe she doesn’t mind the danger. It’s worth it to stand out. To be special. To be chosen.
As a princess, Azula doesn’t board at the school like she and Mai, and takes to summoning her friends to the palace, which makes all Ty Lee’s sisters jealous, and ensures her mother mentions her by name in her letters– Ty Lee has made friends with the princess.
She’s the first to be fitted for new clothes, all the latest styles in the finest materials. She’s even allowed to choose the color (pink, of course). Ty Woo makes fun of her, saying it makes her look like spun sugar, but she’s easy to ignore. After their first year, Ty Lee doesn’t have to share a room with her anymore.
Instead, she rooms with Mai, who never wears anything pink. Their shared wardrobe is starkly divided into one half bright pinks and golds and one half sober maroons and blacks. And while Ty Lee sometimes wishes Mai would allow even a little color to into her outfits, it also feels good to be different.
During their second year, Ty Lee barely spends time with her sisters at all while they’re at school. Each recess period is spent with Mai and Azula, and to Ty Lee’s relief Azula refuses to allow their little group to grow any bigger. At first, the jealous glares make her a little uncomfortable, but Azula tells her to ignore them.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” she says as they loiter outside the calligraphy classroom during passing period. “It’s not your fault you’re better than them.”
Azula always speaks with such confidence it’s impossible to contradict her, and even harder to disobey. So Ty Lee raises her chin at the next girl to send her a dirty look and does her best imitation of Azula’s haughty stare.
Azula smirks and whispers something cruel about the girl’s hairstyle in Ty Lee’s ear. Ty Lee giggles, and the girl turns a deep red before scurrying away.
Ty Lee feels a little bad, but Azula’s sneer remains. “If they were smart they would be trying to curry favor with you,” she says as the bell rings for class to start. “Tell me if anyone else gives you trouble. Any affront to my friends is an affront to me.”
“I will,” Ty Lee says as they take their usual seats, although she privately wonders if she should keep that promise. She isn’t sure what Azula means to do with anyone that ‘gives her trouble,’ but it’s hard to imagine the punishment will be light.
Twice a week, Mai and Ty Lee are allowed to leave their World Cultures class early and are taken by royal escort to the palace, where Azula meets them after her private firebending lessons. The servants don’t allow them to wander the palace halls while they wait, so they normally pass the time in Azula’s playroom, or in the courtyard if the weather is good.
They both prefer the latter– Mai because she can practice throwing daggers at the trees when the gardeners aren’t looking, and Ty Lee because grass makes for a softer landing when she’s trying new flips and twists.
When she cares to stand still, it’s also better for people-watching, although in general the people around the palace are less interesting than Ty Lee thought they would be. A lot of old men in red robes and grey beards, hurrying back and forth like they’re going somewhere terribly important.
For a while, she hopes to catch a glimpse of the famous Dragon of the West, who they talk about in lessons all the time, or maybe even his son, Azula’s cousin, but then Azula tells her that they’re both away fighting the war.
Ty Lee supposes that makes sense. The war is still going on, someplace very far away, and even though people keep saying the Fire Nation has basically won already, she’s sure there’s a lot more for the Crown Prince and his son to do.
So she stops looking for grown-ups with crowns in their topknots and the first time she sees one she’s upside-down in a backbend.
“Who’s that?” She brings her feet around to stand up, but by the time she turns around the woman is about to disappear around the corner, trailed by a boy with his hair in a phoenix tail. “That can’t be the Firelady, can it?” If she remembers her lessons correctly, the Firelady has been dead for almost twenty years.
“No, that’s Princess Ursa,” Mai says from her usual seat at the base of a tree. “Azula’s mother.”
“And who was the boy?”
“Her brother.” Mai seems unusually interested in the hem of her dress. “Prince Zuko.”
Ty Lee climbs up onto the railing and leans around the corner where they disappeared, but they’re already gone. She turns back to Mai. “Have you met them before?”
Mai stills. “A few times. Last month, when you were at home.”
Ty Lee frowns, thinking not for the first time how convenient it would be if her family had a big house in the city like Mai’s. Then she wouldn’t have to spend hours in a carriage to their estate in the country for the triplets’ birthday, and she could come back the same day instead of being stuck at home for weeks.
“What are they like?” She cartwheels back over to Mai, determined to extract every detail she can before Azula arrives. “Did you talk to them? What did they say?”
“Nothing,” Mai says, staring hard at the grass over her knees.
“You totally talked to them!” Ty Lee says, pointing a finger. “I can tell.”
“No, I didn’t,” Mai says. “Not to the princess, anyway. Just Zuko– Prince Zuko.”
Ty Lee squeals at the slip and Mai blushes. “Is the prince cute?” She leans closer. “Do you like him?”
“No, I don’t!” Mai says, with more feeling than Ty Lee has ever seen from her.
She laughs and claps her hands. “Mai, that’s so romantic. You’re so pretty, I bet he likes you back.” She gasps. “Oh, if you marry him, you’ll be a princess, too!”
Mai’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m not going to marry him.”
“How do you know?” Ty Lee grabs her hand, turning it face up so she can see her palm. During her visit home, Ty Lin had told her that some people could read the future by looking at your hand.
She looks hard at the lines on Mai’s palm, wondering what fortune tellers look for, but nothing comes to her. The lines on Mai’s hands look just like her own, with the addition of a few small scars where she’s cut herself with her knives.
“What are you doing?”
Mai snatches her hand away and they both spin around, executing hasty bows to greet Azula, who has appeared at the top of the stairs.
“I was trying to see Mai’s future by reading her palm,” Ty Lee says. “Would you like me to try yours?”
“No.” Azula frowns. “Fortune tellers are liars who take advantage of fools.” She steps down into the courtyard, re-touching the strands of hair that always perfectly frame her face. “Now, don’t you want to see the new forms I learned in my firebending lesson today?”
Firebending is Azula’s favorite thing to talk about. It doesn’t matter that neither Mai nor Ty Lee can contribute very much to these conversations– in fact, Azula seems to enjoy the one-sidedness, and relishes every opportunity she has to demonstrate whatever skill or form has captured her imagination that week.
Sometimes Mai struggles to look interested, but Ty Lee genuinely enjoys it. None of them can really be called clumsy, but Azula is graceful in a way no one else is– precise and (it makes Ty Lee’s heart race to think of it) deadly. She lands every jump with perfect balance, and the targets in her training room are blackened with scorch marks directly in the center.
Of course, they all attend combat training at school. It’s patriotic, according to the headmistress.
“Today, the Fire Nation Army is nearly fifty percent women,” she says during the assembly in which all the non-benders of their year choose their electives. “And with the advent of new technology even non-benders can learn to fight for the glory of the Fire Nation.”
Ty Lee looks dubiously at the instructors that line the edge of the hall, some accompanied by advanced students to do demonstrations, each holding some sort of weapon. The students are called row by row to choose a master, and when their row is called she follows Mai to the one holding throwing knives. Mai leans over the small table displaying a set of stilettos, testing the balance and weight of each one.
The instructor watches her with a gleam in his eye, and when she finishes and seems about to move on he pulls out a set of six-pointed shuriken, as well as what looks like a wrist holster.
Mai hesitates, and Ty Lee sighs. She lingers by the table while Mai spins the shuriken in her hands, and absently picks up one of the stilettos. It feels cold and heavy in her hands, like it’s dead. Which she supposes it is. If metal isn’t alive, then it must be dead.
She puts the knife back on the table and looks around the room again. There’s only one instructor not holding any weapons, and with one more look at Mai, now throwing the shuriken at a practice target set up on the far wall, she leaves to sign up for hand-to-hand combat.
“A useful skill, I suppose,” Azula says a few weeks later. “Not as good as firebending, although nothing is.”
Ty Lee nods in agreement, although Mai subtly turns her head away from the palanquin to roll her eyes. They’re walking alongside it, as they always do, on the way to see the circus.
“Do you spar with the other students?” Azula says.
“Not yet, but the older class does, so I’m sure we will soon.”
“Good.” Azula nods. “That’s the only way to know who’s the best.”
“Oh.” Ty Lee considers it. “I thought it was just for practice.”
“Of course,” Azula says. “But there’s always someone who’s the best at something in every group. And when you start sparring everyone will know who it is.”
“I don’t really care who’s the best,” Ty Lee says. “As long as we’re all having fun.”
Azula scoffs. “Of course it matters who’s the best.” They reach the main circus tent and her bearers set the palanquin down. “And besides, combat training isn’t about having fun, it’s about learning how to defend our nation.”
“But you have fun in firebending training, right?”
Azula cocks her head. “Perhaps.” She straightens her shoulders. “But that’s not the point of firebending.”
They follow the procession of bowing servants and circus staff to their private box. Azula takes the large, plush chair in the middle while Mai and Ty Lee arrange themselves on either side.
Ty Lee has never been to the circus before, although she’s heard a lot about it. A lot of scrolls on acrobatics talk about the circus, but they must be old because the performances on display today are so much more elaborate. The trapeze artists look like they’re flying, and the tightrope walkers like they’re walking on air. At the end of the tightrope act, the most senior acrobats do handstands in the middle of the tightrope, legs moving in intricate patterns in time with music from the live band.
It’s all very spectacular, and they exits the ring to thunderous applause, although Ty Lee wonders if they could’ve walked on their hands across the tightrope. She wonders if she could do it, if she tried. Walking on her hands is almost second nature at this point, and she spends most of the next act daydreaming about one day having the opportunity to try.
It’s the only act featuring firebenders, and in her completely honest opinion it isn’t very impressive, although maybe that’s because she’s used to watching Azula, and Azula’s firebending can’t really be compared to anyone else’s.
Ty Lee hazards a glance at Azula as the act concludes, wondering whether she should express this.
Azula doesn’t applaud with everyone else, her expression one of mild boredom. “I suppose it’s a good thing,” she says, “that the best of our firebending talent isn’t wasted on the circus.”
“What’s your favorite act, then?” she says. “If it wasn’t the firebenders?”
“That’s a good question.” Azula takes a moment to think about it. “I’m not sure. What was your favorite act?”
Ty Lee feels a wide, sudden smile grow on her face. For all Azula can be dismissive and self-centered, or maybe because of it, the moments she graces them with her interest and attention are all the more intoxicating. “The tightrope walker,” she says at once. “Or the trapeze artists. I almost can’t decide.”
Azula nods. “They were very skilled.”
“I wish I knew where they learned all that,” Ty Lee says. “I’ve never even seen a tightrope in person before, let alone been close enough to try one, and I thought the Caldera had everything!”
“Not even the Academy’s recreation room?”
Ty Lee shakes her head. She’s inspected all the equipment in there three times at least, and has never seen anything like a tightrope.
“Well, then you shall have one,” Azula declares.
“Really?” The bubble of happiness in her chest grows larger, and she doesn’t think this day could possibly be any better.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with your combat training, of course.”
“Oh, it won’t, I promise it won’t!” Compelled to properly show her gratitude, Ty Lee rises from her chair so she can properly bow. “You are too kind, Princess Azula.”
Azula smiles that proud smile of hers and nods graciously. “We are best friends, Ty Lee. Best friends do things for each other.”
Ty Lee grips the hem of her skirt to keep from pinching herself. This whole day has to be a dream, doesn’t it? This must be too good to be true. “We’ll be best friends forever, won’t we, Azula?” she says once she’s back in her chair. “You, me, and Mai?”
“Of course we will,” Azula says with such casual confidence Ty Lee allows herself to picture the rest of their years at the academy all together, so inseparable they’re almost like sisters, except better because no one could possibly mix them up, and no one would forget her name.
She should’ve known it would be too much to hope. Not even a month after Azula has a tightrope installed in the academy recreation room, her father becomes the Firelord, and Azula leaves the academy.
“I have many more duties now that I’m second in line for the throne,” she explains the first time they see her at the palace after her departure. “And many things to learn that academy instructors could not possibly provide.”
“Like what things?” Ty Lee is trying very hard to hide her disappointment. She understands, of course, that nothing can be done, but it’s so difficult to accept not seeing Azula every day part of her still wonders if there really isn’t another way.
“Like very important, royal things,” Azula snaps from across the tea table, causing Ty Lee to sit back on her cushion. “Things that don’t concern commoners, not that you would understand.”
Neither Ty Lee nor Mai are commoners, but both of them know better than to point that out. Ty Lee thinks it must be stressful, being the Crown Princess. She just wishes there was some way for her to help, so things could be more normal.
“But we’ll still be best friends,” Azula says firmly. “Even if I don’t go to the academy anymore. I will send invitations as my schedule allows.”
Ty Lee nods, and so does Mai. Neither of them would ever consider refusing such an invitation, and Ty Lee suspects it would also be unwise to make other friends at school.
Which is fine with her, mostly. Although she sometimes looks jealously across the yard in the afternoon where big groups of girls gather for trips to the shops in town, she tells herself it’s worth it to walk to the palace with Mai once or twice a week.
Azula has new, bigger apartments in the palace in accordance with her rank, and more servants to boss around. Their time with her is more limited, but within that they seem to have more freedom than ever. They no longer stick to the playroom or the courtyard, instead roaming the palace and surrounding grounds as they please. No one attempts to contain or admonish them– on the contrary, most of the palace staff seem afraid of Azula, parting like waves as she approaches.
Sometimes they run into Prince Zuko, although he always regards them suspiciously and seems even gloomier than Mai.
“What’re you doing here?” he says when they find him in a far alcove of the library.
“That’s none of your concern,” Azula says, hip cocked and an imperious sneer on her face, even though Zuko is half a head taller than her.
His glare doesn’t falter, but he backs up until his heels hit the wall and Ty Lee realizes as she and Mai have fanned out on either side of Azula they have accidentally cornered him.
Out of politeness, or pity, she shifts her weight to step aside, but Azulas’ eyes flick over and she corrects her stance. Perhaps it’s not so accidental.
“What’re you reading, Zuzu?” Azula snatches one of the scrolls from the table between them before Zuko can reach it. “Love Amongst the Dragons again?”
“No–” Zuko makes a clumsy grab for it, but Azula pulls away.
“Asuke and the Blue Spirit.” The scroll snaps shut. “Didn’t you know Father banned this one?”
Zuko seethes, smoke curling from clenched fists.
Azula sets the scroll on fire, so fast and so hot the whole thing is reduced to ashes before Zuko can reach it.
“Azula!”
“That was for your own good, you know,” she says.
“You’re the worst.” Zuko gathers the rest of the scrolls in his arms and looks furtively between Mai and Ty Lee, as if deciding on the best route of escape.
Thinking of Azula’s promise of best friends forever, Ty Lee squares her shoulders and doesn’t back down, so it’s not really a surprise when he goes for Mai, feinting to the right and darting around her before scrambling out the door.
“What’s up with him?” she says as Azula and Mai push the table over to the nearest window. It all seems a bit of an overreaction– he really wasn’t supposed to be reading that play, and besides, he can read anywhere, but they can only access the highest roof in the palace from one window.
Azula scoffs. “Oh, the usual. He’s been such a crybaby since Mom isn’t around anymore.”
“Huh.” Ty Lee glances back at the doorway where Zuko disappeared. It does seem a little odd– that the new Firelord has a wife but she’s never heard of there being a Firelady. “Does anyone know what happen–”
“Shh.” Mai suddenly grips her arm so tight it’s painful and Ty Lee’s mouth snaps shut.
“What’s that?” Azula’s on her tiptoes on the table, head halfway out the jimmied window.
“Nothing,” Mai says firmly, although Azula still looks suspicious.
Then there’s a clatter from behind them and their heads snap around to see Zuko again, crouching in the doorway, collecting a couple scrolls he’d dropped.
He freezes, stares back at them. Well, not at them. It takes Ty Lee a moment to realize, but Zuko is really only looking at one of them. She follows his gaze to Mai, and has to swallow the urge to giggle at the faint blush rising on her friend’s pale neck.
As suddenly as it began, the odd moment ends and Zuko snatches up a scroll and disappears again, leaving one still rolling on the floor.
Ty Lee allows the giggle to escape and hazards a glance at Azula, who’s also looking at Mai with a new kind of smirk on her face.
“Designs on being the next firelady?” she says, which makes Ty Lee laugh again.
“No.” Mai balls her hands into fists and her neck grows redder.
“Your mother would be proud.”
Mai growls and shoves past Ty Lee to climb up onto the table, pushing past Azula and jamming a stiletto especially hard into the eaves as she pulls herself onto the roof.
With Azula gone from the Academy, Ty Lee’s social circle most days dwindles to just her and Mai. If asked, Ty Lee would have to admit this doesn’t particularly suit her– not that she doesn’t adore Mai, despite the gloomy air she seems to carry around, but Mai isn’t around all the time, and when Mai isn’t there Ty Lee is stuck with her sisters.
“You’ve had your turn, now let me try!” Ty Lao yells up at Ty Lin, wobbling in place about halfway down the tightrope.
“Five more minutes!” Ty Lin calls back, taking another hesitant step forward.
Ty Lee buries her head in her knees, and regrets ever telling Ty Lum about the tightrope. It had just slipped out one day, when she managed to turn around without stepping off for the first time and Mai was nowhere to be found. Of course, she’d forgotten that telling Ty Lum is the same as telling Ty Lao and Ty Liu, and that Ty Liu has joint music lessons with Ty Lin, and if Ty Lin knew, then of course so did Ty Lat, and before the day was out every single one of them descended upon her room to show them how it worked.
Secretly, Ty Lee had entertained the faint hope that none of the others would be able to master it, and this could be something she would have to herself, but on their third day of practice Ty Lao makes it all the way across, with Ty Lat not too far behind.
Today, Ty Liu and Ty Lum makes it across for the first time, and even Ty Woo gets halfway before tumbling down onto the mat.
“Okay, now it’s my turn,” Ty Lao says when Ty Lin reaches the end.
“It hasn’t been five minutes yet,” Ty Lin says. “Besides, I’m older– I should get more time.”
“That’s not fair!” Ty Lao yells. “Tell her, Ty Lat!”
“Ty Lat can’t tell me what to do!”
“She can so!”
Ty Lee grinds her teeth together. “No, she can’t! The tightrope was supposed to be a gift to me, I should get the most time on it.”
Ty Liu crosses her arms. “Don’t be selfish, Lee-Lee. Mother always says we have to share everything.”
“I don’t care what Mother says, Princess Azula gave that to me.”
“Princess Azula isn’t here now,” Ty Woo says.
“Neither is Mother.”
“Well, I’m the oldest and I say you have to share,” Ty Lin says with an air of finality. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to go the palace this afternoon?”
“Yeah.” Ty Lee sinks back against the wall. “I’m just waiting for Mai.”
“Really?” Ty Woo says. “Why?”
“Because we always walk over together.”
“‘Always?’” Ty Woo smirks. “I always see her walk over alone. Yesterday and today.”
Yesterday? Azula said she was too busy yesterday. Ty Lee and Mai received letters specifically saying so. “That’s a lie!”
“No it isn’t,” Ty Lum says. “I saw her, too. She probably hasn’t shown up to walk over with you because she’s already there.”
Ty Lee feels her cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. Mai is supposed to be her best friend! Why is she going over to the palace without her? Has Azula been lying to her to shut her out?
Unable to say anything more to her sisters, she storms out of the recreation room and out the front gates of the school. She arrives at the palace over half an hour before Azula’s specified time, but she still takes the stairs to the door two at a time after the guards wave her through.
The first place she looks is Azula’s playroom, bracing herself to find Mai already in there with Azula, having fun without her, but she throws open the door to find it empty. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here all day– there are no teacups or remnants of food on the table and the fireplace is cold– so Ty Lee turns on her heel and goes to the only other place she can think of, the courtyard.
She approaches it from the west, and at first it appears empty, until she hears voices over the soft dribble of water from the fountain in the turtleduck pond. It occurs to her she doesn’t think she’s ever seen the courtyard this peaceful. The turtleducks all seem to disappear when Azula’s around, and even when it’s just the three of them there’s always something in motion– the shaking of tree branches as they try to see how high they can climb, the whirling air as she turns cartwheels and backflips.
Well, Ty Lee stops to consider it. Perhaps that’s all me. She remembers the first time she met Mai– sitting quietly at the base of a tree, fiddling with her knife. It probably makes sense that the courtyard is peaceful when Mai is there alone.
Except… she’s not alone, if Ty Lee can hear voices.
Quietly, thanking Agni for her soft, flexible shoes, Ty Lee walks around the courtyard to the right, where a stand of thick rosebushes protect her from the view of the two figures sitting against the silver wisteria tree.
She recognizes Mai immediately, still wearing her preferred dark red and black, but a dress more flattering than Ty Lee has ever seen her wear. It would seem odd, but in the next moment she recognizes the other figure– Prince Zuko.
They’re not doing anything terribly improper, just sitting and talking, but Ty Lee notes they’re sitting particularly close, closer than Mai normally allows anyone to sit, and their heads are tilted towards each other. And Ty Lee knows at once where Mai has been disappearing to, and why.
“Hey, what’re you guys talking about?” she says, rather louder than she means to, stepping out from behind the rosebushes. There’s a strange, vaguely unpleasant feeling rising in her stomach, which makes her want to channel Azula as she moves to stand over them, hands positioned on her hips.
Both of them go very red, and Zuko shuffles slightly away, as if she didn’t see before their knees were close enough to touch.
“Nothing,” Mai holds her gaze through her embarrassment.
“Really?” Ty Lee turns to Zuko, who scrambles to his feet and begins to stutter.
“I– I should really–” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before turning on his heel and practically sprinting out of the courtyard. Ty Lee finds this particularly satisfying– Zuko, once basically the same height as her, is now significantly taller and she credits Azula for her ability to physically intimidate him.
But she doesn’t have time to enjoy it before Mai stands up as well. “What was that for?”
She drops her hands to her sides. “What was what for?”
“We were just having a conversation.”
Ty Lee presses her mouth together and rocks back on her heels. This is where Azula would have a clever devastating comeback that would leave Mai speechless and herself victorious, but Ty Lee can’t think of anything, and the odd feeling in her chest turns sour as she realizes what she’s done. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Mai’s staring her down, and Ty Lee finds she has to look away, breath coming fast as she tries to explain why she did that. “You came to the palace without me. Today and yesterday. Ty Woo saw you.”
Mai scoffs. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is so!” Ty Lee says, indignation returning. “Azula is our friend. We’re supposed to come to the palace together.”
“Well maybe I don’t always come here to see Azula,” she retorts, although the blush on her cheeks returns. “I’m allowed to have other friends.”
This hurts maybe more than Mai meant it to, as Ty Lee realizes she doesn’t have other friends outside Mai and Azula. She didn’t think it was allowed. “Does Azula know you come here early to meet Prince Zuko?”
“You know what she’d say.”
“What if I told her?”
“Ugh. Why do you even care?” Mai throws out her arms in frustration. “This is none of your stupid business.”
Ty Lee plants her feet on the grass. “Yes, it is my business when you leave me alone at the academy with no one but my sisters.”
Mai rolls her eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad? Leaving you ‘all alone’ with six sisters? Did it ever occur to you that I might get lonely? That I might want to talk to someone besides you and Azula?”
“You don’t understand!” Ty Lee thinks she might cry. How can she possibly explain to Mai, or to anyone, how lonely she feels even when she’s surrounded by her family? How can she explain how it feels to disappear into the matched set of her siblings?
“You’re right, I don’t.” Mai sits heavily against the tree again. “I don’t understand what it’s like to always have someone around for me, who thinks like me, who understands me.”
“I understand you,” Ty Lee kneels beside her, pleading. “You’re… you’re Mai.”
Mai looks unimpressed.
“I mean–” She flounders, troubled by the thought that perhaps she doesn’t understand one of her best friends, that they’re too different after all. “You like knives. And– and dark colors. And… fruit pastries for dessert.”
Mai crosses her arms. “Just because you can name random things I like doesn’t mean you understand me. Maybe we’re just too different from each other.”
Ty Lee shakes her head. “So what? We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
Mai looks away. “Do you think we’d be friends if it weren’t for Azula?”
“I…” Ty Lee looks down at the grass between them, her pink trousers next to Mai’s dark red skirt. They really are opposites in nearly every way, and she finds herself hard pressed to name something, anything, they both genuinely enjoy. But even after all that, she holds in her mind the way they first met– she went over to talk to Mai first. Azula came after. “Of course we’d still be friends,” she says, even though she can’t quite explain how.
Mai doesn’t seem to believe her, and over the next few weeks Ty Lee can only watch miserably as she pulls away. They still share a room at the Academy, but Mai spends less and less time there, in favor of the training room with her knives or at the palace with Zuko. Ty Lee is left with her sisters, who grow more insufferable by the day, and Azula.
“You know Mai just wants to be the firelady,” she says one afternoon as they wander through the tunnels that wind their way beneath the palace “I overheard War Minister Qin call Lady Michi creeping cat-ivy, a ruthless social climber. I wouldn’t be surprised if her mother put her up to it.”
“I don’t know… they seem to really like each other.” Ty Lee kicks a rock in their path. She doesn’t much like the dark, damp passageways that never quite warm up, but they’re never bothered down here by Azula’s advisors telling her to go to some meeting or class, so she supposes it’s worth it.
Azula scoffs. “Maybe Zuzu likes her. But I know Mai. She doesn’t like anything.”
Ty Lee frowns. Azula always speaks with such confidence, but she knows there are things that Mai likes, even if she doesn’t always show it.
“Besides,” Azula continues. “It’s not like anyone could actually like Zuzu.”
Ty Lee can’t help but grin, even though it’s rather mean-spirited. Mostly, she’s relieved she isn’t the only one who doesn’t understand Mai’s attraction to Zuko. Ty Lat once told her that she thought the prince was very handsome, but Ty Lee can’t see it. Sure, she supposes Zuko is fine to look at, in a sort of unremarkable way, but when she looks at him all she can see is Azula’s nervous, awkward brother who isn’t clever enough to avoid her verbal traps and so easily provoked it’s laughable.
“I can’t believe he’s actually going to be the firelord some day,” she says, giggling at the thought of Zuko stuttering in front of all the generals.
But Azula doesn’t laugh, and Ty Lee’s insides curl as she wonders if she’s made a misstep. The corridors around them are deathly quiet, and for a moment she misses Mai, who probably would’ve said something to redirect Azula’s attention.
Ty Lee opens her mouth, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but then Azula speaks.
“It is a troubling thought,” she says, fingers twirling a strand of her hair. “Zuzu, in charge of leading this great nation.”
“He’ll have you, though,” Ty Lee is quick to say. “You can tell him how to do it.”
“I suppose I can.” A furrow appears between her eyebrows. “Although it’s still unfortunate.”
“I wish you were older,” Ty Lee says. “You would be able to end the war like that.” She snaps her fingers.
Her flattery has the desired effect. Azula’s frown disappears, replaced with a smirk. “True. But we’re so close already, I trust my father to finish the war soon.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re right.” Ty Lee feels silly for not thinking of that sooner. “All you and Zuko will have to do is rule the empire.”
Azula nods slowly. “Not an easy task, to be sure. But father is preparing us.”
“Is that what your lessons are all about?” Ty Lee says. “And Zuko’s?”
“Yes,” Azula says, although her voice is more sure than her face. “Why are we still talking about Zuko?”
And just like that, the conversation is over.
Ty Lee is careful not to bring up the topic of Zuko in the future, and Mai, when she joins them, does the same. It makes for a tense sort of harmony within the group– Mai and Ty Lee both addressing Azula more than each other, their efforts to temper her mood swings taking on an increasingly desperate edge.
Sometimes, when she’s lying in bed exhausted by the simple task of managing her friends, Ty Lee misses the early days when their friendship felt easy and natural, and sharing a room at the academy with her best friend was a joy instead of a chore.
She wonders, as she pretends to be asleep while Mai sneaks out, if anything could possibly knit them back together the way they were before. Once, they would’ve been sneaking out together, to steal food from the kitchens or climb onto the roof of the guard towers. But now…
Maybe she should give up, go back to living with Ty Woo next year.
Her hands curl into fists at the thought. Ty Lin’s response to that was sure to be unbearable– We told you, Ty Lee. You can only really depend on your family.
Her next, petty thought is that Zuko is to blame for all of this. If it weren’t for him, Mai never would’ve started to pull away, split her loyalty away from Azula, and their perfect trio would still be perfect.
Plus, she thought, turning on her side away from the window, if it weren’t for Zuko, Azula would be the next Firelord, and she would be a much better firelord than him.
Ty Lee falls asleep angry that night, and wakes up preparing to reaffirm her loyalties. She is Azula’s best friend, and being Azula’s best friend means not being friends with Zuko. And if Mai doesn’t understand that, well then that’s too bad.
The next time anyone brings up Zuko, it’s Azula, in a conversation about the next time they are to come to the palace.
“I’m not free tomorrow afternoon,” she says offhandedly, a few minutes before Mai and Ty Lee are due to return to the academy. “There’s going to be an Agni Kai.”
Mai, as usual, seems bored by this news, but Ty Lee is fascinated. She’s never seen an Agni Kai before, only heard about them in lessons. “Who’s fighting it?”
Azula’s lips twitch into an odd version of her signature smirk. “Zuzu.”
Ty Lee’s jaw drops open, and from the corner of her eye she see’s Mai’s hands, fiddling with one of her wrist holsters, go still.
“Who’s his opponent?” Despite her professed loyalties, Ty Lee feels a twinge of concern at the thought of Zuko fighting an Agni Kai. At school, the sacred duels they study are always between master firebenders. If she knows one thing about Zuko, it’s that he’s far from a master firebender.
“The dum-dum spoke out of turn at a war meeting,” Azula says. “Perhaps this will finally teach him some respect.”
That doesn’t exactly answer her question, but they’re at the door to the palace and they have to go. Mai is very quiet as they walk back to the academy, and doesn’t sneak out of their room that night.
Ty Lee never learns the details the Agni Kai. Her teachers don’t talk about it, and her combat instructor, the only one she dares to ask directly, is quick to head off further inquiries.
“These are matters that don’t concern us.” He taps the back of her knees with his staff. “Now correct your stance.”
So she stops asking– although it’s pretty clear that Zuko lost. What’s more interesting, and more taboo, is that he has also been banished. It seems an odd punishment– Ty Lee doesn’t remember that from her cultural history lessons– but the firelord must know best, he is Azula’s father after all, and she tries not to think about it too hard.
In her next message to Azula, she doesn’t dare ask for details on the fight, but she tries to ask, in a roundabout way, how she’s doing now that her brother is gone. She knows Azula and Zuko were never particularly close, but they are brother and sister, so that has to count for something, right?
She leans back in her chair at the writing table in her room, lamp burning low, and twirls the brush between her fingers. The more she thinks about it, she doubts Azula is much bothered by the change. After all, with Zuko gone, at least for the moment, she becomes next in line for the throne, doesn’t she?
Ty Lee smiles at the thought. Azula would make such a good firelord, she’s sure. No one loves the Fire Nation more than her. Plus, Ty Lee can’t think of anyone smarter, or more beautiful than her. She leans over her parchment again and blots out the line asking about Zuko.
She folds the message and seals it, then turns around in her chair to an empty room. Mai is missing, even though it’s been hours since their last lesson ended. Her first (petty) thought is that she must be at the palace, before remembering that Zuko is gone, and there’s no one for her to visit alone. It’s a sobering thought, and as her smile fades she wonders if it counts as being disloyal if she feels a little sad, too. Hanging around the palace is sure to get way more boring, at any rate, without Zuko around to tease.
The night is warm, the trees rattling with the sound of honey-cicadas, so Ty Lee passes through the courtyard on her way to the mews, even though it’s nearly past curfew and she’ll have to run to make it back in time.
She’s almost at the far door when she registers the noise. A faint rustling of fabric, followed by the dull thunk of metal embedding itself in wood. It’s a sound Ty Lee is very familiar with, and when she turns around and squints through the dark, she can make out Mai’s familiar silhouette, sitting at the base of the tree where they first met.
Ty Lee’s hand tightens around her letter to Azula, which will not go out on a hawk tonight unless she leaves now.
Oh, well. Mai is her friend too, right? Even if things have been a little different lately.
She tucks the letter into her tunic and walks back towards the tree. Mai is sitting next to one of the exposed roots with her knees curled up to her chest, stabbing the wood with one of her daggers over and over, so hard sometimes chunks of wood fly into the grass around it.
Ty Lee sits across from her, wincing at a particularly vicious attack. “Don’t you think that hurts?”
Mai’s rhythm barely breaks. “I don’t think the tree can tell.”
Ty Lee watches another couple stabs. “Mai, are you angry?”
The knife stops mid-air, and Mai looks up to glare at her. “What do you think?”
“Are you mad at the tree?”
“Don’t be stupid!” Thunk. The knife goes in so hard Mai struggles to pull it out.
“Are you mad at Zuko?”
The knife comes free and Mai drops it, eyes wide and hands trembling. “I–” She makes a short, choked sound and for a moment Ty Lee can see the moon reflected in her eyes. Her breath catches as she realizes she’s never seen Mai cry before.
“It’s okay.” She shuffles a little bit closer, but not too close. Mai doesn’t always like to be touched. “I’ll miss Zuko, too.”
“…Really?”
“Sure.” Ty Lee shrugs. “It’ll probably be quieter at the palace without him.”
Mai ducks her head, curling to one side to press a shoulder into her cheek. “He was an idiot. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.”
“Do you know what he said?” Ty Lee leans forward, morbidly curious despite herself. Perhaps Mai knows something their teachers aren’t willing (or able) to say.
“No.”
Ty Lee slumps back.
“But he was always saying something,” she continues. “He never knew when to shut up.”
Ty Lee nods, even though she didn’t know Zuko well enough to know this. She thinks perhaps she should’ve tried to get to know him better, but in the next moment realizes that would’ve been impossible. Azula would never have allowed it.
“He’ll be okay, you know,” she says, for lack of anything else to say. “He’ll have his very own ship to sail around the world looking for the Avatar, and I heard the Dragon of the West is going with him.”
Mai nods, although she has to bow her head again to dry her eyes.
Slowly, Ty Lee reaches out and puts her hand over Mai’s. “But it’s okay to be sad.” The bell is ringing for curfew and she stands up, tugging Mai along with her. “I’m still here with you, Mai,” she says as they walk back to their room. “And so is Azula. And nothing in the world can tear us apart.”
Ty Lee says this to herself as much as to Mai, and it’s an idea she clings to in the weeks following Zuko’s banishment, as things fail to return to the Normal she thought they would.
Azula does not invite them to the palace again, although Ty Lee assumes she’s just busy. She wonders if Zuko’s banishment means she’s officially been made Crown Princess. Ty Lee hopes so. Azula would make a perfect Crown Princess. But it probably means lots of new lessons, royal duties, and clothes. All of which they would normally hear about in impressive detail, if they Azula deigned to see them.
Ty Lee shifts uncomfortably in the hard desk chair, struggling to focus on the blackboard, where one of her classmates is attempting to solve an arithmetic problem. She hopes Azula doesn’t consider Mai and herself beneath her now. She registers her foot tapping the desk in front of her and forces it to stop. Azula would consider fiddling unseemly.
The bell rings for the end of the period and Ty Lee gathers her things and shuffles into the hallway, keeping her head down. You never knew what was going to happen in the hallway these days. The instructors are tense– Ty Lee can see it in the way they walk and grip their pointers, and in the way some of them look at each other.
Last week the headmistress had to break up a loud argument between Calligraphy Mistress Ying and Political Economy Master Toji. Ty Lee didn’t hear the conflict herself, but Ty Lao told her, in a hushed whisper behind the yard privy, that one of them had said treasonous things about the firelord. She wouldn’t say who, but when Ty Lee arrives at her calligraphy lesson the following day, the headmistress greets them and announces that Mistress Eiko will be instructing them from now on.
Ty Lee can feel the negative energy begin to percolate throughout the school, until she can’t walk to class without a weight on her shoulders. Out on a shopping trip with Ty Lin and Ty Lat, she sees a poster for the circus, which has come into town again for the next two weeks. Her chest immediately feels lighter at the thought of seeing the tightrope walker again, and she buys three tickets in the most expensive box available. If Azula comes, of course they’ll all sit in the royal box, but Ty Lee needs something to fold into a letter to the palace, and something to give to Mai after dinner.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. Better than hanging around here, anyway.”
“I can’t.” Mai shakes her head, hunching further over her handheld whetstone. “I have to go home next week. My mother is sick.”
Ty Lee’s heart falls to her stomach. “Again?”
“I’m sorry.” Mai puts down her stiletto and sighs. “You know Mother is… sensitive.”
“…Yeah.” Ty Lee slumps down onto her bed. “I just don’t understand why you always have to be there too.”
Mai shrugs. “Father says it’s better when I take care of her. It’s easier than trying to argue.”
“Alright.” Ty Lee retreats to her side of the room. “I understand.” She doesn’t, really, even after sneaking into the recreation room that night to ponder the issue while practicing on her tightrope.
The next day, she receives a letter back from the palace signed by one of the royal undersecretaries stating that the Princess’s many royal duties prevented her from attending such frivolous pursuits as the circus. The news is crushing, and Ty Lee is so upset she doesn’t notice until later that the undersecretary had not returned her ticket, leaving her with only one extra.
Cautiously, the show only days away, she approaches Ty Woo outside the history classroom.
“The circus?” Ty Woo looks distastefully at the ticket in Ty Lee’s hand.
“Yeah.” Ty Lee gives it a shake. “It’s in town until the end of the week, and tickets are all sold out. I went with Azula before, and that’s where I saw the real-life tightrope walkers. I bet we could see them again if you wanted to go.”
This seems to pique her interest, and her hand comes up to take the ticket. Then it stops. “Wait. Are you only asking me?”
“What does it matter?”
Ty Woo withdraws her hand. “Don’t you want to invite all of us?”
“I– well, I only have one extra ticket. It was for Mai, but she couldn’t go.”
“So I’m your second choice?”
“No, that’s not what I meant–”
“Ty Lum was right about you.” Ty Woo turns up her nose. “You don’t really want to be a part of this family.”
“What? Of course I do!”
“Nuh-uh.Ty Lum said you care about your depressing friend Mai more than you care about us, and she’s right.”
“That’s not true, you’re my sisters.” Ty Lee shakes the ticket at her again. “I can care about Mai and you guys at the same time.”
“Then why don’t you ever want to hang out with us?” Ty Woo says. “I know you sneak into the recreation room at night so you can have the tightrope all to yourself instead of sharing time with us.
“That’s not…” The lie dies on her lips, and her hand with the ticket drops.
“And I know you’re only asking me to go to the circus because I’m the only other singleton like you,” Ty Woo spits. “But the difference is I’m actually loyal to our sisters.”
“I am loyal!”
Ty Woo scoffs. “If you were really loyal to us you would’ve gotten seven tickets– one for each of us, so we all could have gone together.”
With that, Ty Woo turns on her heel and stalks away, leaving Ty Lee in the middle of the hallway, stunned, until the bell rings the end of passing time and she has to go to class.
She doesn’t end up attending the circus, both tickets sitting unused on her desk while she sobs into her pillow, even though there’s no need to be quiet, since Mai is with her mother. To make matters worse, the atmosphere at school somehow deteriorates even further, until even chatter in the halls during passing time becomes low whispers, everyone endeavoring to keep their heads down while teachers glare at each other across the hall.
One morning, Embroidery Mistress Yilin refuses to lead them through the morning recitation of the Fire Nation oath, resolutely ignoring the portrait of Firelord Ozai that hangs in the back of the classroom. Ty Lee sinks low in her seat and holds her hands over her neck as if that’ll protect her from the eyes that seem to bore into the back of her head. She silently begs for one of her classmates to just stand up and recite the oath anyway, but no one moves.
You’re not going to get in trouble, she tells herself as she hunches over her hoop during the lesson. Firelord Ozai isn’t actually here. No one is going to know.
By the end of the class, she almost believes it, until the next time she enters the embroidery classroom to be greeted by the Headmistress, who informs them that Mistress Yilin has been dismissed, and shames them for obeying such a treasonous instruction.
“Your parents have all been informed,” she says at the end of a scathing lecture that has Ty Lee blinking tears out of her eyes. “And you are all to report to detention after final period, where you will be writing essays on why we always pledge our allegiance to this great nation.”
Ty Lee wants to sink down into the floor, ashamed at her cowardice and wishing more than anything she could go back in time and do it over. She believes in the Fire Nation as much as anyone, maybe more, since Azula is (was?) her best friend.
After detention that evening, she ponders writing a letter to Azula, explaining the situation and begging for forgiveness. And maybe at the same time asking about the circus again. Although there are no more official showtimes, their departure to the colonies had been delayed by bad weather, and Ty Lee’s sure if Azula asked they would put on a private performance.
But when she returns to her room she finds Ping, her father’s seneschal, going through her closet, piling clothes up on the bed.
“Hey!”
Ping barely turns around. “Finally.” He gestures to an empty bag on the floor. “You can start going through your desk. All your things can go in there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“His Lordship has decided to withdraw his daughters from the academy, effective immediately.”
“What? Why?”
“For your own good.” Ping sweeps the clothes off of the bed into another bag and begins sorting through the shoes on the floor. “His Lordship feels it would be better for you and your sisters to stay in the country under the tutelage of private governesses, away from all the… politics.”
“What politics? It’s just school,” she says, although the words ring hollow to her own ears. For a moment, her insides go cold as she wonders if her father might agree with Mistress Yilin.
Ping doesn’t dignify her words with a response, and gestures impatiently towards the desk.
Ty Lee looks around in frustrated confusion as he continues to sort through the closet. “Can I at least say goodbye to Mai? She’s supposed to come back from her mother’s tomorrow morning.”
“His Lordship was very clear.” Ping pulls the last pair of pink shoes from the closet. “All of you are to leave tonight. The carriage is already being prepared.” He claps is hands together and gives her a stern look. “I must go attend to the others. You may write a letter to your friend if you must, but the carriage is set to depart in two hours. Don’t be late.”`
Ty Lee watches him leave with her hands clenched into fists, eyes burning with frustrated tears. It’s all so unfair. She finally had friends outside of her family, things that distinguished her from everyone else, and now everything’s going to be taken away?
When she can will her feet to move again, she stomps over to her desk and pushes the clutter roughly aside, pulling out a fresh roll of parchment for a letter to Mai.
Dear Mai,
When you see this my side of the room will be empty, and I’m not coming back. This is not my choice, and more than anything I wish I didn’t have to go. It breaks my heart to write this in a letter, and that I can’t to see you one more time. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I’m going to miss you so, so much…
She’s crying before she reaches the third line, and loses track of whether the black smudges on her hands is ink or mascara. Halfway through her explanation of why she has to leave the reality of going home begins to sink in, and her chest constricts at the thought of living the way she did before, confined to their isolated country home, one of a perfect matched set, called some other name more often as her own.
Her eyes fall on the circus tickets, unused and gathering dust on the windowsill, cheap ink already fading. She thinks of the tightrope walkers, and wonders if their performance was as spectacular as last time. She’s pretty sure she can do most of their tricks now, and was planning to memorize their routine this time so she could replicate it exactly. She stares out the window, picturing the circus caravan still parked at the fairgrounds, less than three miles away.
Then, before she can think too hard about it, she erases the last few characters on the parchment and writes, but if you want to reach me, don’t write home. I’m running away to join the circus. Maybe you can see me next time we’re in town.
She hastily signs and rolls up the scroll and seals it, before Ping returns and asks to read it. Glancing around at the bags Ping has packed, she picks out the smallest one and removes everything but the essentials– a few sets of clothes, some shoes, her favorite makeup. She’s going to be traveling a lot from now on, it’ll pay to travel light.
As she’s about to tie it shut her gaze falls on the floor between the bed and her desk. On her anatomy textbook, and the scrolls she took from her parents’ library before leaving for the academy. It wasn’t stealing then– she remembers asking permission– but maybe it would be stealing now.
What would Azula do?
Her backbone straightens. Azula would take what she wanted. Azula wouldn’t apologize. Those books belong to her family, don’t they? She has as much a right to them as her parents. She steels herself and shoves the book and scrolls into her bag, before stealing away into the night.
Just outside the academy wall, she hesitates for the briefest of seconds, wondering if this is such good idea after all, if her sisters will miss her, if, like Ty Woo said, they would consider her selfish. But every bone in her body still recoils at the idea of climbing into the carriage with them to be hauled out to the country, and she starts walking in the opposite direction.
She wonders how long Ping will wait before deciding to depart without her. She wonders if he’ll even know which sister is missing.