When Azula comes home smelling of ash and incense, Ty Lee doesn't have to ask to know where she's been. On bad days like these, she knows it's better that she doesn't ask, anyway.
Ty Lee follows her as she passes the others in the halls wordlessly, offering only a curt nod to those of high enough position to warrant it. Zuko sees her then, and though he is normally blind to his sister's purposefully obscured emotions, he exchanges knowing glances with Ty Lee.
Zuko has his bad days, too.
He rests a timid but well-meaning hand on his sister's shoulder, but she brushes it off with flippant hand and some snide remark about his continued inefficacy. He knows by now not to take it personally, and continues on his way, but not before mouthing a quick "take care of her" to Ty Lee. Ty Lee does not answer aloud, because her answer is always a given, and already silently acknowledged by all.
Azula retires to the silence of her study, as she usually does on bad days, so she can be left alone for the last few hours of daylight and the early hours of darkness. When the sun disappears from sight and the sky darkens, Ty Lee goes to the kitchens to compile and collect their dinner. The servants used to protest the sight of someone with Ty Lee's social standing preparing tea and carrying trays, but they've learned not to argue with her on days like these.
She opens the door as quietly as possible, though she knows Azula hears her anyway. Azula does not lift her head up from her desk, and her brush continues to dance slowly across whatever document she's pretending to author at the moment. Ty Lee leaves the tray of food on the stand by the door and exits as silently as she came.
Ty Lee is already in bed by the time she hears her door open. She feigns sleep, but Azula can always tell. Azula moves silently regardless, opening drawers and closet doors as quietly as possible, and setting items down as if they were leaves landing on the ground.
At last Ty Lee feels the covers lift, and the accompanying a rush of cool air causes her to tremble slightly. The mattress depresses, and suddenly there is warmth all around her again.
For a few moments, there is blissful silence. Then, Ty Lee speaks.
"Bad day?" she asks.
"The usual," Azula responds casually. Ty Lee instinctively feels her fingers lace themselves with hers. She squeezes gently.
"I miss him," Azula says quietly, almost inaudibly. "…I know it's pathetic, and he wasn't much of a father, but—"
Her voice is strained, almost alien. Ty Lee rolls around and looks at her directly in her golden eyes.
"Shhh. It's okay. We can't help who we love."
"Well…I suppose I should be thankful for that," Azula says with a light smirk. "Even on days like these."
A/N: Kinda fluffy-sad Tyzula ficlet? I don't know. Writing exercise, really. Inspired by the upcoming Festival of Brightness, or Ching Ming/Qingming (清明節), in which you visit your ancestor's graves and clean them and burn incense and offer food. I celebrated it with my family today and this idea came into my head, so there you go.
This was originally going to be a Minako/Rei story, but I'm not actually familiar with Japanese grieving rituals so I made it Tyzula instead. Now you know my awful secret (which is when I don't have enough time to research something I just end up writing what I already know because I am a lazy bum).