"Say fire flakes!"
Ty Lee forced her lips to curve into a smile, something she'd never thought she'd have to do—especially not on such a festive and cheery occasion. Her deep crimson dress flowed just the way she liked. A noble boy was saving a seat for her. The bride had even let her help pick the perfect fire lilies. And yet, if the dress wasn't squeezing her ribs so tightly, she would've screamed until her lungs gave out.
The textbook vows were briskly exchanged, but her mother looked so proud that any stranger looking on would've wondered if she needed her eyesight checked.
"May I have this dance?" the boy asked as soon as the ceremony was over. After a little prod in the back (courtesy of mother, of course), Ty Lee took his hand, trying to look as giddy as she would have any other day.
But every time he twirled her, making her brown braid swing, Ty Lee found herself looking around, for all the people who weren't there, physically or otherwise.
Zhu Lee, the proof of that brief time when naming your child with a Z like a royal had been considered cool, had done everything to be the one their mother smiled at. She'd been the eldest and most responsible. She was the only sister who hadn't protested when she heard the words "arranged marriage". She paid the price when her picture perfect husband burned her to death. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
Sa Lee, the second-born who personally gave the Royal Fire Academy for Girls reason to issue a rulebook. She knew from watching her late sister that doing everything to follow orders wouldn't work, so she did everything to break them instead. When she was little, it was stealing toys from Ty Lee. Then she grew into cooking food that made the party guests race each other to the bathroom. When that wasn't enough, she got knocked up by an Earth Kingdom man; she was promptly disowned. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
Ju Lee, the one clenching her teeth in the wedding gown. She didn't want to obey and she didn't want to rebel, so she was putting up with the suffocating lace and pasted-on smiles until then. The man kissing her didn't really care what she did as long as he got a higher social standing out of it. He didn't even bat an eyelash when he caught her standing a little too close to her bridesmaid, because at least she had the brains to make her move in private. Her parents taught her that lesson years ago. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
Ming Lee, the child who had actually made it to the wedding without fuss. By the way their mother talked about her, you would've pictured a model citizen. And after she greeted you with a polite curtsy, you would've congratulated the parents on raising such a fine young girl. Then you might've caught her setting the food table on fire. But if you warned the family, they'd insist you'd hit the cactus juice a little too hard. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
Wei Lee, the quietest, and that's the best they could say about her. She was well aware of the fact that responding to oppression only made things worse in their family, so she didn't even try. She didn't try to make good grades or bad grades, noble friends or forbidden friends, a promising future or a disaster waiting to happen. She focused her entire energy on being nothing at all, and she was great at it. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
Yun Lee, the inaudible one sucking the bottle. She was the youngest, and therefore the only one their mother was still interested in. Her parents gave her everything—gifts, food, cuddles—which made her sisters determined to give her nothing. What made her so much more special than them? They didn't hide the hate they felt for her, and everyone else pretended not to notice. Mother didn't like to talk about it.
As the boy led her back to the table for dinner (served quickly, before it got set on fire), Ty Lee wondered what her sisters thought of her, the one who spent her time doing cartwheels and kissing up to the Fire princess. She didn't want to be another tragedy that barely made it to the altar. She had to do something. Until then, she'd grit her teeth and not talk about it.