My plan for a one-shot got too long and turned into a two-shot. Part two and more Tyzula to come soon :)
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The Fire Nation is celebrating. Your people aren't the spiritual type, but if you had any holy day, it would be today, the summer solstice. The benders are at their fullest strength, and the nation is reminded of ninety-seven years of war—ninety-seven years of victory, according to your parents—that bending has brought. One young bender is particularly proud today, your best friend, the princess.
Just two months ago, her brother was humiliated in an agni kai and banished from the empire, leaving her the heir. And when you look at her, her barely younger face bearing a striking, confident smile, you know that that's how it should have been all along. Could there be a bender in this nation more suited for the title of crown princess? You're sure there's not.
But sometimes you wonder if Azula actually enjoyed being the national icon and heir to the throne. She was perfect for the Fire Nation. Talented. Determined. Smart. Beautiful. But was the Fire Nation throne perfect for her? Even now, while the entire capital threw a grandiose celebration for every soldier, woman, and child, Princess Azula was confined within the palace walls, forced to watch the fireworks and bending from her balcony.
That means you're forced to watch from the balcony. You don't mind, though. You go where she goes. It had been the implicit agreement between the two of you ever since you met at the Royal Fire Academy. It didn't matter if you embarrassed her by hugging her in the Fire Lord's presence or if she shot fire at you for kicking while you sleep. You appeared at her side the next morning, and all was forgiven—no words or gestures necessary. It just worked.
It's just the two of you tonight. Mai's father is somewhere in the capitol doling out rewards to the year's most accomplished soldiers, which means his trophy family was required to flank him on stage. Her absence didn't seem to dampen the princess' spirits, though. Nor did your isolation on the palace balcony. You, you're a people person. You would have loved the bustle of the crowds, the cheap tricks of the street performers, the grungy food carts selling fire crisps. Azula just doesn't know what she's missing. You're positive that if you were ever allowed to take her into the festival that you could prove to her how great it was.
"Azula?"
"Hmm?"
"Wouldn't you like going down to the city center now?"
She turns to you and quirks a single eyebrow. "Why?"
"Well...to enjoy the festival!"
"Why would I 'enjoy the festival' with tens of thousands peasants suffocating me when I can see just as well from the royal palace?"
"It's not the same. There's so much energy down there, plus all the fair food!"
"Gross. Unsanitary. I would never eat that."
"You really have to try it someday. You know, like enjoy the little things and pretend you're not a princess for a day."
Azula's skeptical look transformed into one of annoyance. "Why would I possibly want to pretend not to be the princess? Especially today," she concludes emphatically, so much so that you're somewhat confused.
"What's today? I mean, besides the solstice."
The abundance of contentment returned to the princess' expression. "Mai's family isn't the only one down there addressing the masses. Father is making an announcement. He's telling everyone that dear Zuzu has disgraced himself. He wants everyone to know that weakness won't be tolerated from anyone, even the crown prince. But anyways, that means they all know."
"Know what?"
Azula chuckles dryly, then spares you a half-smile that teeters between condescension and endearment. You return it genuinely.
"That I'm the next in line, the true heir to the throne, the prodigy."
"Everyone already knew you were a prodigy, princess!"
"Yes, that's true. But now they'll be expecting me to be their leader, not just a weapon. Can you imagine? Me, on the throne, the entire Fire Nation on its knees before me?" You're a bit confused. She was the princess. Everyone had cowered before her and complied with her every wish since she could speak. What more could she want? She interrupts your thoughts to continue, but never explains. "Father told me that, when I'm ready, he'll make me a general first. He'll send me out to hunt the avatar and win the war. Then the people will have to recognize my right to rule. And I will."
"So...are you ready?"
"Of course," she pauses before sighing deeply. "He doesn't think so though."
You reach out and take her hand in yours, giving it a consoling squeeze. She doesn't reciprocate, but she doesn't pull away. It's enough to brighten your smile. "You will be soon. You're the prettiest, smartest, most perfect girl in the world."
She scoffs, but quickly agrees, "You're right about all those things." You offer her another tender squeeze, and her lips hint at their characteristic smirk "This will all be mine soon."
You nod. You don't fully understand what you're agreeing to, but you nod anyways. "It will be! And I'll be right here to help you become general. And then take over the Earth Kingdom. And then kill the Avatar and become Fire Lord."
"I know." She's staring right into your eyes, but she doesn't intimidate you. She never has. She's your best friend. All you see is the way the self-importance has faded and has been replaced with something you can't quite identify.
"You know?"
"Of course. Where else would you be?" You're exhilarated, flattered. Princess Azula didn't like crowds or peasants or, well, anyone really. But she liked you. She expected you to be at her side.
You don't even think before you do it. It kind of just happens, like so many things you do, but it makes perfect sense to you right now. Her hand still in yours, you abruptly pull her towards you and smash your lips onto hers. Golden eyes flare and dangerous hands warm with the threat of igniting, so you pull away. Your eyes meet, hers shocked and confused and yours nervous and seeking approval.
Moments pass. It's awkward, but you're not a pile of ashes yet, so it must not be that bad. You didn't mean to make her uncomfortable. Kissing her just felt like the right thing to do in that moment.
Slowly, deliberately, she begins to grin mischievously. And without a second's delay, she has both hands in your hair and her lips over yours. It's your first kiss, for both of you, and the clumsiness is apparent. She's aggressive and self-assured while you're accommodating and gentle, and neither of you are used to each other's give and take yet—not in this way. Lips, teeth, and tongues mesh in a graceless collision until she shifts both her hands to your shoulders and pushes you squarely away from her.
You frown at the loss of contact, unsure if you've done something wrong. Her haughty smile assures you that you haven't. "Enough . . . for now." She wouldn't be the princess you admire if she didn't have such self-control.
You beam back at her, comforted by the promise of a future encounter. "Of course, princess," you comply sweetly.
She releases your shoulders, takes a step back and exhales deeply. But instead of the gust of sighing, you hear the crackling of flame, and in place of a deep orange, you see a brilliant azure. You gasp in shock. She looks on in proud wonder. She opens a palm and ignites a small orb of fire. Once again, it burns an ethereal blue. After a moment of indulging herself in self-admiration, she looks up at you.
"We're almost ready, Ty Lee."
You're eleven years old when everything changes. You hook your arm around hers and lean into her through the remainder of the fireworks show. She doesn't move away, and you don't even flinch when she ignites her fingers to play with her newly improved power.
We.
You never want it to change again.
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The past year has been hard for you. The Fire Lord pulled Azula out of the Academy so he could train her at the palace—day and night, alone. Ozai meant that last part with particular forcefulness. Your visits were declined on the solstice, on Sozin's Day, even on the princess' birthday. He kept her out of sight from everyone except her trainers and the most senior military commanders. You assume it's all happening because her time is coming. She'll soon be sent out into the wilderness to track her now-treasonous brother and take over the world. You know it's what she's prepared her whole life for, what she's always wanted. But you didn't have to like being excluded from it. You didn't, not one bit.
After Azula returned to the palace, you saw no real point in staying at the Academy. Your parents begged you to stay enrolled, but school and etiquette were never your cup of tea. You were there, because Azula was there. Now you had to find a new purpose.
You do, in the most unorthodox of places. Platypusbears and ostrichmonkeys are hardly a substitute for the crown princess, but it's a start. They don't judge or expect. It's a huge improvement over the nobility and instructors that had subsumed your free-natured spirit once no one was afraid to chastise you again.
Everyone had always been so worried Azula was holding you captive, preventing you from having a normal life at the Academy. They never realized that she was your liberator. When you were at her side, you could do anything you pleased, and no one would utter a single disapproving word. The crown princess was your escape from the shackles of nobility and propriety. You only came to appreciate the irony a few weeks ago when you were sent to throw food into the mooselion troths—the price you now pay for the same freedom.
In the end, the circus isn't so bad. You get chided by bratty children and the occasional creepy old man, but you're traveling the empire and experiencing everything grungy and spur-of-the-moment that would have been denied to you in your past life. You learn to love it for that reason alone.
You even begin thinking that this had been your calling all along. You had never been cut out for hierarchies and stature. The idea of going back to that life now seems suffocating. That is, until the princess, your princess, ends up lighting your safety net on fire and putting you at risk of being trampled.
"It's called tough love, Ty Lee. I was just helping you make the right decision."
"Tough what?" you ask with a naive enthusiasm she doesn't fall for.
"Decisions," she responds glibly. "It's an expression."
"Besides, you don't belong in a place like this. It's full of raucous little brats and concession stands selling week-old rice cakes. It's degrading, really."
"Where do I belong then?" You don't know why you're trying so hard to back her into a corner, why you want your reunion to force uncomfortable admissions out of her. Maybe it's because you've missed her so much and need to make up for all the lost time. Maybe it's because you can tell she's changed in the past year. She's a little bit harsher, a little more guarded, and a lot more driven. She's still your princess, but you're not sure what you are to her anymore.
Without answering you, she tips her chin upwards. "We'll be waiting for you to change outside the fair grounds. You have ten minutes." Guards flanking her on either side, she exits your tent.
She leads the hunt in silence for the rest of the day. You try to ride by her side, but occasionally get cut off by her soldiers who couldn't properly control their lizard mounts. Her eyes are glued to the path, and her eyebrows remain bowed in frustrated resolve. She doesn't seem interested in speaking, and you don't particularly feel like asking everything you really want to ask with so many others around. You let the silence slide. But you hope this isn't the new normal.
When you reach the source of a stream, Azula snaps her fingers and orders her troops to pitch a campsite. This may be the last source of fresh water your animals have in days, so you'll spend the long evening and morning here. One of the younger soldiers prepares dinner for the cadre, and everyone eats in efficient silence. The princess says nothing, so no one else may speak in her presence. You're not sure if you like how comfortable she is treating everyone anonymously—especially you.
You decide you want the day to end. It hasn't been the reunion you imagined, but maybe you just need to get some rest and give it time. Azula was never exactly warm and expressive. She's probably just stressed by her mission. Sleep, for now, is the answer.
You wake up just a few hours later, sweating and trying to kick off your blankets in discomfort. Your thrashing foot meets flesh with a quiet thud, and you hear an irritated groan in response. Your eyes snap open, now fully awake. Your gaze lands on the groggy princess, who had been tightly curled into your side. You don't know what she was doing inside your tent or when she got there, but you're shocked that you had mistaken a once-familiar warmth for a night-time irritant. Had you changed, too?
"I'm so sorry, princess."
"Mmm," she groans.
She makes no further to speak, but you can tell from her hastened breathing that she's fully awake now. "I'm so glad you came for me," you whisper without fear of rousing her. She remains silent, her eyes lidded not restful.
She's changed in the last year. Her cheeks are thinner and her jaw line is more dramatic, but her recent maturity only makes her more beautiful. Now when you looked at her, you saw the woman who would rule your nation, not just the girl who could do anything. She's as perfect and spellbinding as ever. You reach out and take her cheek in your palm, framing it still for your lips to touch hers. "I'm just so happy to see you again," you offer once more.
Her eyes peel open. She didn't bat away your hand or shy from your kiss, but you can tell her guard is up. She stares at you intensely, inspecting you, assessing your sincerity. You return her glare with a calm smile. When she's satisfied, she speaks.
"Why didn't you want to join me at first?"
You wish she hadn't. You can tell your muscles are straining to keep up an earnest smile, so you have to respond, quickly. "I'm happy I did. I have no regrets. I belong here."
It's true, so you don't know why it's so uneasy to say it. You are happy she came for her. You do belong at her side. And right now, you're lying in bed with the girl—your princess—you've dreamed of being with for the past year. She held you while you slept, and you kissed her when you woke, and somehow everything is exactly the same as and completely different from how you'd imagined it. You can't figure out why. Her silence and scrutiny aren't helping.
More tense moments tick away, so many that you have to let your gaze fall from her beautiful stare. She takes a thin, but commanding finger and tips your chin up to return you face-to-face.
"Kiss me again," she commands.
You're surprised by her request. You can tell she's still skeptical, still testing you. But you've never denied her before, and you won't now. You lean forward, ghosting your lips together tentatively. You fall into your role, accommodating and pleasant, but you can tell she's not satisfied. She's barely moving her lips against yours, and her eyes are still open. You're losing her.
You let your own fear of vulnerability go. You take a breath, then raise both your hands to frame the princess' delicate face in yours before crushing her lips with yours. You're not sure if you're kissing your best friend and champion, or a cynical commander taking advantage of a lovesick girl. You decide to risk it anyways.
Your eyes firmly sealed, you press your whole body weight forward, rolling Azula onto her back. You climb on top of her gently, but don't press down on her. You don't want to assert dominance. You want to prove you would meet her all the way. Your lips are tugging pleadingly at hers—begging for entry, begging for acceptance. She relents, and your mouth moves silently to speak all the apologies and relief and joy that you should have when she first walked into your tent.
It takes time, but once she's satisfied with your loyalty, she does not hesitate to reciprocate. Your old roles fall away. You don't wait sweetly and passively while you hope for her affection, and she doesn't force it upon you only to withdraw it at her whimsy. You both push your bodies together, passionate and hungry for the connection you've been denied for the past year. She slips your hand under your shirt and rakes her nails forcefully down your soft flesh. You hiss, part pain and part pleasure, then retaliate with a firm bite on her neck—a warning that she wouldn't have you, at least not like she wanted, if she were to be so distant and selfish as earlier today.
She lays back down against the bed and sheds her own shirt before peeling off yours. She runs her fingertips soothingly over the skin she had clawed. It's the first apology she's ever given you.
You wake up to a mess the next morning. Your skin is still sticky from sex and sweat, and your clothes are hanging from every inappropriate object in the tent. But most disastrously of all, you're alone.
Your temperature begins to boil over, and every last muscle begins to clench. You thought you had made it clear, through all your moans and whimpers and wordless pleas, that you would follow her to the end for so little in exchange. Instead, you're treated like a nightly indulgence.
You throw your clothes on and rip the flap of the tent open. You're shocked to find an empty camp, not a single tent or soldier around, save their leader. She's standing over a pit of deep blue fire, watching over a small saucepan. The sight is baffling in many ways.
"Good morning," she says without turning her attention away from the fire. Only she can make a greeting sound so aggressive.
Your anger has already begun to melt into confusion, but you try to keep the forcefulness in your throat. "Where's everyone else?"
"I sent them away." Her careless and self-assured tone is back, but it doesn't make your nerves bristle the same way it did yesterday.
"Because . . . ?"
"I didn't need them anymore." She shrugs nonchalantly, as if it were a normal thing for a commander to send dozens of reinforcements away from a critical mission. She reaches her hand into the fire and picks up the saucepan.
You eye her as she approaches you, more out of curiosity than resentment now. She's behaving strangely enough that you can almost forgive her for taking your virginity then leaving your bed before dusk.
She begins to smirk as she draws nearer, a side of her lips curled just slightly more than the other and her eyes narrowed. It's a familiar look to you, one full of mischief and confidence. She's worn it on her face ever since you were little girls. She picks up the mixing spoon inside the pot and pokes the food at you like a nanny would patronize a child.
"Breakfast?"
You try your best to keep up your guard, but give in when she touches the spoon to your mouth. You accept the offering and try your best to keep it from spilling sloppily down your chin as you laugh. For an instant, you think you see her grin warp into a genuine smile. She quickly reverts and covers herself with her familiar attitude.
"I hope you enjoy the moment. You'll be cooking everything from now on. My other servants are gone."
She's mocking you, but you know it's only so she can keep up the facade of imperviousness. All you hear is, "I'm happy you're here with me."
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