+Impulse+

Azula stares at the ceiling as the unwelcome daylight penetrates the room. She does not know where Ty Lee is and she wants to pretend that she does not care. It would be unsurprising if Ty Lee flaked out on the entire ordeal and has decided she had a few extra knives to jam into Azula's back.

Instead, Azula drags herself from bed and sees Ty Lee sitting in the other room. She seems deep in thought, which is an unusual expression for Ty Lee.

"Getting married should be easy," Ty Lee says, not looking up at Azula. She always so eagerly drinks in her fiancée's face that Azula wonders if Ty Lee has lost her mind. "This is not easy. Perfect flowers and guest lists and dresses and three whole rings of fire to get through. We have the best relationship in the history of the whole world."

"Do you actually think that?" Azula asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes. A relationship without any tragedy is so not the best relationship ever. We had a sweet young romance destroyed by horrid pain that twisted inside of us for years before we were beautiful reunited and struggled through so many breakups and kisses and then we're getting married and we might not get married just because I want a perfect wedding," Ty Lee says, needing to catch her breath at the end of her tirade.

The thoughts have been building up inside of her all night.

"Do you… not want a perfect wedding?" Azula asks, wondering why she put up with the agony of her lack of control and picky monster of a fiancée. That cannot happen in vain. Azula will not let it.

"I think a perfect wedding is kind of impossible, and I think that I just want to get this over with, because if the wedding isn't the easier part we are so screwed," says Ty Lee eagerly. Her eyes glimmer and Azula sees that she truly believes that.

"Alright." Azula shrugs.

Ty Lee smiles and nods.

Azula stands in the middle of nowhere. They had to walk, Ty Lee carrying dresses and Azula complaining, until they found someplace to do this. It is not the worst place in the world to get married, but it does not hold that grandeur or sentimental value that Ty Lee went on and on about.

They are just in some second rate temple by where they held their First Ring of Fire.

"Do people even get married like this?" Azula asks, wondering when she became the finicky bride-to-be. "I'm serious."

"Peasants do." Ty Lee shrugs.

The corner of Azula's lip curls and it takes Ty Lee a second to realize that it is not a smile.

"Seriously?" Azula dryly asks, dropping the shoes Ty Lee handed her. "I can't get married like a peasant."

"You've been so mad at me for like months about being hard-to-please. Let's just do it." Ty Lee clasps her hands together and bats her eyelashes.

Azula thinks about it for a moment. On one hand, shame and a wedding far beneath her status. On the other hand, dealing with Ty Lee controlling her for another two months.

Princess Azula chooses the one that spares the most of her reputation as a lethal and classy princess.

She chooses to get married in a ramshackle countryside temple.

Ty Lee still insists that she wears the terrible shoes she has yet to break in.

Azula stands across from Ty Lee and whispers, "I think you used up all your eloquence convincing me to do this. Perhaps I should say your vows for you."

Ty Lee just smiles.

Maybe it is not a terrible idea to tear this bandage off before Ty Lee has second thoughts.

Azula sits next to Ty Lee in a field. They cannot summon the energy to walk all the way back to town from here after the rather taxing ceremony, burns and incense and a semi-awkward kiss all included.

"What are you making? It is hideous," Azula remarks, done staring at the sky and wondering if she should have bolted for the door the moment Ty Lee dragged her out here.

"It's a crown," Ty Lee says and Azula reaches it. "It's for me. I'm a princess."

Sarcastically, "You have what you always wanted. What a lovely day for Ty Lee," drawls the newlywed.

Grinning, "For Princess Ty Lee," whispers the other newlywed.

"Shut up," Azula snaps.

Ty Lee listens to her, but does not stop weaving the grass into a crown.