She and her six sisters have always just been the girls, as long as she can remember. A matched set, Mother and Daddy say, marching in lockstep— identical looks, identical temperaments. Meant for identical futures, padding the family coffers with wealthy husbands' money. Their parents don't see any difference between the seven of them. That's irrelevant, counterproductive.
Ty Lee notices, however; Ty Lee notices more than most people realize she does. Aoi is a firebender who hates being trotted out to perform at dinner parties. Biyu thinks that blue is the prettiest color, even if it's what Water Tribe savages wear. Yingtai has a not-so-secret crush on Prince Zuko and keeps a portrait of him in her bedroom. Lan once bribed her to distract the head cook while she kissed a serving girl in the pantry. Jia has a hidden copy of Love Amongst the Dragons, though it's been banned for years. Meizhen cries at night when she thinks nobody can hear because her fiancé is twenty years older than her, with two other wives already.
And Ty Lee herself—
She's terrible at lessons, can barely scrape passing marks in Fire Nation history and calligraphy and mathematics, but she's top of her class in gymnastics; her body seems to obey her commands perfectly, effortlessly, when it comes to this. Half of the academy has sprained wrists and bloody knees from mimicking her, and for the first time in her life, little Ty Lee seventh- daughter-who-really-should've-been-a-son is the center of attention.
(She likes it. She likes it a lot.)
Princess Azula approaches her one day— all tilted chin and gleaming eyes, all self-importance worn in place of a crown. You're different, she says. Show me how to do that. Call me Azula.
(Her own mother can't remember her name half the time, but Azula, the most important girl in the world, thinks that there's something special about her.
Maybe that's why she loves the princess so much, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.)
