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“Ty Lee will go to your school this coming semester, so I expect you to get along with her, Mai.”
She narrowed her eyes at the seven identical sisters lined up on stage, thrust into putting on a show of their acrobatic skills for guests who have gathered to celebrate their birthday. They all wore matching costumes, with the only difference lying in color—each sporting a shade of pastel that made Mai want to stick her tongue out in distaste.
A part of her wanted to sympathize with the shared predicament of being forced to demonstrate some kind of special talent every year, as if one needs to prove that they deserve to exist and should be allowed to grow older because they’re capable of doing something noteworthy—something that makes them stand out from the rest of the children in the Caldera who were born and bred to become prize trophies while the adults pat themselves on the back for doing a good job at raising them.
Alas, such is the life of noble girls.
Mai, for the life of her, really could not tell the Ty sisters apart. And privately, she suspected that the girls’ parents couldn’t either. If their own parents couldn’t tell them apart, what more can you expect from people who were practically strangers?
‘Which one’s Ty Lee?’ she wanted to ask, but thought better of it; knowing that her mother wouldn’t have bothered to find out and that it wouldn’t matter in the end.
Besides, it’s not like she’s interested. This wasn’t the first time Michi made an offhanded comment about making friends while they were attending some kid’s birthday party, and it certainly won’t be the last.
Her mother called it socializing, but Mai preferred to call it dull. On days when she was in the mood to go beyond the usage of one-word descriptors for everything she laid her eyes on, she would even call it making my unimpressive dad seem more impressive than he really was.
Numerous whoops and cheers from the crowd of guests took Mai’s attention away from her musings, directing it to the reception hall’s ornate ceiling. Somewhere, amidst the criss-crossing of intricate patterns fashioned from gold leaf, one of the Ty sisters was swinging back and forth—precariously hanging from a chandelier with only one arm to keep her from falling.
Without so much as a blink, the girl let go of her hold, free-falling like a flower petal in the spring breeze. Except this fall won’t be the herald of a season filled with colorful abundance, but end up in a rather grisly sight of a girl meeting her doom on a day that was supposed to celebrate her birth.
Mai felt a tightness in her throat despite herself. Just when she was about to take a step forward, eyes flashing with alarm—not knowing what to do, only thinking that someone had to do something, anything—
The girl neatly landed on the glazed ceramic floor, then dipped into a bow.
Her skirt flared out at the action, and Mai was reminded of the buds in her family’s garden which her aunt looked after with such tender care until they were in full bloom.
Her designated palette was a soft, dusty pink. The shade of plum blossoms. The shade of Mai’s namesake flower. The girl wore the color well, she was loath to admit. And if only she were born any differently, perhaps the name Mai would have suited this girl better.
Perhaps she can live with all that comes with it better than Mai herself ever could.
Mai figured that maybe she can, seeing as how the girl seemed to live for the applause. Despite the golden headdress she donned as part of her costume, its vibrant sheen resting on her chocolate brown hair like the sun’s rays were plucked from the sky; somehow the smile she wore on her face was even brighter.
It was a smile that screamed Look at me, I relish the attention. I feed off of praise.
It was a smile that Mai could never replicate no matter how much she stretched her muscles thin.
“If that’s Ty Lee, maybe this semester won’t be so boring for you after all, dear.”
On a rare occasion, Mai found herself agreeing with her mother.
“As proud daughters of the Fire Nation, we shall make this academic term even better than the last.”
Princess Azula wrapped up the welcoming address, standing right in the middle of their towering professors. Despite her small frame, her regal bearing more than made up for the difference in height—making the assembled students look at her with apprehension in the same way they beheld the headmistress.
The glint in her eyes gave Mai the impression that the princess quite liked being feared.
And perhaps Mai did let her own fear breach the surface once upon a time, when she was a little girl whose voice still wobbled at the attempt of forming words, greeting the crown’s representatives at her first political gathering.
But in some stroke of luck that her mother would later credit to her etiquette lessons (she couldn't be more wrong), Azula held out her hand with an offer of touring the royal armory. An offer to get away.
Why me? she remembered herself asking, to which Azula only shrugged and replied, You look like you'd rather hold steel than arrange flowers.
Their spontaneous play date resulted in successive invitations from the palace, and Mai became a fixture in its gilded halls.
The princess' shadow. Her close companion since early childhood. The whispers about her only increased when they entered the academy together, and soon enough their peers spun tales of her cold stare and unparalleled marksmanship as they spoke of Azula's prodigious firebending in the same breath.
Mai's eyes wandered around the sea of attendees until they landed on a flash of pink and brown.
She’d always thought that out of everyone in this unbearably bleak institution, the honor of being able to face Azula’s gaze head-on was reserved solely for her.
But this new kid—Ty Lee, Mai had to remind herself, looked at Azula with eyes glittering in… admiration?
Interesting.
“Why are you even in our class? Did Daddy bribe the teachers to let you skip a year?”
Mai paused from polishing her sai, stealing a glance at the commotion in the middle of the school courtyard. Yaeko, who the princess once described as ‘the daughter of some admiral we’re better off without’, was harping on about how unfair it was for the new girl to just breeze through the admission process.
From beside her, she felt Azula shift on her seat, moving to lean more comfortably on the birch tree they frequented. Mai looked back at her, a silent question of Should we step in? being posed. The princess shook her head.
“Yup!” Ty Lee admitted without shame, topping it off with a wide grin. It only served to further annoy the other girl.
“Listen here, fresh meat. You probably think you’re some big shot, just waltzing in here with no respect for tradition,” Yaeko’s posse began to circle around Ty Lee as their ringleader stood and sneered, inching closer to said ‘fresh meat’. “But you should know that all of us here had to earn our spot.”
“Ha, that’s rich,” Mai laughed mockingly, the sound coming off as a short burst of air. She fiddled with the sai in her hand, inspecting its pristine edges as it caught the light—causing her to unintentionally meet her reflection when it did.
Really, when have they ever had to earn anything for themselves? All of their lives were already carefully planned out, placed like markers on a map: they were little girls playing war in the classroom before setting off to become child soldiers.
If they were trying to earn something, was it a look of pride? A pat on the shoulder? The words ‘You have served your family and country well’?
A stream of orange flame put an end to her thoughts.
The gaggle of rowdy girls tried to tackle Ty Lee to the ground, which she deftly avoided by leaping up into the air.
Their shrieks became noises that were akin to choking after Ty Lee gave them a few quick jabs.
“I… I can’t bend! What did you do?!”
Mai raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. Azula snickered as she clapped, thoroughly entertained.
Ty Lee’s first invitation to the palace came when Azula chose her as the third member for their group assignment.
Mai stepped down from the carriage, carrying an armful of scrolls as she climbed the steps leading up to the entrance hall. She had blueprints of each corner of the Boiling Rock, notes from corresponding with her uncle, and a bundle of blank parchment for good measure.
“Hi, Mai! Need some help?” Ty Lee popped up from behind her, with a spring in her step as always.
Mai regarded the girl with a blank expression, trying to see if she would crack or squirm in unease. “If I needed help, I would have called for a servant.”
“Well yeah, but… a friend extending help is better than ordering servants around, don’t you think?” Ty Lee replied, her smile never slipping.
“You think we’re friends?” she challenged.
“I’m working on it! I want us to be,” Ty Lee approached with her arms outstretched, as if aiming for a hug.
Mai evaded her, but the many items she had on hand significantly lessened the nimble grace their classmates have come to associate with her.
When a few scrolls tumbled down from her grasp, Ty Lee’s lips curved in triumph while she picked them up from the floor before Mai could make a move.
Mai felt a begrudging sort of respect bloom in her chest. She turned her gaze upwards and sent a subtle nod.
From her vantage point, Azula watched over the entire exchange and nodded back.
Their project, which was to draft a proposal that could make improvements to the security measures of their chosen stronghold, went off without a hitch, largely thanks to the discovery that their three brains put together resulted in good team synergy.
Working with Azula was already second nature for her, but Ty Lee being able to keep up and give fresh ideas of her own ended up surprising them both.
At this rate, it seemed that Ty Lee was here to stay—unlike the other girls who came and went after botching their first visit to the princess’ home.
As she strolled around the palace gardens, making a beeline for the figure wearing the telltale robes of the Fire Prince, Mai felt the night air nip at her hands—but she didn't mind one bit.
Zuko had always been warm.
He met her halfway along the cobblestone path, threading his fingers with hers. The action sent a tingling sensation all the way to the tip of her toes, and Mai wonders for a second if this is what it feels like to conjure up sparks of flame.
“You’re freezing,” Zuko’s eyes widened in concern, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in an attempt to share more of his inner fire. His eyes were pools of honey under the lantern light—always so sweet, always so attentive to her needs, always so eager to please.
“You’re blushing,” Mai responded with a teasing lilt in her voice, though she reckoned that she probably looked no better; feeling as red as the garden apples on a sunny afternoon.
It became somewhat of a routine; shy, stolen glances became stolen moments of getting to know each other—away from the prying eyes of courtiers and sages and in Mai’s case, parents who would be all too eager to sign their daughter’s life away in a betrothal contract.
She enjoyed his company. Though she never liked being on the receiving end of someone’s attention (she was already smothered enough as it is back home), being perceived doesn’t seem so bad as long as it’s him.
If this little back-and-forth of theirs would result in something more, Mai wanted it to be her choice—not part of some elaborate scheme in her family’s bid for prestige.
Everything was good until it wasn’t.
“You really should consider what I said about wearing makeup that’s not totally depressing.”
While in the middle of lining her eyelids with kohl, Mai turned away from her vanity to scowl at Ty Lee, who was lounging on the four-poster bed like she owned it.
“I’m just saying!” Ty Lee raised her hands to fend off Mai’s withering look, deploying the signature smile that made almost the entire male population of the capital city fall at her feet.
They were two years older now, and much has changed since then. As she grew into her features, Mai traded her hair ribbons and bun caps for an elaborate style. And, at Ty Lee’s recommendation (“Your eyes would look even more pretty if you define them, Mai!”) which sometimes bordered on persistent badgering, she was putting on makeup for the first time.
Now at their final year in the academy, Mai had come to accept that this girl—for all her loudness and vibrancy and nauseatingly positive outlook on the world—became a constant presence in her life.
They were an unlikely pair, to be sure. Her mother said as much the first time she brought Ty Lee into their estate, but she was also quite pleased that Mai widened her social circle, thinking that the lively girl’s nature may rub off on her daughter’s gloomy demeanor.
“Whatever,” Mai said finally, resuming her kohl application. “Zuko likes me just fine, depressing makeup and all.”
The pink-clad girl’s upturned eyes noticeably softened. “Are you guys officially courting? He’s having dinner with your parents tonight so he can formally ask them, right?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, a sense of finality sinking in as the word left her lips. Their culture was steeped in tedious rituals and tradition. And though Mai usually turned her nose up at such things, the thought of Zuko willingly jumping through hoops to ask for her hand was a touching sentiment.
"He's heading here right after attending his first war meeting."
Stupid Zuko ran his stupid mouth because he was too stupidly kind.
Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks, streams of black mixed with the kohl drawn by giddy hands just hours prior.
The words Agni Kai, scar, and banishment reduced her mind into a muddled mess, and she continued to curse Zuko’s heart for being too soft and malleable.
But then again, that same heart is what endeared him to her.
She might never get to see what that brave, compassionate, stupid heart is capable of anymore.
Zuko’s exile marked the end of their childhood; of rough tumbles on lawn grass, of burning apples and fountain pranks.
Azula would never admit it, but losing her older brother made her sink deeper into her frenzied quest to prove to the Fire Lord that unlike him, she wasn’t expendable.
With both mother and brother gone, the princess—the first one who saw more than the well-mannered daughter of Minister Ukano and Lady Michi, her oldest friend—sought love from the only family she had left.
Privately, Mai thought that Azula sought love from someone completely void of it.
But what does she know about love, anyway? She was as deprived of it as everyone else in this spiritforsaken country.
Attending school provided enough of a distraction, but now that they’ve graduated, prospects for the future were up in the air.
“Should we stop her?” Ty Lee whispered, a mixture of fear and worry, her voice a slight breeze on Mai’s neck when she leaned her head on her shoulder.
Mai’s eyes flitted back to Azula across the training yard, signs of cornflower blue flames beginning to show amidst the red and orange.
“I don’t think she wants us to.”
“My parents are pushing me to meet some suitors.”
“Oh,” was all Mai could say in return, turning her gaze towards the carpeted floor.
“But I'm running away. I'm joining the circus,” Ty Lee's hands gripped hers firmly, round grey eyes blazing with passion. She had never looked more self-assured.
“And I’m asking you to run away with me.”
If Ty Lee’s fingers would go further down and encircle her pale wrist, she might feel the rapid pulse—hammering relentlessly like a flutter bat beating its wings.
To prevent such an outcome, Mai held her breath. But the effort proved to be in vain as the deep fragrance of cherry and osmanthus overwhelmed her senses. Their scents mingled while permeating the air, and suddenly she was reminded of them being kids who sneaked out of combat training to paint each others’ nails and trade beauty secrets.
“I can’t,” she declined, her vision remaining fixed to the ground, not wanting to see the inevitable disappointment cross Ty Lee’s face.
A part of her knew she was being a coward.
Unlike Ty Lee, she didn’t have what it takes to uproot her whole life and start anew someplace else. Her world of pretenses and filial obligation was all she had ever known.
A smaller, more selfish and obstinate part of her wanted to ask her to stay.
On the other hand, Mai also couldn’t fault Ty Lee for wanting to up and leave—somehow she had an inkling it would happen eventually, given her desire to break free from the mold of conformity. Her desire to be different. It was the reason why she always chased the thrill; climbing the tippy top of the tallest trees and dangling her feet from the palace eaves.
“I figured you’d say that,” Mai looked up at the reply, and under the cloak of night, she could see Ty Lee’s skin glow as she gave a defeated smile.
“When will you leave?”
“In the morning.”
“This makes it our last slumber party, then. It’s a shame Azula isn’t here,” she pointed out. And once again, she longed for the girls that they once were.
At the mention of their friend, Ty Lee’s eyes grew even dimmer, and Mai knew they were both thinking of the same thing.
“Do you want me to do your nails? For old times’ sake?” Mai asked, in a small act of comfort.
Ty Lee nodded, moving to light up the wall sconces. “Please do.”
A gentle, yellow glow colored the room.
Mai noticed that Ty Lee’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She felt pinpricks stab at her own line of sight, but she blinked them away—intent on holding off any show of emotion for now.
With a shade already in mind from the assortment of products she kept on her vanity drawer, she picked out a lacquer.
Gently, almost reverently, she cradled one of Ty Lee’s hands and began to work. She painted her nails with the same dusty pink from her memories. The shade of plum blossoms. The shade of her namesake flower.
At that point, Mai was willing to admit that Ty Lee owned this specific color entirely.