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Their timing was never right. She would be busy with her duties as a warrior and her —well, Azula had her hands full for some time. Trips to Ember Island, visits with doctors, tea and Zuko. Then, the contemporary issue: the search, her mother. Azula being occupied and away had become a very normal thing, but Ty Lee felt some sort of content knowing she had freedom.
The fate she had thought would await Azula seemed irrational in hindsight. Zuko had taken care of her, kept her safe, and from what she’d heard, Azula had become the person she had once been.
Ty Lee never saw her, didn’t think they would have the relationship they used to and she was fine with that. As long as Azula was occupied and safe, as long as she was alive and happy—their tattered friendship was something she could overcome. She sees her smiling face in her dreams, Mai’s there too, and they’re good people. They’re laughing and whispering secrets to each other and they’re happy.
This isn’t a dream.
The advisor of the Earth Kingdom, with a heartwarming smile on his face, is praising the Kyoshi Warriors and their magnificent timing. Something about the bandits they’d caught earlier, by complete chance and coincidence, who’d been carrying an important collection of scrolls with them. She doesn’t recall the instance too well, sometimes the bodyguard duty is painfully boring and predictable. Other times it is eventful.
Bandits, that had been perfectly predictable and easy to handle. Normal enough to forget the details of the exchange. The scrolls, on the other hand, had been unexpected and the celebration that followed, was just as surprising. She couldn’t tell if they were more grateful towards Zuko than the Kyoshi Warriors, but it didn’t matter in the end. There were luxurious pastries neatly plattered on a long table that made her forget how sore and tired her body was. Lavish women making conversation with her, asking about her duty of care, and Ty Lee feels a sort of pride she hasn’t felt in a while. A freeing aura.
The lanterns glow bright, the smell of chamomile is overbearing, and the fabric of her hanfu is unfamiliar.
It feels very much like a dream.
She sees the red outline of the dingjia, the slope of her jaw, the fire fanning in her eyes. It feels like a dream, seeing Azula next to Zuko. Seeing Azula. Hearing Azula.
What had she said the last time she had seen her—when was the last time she had seen her?
She wanders far from a conversation about the warriors’ makeup. Or had it been something else? She thinks she might have been retelling the fight or assuring someone that the bandits had no chance against their agility and skill.
The topic slips from her mind altogether. She is pushing through silk to reach them and there are eyes searing with judgment as if she’s making a scene. Azula is darting back, falling out of sight and out of reach.
The lanterns dim and something white shines onto her face, something brighter than the glow of paper lanterns. The scent of chamomile is gone.
“Do you hate me?”
They are outside. There’s a leaf crumpled in the palm of Ty Lee’s hand and she wonders if any of this is real. The wind flutters through her hair and dances on her cheek, it feels very real.
“I’m a different person—I'm different from how I used to be.”
She's a sort of delicate woman Ty Lee had never seen before. Her voice is the same as it never had been, the flickering menace in her eyes was lost. Azula appears to be very sad and fragile. There are dark wells under her eyes, a lifelessness in her skin, a change in her aura.
Ty Lee cannot see it well enough, cannot see her. Azula is fuzzy around the edges, drifting into the night and she doesn’t seem to be all there when her hand touches her arm. The words won’t fall from her mouth, the syllables are knotting in her throat and Ty Lee is forgetting herself in the subspace of golden eyes.
Is this real?
They are someplace familiar. Under a velvet sky, verdant and dark. Her futon is softer than it had been before, the cushion all-too comforting against the small of her back. Something is tangling her fingers, scraping across her palm and the sensation is fleeting. She must be slipping away.
She feels as if she’s sinking, drowning and not quite able to see the surface. She blinks the tiredness from her eyes, finds a sort of coldness rushing down her face and throat. There is a soft amber glow in the night, a little whisper and her tone is all too familiar.
“Are you afraid of me?”
She reaches for something and touches nothing. The light is slipping into darkness and she’s left with nothing.
The futon is firm under her tired body and the tent smells like chamomile and dirt when Ty Lee wakes up. Something sharp is digging into the nape of her neck, the clip she’d forgotten to take out of her hair. The thin blanket had found its way around her wrist. The sun slipping through the verdant setup in slats of gold.
There’s a deep shape printed into the space next to her and it could have been another dream after all.