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It is never truly safe to refuse Azula, but Ty Lee has a better track record than most.
It’s one of the bits of the universe she uses to soothe herself, when she sees Azula wreak her vengeance for some petty slight and wonders if she’ll be the target the next time, or the time after that.
“Ty Lee, aren’t you thirsty?” Azula asks, playing with her empty teacup.
Ty Lee looks at her full one and shakes her head. “No, Azula, I’m not thirsty!” Nonetheless, she sips at the tea. It’s her favorite, but the teapot is full of type Azula likes instead of Ty Lee preference.
Azula gets up, stretching as she goes. It’s not nearly as thorough as Ty Lee does it, more in the style of what professional warriors teach than circus acrobats, but Ty Lee is very happy to watch her do it. Her armor isn’t on, so the outline of her form is much more prominent- the way her body curves, the way her legs straighten.
Just because Ty Lee could bend further doesn’t mean she doesn’t notice .
It’s an unnerving thing to feel, in a world where birth needs two halves and she’s the least notable of a noble family.
But there are privileges to being too high for reprimand from anyone outside of the Fire Lord’s family.
So she doesn’t pretend not to look. Azula smirks when she sees, and Ty Lee plays it so casually that no one takes notice, and just like that, they get away with the Fire Lord’s daughter having an admirer amongst her handmaidens.
“Ty Lee,” Azula croons, “come here and help me.” She’s curving her body now, the kind of circle that Ty Lee mastered with practice, and her face tensed with concentration.
Ty Lee walks closer, fits her hands enticingly high up Azula’s side, and pushes down, forcing more flexibility out of her body.
It’s the only time she’s ever hurt her, and the only time she ever will.
“Is that okay?” Ty Lee murmurs, just to check.
There’s a pause, and that’s how Ty Lee knows it’s the right level of difficulty. “It’s fine.” Azula says, composed despite the painful stretch.
“You’ll get it soon,” Ty Lee says when Azula unrolls.
“I bet you got it years ago,” Azula says, full of that fake cheer.
Ty Lee smiles cautiously, sensing that old jealousy behind her words. “If I wasn’t skilled at something I don’t think they’d let me in the door,” she deflects.
It’s too late, though. Azula is already musing over it.
…
Nothing happens that day, or the next, and soon Ty Lee is preparing to attend a dance in honor of the liberation of some island, hundreds of years ago.
Azula, though, seems determined to train until the last second today.
“It’s getting late. I should get ready,” Ty Lee says.
“Oh, but it’s disappointing to know that you won’t be here, watching.”
It’s not a request, but the statement is all Ty Lee needs to hear. Azula likes to dance around commanding her and Mai, but it’s no less binding.
She sits back down.
…
By the time Azula is satisfied, Ty Lee is squirming in her seat, not from excitement, but from her bladder weighing in on her. She moves from a neat Lotus pose to something more strictly ladylike, crossing her legs and doing her best to remain attentive.
She shouldn’t have kept drinking that tea, but it was there, and she was bored.
Azula sighs in contentment. “Now help me get ready. The dance is less than an hour away.”
Ty Lee would be surprised if it was more than thirty minutes away. “Sure, Azula! I’m happy to help.”
Azula insists on helping Ty Lee first.
Ty Lee hasn’t already laid out an outfit, but she pulls out one that will do quickly.
“I’ll do your hair,” Azula informs her.
Ty Lee flushes, but valiantly keeps shimmying into the formalwear that she’s chosen. Azula doesn’t even do her own hair.
Helping her with it was as nail-biting inducing as it was precious.
Where Azula’s hair is like silk, Ty Lee’s is thicker, but no less pretty.
She turns her back, so Azula can do her hair. Azula takes fistfuls of hair, working her way down. She brings one of her hands up to smooth down Ty Lee’s hair.
It’s a pleasant feeling, fingers running through her scalp.
Then Azula yanks on her hair, something Ty Lee is scared to think is intentional.
“I bet those boys will be all over you tonight.”
There’s no good response to that. “I’m sure they’re honored to have the Fire Lord’s daughter preside over the festivities,” Ty Lee says. Where Azula is primarily a person of power, people will eye Ty Lee as a bride.
She’s never sure whether Azula is content with that or not.
“The girls would be over you too, if it weren’t so formal,” Azula says. She ties Ty Lee’s hair up neatly, one of her hands lingering over Ty Lee’s cheek.
Ty Lee turns, desperate to see Azula’s face, and Azula leans in to kiss her.
Azula isn’t an experienced kisser, but she has passion, and that old magnetic pull.
Ty Lee’s heart is beating fast as a hummingbird. She’s scared to close in and scared to back way.
Azula backs out of the embrace, smiling smugly at having Ty Lee’s kiss before the dance even starts, and then gets up, as though nothing has happened.
“We should finish mine before were worse than fashionably late.”
…
At the dance Azula is very attentive, hounding Ty Lee’s steps as much as she can get away with. Ty Lee does her best to relax and chat with Azula, knowing that few of the attendees are foolish enough to get between them.
As the night wears on, she starts wishing more and more someone was.
“I really have to excuse myself, Azula,” Ty Lee explains as gracefully as she can. She’s been fidgeting all night, and now she’s feeling the lack of alone time with pressing discomfort.
“Just wait until it’s over. It can’t be that important,” Azula says, looping an arm around Ty Lee’s shoulder.
“I guess so,” Ty Lee says, but she can’t even stop herself from wiggling in Azula’s grip.
The announcer calls for a dance, and Azula looks thoughtful.
“I should dance,” she says, and Ty Lee nods feverishly.
“Come with me,” Azula continues, and pulls her along.
They circle each other, switching between the masculine and feminine roles, and Ty Lee’s insides feel too twisted up, with all this movement and jiggling.
She twists around, one wrist in Azula’s grip and another ready to grab the other hand, but even this small split on the dance floor is too much
Ty Lee wets her undergarments.
The dance is still going on, but she’s clumsy now, obviously embarrassed, and when she tries to flee Azula catches her wrist.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
Ty Lee vibrates in discomfort, in the aggravation that the fear always stifles, and leans in to say a word. “It’s an emergency.”
“Like?” Azula raises a single brow, and Ty Lee could cry.
“Pee.”
Azula loosens her grip, frees Ty Lee. But as she rushes out of the dance floor, away from her partner, she can’t shake the image of Azula’s smug face as she leaves.