Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to Avatar: the Last Airbender. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.
This story is set post-"The Crossroads of Destiny," and at some point before or near the beginning of the canon comic "Going Home Again."
A Point of Weakness
Ty Lee untwists herself, legs sliding down from around her shoulders; like a waterpuss, she uncurls with effortless grace. She turns over onto her back and stretches, her flat belly curving in a smooth arc as she rises onto her fingers. The bedsheets crumple beneath her hands, folds of green silk showing between her knuckles.
"Azula," she says. A high note at the end, which indicates: a specific quality of uncertainty, indicative of: a question.
Azula permits Ty Lee the privilege of her attention, but she does not set aside her letter.
Balanced now upon her head, Ty Lee says, "Wouldn't it just be wonderful if Zuko and Mai got back together?" She is wistful.
"Oh, yes," Azula says. She smiles. Ty Lee mirrors her smile, upside down. "Just like old times," Azula elaborates for Ty Lee's comfort. "Myself and my brother--"
"--and me and Mai," Ty Lee says, pleased. She tucks her legs in and falls into a graceful tumble. The bed bounces beneath her. She comes to Azula as Azula expects her to come, her bare arms flashing smooth and brown in the firelight, but Ty Lee does not otherwise disturb her, as Azula knows she would not.
Ty Lee curls against Azula's side, a known and predictable presence, soft and ever submissive. Her fingers walk through the loops of her braid, pulling out each knot one by one. Azula completes the final character of this line of her missive, and begins the first character of the next line, each stroke as precise as the one preceding.
"But what," Ty Lee says, her voice as fragile as a dream now half-forgotten, "if they don't get together?"
"Oh, they will," Azula says. "There is no reason to doubt Zuko and Mai will overcome their long and tragic separation." She heats the air over the parchment, drying the ink in a flash. "I will make certain of it."
She looks at Ty Lee through the obscuring veil of her eyelashes: Ty Lee, running her fingers through her hair, watching the shadows play across the ceiling. Azula rolls the letter into a slender tube and ties it with a ribbon, a red one patterned with the royal colors.
To Ty Lee she says, "You will help me, of course."
Ty Lee's fingers still. Her eyes are dark, unfathomable so turned from the light, but Azula knows them nonetheless.
"Me?"
Azula smooths Ty Lee's hair behind her ear. "I couldn't possibly do it without you," she tells her.
Ty Lee flushes; her smile is equal parts shy and flattered.
Azula slides her hand from Ty Lee's ear to cup her cheek, her fingers slipping down to stroke her long throat, as smooth and brown as her arms. In a light tone, as of one remembering a story someone else once told them, Azula says, "Once when we were children, Zuko and I were playing near a fire in the one of the back rooms of the palace. He pushed me for some reason or another - poor Zuzu and his temper, that hasn't changed - and I tripped and fell into the fire."
"Oh!" Ty Lee sighs, her fingers pressed to her lips. "Oh, Azula."
Azula withdraws her hand, her fingers drawing hot lines parallel with the soft curve of Ty Lee's jaw. Ty Lee watches her, pupils blown in the shadows, the black nearly swallowing the brown.
Azula turns her gaze to the fire. She continues: "Naturally, my dear older brother threw himself into the fire after me. It never once occurred to him that I could have bended the fire around me, which I did. He burned himself quite badly that day."
In the hearth, wood snaps. A spark flies from the fire and onto the carpet, where it smolders briefly, then dies.
"Love has always been Zuko's weakness," Azula murmurs. "It keeps him bound more tightly than any chain. I've never had the same difficulty," she says, turning her smile on Ty Lee.
But Ty Lee is not there to see her smile, the perfect curve of it, the slight flash of teeth in the center, white and even. She wraps her arms around Azula. She tucks her face into Azula's throat. Her breath is hot against Azula's skin.
"I would have followed you," Ty Lee says, her lips ghosting across Azula's neck.
Azula glides her hand across Ty Lee's shoulder; she follows the line to her back, and the faint dimple of her spine. "Yes," Azula says. "You would."
Ty Lee presses her mouth to the weak corner of Azula's jaw, then, as she rises, to the swell of Azula's lip; her kisses are chaste and sweeter for the promise of submission. Azula strokes her fingernails down Ty Lee's back. Ty Lee trembles at her touch.
"Do you love me?" Azula asks her, amused at the way she shivers.
"Oh, yes, Azula," Ty Lee says and her throat works; her eyelashes flutter, a black curtain over her eyes.
Azula, gracious, condescends to kiss the butterwasp oscillation of Ty Lee's pulse, beating in her throat. She mirrors Ty Lee's kiss, but she is less gentle: she nips the vulnerable corner of Ty Lee's jaw and smiles at the sound she makes, a gasp rising from the pit of her belly.
Azula touches her lips to Ty Lee's ear and breathes. She whispers, "Show me," and Ty Lee bows before her.
This story was originally posted at livejournal on 08/18/2009 for the fic challenge cliche_bingo, hosted on livejournal. The prompt was "yentas and matchmakers."