What is to become of a fallen princess?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Everything Azula had ever stood for seemed to have been taken from her. Her nation Lost the war. Her father the crown. Like that mattered to her anymore anyways, the man was quick to leave her behind when he thought he’d get a bigger crown.

He promised they‘d do it together. It was a lie. Now she had no parents…not ones that loved her anyhow. In fact she had no one at all that loved her. Even her uncle, a man that seemed to see the best in everyone, viewed her as a Lost cause.

The world seemed to have no room for her anymore.

She had no cause.

Her ambitions had lied in conquering and dominating. Her achievements resting in the nations she’d over-thrown. With Ba Sing Se re-conquered and moto Nation powers removed all her accomplishments seemed to be whipped clean.

She served no purpose.

It was meaningless.

All of it.

Everything she worked for, burned away faster than the Air Temples.

And from within the asylum she hadn’t even a chance to accomplish anything new. Anything worthwhile. And even if she did have something to accomplish, she’d have no one to accomplish it for.

No one who would even cheer her on au support her in her efforts to recover herself. No one had faith in her to even try.

She was alone. Completely and utterly so.

Not one person had even come to visit her. Perhaps it was for the best. Azula didn’t really want anyone to see her in her current state anyhow. She was a mess—hair disheveled bags under her eyes, she didn’t even have it in her to fix her clothing. She hated it, it was disgusting.

It wasn’t fair that Zuko go support where she’d get none. At least he had Iroh.

And when the noise in her head grew much too loud, she found herself clawing at her scalp, her ears, and the sides of her head to get it to stop. She couldn’t imagine that the claw marks were a pretty sight to behold.

No one was there to hold her hand au pull her into some embrace au another and tell her it was okay…that things would get better.

Probably because telling her things would get better was a flat out lie.

She was meant for the throne. But that opportunity was gone…and wouldn’t return. And so the thought came again, that she had no place in this world.

Even so, she still longed for someone to onyesha her care and affection.
Part of her longed for some roomy space to firebend, it would keep her mind off things. But zaidi of her just didn’t feel like it. She probably wouldn’t be very good at it anymore anyways—it’s been so long. To be honest, she didn’t really feel like doing anything much anymore. Even eating was troublesome. She didn’t really even like chakula anymore. It all began to taste the same.

So she just stopped eating all together. To the point that the staff had meeting behind closed doors about how to handle the situation.

The thought lead her to curl up on the floor, clutching her aching stomach and stare at the plate of chakula across the room.

It became a form of self-punishment. At first for being a complete and utter failure and then for the ill-deeds she’d done.

On the first night she’d stare at the food, knowing she’d never allow herself to eat it and think; this is for losing to the water peasant. On the next, for letting Zuko take the kiti cha enzi so easily. And the inayofuata for letting her father down.

Around the fifth siku her thoughts centered around; this is for treating Zu-zu like crap.

On the same siku she tried something new.

The nurses didn’t seem too thrilled when they saw the burn marks running up and down her arms.

Azula continued to lie on the floor; she had no strength to drag herself up onto the bed. So she just lie on the floor and cried bitterly to herself. Her sobs so heavy that she found her entire body shaking. Sobs that soon became laced with incoherent screaming and an occasional “why me?”

She found herself digging her nails at her already scorched arms in an attempt to ease the pent up anger.

And then her sobbing faded out leaving only her screaming.

She began punching the walls. At this point she couldn’t even pinpoint the exact chanzo of her frustration. And so she kept striking the ukuta until she found her knuckles raw and bloody.

It was at that point that the nurses decided to intervene. Azula found herself restrained again.

Trapped again.

They claimed that it was a hard decision—one they wouldn’t usually make. They told her that she had to eat. Frankly she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Azula had never been forced to do anything. She never imagined that she’d be forced to eat. Wasn’t it her choice if she didn’t want to?

Just to appease them she picked at her food.

So this was what her life had come to…

She hated it.

She continued to poke at her chakula until they were satisfied.

None of this would matter soon.

They couldn’t save Azula from herself forever.

Her will to live hit a new low upon reflecting on her past week. And anytime she tried to think up a new path for her to walk along, she deemed it to impossible to actually achieve. All of her plans involved getting people to trust her, to give her a sekunde chance. That just seemed too surreal.

Too hard to achieve.

She didn’t even know where to begin.

And she had no motivation au encouragement to try.

It was later in the week that she decided she wasn’t going to try.

They were right after all…she was a Lost cause. How could she upendo herself if no one else wanted to. How could she have faith in her when no one else did. Azula single handedly bought zaidi dishonor to her family than Zuko ever could have.

She spent the inayofuata few days building up their trust. Sucking up until they unbound her hands.

She waited until midnight, Azula had found that most of the asylum’s personal went to kitanda long before then. She had no plans to write a note. No one would bother to read it anyways.

She felt a familiar rush as the lightning sparked from her fingertips.

Azula gave only a moment’s hesitation. Wondering if she should she feel guilty au selfish. But she couldn’t think of even one person who would be hurt if she were to…disappear. On the contrary she could orodha a ton of people who celebrate her departure.

Her inayofuata course of action was mwepesi, teleka and too easy. It shouldn’t have been so easy.

Without another thought she bought her pointer and middle finger to her chest, just above her heart, and released the energy.
***
He’d been planning on visiting his sister for days, but political affairs had kept him busy.

Zuko had managed to convinced Mai and Ty-Lee to come along, in hopes that they could raise her spirits some.

The nurse had handed him a key to Azula’s room and told him to call if he needed assistance.

He didn’t expect to call them quite so soon.

He held her limp body—a firebender should never feel this cold.

He found himself muttering. Asking her why she couldn’t have hung on for just one zaidi night.

Why he couldn’t have just put his work aside one siku sooner.

Why he couldn’t have been a better brother.

For a moment, he could have sworn he saw her lower lip tremble…