The darkness came before she knew it, enveloping anything and everything. It all disappeared. The lines between reality thinned into nonexistence. She couldn't see in the dark, and she never would.

Azula never did find out what happened between her father and the avatar, and she didn't want to know. Perhaps deep down, she knew what happened – after all, if Zuko was Fire Lord, that couldn't bode well for their father – but she didn't really know if that was true, or just another nightmare.

The guards didn't speak to her – and they shouldn't, she thought to herself. On her better days, when she was feeling slightly in control, she would reminisce about what it felt like to be feared and respected. Sometimes she would call the guards nasty names and act like she was royalty again, but then a few hours later, when she would slip back into her little world, it was back to the same routine. The madness was taking over. Images melted together into amber pools and words slurred into unrecognizable mumbles. The only thing she had left was memories.

Zuko, for example. He had always been full of hatred – his bending was fueled by rage and confusion. And then, the sharpest memory in her repertoire – that Agni Kai. He had been so collected, so controlled. That was not Zuko. Not her big brother. No, he had been someone else entirely. No longer the boy who played with knives – he was a man now. And she was left behind, a shadow of the past.

Frozen for eternity at the vulnerable age of fourteen. She remembered everything perfectly. After all, she was perfect, wasn't she? Perfection – that was everything in her world. Lo and Li required it. Ozai required it. Even she, herself, forced herself to walk that thin tightrope.

Food was tasteless. The cold stone walls of her room had long ago disappeared. If she put her mind to it, Old Azula could have easily escaped this asylum. But Azula didn't have much of a mind now, and she had no will to leave. There was nothing left for her.

Everyone had moved on but her. And she was left behind, a shadow of the past.

The tears had long ago dried, the nails had long ago been bitten until they bled. The panic attacks came and went, but she liked to think she was surviving. Not recovering, no, never would she recover. Her granite walls had cracked and there was no glue in the world that could fix them permanently.

And one day, a visitor came. Azula looked up from her misery and saw a woman. A woman? She recognized her.

"Hello, my daughter," Ursa whispered, entering the cold room.

"Why are you here? You never came before." Azula muttered, digging her nails into her bare thigh, trying and failing to draw blood.

"I am here because you needed me," she replied simply.

"Don't look at me now. I'm ugly, mother." The ruined princess dragged her fingers through her matted hair, once smooth and elegant, and turned her dirtied face away.

"No, love, you're more beautiful than ever."

"Get out. Get out!" Azula rose from her fetal position in the corner and screamed at her mother. "Guards, get her out of here!"

Two guards ran into the room.

"What is she talking about?" One of the guards asked.

"There's no one there."