Perfect.
That's what they called her countless times, yet she knows she's not. Ever since she was little, she had felt the pressure of acquiring the perfectness her father so desperately sought for.
But perfection didn't exist, and she was well aware of that.
Countless hours, days, perhaps even months she had spent training, perfecting her stance, her moves, and of course mastering the blue flame. She could still remember the first time she managed to produce lightening, oh how well she remembered that day.
She had been fourteen at the time, which was maybe a year or two ago, she wasn't really sure anymore. Crazy people didn't keep track of time, or so she was told.
She had just finished six hours of intense training under her nation's signature burning sun. Exhaustion ruled her body, making her incapable of thoughts and emotion. Blue sparks flew freely from her fingers, yet somehow she knew she wasn't bending ordinary fire. No, she could feel the deadliness of lightening, the thrill, and the emptiness that accompanied it.
Even more, she remembered that night, that dreadful night in which her world got turned upside down, in which her life took a drastic turn.
Looking back, it was the night she had lost her sanity.
Later that night, her father summoned her to his chamber, to celebrate the success of his daughter, his heir. But when she opened the door, and her father let her in, it wasn't her that her father saw.
Her father was in another time, and another place. She had heard her brother tell her that they locked him away for good, that they took away his fire bending.
Served him well.
She watched the scene from somewhere outside her body, no longer in control of herself or of the situation. So she did little less then watch as her father did the most unforgiveable thing.
He took the little innocence she had left, shattering her mind and soul.
All the maids, nurses and even the fire sages knew of it, yet nobody cared, nobody tried to help, and nobody comforted her. She had never felt more alone.
It soon became a daily event, feeding her demons and strengthening her fighting spirit.
She would make him stop.
But her own brother took that away from her as well, and nobody cared, nobody tried to help her, and nobody comforted her.
Nobody likes to see perfection shatter, and even if it pains her to say it, Azula's case isn't an exception.
Somewhere down the seemingly endless waves of her insanity, is Azula, a scared little girl, just waiting for that one hand to pick up the pieces.