It was evening. Ty Lee had gone out into the city to visit her family, the first time she would see them since leaving for the circus. Mai was spending time with the royal sibling she clearly preferred. The thought of them together, laughing, fingers and legs entwined, was more than enough to rouse Azula's ire.

She sat alone in the dark and tried not to think about it. The servants were gone; Lo and Li had retired to their chambers, and it was just the fire princess alone with the shadows.

She bathed in water hot enough to scald and let her hair fan out a curtain on the surface. She pulled on her robe and extinguished the candles one by one.

She glanced at the bed but didn't bother climbing in. Azula knew when she wouldn't be able to sleep. She walked out onto her balcony and stared out at the lights of the city, tiny windows in distant houses illuminated by torches and candles. Somewhere out there was Ty Lee, probably experiencing a joyous reunion, embraced by all of her sisters, her parents looking on. Here in the palace were Mai and Zuko, having their own fun, all thoughts of others forgotten.

Azula remembered the years after Zuko's banishment. She had been alone then, utterly alone. She had no friends and no companions. Ozai and his watchdogs, the twins, had been the only constants. And yet that hadn't left her feeling like this, irritatingly hollow, left out, as if something important was missing.

Loneliness was a useless emotion. A stupid emotion. But she couldn't suppress it. It was welling inside of her, filling her with a need for something, anything to hold on to.

Sleep would be the best idea, but her insomnia ensured that was not a possibility.

Alone in the darkness, Azula's thoughts spiraled downward.

It was the foregone conclusion, and she reached it with relief. Her hands rummaged through her closet, searching for the sheath. She found it and smiled at it and opened it, surveying the knife. It was clean, all silver, though it had tasted her blood before.

Stroke by stroke, Azula smiled as she punished herself for weakness. Stroke by stroke, alone in the darkness, Azula's breath caught and her hair hung over as blood beaded up along neat, straight incisions.

Engrossed as she was, she didn't hear the door open, or the soft footsteps behind her.

"…Azula."

The princess stiffened, knife still in one hand, the vicious rapture fading from her face.

"I thought you were with Zuko."

Mai moved across the room without permission, seating herself beside Azula. Azula tensed, ready to lash out at any given moment.

"I was. I left."

"Oh?"

Mai hesitated for a long moment, staring down at her hands. "He deserves better than me."

Azula looked at Mai, the very faint light glimmering in her dark hair, the long slope of her eyes, her thin lips, and did not find her wanting.

You deserve better than him. "He deserves nothing." You could have chosen me. Why didn't you choose me? I'm better. I'm stronger.

The kiss, when Mai initiated it, was not romantic. It was desperate and vicious and angry. Mai pulled the princess close, her nails digging into Azula's back, her teeth sucking and biting Azula's neck. There would be marks; she was trying to leave marks.

So when you feel inferior, you come to me? The thought made Azula smirk and push back, and she remembered the knife still in her hand. I should be first.

Azula's blood, still wet, still sticky, bound them together, and Azula's fingers and the knife found the openings of Mai's clothes. Azula's robe was easy to slip off, and then it was only skin and blood, for Mai's nails dug for purchase and her teeth tore skin, and the knife in Azula's hand was eager and hungry and everywhere it drew Mai's blood, the princess's tongue followed it, and the two of them mingled pleasure and pain, hatred and anger, loneliness and inferiority.

It was not about the sex.

We're—

-broken.