A/N: Set after Sozin's Comet. Title from Emily Dickinson.
The door clicking faintly shut behind me is enough to make me jump; the wing of the palace reserved for the royal family is deadly silent.
I leave tracks in the dust as I walk slowly towards what's left of the vanity mirror. Broken glass and clumps of hair litter the entire room. The walls are streaked with scorch marks.
Centered almost perfectly on the dusty floor is a lonely cherry pit, as if offered up as evidence. Exhibit three: symbol of impending madness.
How long did dozens watch their princess rot from within and dare not say a word?