The letter comes quickly, and as fast as it comes, he reads it just as slowly.
From Ba Sing Se, Jasmine Dragon.
Not Uncle Iroh. Not General Iroh if a friend of his addressed it.
Ba Sing Se.
And then Addressed to His Majesty Fire Lord Zuko, Priority.
That is it, too. Not Zuko, not Nephew.
Fire Lord.
The letter's contents don't hit him until after the letter hits the desk, and it is with a cruel irony that it lays there face up, taunting him.
Uncle.
Dead.
It is so quiet, and it's a travesty, a mockery of the news. Uncle is always so full of life. He couldn't be dead.
Zuko stands. No. Surely it's a joke. But it came from his employees, it was rife with an appropriate sadness. Sadness is selfish. Sadness is useless. No. This isn't sadness. This is tragedy.
With a bellow, a stream of fire erupts from his fists, and the red curtains become covered in billowing flames, dancing in a liveliness that made Zuko want to burn them faster.
Another jet of fire, and the antique wall hangings too submit to his bending, fierce and unforgivable.
No. No, Uncle isn't dead!
He screams his anger to the heavens. Agni isn't listening, he isn't responding, and Zuko's flames are now directed at the desk. The wooden piece of furniture had been a relic of the Fire Lords for more generations than he cared to remember, and he relishes in sick, twisted delight as it burned.
The flames are tipped with blue, and as he sees the letter burn, they glow a deep indigo.
"Fire Lord-"
He spins around, and the servant recoils, stumbling back. He flees before Zuko could say anything, and the door burns to a crisp as well.
Maybe if he burns everything, maybe if nothing is left, maybe Uncle would be there, scolding him like he always does, telling him to reign it in.
Sweat rolls down his cheeks, the air unbearably hot. The door's flame sizzles out in front of him, and he kicks it to the side, and it too joins the bonfire forming in his office.
"Zuko!" the deep, raspy voice causes Zuko to turn once again, and Mai stands in the doorway, eyeing the flames.
"Leave," he orders, shooting more fire at the vases clustered artfully in the corner. They pop as his blue fire cracks the carefully crafted ceramic.
"No," she says, stoically standing still regardless of the flames.
A thin fire whip erupts from his hand, and he aims it at the top part of the wall, sweeping it across. The expansive hangings fall, and he turns to finish the rest.
"LEAVE!" he bellows.
"You're going to burn down the whole palace," Mai reasons, taking a step closer.
"No," he snarls.
"Zuko, stop this now! He's dead, okay? Burning this won't make that go away!"
With a shout, he spins around, forgetting the fire whip in his hand.
Zuko watches as it strikes her face, and Mai falls to the ground.
His chest heaves, eyes wild as he stares at her body.
Mai slowly pushes herself up, hand rising to her cheek. It is blackened, and blood oozes out fatefully. She ignores the pain to face him.
"You need to calm down," she says, voice no longer showing reason, just tightly controlled ire.
He flings his arms outward, and the windows shatter, glass thrown into the courtyard as people shout in surprise.
The old china tea set is all that remains, and as he stares at the porcelain, his anger fades. His hands fall to his side, and he pickes up the gold cup, wondering how many times Uncle had filled it.
A hand rests on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Mai, lips drawn to a thin line.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I'm so sorry."
Flames dance around them, merry in their bitter destruction.
"I don't know what I was… I'm so sorry, Mai," his voice breaks with the last sentence and he rests his head in his hands.
With a movement fated to occur, his shoulders drop as he begins to sob, sob in a way he hasn't since last apologizing to someone.
To Uncle.
She doesn't say a word as her arms encircle him, and he ignores her, lost in his own memories. She leans against the desk, now singed and broken, and he simply cries.
Sleep comes quickly, and as fast as it comes, mercy comes just as quickly, and it still haunts him.
From Ba Sing Se, Jasmine Dragon.
Not Uncle Iroh. Not General Iroh if a friend of his addressed it.
Ba Sing Se.
And then Addressed to His Majesty Fire Lord Zuko, Priority.
That was it, too. Not Zuko, definitely not Nephew anymore.
Fire Lord