When Zuko burned, Azula laughed. Later, when she was all alone, she kept laughing; laughing until she cried.

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe; wrapping her arms tight around herself and struggling to stop crying, to stop being a baby—

She didn't know why she cried. It was Zuko's own fault, he should have known better, if he'd been a better firebender, if he'd kept quiet, if he hadn't been so useless—

Azula had burned animals before—turtleducks and a few miceroaches that she'd found in her room. Humans burned different than animals; it was more vivid, more red and bubbling and blackened, and the smell—

Agni, the smell of Zuko's burning face—she kept smelling it, she couldn't get the scent out of her nose, despite all the snot she was leaking.

And she was still crying.

She couldn't stop crying, but she had to stop, before someone saw her, before Father saw her.

She wasn't supposed to cry. She was supposed to be stronger than that, was supposed to be better than that, but she kept remembering Zuko's stupid face when they were younger, how stupidly happy and loving he'd been.

The blood boiling and the flesh bubbling as he screamed and Father didn't react, holding Zuko up with one hand so he could keep burning with the other—

Azula had wondered if he would ever stop or if he would burn straight through Zuko's skull.

After Father had stopped burning him and he had let go, Zuko had crumpled slowly to the ground while time stood still and Azula kept smiling while Uncle cringed beside her because that was what she was supposed to do; that was what Father expected her to do.

Now, in her room, her chest was heaving as she took large, gulping breaths, trying to breathe through the tears. Sharp pinpricks of pain filtered through her cries and she unclenched her fists to find small crescents of blood where her fingernails had dug into the flesh of her palm.

The pain broke through her tears and she seemed to wake up. She clenched her fist again, purposefully driving her sharp fingernails into her flesh, using the pain to calm down.

She couldn't let anyone see her like this; they'd tell Father. She had to keep the mask on or she would end up like her brother.

But she still couldn't stop crying.