This is just something I'm writing to cure my writer's block. I haven't written anything creative for months because of my AP English class, but since that's beginning to wind down, I figured I'd better get back to writing narratives rather than essay after essay. I don't have ideas for my other fanfic at the moment, so I decided to write about Zuko, because I'm currently infatuated with him. (fangirl grin) This won't be long, maybe two or three chapters at the most. Meh, we'll see.

Don't expect this to be good, I haven't written anything in months. But all the same, I'd like any constructive criticism my readers have to offer. Thankies. Well, it's get on with it. Hopefully my writing skills haven't fallen too far.

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"Please, father! I only had the Fire nation's best interest at heart! I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!"

The boy's pleas went unnoticed.

The crowd continued to watch in anticipating silence.

The Fire Lord advanced toward his traitorous son.

"You will fight for your honor," he declared. The boy barely met his father's eyes. His body, massively built as a bull's, was darkly silhouetted against the powerful flames surrounding the Agni-Kai arena. They seemed to mimic the Fire Lord's fury.

"I meant you no disrespect." His voice beginning to break, he lowered himself to the floor and bowed to his father. "I am your loyal son…"

His father's footsteps ceased as he stopped in tracks, towering before the boy.

"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" His demanding voice was a defining bellow. Still, the boy didn't move. The crowd began to murmur.

"I won't fight you…" The prince's voice was nothing more than a guttural whimper. He kept his eyes on the floor, his body beginning to tremble.

"You will learn respect…" the Fire Lord began. He lifted his hand and balled it into a fist, ready to strike. In the audience, a Commander looked on with cold eyes. A girl only a few years younger than the boy, raised her own fist in cruel expectation. Between them stood an old man, weathered by age and experience. He stared at the scene in before him with sorrowful and apprehensive eyes.

The prince tremulously lifted his head. He stared at his father with eyes glazed by terror and intermingling with grief. Tears streamed down his face in rivers.

"…and suffering will be your teacher."

The Fire Lord thrust his fist forward for the blow. Back in the audience, the old man averted his gaze and closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch.

The boy barely had the chance to recoil before a bright flash and a wall of heat exploded in his face.

The pain was excruciating- and immediate. The torrent of flame struck him with suck a force that he was thrown back. He felt the floor vanish from under his feet and a horrifying sensation of being thrown into the air, then the plummeting. He did not know for how long he fell; it seemed as if it were in slow motion, that he would be falling forever. But that feeling paled in comparison to the agony assaulting his face.

The roar of flames ceased abruptly, and the boy heard someone screaming. For a split second he wondered who it was. Someone in the crowd? His father, perhaps, screaming in sudden comprehension of what he had done? Was it his mother, finally returning to save him from this pain and torment? No, it was too deep of a scream to be a woman's cry.

His muscles tensed as his back collided with the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. The screams of pain and shock were cut short, and he realized that they were his own. His body twisted from the impact, and he half somersaulted, half slid painfully along the floor before easing into a crashing halt. He lay in a heap, momentarily stunned, the left side of his face burning and stinging mercilessly.

The boy bent his arms and struggled to rise, but they buckled beneath him, and he collided with the floor again, trembling uncontrollably and pain radiating from all corners of his body. He felt heavy, drained of all energy and will. He felt a thousand eyes staring down at him, some appalled, other pleased at his downfall.

He opened his eyes, and screamed in agony once more. His left eyelid could only twitch, and even that slight movement brought forth a wave of unbearable pain across his burned face. The crowd fell silent as the prince writhed on the floor, then, panting, lifted his head and opened his right eye.

The image was clear at first. His father towered over him, silhouetted black and massive against flames. The prince let out a pleading whine as the Fire Lord turned and walked away, without a glance. Suddenly the shape of his father began to grow blurry, and he felt his stomach lurch nauseously. The world seemed to melt into itself, the colors and images swaying and blending like a painting that had been drenched in water. Faintness took over him. Darkness began to close in, and he felt his useful eye grow heavier and heavier, until he couldn't keep it open any longer. He felt his head hit the floor, and everything around him faded to black.

Before he fully lost consciousness, he heard the old man shattering the air around him with a scream, calling his name.

"ZUKO!!"

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Ugh, that was awful. Well, let me know what you think so far, and get this poor old soul back to doing what it loves most. I appreciate it greatly.