Disclaimer: Boy, I hate these.It should be common sense that I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. If I did, would I be writing fanfiction about it? Hell no! My ideas would be the actual show! (Hey, it rhymes!)

"No! Please, stop!" A young man screams as his father rams into him again and again. Blood pours out his rectum and tears of pain stream down his cheeks. His father gives a particularly vicious thrust and releases inside his son, pulling out and throwing the bloody ten-year-old on the ground where he lies, whimpering. "Father… why?"

"You showed disrespect. You will learn to respect your betters, and pain will be your teacher. You got no less than you deserve, my son." The last words are said with a sneer, and the man walks out the door of the room.

The boy's eyes cloud over, and he passes out as waves of pain wash over him.

Prince Zuko woke with a start to discover he was covered with cold sweat. He stared unseeing around his chamber before getting up and leaning against the wall. "That nightmare again… I hate it!" He punched the wall, making a fist-sized dent in the iron.

There was a knocking at his door, and Uncle Iroh came in with a yawn. "Prince Zuko, is everything all right in here?"

Prince Zuko let out his breath in a sigh. "Yes, Uncle. Just a nightmare."

"Oh. Do you want to talk about it? Talking is a good way to relieve stress…" He eyed the dented wall. "Destroying your ship is not."

Prince Zuko growls a little. "I do not want to talk about it, Uncle. Go back to bed."

Uncle Iroh shrugged. "If you insist, Prince Zuko." He turns around, the ball of fire in his palm used to light the way flickering at the movement. Turning back, he muttered to himself, "Must remember to get that wall fixed first thing next morning…" Yawning again he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Prince Zuko stared after his uncle for a moment longer before getting back into his bed and flopping down heavily upon his pillow. He had never told anyone about that day, not even Uncle Iroh, his most trusted advisor. He touched the scar across his left eye and ear, running his thumb over the tough tissue. His hand clenched into a fist with rage. It had not been enough for his father to publicly humiliate him and burn away his face, changing his eyes from stone blue for fire-gold and marring his face with a grotesque scar, he had to go and scar him emotionally and mentally as well.

He turned over to lie on his back. Everyone had it wrong; he was not out to catch the avatar for his father, but for himself. To prove that he was better than his father by succeeding in what no one else in his family could. Then it would be his father groveling at his feet instead of the other way around. He cared about nothing else; anyone who got in his way would not be there for long. If something needed to be done, everyone else were just pawns. If one got injured another would take its place. It did not matter who got lost—he would be the ultimate victor.

Summoning his chi he focused it in his fist, releasing the energy as a brilliant flame in the palm of his hand. Sharpening his will, he molded the raw energy until it took on a familiar shape: the shape of his fathers face. He sneered at it before crushing the silhouette in his palm, quenching the fire and leaving the chamber dark once more. Yes. He would not lose. Not to anyone.