"So, Firelord. Is your father doing well?" Zuko knew many firebenders were angry that their reigning champion, Ozai, had been dethroned, and he couldn't imagine that a prison run by Azula would be staffed by people who felt any other way.
Remembering what the guards had said, Zuko muttered a response just loud enough for the general to hear, "He is fine, in prison, because he tried to conquer the world." The general seemed satisfied at this answer, so he asked another. This one hit home.
"What if you let your father upstage you once more and take the throne again, eh?" Knowing the general was looking for a yes, Zuko gritted his teeth and replied, "Sorry, nope. Not going to let my own father upstage me yet again."
The general thundered, "Foolish boy! I hope you know the depths of the mistake you're making. You are not fit to rule this kingdom, so I will make an example out of you!" The crazed general pulled a length of stiff, silvery cord from his pocket. It glittered, and, when it passed by his face, he saw that it was laced with silver, holding large chunks of glass in place.
The glass on the end was stained reddish brown, as if the blood of his nation was poured eagerly onto the tip and left to dry for a century. Zuko took a deep breath and steeled himself. The general rested the whip on Zuko's shoulder, almost casually, but the weight of the general's arm pressed the glass into his shoulder, causing fierce fireworks of pain to pop in his arm. It was hardly anything compared to previous injuries he had endured, but in the heat of the moment it felt like fire.
The general leaned in next to Zuko's ear and hissed, "Would you like to rethink that decision? Because I'll only give you so many chances." Zuko firmly shook his head no, and retorted with a heated answer, "You're a tyrant. Just like Ozai!" The general's face turned redder, and Zuko braced himself for the moment.
Crack! Zuko winced at the combined sound of the whip and bones shattering, but his body went into shock too fast for him to register anything but pain the amount of a pinch. He gasped for breath as the whip hit him in the ribs, hindering his ability to breathe properly, though again he felt no pain. He wondered what was going on, and if it was bad that this was happening, but he didn't have to wait and wonder for long, because the whip bore down on him yet again.
This happened continually until Zuko could see the wounds, all over, coating his dark red robes in wet, metallic-smelling liquid that continued to flow from every wound. He was beginning to think that the general had gone med, that this practice would continue ceaselessly until he dropped dead from blood loss.
His head was already clouded, but not enough that he didn't notice the door slide open. Standing in the light from the bright hall was the silhouette of a person Zuko had never wanted to see again.
Authors Notes
Thanks for supporting me and my clueless junk, I just kinda write the stuff that pops out of the dark recesses of my brain, so... yeah. Please leave a review, and I will update this again! :)