opheliac
(ii-i've been so disillusioned)

"Oh, Agni, not you again."

Sokka, with a sour look on his face, sits in the same chair he sat in three weeks ago. She had thought that she was done with him and his... everything. Instead, here he is, glaring at her like this is all her fault.

"My sister seems to think that I didn't try hard enough."

"To do what?" she laughs. "Save me?"

He shrugs. "Apparently. Because that's totally my job."

She rolls her eyes, and they sit in silence for a long moment. "So," she begins, "how have you been?"

He makes a face. "Fine," he grits through clenched teeth. "Just fine, thank you."

"This nasty tension isn't going to work," she says bluntly, crossing her arms in annoyance. "Just talk about anything, I don't care."

"I'm not telling you anything," he replies. "You'll just twist it around to hurt me."

"Oh, Sokka," she gasps, "You know me so well! I'm flattered, truly!" There's a beat, and she finally growls. "Fine, if you won't talk, I will. There's a boy here who swears that he's the reincarnated spirit of Agni, and insists that everyone treat him like a god. Isn't that funny?"

"No," he answers coldly. "It's sad."

"Nonsense," she says flippantly. "It's hilarious. He trots around like he owns the world, when in reality, he's just a helpless little peasant who's so caught up in his imagination that he can't see the truth. And me, I'm actually one of Agni's line, and he expects me to bow to him? How amusing."

Sokka does not miss the barb in her words, but he doesn't comment on it. "How amusing is it, Azula? You take pleasure in watching other people fail?"

"Yes," she replies immediately.

"Why is that?"

She doesn't want to answer him. The truth looms over her head - because, for most of her life, someone else's failure meant her success. It's why she kept Zuko around for so long; next to him, she glowed, and that was necessary to her advancement. But here, her success and failure are based only on what she can or cannot do, and it's both a foreign sensation and terribly unwanted. She is good at making other people fail, but succeeding on her own terms is more difficult.

"Because it's so funny to watch them crash to the ground," she answers, gritting her teeth.

"Did you laugh when it happened to you?"

"I did," she replies defiantly. "The irony was almost disgusting."

"Liar," he says lightly, with more than a little vindication. She takes a deep breath.

"One day," she says in a low, calm voice, "I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to make you pay."

"For what?" he laughs, "For calling you out on your crap? That's hardly fair."

"Since when have I ever been fair?"

"All right, then. That's not sporting, and you Fire Nation people are all about honor."

She snorts. "My brother is all about honor. I am all about winning."

He watches her carefully, and then says, in a strange voice. "Aang should have done to you what he did to your father."

All amusement falls from her face, and is replaced with an ugly look. "Now, that's cruel."

"Hardly," Sokka says lightly. "It's fair, isn't it?"

"No," she replies coldly. "It's the farthest thing from fair you can possibly imagine."

He blinks in surprise. "You think that it was crueler than killing him?"

"Yes," she answers immediately. "It's hard for non-benders to imagine. Think of it like this - what if I cut off your arms but left you otherwise alive and well? You would never be able to fight again, you would never be able to - actually, imagine I cut off your arms and your legs," she says, agitated. "You would never fight, never walk, never be independent or free or strong ever again. You would go from being who you are today to a - a burden, something others have to take care of, unable to take care of yourself or do anything for yourself ever again. Now, is that crueler or kinder than killing you outright?"

"I... see," Sokka says slowly, but Azula isn't finished.

"And apparently the Avatar doesn't see it that way, but I guess that's what you get when you expect an immature, sheltered boy to do anything outside of his comfort zone."

"Hey!" he shouts, angrily. "Don't talk about him like that! Aang did the kindest thing he could!"

She laughs bitterly at this. "Oh, that's rich, that's really great. You're so blind."

"How am I blind?" he asks, on-edge.

Azula rolls her eyes and huffs a heavy sigh. "The Avatar knows nothing of kindness," she begins, but Sokka cuts her off with a loud bark of a laugh.

"You're wrong. He knows too much about kindness, if you ask me."

"No," she replies firmly, feeling far more like herself again. "He doesn't. In order to understand kindness, you must also understand cruelty. A boy who lives in a world where everyone loves him and coddles him and protects him cannot understand evil, and thus he cannot understand true good." She has him now; his eyes are uncertain, and he looks very ill at ease. She continues, "It's the same way that you can't understand light if you don't also understand darkness. The Avatar is a child. He thinks that murder is the ultimate evil, which anyone who knows anything will tell you: there are far, far worse things you can do to a man than kill him."

She pauses and lets that sink in for a moment. "In fact," she says softly, "I would argue that the Avatar - because of his lack of understanding - did the worst, most stupid thing he could have possibly done to my father. And I don't say that out of love, but out of strategy."

"How do you mean?" he asks, a terrible fear crawling up his spine. Azula leans back.

"Think about it. By removing his bending but leaving him alive, he has given his worst enemy a reason to pursue a personal vendetta against him. And believe me, firebender or no, my father is a force to be reckoned with. He has allies out in the city and countryside, and he will contact them. They will try - and probably succeed - to free him from prison and place him back on his throne. He doesn't need to bend to be dangerous, and your precious Avatar has given him a reason to hate - and, I might add, a damn good reason, the kind of reason that others will agree with. Especially firebenders. They'll side with Father not only because they believe in him, but they'll also call the Avatar cruel and heartless for condemning Father to a fate worse than death.

"In - what was it? - spirit-bending Father's abilities away, the Avatar has created his worst possible enemy, and given him a reason to seek revenge."

Sokka is clearly having trouble breathing. "Why," he begins hoarsely, "are you telling me this? Don't you want to break out of here and side with him?"

She hesitates at this, and thinks about it. "Yes and no," she replies slowly, and then makes a face. "Without being able to bend, Father would need an heir to place on the throne. That could, in theory, be me." She lets out a deep breath and examines the underside of her uneven bangs, idly thinking that it's about damn time for them to even out. "But... I don't think he wants me on the throne. I'm too powerful." She smiles bitterly. "He'll want a puppet-ruler, someone he can control, and if he knows anything, then he should know that isn't me. At least, not anymore."

"So..." Sokka says, and she can see him planning already how to take care of this new threat, "he'll want to find someone with a legitimate claim to the throne, but weak enough to be manipulated. Who would that be?"

She laughs outright at him. "Who do you think? The child Avatar, of course."

Sokka makes a face. "He wouldn't go that route. He knows that Aang won't ever side with him, and besides, didn't you say that Ozai hated Aang and wants revenge?"

"And what better revenge than turning him into a pawn for his war?" She raises an eyebrow. "Think about it for a moment, idiot. The Avatar's whole shtick is no-killing, all-life-is-sacred - the ultimate revenge would be to corrupt him from the inside-out and make him place something - anything - over his own morals. Breaking the Avatar and destroying his ideals, that's what I would do if I were in his position. And as for the Avatar never siding with him," she snorts. "You think my father can't manipulate him? All he has to do is plant some damning evidence against Zuzu, make him out to be a terrible person who has done terrible things - which is easier than you think it is, by the way - and play the reformed criminal thing. The Avatar's a pushover for that sort of trick. He'll fall, and easily."

Sokka is gaping at her now, horror spelled clearly over his face. He blinks several times and swallows hard. "And what about you?"

"Me?" she says, musing, feeling slightly sick as she contemplates the possibilities. "Well, I'm in here, so he'll probably try to claim that I'm unfit to rule and should thus be stricken from the line to the throne. Or, he'll have me killed." She shrugs. "He'll have to get rid of me somehow, and I think it's safer for me to play crazy and bide my time until I can take the throne from him." She smiles bitterly. "After all, the game is only over when you're dead. Until then, it's fair game."

He's shaking visibly, and she knows that he's going to rush out of here and tell her brother everything that she's told him here. He's trying to wrap his mind around it, probably already mentally preparing himself for full-out civil war. He says something under his breath, and then looks up. "Can I trust you?" he asks suspiciously.

"To do what?" she counters. "I don't have anything to gain by lying to you, if that's what you mean. In fact, it's to my advantage to keep Zuzu on the throne. He's far less powerful than Father would be, and frankly, the idea of facing down both Father and the puppet-Avatar wearies me, so you don't have to worry about me siding with them, no."

"So you'll help us?"

She shrugs. "For now. As long as it suits me, of course."

"And when it doesn't?"

"Well, then," she says, smiling like a tiger-shark, "that'll be a fun day, won't it?"

He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, guarded and afraid (although he's trying to hide it), "You always lie. How can I ever know if you're telling the truth?"

"Everything I've said makes logical sense. You're supposed to be the smart one, aren't you? I haven't told you anything you couldn't have figured out yourself if you had just a little more experience with people."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs noncommittally, "I'm a people person, is all. I understand how they work and what they'll do. It's what makes me so good at my job. People are terribly predictable, even if they think they aren't, and especially if they're as naive as the Avatar or as single-minded as my Father." She peers at him curiously. "I think we're alike in that."

"I'm nothing like you," he says coolly, as he stands to leave. She laughs and examines her fingernails.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."


A/N: Now you see where this is going. Honestly, I really think Aang was an idiot in the finale, for many of the reasons Azula states. Seriously, Ozai's not incapacitated just because he can't bend. He's still a shrewd leader and he's still a huge threat and he no doubt has supporters all through the Fire Nation. There's no way he's down for the count. Also, in this story, as opposed to others of mine, I'm taking the position that Azula simply had a psychotic break in the finale, and will recover in time. She's still vulnerable here, but far more like herself.