opheliac
(vii-you might have seen the end)

Azula is making her bed with military precision, studiously ignoring her current companion, because she knows what he's going to talk about, and she does not want to hear it. She straightens and re-straightens the silk duvet several times before Sokka finally loses patience and stops her.

"You didn't have to be so mean to Aang," he says, in an odd tone. She jerks her wrist from his grip and begins fluffing her pillows.

"I'm not here to coddle him."

"That doesn't mean you should attack him."

"It's about time someone did," she counters coolly, and then makes a face at the pillows. Who replaced her pillows with turtle-duck down pillows? All of the servants know that she's allergic to them. She growls and stalks to the closet, shoving blankets and dresses and formal robes aside until she finds her pillows, stacked neatly on the top shelf, about a foot beyond her reach. Instead of asking for help, she takes the chair from her powder room and drags it into the closet to stand on.

"I could... help you... with... that," Sokka says uncertainly, watching her.

"I'm perfectly capable, thank you," she replies, and changes out the pillows.

"What's wrong with the pillows?" he asks, and she huffs.

"I despise the color," she lies, and badly, because the old ones are the same color as the new. He guesses that she isn't going to tell him, though, so he gives up and simply sits down on her bed, much to her annoyance. "Get up, you're wrinkling the sheets."

He rolls his eyes, but stands anyway and takes the now-vacant seat that she's left in the closet. "So...," he begins, and she winces. Here it comes. "What you said about your childhood..."

"What about it?" she asks, as though discussing the weather.

"I've already talked to Zuko, so don't even try to play it off like you were lying, because you weren't."

She makes a mental note to hit Zuko the next time she sees him. "And?"

"I never knew all that," he says, peering at her like he's seeing her for the first time. "Did all that really... I mean, I guess it... I'm sorry," he finally says, a little lamely. "Is that why you're really helping us fight Ozai?"

She hesitates; the answer is complicated and muddy, even to her. The truth is hidden somewhere in her past, and finding it requires digging through years of suppressed emotions and memories, and making sense of her breakdown two months ago. She doesn't want to face any of it, if she's being honest - she would far rather let the sleeping dragons lie and never look at any of it ever again, but she's never really been as lucky as they say she is. Why is she helping them? The easy answer is the one she's been giving since she first discussed this with Sokka three days ago, but it isn't the whole answer.

Part of it is undeniably about revenge, about making him pay for abandoning her in the days before the comet, about making him see her as a threat for once instead of a pawn. Part of it is about curiosity, about learning if she's permanently broken or even capable of doing the right thing. And part of it - a small, unwanted part - is about making peace with her demons.

Instead of voicing this, she shrugs. "I've already told you why I'm helping you."

"I don't think that's everything."

"It isn't," she answers simply, "but the rest of it is none of your business."

He shrugs. "Fair enough. Back to Aang. I think you should try to be nicer to him."

"We've been through this," she says flatly. "I don't do nice."

"You've got the wrong idea. I know you don't think much of him, but he's more capable than you think he is."

"Of course," she replies absently, re-making her bed and fixing the curtains around it.

"I'm serious," he insists.

"And I don't care," she counters. "You're not going to change my mind."

"I'm just saying," he says, shrugging, "that you should give him a chance."

"Why?"

This throws him off. "What do you mean, why?"

She crosses her arms and leans against the bed-post. "Why should I give him a chance? He's already had plenty of chances to grow up on his own, so why should I give him another one?"

"That's not what I..." he starts, but then pauses to think about it, and finally sighs. "Aang is... He's only almost thirteen. And he grew up in a world where thirteen was still a child - he wasn't supposed to come of age until he was sixteen! Can you blame him for acting the way he was raised to act?"

"You blame me for it," she replies shortly. Sokka makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair.

"Okay, bad example," he concedes. "I'm just saying, you're acting like he's committed some horrible crime by being young."

She considers this for a moment. Thirteen is awfully young to be shouldered with saving the world, but that's never been an excuse as far as Azula is concerned. Thirteen was old enough for her to learn the nuances of world domination, it was old enough for her brother to be scarred and banished for speaking out of turn, and it was old enough for everyone else to take their places and act like adults. "Where were you when you were thirteen, hmm?" she asks, turning the conversation back to him.

"I was... my father was leaving to fight with the Earth Kingdom," he says, "and I was left in charge of the warriors as the oldest male in the tribe. But it wasn't... I don't think Aang should be held up to that standard."

"Why not? Because he was raised differently?"

"He was raised in a time of peace," he insists. "And I think we've forgotten what that means. Aang is one of the only people left who can show us."

She pauses and thinks about that - how different might her life have been had she been born in a time of peace? Would she be who she is today? Certainly not. Would her mother still... She shakes the thought away. "Your argument would hold more water if we weren't facing a civil war. It's certainly sweet that you want to preserve his innocence, but while he's running around being a child, my father is amassing an army and planning to re-take his throne and kill my brother and I. He can't afford to be a child of peace in a time of war."

"Maybe not, but attacking him isn't going to make him grow up any faster."

"I disagree," she says simply, waltzing behind the byobu to change clothes and end this conversation. She hears Sokka cough behind her and smirks. "Learning how to stand up to someone who is attacking you is probably the fastest possible way to grow up." She dramatically releases her topknot and allows her hair to cascade down her back, knowing that she's visible from about the shoulder-blades up, and relishing in the knowledge that she's making him nervous.

"Um," he replies, slightly hoarse, completely losing track of the discussion. "I... Uh. That is..." He curses under his breath. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" he accuses, and she turns just slightly, an innocent expression on her face.

"Doing what?" she asks lightly, and he glares at her.

"Tomorrow," he starts, as she pulls her top off and shakes her hair out. He pauses again, and then curses. "I really hate you," he says, and then storms out, chased by her laughter.