"Let's make a deal, peasant."

Sokka snorted and staring coldly into the roaring fire in the middle of the tiny hut where Azula, fugitive Princess of the Fire Nation, was trying to barter with him. He knew this woman well enough to know she was up to something sinister. He could barely keep his back turned to her, every frayed nerve screaming that she was going to slit his throat with those pointy fingernails before he could call for help.

He risked a glance back and was surprised to find her back facing him. She was standing in the bath, her upper body exposed while she ran soapy hands over her arms and front. He hadn't expected someone so strong to look so… frail. She was a shadow of the woman she used to be. Her frame was too thin and with her hair cropped at the shoulders he could clearly see long, silvery welts slashed across her back. Had she been tortured while imprisoned?

Those are old wounds, he realized. He didn't know how he felt about that. Azula, the cruel, egotistical woman who had nearly killed him and his friends on more than one occasion wasn't invincible. He briefly wondered if Ozai had dealt her these wounds, but immediately locked his curiosity away. This was Azula. It wasn't like she would ever give him a straight answer anyway. The twisting feeling of pity in his gut didn't go away.

His gaze lingered a split second too long. She'd caught him when her head turned to the side, catching him in her peripheral. He quickly swiveled his head back forward, feeling guilty for peeking at a woman bathe, even if that woman was a psychotic lunatic.

"I didn't peg you as a voyeur, Chief," she drawled, sinking back into the steamy water. "Tell you what, I'll let you ogle me every night at bath-time if you'll be so kind as to let me stay for a while."

When she was met with angry silence, she rolled her eyes and pressed on. "Look, I'm not going to hurt anyone. I don't have any good reason to, at least not for now. You're a man of strategy, peasant. Think about it. Attacking your little village would put me at a disadvantage."

She raised a brow, watching his tense form continue to stare into the fire. She continued.

"Besides, you wouldn't want to expose your first tourist in the South Pole to be Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, would you? You'd have a real riot on your hands," she mused. She watched his profile and smirked with satisfaction when his jaw clenched tightly.

"What's the end game, Azula? Why are you even here? You obviously escaped prison and could have chosen anywhere to hide. Why the South Pole?"

She cursed internally. "I hear its lovely this time of year and wanted to visit," she replied innocently. The water was beginning to cool again.

Sokka listened to her wet footsteps as she climbed out of the bath. There was a sudden whoosh of hot air and a content sigh. Her footsteps padded quietly across the hut towards the bed and then there was the shuffling of clothing. He was still half expecting her to kill him at any second.

"That's a lie and we both know it."

"Even if I told you the truth, you would think it's a lie. What's the point?"

Well, she wasn't wrong about that. Sokka grumbled lowly, feeling only slightly more comfortable. Several minutes had already passed and she hadn't lunged for his throat yet.

Azula shrugged into a thick blue parka and matching pants. They were a little large, but quite warm. She was surprised at how well the pelt was sewn together and even more surprised that she quite liked the color, despite always defaulting to red. She hadn't felt this clean and comfortable since before her capture. It put her in a good mood.

She turned around and slowly approached Sokka, slowing even more when he visibly tensed at her proximity. "Don't worry, I don't bite," she said darkly. "Hard."

She folded her legs and sat down beside him, also turning her gaze towards the smoldering flames in the middle of the room, soaking up the warmth. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes—well, comfortable for Azula. She could feel him scrutinizing her every movement, watching her like a hawk. She needed to find some way to appeal to him, some way to get him to think that she wasn't a psycho murderer who would slit the entire village's throats in their sleep.

You could do that, you know, Ozai whispered. It would be so easy.

She ignored the enticing dark thoughts, choosing instead to see if she could manipulate Sokka in another way. If she couldn't scare him into letting her stay, perhaps she could appeal to a softer side.

"I just want to be free. I am a fugitive now, an outsider to my own people. I have no home, no family, and no friends."

She didn't break her gaze from the dancing fire.

"You did that to yourself," Sokka replied. His voice had a hard edge to it.

Keep going, Ozai whispered. Tell the whelp about your sad childhood, about how the mother who thought you a monster abandoned you.

Ozai always had a way of twisting the truth into a heinous attack. It was hard to keep her anger in check. The fire in the room blazed brighter for a moment before she reigned in her emotions. Sokka was quick to reach for his weapon, but she responded in soft voice that made him pause.

"You're right."

There was a pregnant moment of silence before his jaw dropped and he gaped openly at her. Had she just admitted something he'd said was valid? The notion made him falter and he clamped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny at her. "What did you say?"

"You're right," she repeatedly, more coldly this time. She didn't like admitting this, even if it was solely to garner sympathy from him. "I'm not oblivious to my faults, savage. I was holed up in an icy prison for a year. It gave me a lot of time to reflect."

Sokka's expression was still grim, but he pressed her for more information. "What are you trying to say?"

She paused.

This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. He was a guarded person, rightfully so after the hell she'd put him and his imbecile friends through. Whatever she said next had to count. She dug deep, pushing past the darkness in her heart and finding the tiny lockbox that she kept hidden away, the box that held all her fears and uncertainty. It felt like every time she dug into this box, it buried itself deeper into her heart. She wondered when the day would come that she would reach for it and not be able to find it— the day it would be consumed by her own darkness.

"Azula?" Sokka called. Amber eyes met an icy blue stare. Azula reached into the box, pulling out a question that she'd been asking herself a lot during her isolation.

"Are monsters is deserving of love?" she asked, her question barely above a whisper.

Sokka opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn't know how to answer her. He didn't even know how to process the strange pit of pity in his stomach. There was a flicker of foreign emotion when she posed her question.

She's hurting, he realized.

The recognition of her pain was sobering and had him reluctantly rethinking his feelings about who she was… who she really was. From his talks with Zuko, he'd been under the impression that Azula was Ozai's favorite and was always rewarded everything she wanted. Zuko was adamant that Azula hated him and their mother simply because she was exactly like their father. There were clearly parts of Azula that were dark and cruel, but Sokka had never entertained the idea that she was anything but evil. He'd taken Zuko's words at face value and accepted them as the truth. The woman sitting beside him now made him question his friend, and he didn't like that feeling.

"Do you think you're a monster?" he asked in return, his tone not accusatory nor angry.

She turned her eyes back towards the fire, a smile on her mouth that didn't meet her eyes. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

Sokka paused, then answered truthfully. "No, I wouldn't."

The fire crackled lowly.

"I don't believe me, either."

They sat this way for several more minutes, both stewing in their own thoughts, one desperate to stay and the other on the cusp of allowing her to… all for the sake of his own curiosity. Sokka knew that this was just some ploy to make him feel bad enough to let her stay, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn't all just games and manipulation this time. The hurt he'd seen was real, no matter how much shit she buried it under. Something in him wanted to dig deeper and expose Azula—the real Azula.

He didn't know why but he wanted to feel the deep satisfaction of being the only person to uncover what was buried beneath all those layers of snarky wit and cruelty. Maybe it was his weakness for beautiful women, or his need to save the unsavable. Whatever the reason, he couldn't let this go. He'd just have to find a way to chip away at the walls she'd put up while figuring out why the hell she'd come to the South Pole in the first place.

Easier said than done, Captain Boomerang, he thought darkly. And since when had Azula pinged on his radar as beautiful? He turned his attention back to her. She bore an unreadable expression, still gazing into the fire. He could see the embers dancing in the reflection of those sharp, golden eyes. Had her skin always been this translucent, this incredibly fair? He deduced that she hadn't gotten much sunlight in her prison. Again, he felt pity swell in his gut.

Sokka made his choice. He had a feeling he would regret it later, but he made it anyway.

"How was the prison food?" he asked. "I don't imagine Zuko was sending cactus juice and fire flakes to you on the regular."

Her expression flashed with surprise before twisting into a scowl. "I was given enough to stay alive."

"Well, Gran Gran is more than likely going to try and fatten you up in the coming weeks."

Azula's face fell in shock before she quickly schooled her expression into an impassive gaze. "What are you trying to say, peasant?"

"I'm saying there's no way you'd be able to take me on, much less the entire tribe, considering you're skin and bones now, Princess," he drawled, raising a dark brow. "So let Gran Gran fatten you up and you can be on your merry way after you've recovered. No violence, no scheming, no trouble. Fair deal?"

Azula narrowed her amber eyes at his proposal, searching for the loophole. She ignored the odd tingle down her neck at the way he called her Princess. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, which made her stomach flip with uncertainty.

The whelp calls you Princess and you're weak in the knees? Don't let him mislead you. You will be Fire Lord Azula, Ozai whispered. She grounded her resolve into her father words, letting them guide her.

"No violence? No scheming? What do you take me for, Sokka?" she asked in a sweet voice laced with venom. When he responded with a glare, she continued.

"Give me your oath that you won't reveal my identity or whereabouts to the Fire Nation or the Avatar, not until I'm long gone. You can lie and tell them I fooled you into believing I was someone else."

Sokka was quiet, considering her request. She was banking on the Avatar and his wench to return before her supposed peaceful departure. She just needed Sokka to believe she was going along with his silly little proposal for the time being. All would be revealed when the time was right. And when the time was right, she was going to take back what was rightfully hers.

"What's wrong? Is that puny savage brain having a hard time wrapping around my demand?" she asked sharply. Her patience was wearing thin. She was tired, hungry, and desperately needed to rest.

Finally, he relented. "Deal," he said firmly. He yanked a glove off his hand and shoved it into Azula's face.

"You have my word, as the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, that I won't reveal your identity to Zuko or Aang until you're long gone. And you have to promise me you won't hurt my people during your stay."

Azula stared at the hand in her face, her lips curling with distaste.

"Shake on it, Azula," Sokka insisted.

She reluctantly curled her hand around his. Her fist felt tiny in his warm grip and she yanked away quickly after a brief shake, shoving her hand into the pocket of her new blue parka. Her skin tingled where he touched it and she flexed the digits inside the coat, passing it off as some adverse reaction to being quarantined in her prison for too long.

Sokka slipped his glove back on, making his way towards the exit. "I'm sure you want to get some rest before dinner. I promise I won't make an attempt on your life while you're sleeping."

Azula rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know if I can keep that same promise."

Sokka halted, narrowing his eyes at her. She waved a dismissive hand. "It was a joke, peasant. You can laugh. It's funny."

"Ha. Ha."

His dry response was foiled by the smirk she caught on his mouth right before he departed from the tiny hut. Azula sighed, her nerves frayed, and body exhausted. She was thankful for Ozai's surprising silence. Perhaps he would settle with this outcome, at least for the time-being. She shut the door behind Sokka, watching him walk away through a small window. The room was silent now save for the low crackle of the fire which was beginning to go out.

She quickly put more firewood into the pit and took a quick scan of her surroundings to ensure she was alone before shooting a bright blue flame at the wood, setting it ablaze. The heat made her eyes even heavier and she yawned, retreating to the bed. She fell into a deep slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow, her dreams caught between the ever-looming presence of Ozai and a shadowy figure with strikingly light, icy blue eyes.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I definitely struggled a little writing Sokka how I had envisioned him. I hope that his personality shines through and you're able to still see parts of his old self intertwining with his new role as Chief. If you have any feedback, please leave a comment. I'd love to hear your opinion!