The Qualities of Our Enemies
"Do you even understand what you're doing, you buffoon?"
Jet spared the incapacitated girl a lazy glance. "Sure I do, it's very simple. You see, I," he pointed to himself, "am going to use you," he pointed to Azula, who curled up her lip in a sneer, "as a hostage to negotiate—well, whatever the hell I want from the Fire Nation," he finished in a distinctly self-satisfied manner.
"Ah, yes, of course," Azula said, very softly, very mockingly, "because you and your merry little band of guerilla wanna-bes will clearly come out on top of the elite unit assigned to handle all threats to the higher Fire Nation nobility. What's your plan, hmm? Does it involve slingshots? Sticks? Perhaps you can even find some mud to throw at them, I'm sure that will really have them acquiescing to your every demand."
"Hey," said Jet, rather indignantly, "I got the best of you, didn't I?"
"Because I was alone, injured, and exhausted," she seethed, "and I still almost burned your ugly little face off."
"That's right," he said patronizingly, overlooking her slur on his (good) looks, "you almost won—which is kind of like winning, but, oh darn, it's still losing." He smiled. "And you're still my prisoner. So learn your place before I feel the need to tutor you."
Azula scoffed and treated him to a lofty, withering look. "Who are you to speak of places? I am a princess—the Fire Nation princess—and you are a filthy Earth Nation peasant. I can trace my royal lineage back hundreds of years. You were probably whelped by a whore."
He would have smacked her, but he was just too damn pleased with himself. She was right, she was the Fire Nation princess—and he'd captured her. Forget all his little other little resistance schemes—if he played his cards right, this could be a turning point in the war! And he'd go down in history as the one who orchestrated it, he and his Freedom Fighters.
Yeah, he was pretty damn pleased with himself.
"So you never told me—what is your spiffy little plan?" Azula posed derisively, profoundly unconcerned for someone in her position. "Really, I can't wait to hear it."
"Too bad, 'cause I don't feel like telling you," he declared. So he hadn't worked out… all the details yet. But he knew how it would end—in an overwhelming victory over the Fire Nation. Perhaps he should backwards-plan from there?
To get her off the subject, he commented with a leer, "You know, I think you could actually be kind of hot, without all that armor, and if you let your hair down, maybe. Hot in kind of a pointy way, at least."
She raised her chin, golden eyes defiant with a cold sort of fire. "Proper women of nobility wear their hair up. And at least I have quality armor, as opposed to what you're wearing. How many dead men did you have to steal from, to make a whole set?"
He restrained a grin—because God forbid this haughty, spoilt brat of the Fire Lord think he liked her, or anything. He just… appreciated strong-willed people. Sometimes the qualities of our enemies are those we most admire.
He was still seriously considering investing in a gag for her, though.
For bloocheeze, even though it's not at all what she wanted. Sorryyyy. D: Haha, I couldn't even work your prompts in. I did, however, manage to incorporate the motto of my tennis team: "Almost winning, which is kind of like winning, even though it's still losing." Anyway, this is just what I came up with, and I figured I might as well post it. I'll do better next time?
And... don't question the scenario, all right? It's pre-Jet!death, that's all I know. Um, yay for my first Avatar fic?
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.