Hello friends! I'm excited to present Azula: Journey to Nekana. The plot makes the most sense if you've already read Heirs of Ozai, but is understandable even if you haven't. Enjoy!
Thanks to my friend M, who edited every chapter of this twice. Also thanks to H, who helped me brainstorm this story while on the back of a motorcycle in rural China.
Chapter 1
A large passenger vessel docks at the colonial port city of Taiyang, slowly easing into its narrow berth adjacent to the pier. The funnel lets out a puff of steam. Like most Fire Nation ships, the Emerald Isles is made entirely of metal, and a warlike gangplank descends with a sharp hiss once the ship drops anchor. A hundred years ago, Fire Nation soldiers marched out of a similar ship to capture the Earth Kingdom village of Taiyang. But today families emerge instead of soldiers: children running happily onto shore for the first time in weeks, fathers carrying toddlers on their shoulders, and mothers juggling luggage. They stream out into the bustling shipyard, some greeted with hugs from waiting family members, others glancing nervously at the chaos of sailors and commerce.
Deep within the ship, Azula summons fire.
The boiler room is hot, and Azula's braid sticks to the back of her neck. But this may be the last chance she gets to practice. Back pressed to a large water tank, Azula stares sternly at the flower of blue fire that flickers just above her hand. She imagines warm things, but not too hot; a simmering anger instead of her usual righteous fury. The flame quivers. Then, slowly, the azure base of her fire shifts to bright orange. It looks like everyone else's fire. Like Zuko's fire. Azula extinguishes her flame with a twist of her fingers, then reignites both hands. Orange. Hiss. Orange again. Azula flushes with victory…and causes both fires to abruptly revert to vivid, brilliant blue.
The blue fire reflects off the metal boilers, creating a sapphire glow. Azula breathes in. No one else in the world can create blue fire. It's a pity she has to repress the parts of her that are extraordinary to blend in with Colonials. The first time she summoned blue fire, Azula had just turned ten. Zuko had just left the capital, burnt and disgraced, and Azula remembered feeling so angry without knowing why. Suddenly without anyone to play with or torment, she practiced her forms furiously. Alone. The courtyard was cool with morning mists, and she remembered repeatedly wiping the wet condensation off her face. With a shout, Azula punched the air—but instead of orange, her fire unfurled like a banner of bright blue, as blue as Father's lightning.
"Well done, Azula," Father had said, emerging from the courtyard mists. He hugged her in a rare display of affection. "I knew you were special." And Azula's conflict over Zuko's abrupt departure dissipated.
Of course, Ozai is dead now. And Zuko recently told her he is glad he was banished. Just another part of her world that has turned upside down in the past three weeks.
The door to the boiler room clangs open. Azula edges around the large, cylindrical boiler to avoid being seen. But the engine worker heads for the furnace at the other side of the boiler room, and Azula is alone again. She refocuses on her fire. Think heat, not cold fury or anger. Just before Azula left the Fire Nation, Zuko told her the world can run on love and not fear. He was earnest. He meant it. But how is that possible? Frustrated red-orange flames curl from Azula's palm, without even the faintest hint of blue. Azula laughs bitterly. If internal conflict leads to orange fire, no wonder Zuko has never summoned blue flame.
"Who's there?" The engine worker's voice echoes in the metal room. She sounds worried.
Noiselessly, Azula grabs her bag and creeps from the bowels of the ship.
The hallways below deck are mildly claustrophobic and remind Azula uncomfortably of the insane asylum where Zuko imprisoned her for more than a year. But Zuko is not her enemy now. Quickening her pace, Azula climbs up a service ladder to the top deck, where sailors bustle around, loading crates on and off the ship. She is the last passenger to disembark. Which is fitting, since no one knew she was a passenger.
As Azula weaves her way down the gangplank to the pier, ignoring the puzzled stares of various sailors, she looks up at the sky. It is a cloudless day, and the weather in Taiyang is a little cooler than it had been in the Fire Nation Capital. Perhaps it is the ocean breeze. Azula stops right where the metal ramp touches the pier. Behind, a metal warship and her home. Ahead, a bustling port and the Colonies. Once Azula crosses this border…she can never go back. She steels herself, an odd lump growing in her throat.
Someone grabs her upper arm roughly and jerks her off the ramp and into the shadows at the side of the ship. Without thinking, Azula twists out of her assailant's grip and shoves the person away. Falling into a fighting stance, she watches the ship's captain stumble backwards into crates of new cargo. He yells in surprise and glares at her.
"I don't remember you paying for a ticket, sweetheart," Captain Chu says, standing back up to his full height. Which, Azula admits, is considerable. But apparently Chu didn't get the message that toying with her is a mistake.
"If you're so incompetent you didn't find a stowaway on a tiny ship, you don't deserve my money," Azula sneers, crossing her arms. Chu advances on her, but she doesn't move. If he wants both arms broken, that's his business.
"I'm collecting now, girl," says Chu, looming over her. She can smell his breath: sour tobacco and spicy chicken. She knows men like him: puffed-up, self-important, greedy and eager to prey on the weak. Pathetic.
"I don't think so." Azula turns, but Chu has the audacity to grab her again.
"If money's the problem, girl, you can always—"
Almost bored, Azula knees Chu sharply in the groin. He crunches over, gagging, and Azula grabs the top of his hair and pulls his head down to meet her knee. His nose breaks. Azula could walk away now, but Chu needs to learn a lesson. She kicks him in the stomach and plants a foot on his chest, still concealed behind shipping crates. Azula summons orange fire.
"What's going on here?" says a sharp voice.
Azula sighs and turns to look at the newcomer, keeping her flame aloft. After such a long journey she just wants some rest. But now two people are trying to get on her bad side. The new man stands just outside the shadows; when he moves out of the glaring sunlight, he reveals the dark, sun-tanned skin of an Earth Kingdom citizen. He's slight, and not much taller than she is, but his arms are folded arrogantly.
"Captain Chu made a feeble attempt to extort money from me," Azula says.
"Chu! I'm ashamed of you! And to such a beautiful young woman!" says the newcomer mockingly. He narrows green eyes at Chu, who writhes on the ground and groans indistinctly. "You shouldn't intimidate people, Chu. You know better."
"I don't need your help," Azula says cuttingly, digging her heel into Chu's chest.
"Oh, that is manifestly clear," says the man, meeting Azula's eyes for the first time. He's somewhere between her age and her mother's, and he looks vaguely amused.
"So leave. Now."
"Come on, Temurin!" Chu finally chokes out. "Help me!"
"You brought this on yourself, Chu," Temurin says. He glances over at Azula. "But even so. I must insist you let my supplier go free, young lady."
Young lady? Azula fumes. As Princess Azula, she was respected and feared by everyone; her age and gender didn't come into it. Maybe Chu isn't the only one who needs to be taught a lesson in respect. She steps off Chu's chest and stalks toward Temurin, allowing her orange fire to burn taller. At this distance, she can see her flames reflected in his green eyes. He's not so confident any more. Azula relishes the fear he sees in his face, feels the rush she gets when she sees someone's swagger swept away. But then Zuko's words flash through her mind: Ozai lied when he told you that fear was the only way. It's not.
Just three weeks ago, Azula wanted to change. She wanted to embrace Zuko's way of living. But here she is, about to burn this man or do who knows what just so that he'll be afraid of her. Azula lets her fire die out.
To his credit, Temurin hasn't moved. "No need for violence," he says quietly, hands raised. "Just let me do my business with Chu, and then all three of us can walk away." Behind Azula, Chu sits up, hand clutching his nose.
Azula's hands fall limply to her sides.
Temurin dodges past her, still looking wary, and hauls Chu to his feet. To Azula's surprise, the smaller man reaches up and holds Chu's face, inspect the Captain's nose professionally.
"It's definitely broken," says Temurin. He turns Chu's face to the side for a better look, unperturbed by Chu's blood smeared all over his right hand, and smirks. "Give me a twenty percent discount on my goods, and I'll put your nose back where it belongs."
"Get off me, Temurin," Chu angrily pushes Temurin's hand's away, then winces.
Temurin laughs. "So where's my crate?" he asks.
"Half an hour ago, I sold your cargo to some women paying double what you told me the value was, you cheap con," snaps Chu. He turns his head and spits a mouthful of blood onto the cobbled street.
"We had an agreement, Chu." Temurin's no longer smiling, a glint of something hard coming into his eyes. "You can't just—"
"Sorry Temurin. It's just business. Now fix my nose, why don't you?" Chu winces again and probes his own nose experimentally before hissing in pain.
"Find yourself another doctor," Temurin says harshly. He glances at Azula, who's been watching this exchange numbly. Did she really decide not to punish these two for their arrogance?
"You should go, young lady," Temurin says. "As you said, Chu's an extortionist. And someone like you shouldn't be hanging around the docks at night." And without a backward glance, he pushes past her and is lost in the crowd. Sages. These peasants and their suppliers and their cargo, all acting as if commerce is life or death. But they probably have nothing more important to do.
Chu looks at her warily. "You heard Temurin," he says. "Get off my pier. And don't come back."
"My pleasure," says Azula flatly. She's tempted to kick him one more time, just a little kick to make him sorry, but she doesn't. Bullying this little Captain is so boring when she once double-crossed the head of the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se. She rolls her eyes. Now she sounds like Mai. Lost in her thoughts, Azula wanders off the docks, ignoring the hawkers and rickshaw drivers trying to attract her attention.
It was never her plan to banish herself to the Colonies. But Zuko upended all of her life plans with just a few words. For the first time ever, Azula truly faces a life where she isn't a Princess. A life where it is a victory if she fades into obscurity into some forsaken town. The thought is overwhelming and choking, and Azula feels the beginning of panic. If she isn't a Princess, who is she? Wouldn't it be easier to return to the Fire Nation, live with Zuko in the palace as he suggested?
Remember why you're doing this. Azula inhales deeply. Her presence in the palace would make Zuko and his family miserable. She has to disappear. Become someone new. Eke out whatever small pleasures she can. But again, the thought of living like a nobody terrifies Azula, scaring her as a brute like Chu never could. What does she have left? Her throne—gone. Her friends—traitors. Her father—dead. Her power, her identity, her future, her dreams, all out of reach forever, leaving her hands empty with longing.
Azula shakes herself. She knows her thoughts have a tendency to spiral, and once they spiral far enough, madness falls. She needs to keep her mind in order. She must find food and shelter. She has to survive.
Azula looks up and realizes she's drifted into a commercial area, with food stalls lining the crowded streets. Grubby peasants hawk a variety of Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation foods, chattering and yelling at each other over the hiss of frying food. Smoke and steam rise from the stalls. By now the sky is tinged with only the faintest traces of orange; Azula should find somewhere to stay soon. On the prowl for an inn, Azula buys a stick of roasted platypus-bear and meanders deeper into the city.
A boy bends a small spark of fire and lights a street lantern, then moves to light the next lamp. The street brightens. The string of lamps flicker like fireflies on a summer night at the palace. Red lanterns hang outside gaudy house fronts. Chewing on her stick of meat, Azula looks at the upper windows of these apartments, where women laugh and beckon at passers-by from the window. The red light glances off their skin. Azula thinks the effect is ominous and bloody rather than appealing, but the men on the street wolf-whistle at the women.
There might be cheap accommodations here, thinks Azula, still staring at the glittering red jewelry and embroidered dresses of the window women. Brothels sometimes have a spare room for guests, rather than customers. But then one of the ladies titters shrilly, and Azula frowns. Too loud.
The door to the brothel bangs open, and out spill ten to fifteen young men. Azula continues to eat casually while observing them. They aren't in uniform, but Azula can tell by their bearing that they are soldiers. By the color of their eyes and skin, they are Earth Kingdom. But Taiyang still belongs to the Fire Nation; what are they doing here? Azula scowls and tosses the remains of the snack to the side. If Zuko knew about this, he'd be furious. The soldiers move out into the streets, shoving each other and laughing. They probably won't recognize her, but better safe than sorry. Without drawing attention to herself, Azula ducks into an alley to her left.
It's cooler here in the shadows, away from the press of people. But Azula's not alone. Just a few meters ahead, four men form a half-circle around another man, who's backed up against the alley wall.
"Gentlemen," the cornered man says. He raises his hands in a familiar and placating gesture. "I'm sure you don't really have to—"
A tall man punches him in the stomach, and the loner gasps and hunches over, face turning towards Azula for the first time. It's the man from the docks. Temurin.