Chapter Text
It was weird to see the crew acting like, well, a crew. There wasn’t normally much call for officers or ranks or, in all honesty, much in the way of structure. A regular ship of the line needed discipline to keep unwilling sailors working at unpleasant and exhausting tasks. The Ravaa was crewed entirely by volunteers, and a certain amount of elemental manipulation made even the most onerous duty much easier. Now they’d had to put on the trappings of normality for the sake of onlookers and it was proving quite the strain, though they had risen to the challenge magnificently. Korra in particular was struggling with the newly adopted deference; she’d always been the captain, unquestionably so, but all this saluting was getting quite tiresome. She’d knocked her hat off twice already and hit herself in the face with a tankard, mercifully below decks, after being ambushed by a couple of crewmen that hadn’t quite picked up the memo about respecting rank but knew she was required to return a salute. It would have been funnier if Asami didn’t know how little sleep she was getting. She’d brushed it off when Asami had brought it up, declaring she’d sleep just fine once they were sailing away from Zaofu instead of towards. Which Asami could only hope was a correct prediction.
They’d docked successfully in Zaofu, and Suyin had fortuitously been on hand to spy the ship of her old friend the Commodore and press an invitation on him. The Suyin seal of approval also didn’t hurt when it came to trying to offload their less-than-legally-acquired cargo. News like Korra spread fast in port cities, and a few eyebrows might have been raised over the similarity of the Ravaa’s cargo and that which had been liberated from merchant vessels. Thankfully if the cargo of the Commodore was causing any consternation the merchants kept it to themselves; Suyin was no despot but it paid to keep on her good side all the same. Korra certainly seemed pleased. Asami found her in the master cabin marking it all down in the ledger, rocks floating in midair above her palm doing the job a normal person would have used an abacus for. And maybe it was a frivolous display; there was no way it was easier than actually using an abacus, but Asami couldn’t deny that is was more than a little endearing.
Korra hadn’t even noticed her presence in the cabin. There was an untouched plate of food that had been shoved to the far end of the able to make space for the inventory list of the island’s storehouse. The wish list of supplies was weighed down by a mug and a candle stick, scrawled estimates of the prices being totted up against the profit. This was every bit as important as getting to Iroh, if not more; the islands weren’t self-sufficient, not with so many to support. Any shortfall in supplies could have drastic consequences. From Korra’s painstaking calculations it looked like things were going well, but complacency was the enemy. Korra dried the ink with a flick of her wrist, turning over to a fresh page. She could feel it, gnawing away at the back of her mind, but she focused on the numbers in front of her and pretended that maybe this time she could block it out.
Zaofu was a bustling port city, full of traders and travellers from every country under the sun. Asami had thought that the crew would make like most sailors on hitting port and go to the local taverns and other establishments of varying levels of repute once the work was done for the day; they did not stick out as much as they would in the Fire Nation. But they didn’t. They kept almost exclusively to the ship. It wasn’t really surprising in retrospect, as Asami realised with a sickening jolt of understanding the first time she looked across the ships and recognised the design on the flag. She’d seen it on the slave ships when they’d come into port back home.
The crew were all too aware that the ships moored alongside them were responsible for so much of their misery, belonged to people who held hundreds if not thousands of their countrymen in chains. There were entirely too many conspicuous brands among the crew to want to risk mixing with the crews of the Fire Nation lords in the local taverns. There was far too much temptation to take revenge to want to risk having the opportunity. It was a testament to the crew’s faith in Korra, Asami realised, to their trust in the mission. If they didn’t think that Korra had an honest-to-spirits chance of pulling it off then at least some of them would have been over the rail in the dead of night making a valiant attempt to slit the throat of one deserving dignitary or other. Knowing their capabilities they’d probably even manage it, and Asami couldn’t say she’d blame them in the slightest for it. The problem was, as Asami reflected, that this wasn’t something that could be solved just by severing a lot of heads. They had to be the right heads. And then you had to ensure that different enough heads replaced them, or you’d just forever be lopping off heads and having nothing to show for it but a pile of skulls. It was at that point in her internal musings that Asami looked at herself in a gown she’d last worn at a luncheon on her father’s plantation and reflected on just how much life changed when you weren’t looking.
It took three days of work to shift the cargo that they had brought and to buy all they needed to take back to the islands. That left them with an uncomfortable extra day to kill in port.
Asami could feel the anxiety gnawing at her with every minute that ticked by. It had been manageable to keep busy while the loading and unloading was going on, provided she kept off the deck itself, but now there was nothing to do but try and avoid freaking out. She’d have liked Korra’s company right now, but somehow she’d managed to persuade Korra to try and get some rest. The night before had been the worst so far; Asami had been woken at least three times, Korra tossing and turning violently enough to nearly tip them both out the hammock. Korra had protested weakly, but eventually gave up. Which was fine, which was good even, but it left Asami at a loose end. Sitting dithering and working herself into an anxious fit wasn’t helpful; she needed to do something. Anything to distract herself from what the following evening would bring. She resorted to the old standby, dragging Mako back into his former role to take a few turns about the deck because that, at least, would not raise any onlooker’s eyebrow. Mako grumbled but went along with it, rambling aimlessly about weather and wave patterns and things that Asami couldn’t care less about, but stopped her thinking about anything else.
When Asami returned to the cabin, as the sun was starting to set, there were no lamps lit. No Korra either. Cautiously Asami edged through the door into the little sleeping section. Korra was still in the hammock. At first she looked like she was sleeping, but Asami could see the light reflected on her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. Asami couldn’t tell if they were bags under Korra’s eyes, or whether it was just the shadow. She changed quietly, and it wasn’t until she was slipping into the cot beside her that Korra seemed to notice her. She didn’t say anything as Asami pulled her closer, just rested her head against Asami’s chest. Asami wrapped an arm around her, feeling the tension in Korra’s back, remembering Ikki’s warnings about the lingering discomfort Korra suffered with. That might go at least some of the way to explaining Korra’s slightly odd, even for her, behaviour. Or maybe it was just the stress. She was only...well, mainly only human, after all.
It was another bad night.
When Asami woke up she was alone. She made her way out into the main cabin to find Korra sat at the table. She’d hoped to find her sleeping, even in her semi-regular eye-watering contorted positions in the chair. It wasn’t to be. Korra was awake, methodically sharpening a sabre. There was a small armoury’s worth of weaponry on the table, all cleaned and polished, bearing fresh edges. Korra actually flinched when Asami’s hand made contact with her shoulder, nearly dropping the whetstone.
Asami roped Mako into training in the cramped cargo hold. They couldn’t risk anything that might leave a bruise; it would be a little hard to explain why a society lady was sporting a black eye. Somehow Bolin got involved, which meant Opal joined them not long after, and before she knew how exactly they were coaching her through the basic forms behind airbending and earth bending. What started as at least a semi-serious exercise quickly degraded into joking about, and if they hadn’t been skulking in the belly of the ship away from prying eyes Asami could easily have forgotten that she had anything else planned for the day.
Korra had withdrawn to the cabin, or rather never emerged from it that morning. From the way the crew was keeping a respectful distance Asami guessed this wasn’t a new thing. Ikki hadn’t needed to be prompted to take Korra a plate when she failed to materialise for lunch, just as she’d failed to appear at breakfast. Jinora had watched Ikki all the way out of the galley, looking almost concerned. She’d looked away when she’d clocked Asami watching, which did nothing to dissuade Asami’s growing nerves. Still, if this was how Korra needed to handle things Asami wasn’t about to mess with her system now, not right on the crux of everything. Afterwards would be a different story.
“Busted.”
Korra smacked her head on the lip of the porthole, wiping her mouth to try and pretend like she hadn’t been quietly retching over the side.
“ I thought, I hoped it was just pre-mission jitters, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s getting bad again?” Jinora did not ask as much as state, but there was an undertone to the confidence. Korra turned away from the window, looking a little dazed and more than a little angry at the intrusion.
“If I tell you no...”
Jinora tilted her head, unimpressed.
“Then I’ll remind you that I can feel your spiritual energy. I can’t not, you’ve got a pretty strong presence in that regard. And right now I can feel it all shifting, out of balance. Everything all twisting up. Korra...”
Korra looked away as Jinora’s voice softened. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid,” Korra, giving a jerk of her head that on a normal day Jinora would have taken as the dismissal it was clearly intended to be. Today though she stood her ground.
“If that’s how you want it, fine. Try ignore it, because that always works so well. Try pretend that” Jinora gestured to the porthole Korra had been leaning through. “Isn’t happening, that you can actually stomach food. Try pretend you’re actually sleeping, because by the looks of you that’s not been going too well either. I’ve seen what comes next on these delightful spirals. Or is that happening already, is that why you’ve been like a ghost the last couple of days? We need you here, now, focused! Not slipping away into...”
“Enough!” Korra hissed, her gaze flicking to the shut door of the cabin and then dropping to the floor,.
Jinora gnawed at her lip. This wasn’t how she’d intended the conversation to go. By the look on Korra’s face she was running on borrowed time until Korra ordered her out the cabin. She took a breath, tried a new tack.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight, Kor. I’m worried about you.” she said, and despite her best efforts she couldn’t hide the pleading tone anymore. “I’m not blaming you, I just...I want to help, and I can’t do that if you don’t let me.”
Korra readied herself for the lie, for the brush off, to just order Jinora’s prying , but stopped. It was just them in the cabin, and Jinora had seen her far worse off. Had helped her through far worse. Korra could remember mercifully little of those first few weeks, but she could remember enough. And it was hardly the only time Korra had been on the receiving end of the young airbender’s help and comfort. A little honesty wasn’t too much to ask for in return.
“You’re right. It’s...Yeah. Maybe I’m not doing so good right now. But I can keep it together for a bit longer.”
Jinora hadn’t been expecting the confession. She did not look even a little bit reassured by it. Korra took her by the shoulders, leaning back to try and get Jinora to look meet her eyes, trying for reassurance.
“A few hours, that’s all we really need! We get Asami to the prince, then we get back to the ship. If I get another bad spell after that it doesn’t matter; everything from there you guys can manage. I can do this, you know...” Ignoring all the pretences of rank and decorum Jinora wrapped her arms around Korra, tucking her head under Korra’s chin. Korra pretended she didn’t hear Jinora sniffle, blinking heavily. “You know I can do this. Not gonna let you all down.”
When she finally pulled back, eyes red, she pointed an accusing finger at Korra.
“The second we’re clear of here, the second, you take a break. Ok?”
“The hell you giving me orders for?” Korra joked, and then winced when Jinora jabbed her index finger into Korra’s sternum.
“I mean it! You’re off your game when you’re like this. I mean, that’s hardly surprising, the surprise is that you function at all with what you’ve been through, but still. You’re unfocused, you’re irritable.” Korra scoffed, and then backtracked in the face of Jinora’s sceptical look. “You make mistakes, and we can’t afford that. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll stop you going tonight, but I can sure as hell do what I can to keep you breathing afterwards. And we should tell A...”
“No.”
Korra’s response was immediate and such an abrupt shift in tone that Jinora didn’t have a reply. Korra gave a heavy sigh, sitting back on the little bench beneath the porthole where, such a short time ago, she and Asami had shared their first real conversation in years. “She’s terrified, Jinora. She’s hiding it well, she’s a damn trooper that way, but she’s fucking scared about what we’re trying tonight. You think it’s going to help her to know that I’m having this...this stupid shit hit me right now? I’m not putting any doubt in her mind about me having her back should things go sideways.”
“You think she’ll like being lied to?”
“No.” Korra didn’t have to think about that. “I think she’ll fucking hate it, and probably be rightfully pissed if...” she saw Jinora’s eyes narrow and hastily amended, “when she finds out. But here’s the thing, Jinora. It doesn’t matter.” Korra gave a self deprecating little half-shrug, looking down to planks rather than face Jinora.
“The thing is,” Korra continued matter-of-factly, “Well, the fact is that I don’t matter. What matters today is making contact with Iroh. And no matter what happens from that, what’ll matter tomorrow is the mission. I can’t put myself before that.” Korra’s face twisted with some emotion that Jinora could not name. “I’m not so conceited to think my happiness matters more than untold lives. I know my duty. And more to the point, I know what’s right. What kind of person would I be if I put my own happiness before that?”
And Jinora knew it was supposed to be rhetorical. That Korra wasn’t looking for an answer or an argument. But she couldn’t help it. There was only one thing, one answer she could think to that question, in that moment. Human.
Asami was a little surprised to see a slightly teary looking Jinora emerging from the cabin, and was even more surprised to enter it and find Korra leaning heavily against the back of a chair, her own cheeks just a little damp.
“Time to get ready?” she tried, and got no response. “Hey, you ok?”
Korra didn’t look up straight away, taking a steadying breath first. When she straightened her face was calm, focused.
“Let’s do this.”
Asami heard Korra groan but she couldn’t respond because she had Opal’s knee in her back, trying to pull the corset ever tighter.
“Remind me why you’re not the one flouncing around this shindig?” She complained, and she was sure Opal hauled a little harder on the laces.
“You’re the one that nearly married the guy. I’ve never even met him. Besides, everyone here would recognise me as a Beifong. Too risky.” Opal tied it off, to Asami’s relief. She turned, in time to see an equally uncomfortable looking Korra pulling her shirt on with the help of Kya. It took a not inconsiderable amount to effort to try and reshape Korra’s somewhat ample physique into the more expected shape for her alter ego. On the plus side Asami realised she wouldn’t have to worry if Suyin took after her sister and decided to take a shot at Korra. She was now wrapped in so many layers of bandage and binding she would be impervious to any pistol fire; the bullet would never be able to punch through so much cloth.
Korra had been sporting an officer’s working rig for the last few days. Now, as befitted the occasion, she had broken out a full formal dress uniform. She virtually glittered, the deep navy frock coat and the white waistcoat beneath both shining with silver embroidery, delicate work flowing across her lapels and cuffs. Asami was similarly kitted out in the finest she had to hand, a rather splendid red dress she’d been intending to wear to the inevitable ball when she’d reached Dragonspine. Disguises in place, and Asami’s makeup hastily redone after they succumbed just a little to temptation, they left the cabin to a few whistles of approval from those who had forgotten the role they were playing in the charade. The more alert crew members were quick to silence them.
“Keep the crew on alert,” Korra told Opal. “If...”
“If this goes south you want to be able to run, quick,” Opal rolled her eyes. “I know the plan. You just need to keep your eyes on the prize, and not on Asami.”
“I am...moderately capable.” Korra protested weakly.
“You’re supposed to be a married man, Commodore,” Opal grinned, knowing Korra was only half listening. “Have you ever seen a high society man look at his wife like that?”
“Of course,” Korra snorted, and then stopped abruptly at the unintended confession. Opal gave her a quizzical look, and Korra forced a smile. “Not round here, I’ll admit.”
Opal gave up on that line of inquiry, turning grave.
“Be careful. You’re taking a big risk tonight, and you’re not exactly at your best.”
Korra rolled her eyes.
“You’ve been talking to Jinora.”
Opal frowned.
“Actually, no. But if she’s noticed as well...”
“We cannot miss this chance.” Korra cut her off before she could get started. She didn’t have the energy spare to have this talk again. “I will not forsake my oath, I will not forsake my people.”
And with that Korra made to leave, Asami taking her arm as they headed down the gangplank to the waiting carriage.
Bolin watched as they clattered away out of site.
“Anyone else get kind of a bad feeling...”
Wordlessly every crew member raised their hand.
“Oh good. I thought it was just me.”
“Relax,” Opal said, sounding far from relaxed. “If anything goes wrong my father will be right down that hill to let us know. Until then we just...sit tight.”
They didn’t talk much on the ride up to the citadel. Asami’s hands were sweating, her stomach not so much in knots as writhing. She was only too aware of what there was riding on this, on what was being gambled on her plan. Wordlessly Korra reached out, taking her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You have your knife?”
Asami patted where it was concealed beneath her skirt.
“And a pistol, but I’m not telling you where I stashed it.”
Korra’s eyes went wide, raking up and down. Asami smiled a smug little smile.
“You’re not the only ones with tricks up your sleeve, Korra. Or,” Asami conceded, as Korra gave her bare arms a confused once over, “other places at least.”
The carriage rattled to a halt. Korra rubbed her palms on the carriage seats, fidgeted one last time with her collar. She exited first, and if she paused just for a moment to catch her breath before coming round to open the carriage door for Asami the other woman failed to notice. Commodore Kuruk was all poise by the time he laid a hand on the latch of the carriage.
There were a lot of guards. Asami couldn’t help but notice them as they made their way inside. At least they were in Suyin’s colours, as opposed to Fire Nation red. It gave a fleeting moment of reassurance, until Asami realised the colour of the uniform wouldn’t have much impact on how they’d act if this went to hell. If anything, Asami reflected, it would be worse; Suyin did not deserve having that on her conscience through no fault of her own. Asami redoubled her admittedly already firm resolve to not get caught as they entered, Korra glaring at the footman who dared to have a doubletake at her presence. Asami wasn’t sure if that was in character, or whether Korra was just genuinely offended. Either would have been justified.
Asami knew the kind of scene that would greet them inside, and she wasn’t disappointed. She could hear the music even before they entered, the low buzz of conversation. The chamber was aglow in the lights of thousands of candles, the chandeliers sparkling magnificently. The light bounced off the polished silver trays in the hands of the footmen in Zaofu livery, and off the polished steel of the Fire Nation guards who surrounded the hall. Spread about before them was a an impressive selection of high society, though at first glance Asami couldn’t make out the one guest they really needed to see.
Korra waited for Asami’s nod before stepping forward, the chamberlain announcing to the room in general that the Commodore Kuruk and the Lady Yasuko had indeed arrived. Another moment’s pause, as a few curious heads turned their way, the conversation dipping momentarily before picking up again in a different tone. They descended into the next of vipers.
The whispers started almost at once. Korra seemed to be ignoring them, but Asami could see the tension in her shoulders. Asami could only imagine the uproar if Korra had come as herself. There was some small part of her that had almost been looking forward to this, to walking into a ball with Korra on her arm the way she’d always dreamed they might be able to, once she was wealthy and Korra was free. It had been a childish daydream, not one she’d ever cared to share with anyone let alone Korra. The reality was beginning to bite already, and they’d scarcely been there ten minutes. Asami could see Earth Kingdom faces, Fire Nation faces, but the only other person in the room she could see with even a shred of Water Tribe heritage beyond Korra was Suyin, who was making a beeline for them, accompanied by her husband. They made pleasant and formal introductions, Asami barely surprised by now that Korra was in fact apparently rather well informed on the same courtly greetings she’d struggled to teach Mako. Just another chalk mark on the tally of enigmas. And then Suyin was insisting that they meet the guest of honour, and they were cutting through the hostile crowds towards a corner of the room.
Asami could only hear the blood pounding in her ears. Korra was introduced first, Suyin repeating something of the lie they had concocted to explain their association. Or, actually, probably not a lie but a slightly embellished truth. And then she was being introduced, invited forward. It was perfunctory at first, when Iroh took her hand to drop the expected kiss on it, but when he straightened he finally saw her face. It was like the world froze. Asami took him in, feeling like she was looking through some kind of fog. He looked the same. The exact same. The colour drained from Iroh’s face, frozen in tableau, her hand still in his. Asami squeezed as much as she could, fingers barely looping round one finger given the position of their hands, but it was enough to get his gaze to drop, first just for a moment, onto the ring that she wore. The ring that he clearly recognised, his eyes darting from her face to it and back again, mouth hanging half open.
“Lady...Yasuko?” He echoed the introduction in strangled tones, and Asami looked him dead in the eye as she nodded.
“My lord,” Korra stepped forward, but Iroh never looked away from Asami’s face. “I wonder if we might have a word? Somewhere a little more private?”
“I...yes. Spirits, yes. I...I have other guests to greet. In...in quarter of an hour? In the parlour. I will inform Suyin.” He decided, apparently unaware that Suyin was less than five feet away and hearing every word. “Yes. I shall...we shall speak then.”
Asami had to pull her hand free. Iroh stared after her.
“Well,” Korra remarked, as they headed for refreshments, “I’d say he remembers you.”
They ended up being ushered into the same intimate parlour that they had met Suyin in, where no unwitting guest might stumble upon them. Iroh was already waiting for them, gripping onto the back of the chair like he was afraid his legs might give way beneath him.
“If this is some joke of Suyin’s it is in poor taste indeed,” he declared, failing to keep his tone measured. “Who are you? Tell me the truth, now!”
His manner was doing nothing to endear him to Korra.
“I think you already know the answer to that, Iroh.” Asami’s tone was gentle. The muscles in his jaw worked furiously.
“Asami?” he asked at last, in disbelief. “Asami Sato?”
Asami smiled.
“It’s been too long, Iroh.”
Asami managed not to flinch as Iroh all but threw the chair aside, crossing to wrap his arms around her.
“They told me you were dead,” he said brokenly, by way of explanation. “They told me you...” he pulled back, wheeling on Korra. “...killed by pirates.” He finished, one hand already halfway to his sword. Korra looked frankly unimpressed.
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes, no longer bothering to disguise her voice, and Iroh blinked in surprise as he registered the shift in pitch. “I attacked her, faked her death, took her prisoner, and then smuggled her in here to wave her in front of you because I really hate this tiresome breathing habit and it was the best way I could think to cure it.”
Royal princes are not accustomed to flippancy. Iroh goggled, turning to Asami for an explanation. Asami couldn’t hide her smile.
“Iroh, let me introduce you to my rescuer, and to someone very, very dear to me. This is Korra. And yes, that Korra.”
“That...” Iroh echoed weakly, as Korra squared her shoulders, raising her chin a little in pre-emptive defiance. “Please, do not take this as disrespect, but does anyone actually die around here?”
“I took a good stab at it,” Korra said, tone light and casual, “But I found it wasn’t for me.”
Iroh’s mouth worked wordlessly, until the laughter bubbled up. He dropped back into the chair he’d stepped around, hugging his stomach as the hysterics burst forth. Asami squeezed his arm affectionately, waiting until he got a modicum of control back.
“Asami...your father...”
And Korra cut in, voice like ice.
“Will be bitterly disappointed should he ever find his assassination attempt failed.”
That knocked the giggles right out of Iroh, and Asami was forced to recap how he had plotted her death for control of the family estate.
“I will kill him,” Iroh promised, on reaching the conclusion of the fortuitous rescue. “I will drag him before the royal court in chains and I will string the pieces that are left of him up on traitor’s gate for the carrion birds to feast upon.”
“You can’t do...” Asami paused. She had been about to say “you can’t do that”, but Iroh was the crown prince. The position did merit him some advantages that they might just have overlooked.
Korra drew back a little as the pair started to thrash out a plan, watching the excitement build, and knowing that eventually they were going to hit the same pitfall she’d run into when mulling over this plan. Iroh had power and influence, that much was true, and fifty years ago he’d have been able to carry out his threat without any fear of repercussions. Unfortunately for them Firelord Zuko had given over much of the royal powers to the council, seeing it as the only way to avoid another megalomania-driven tyrannical Firelord. It had been a justified fear, given who he’d taken the throne from.
The transfer of power from one to many should have, in theory, been a good restriction on abuse of power. The issue arose when those in power jointly agreed on an abominable course of action. There was little recourse against the council when they banded together, and given Hiroshi was making them rich the chances of them turning on him were low indeed.
“I never thought I’d long for the days I could execute someone without a trial,” Iroh groaned. “And as for having an actual trial...” He didn’t bother going any further. They knew it was a dead end. No evidence; Korra would not have been legally allowed to testify even if she hadn’t been a wanted criminal. Between criminality and nationality the crew of the Ravaa were rather comprehensively excluded. It would come down to Asami and Mako’s word against Hiroshi’s, and it didn’t take a great intellect to guess which the jury would believe. “We’re not going to be able to do this neatly and legally, are we?”
The question was directed at Korra, who shook her head. Iroh sighed, and sank into the chair. “I already regret this, but you have gone through some quite extraordinary efforts just to reach me, and I am indebted to you for what you did for Asami. What is it you want from me?”
The question was aimed at Korra, but it was Asami who took the chair near him.
“Pull the navy away from the island.”
Iroh started. He’d clearly not been expecting that sort of favour. Asami pressed on, words tumbling together slightly as she tried not to lose her nerve.
“Just give us enough time to get in, and take care of Hiroshi under the pretext of a pirate attack. Afterwards, recognise me as the heir. Grant me your protection in holding the estate from any challenges.”
Iroh let out a slow breath.
“You realise what you’re asking? You’re literally asking me to allow my people to get killed, Asami. ”
Korra snorted, leaning on the back of Asami’s chair.
“People are dying on that island every day, and on dozens if not hundreds more like it. And on the ships, and in the towns where they are taken. You don’t blanch at those deaths. What’s the difference, I wonder?”
Heat rushed to Iroh’s face and he stood, squaring up to Korra. He was taller than her by a good few inches, and haughty with the confidence of someone who, if they were asked “you and whose army?” could point to the army in question.
“Now you just...” he stopped. Korra was looking distinctly unthreatened. Perhaps more galling was how she was managing to convey with a curl of her lip and the angle of an eyebrow that while she’d not expected much of Iroh he’d still fallen short. Iroh took a moment to compose himself, smoothing down the material of his uniform.
“I have a duty to those citizens. It’s all I was saying. You know,” and this was directed at Asami, “If it were up to be me I’d abolish it all in a heartbeat.” Asami’s expression didn’t change. “You know I would!”
“You could try.” Korra suggested, and Iroh snorted.
“Last I checked Firelord Izumi held the throne, not me. And though my mother and I are in agreement in our opposition, there’s not much we can do within our laws because of the shackles...” he winced at his choice of wording. Korra cocked her head, unimpressed, as Iroh scrabbled for a different phrase. “Because of the limitations of our authority. The checks on our power. The political reality is that if she tried it her enemies would, at best, have her declared insane. Or simply put a dagger between her ribs. The throne would fall to me, and of course they would be no less amenable to such an attempt because it came from me. They would be no less shy in getting rid of me; I have no shortage of cousins who would happily occupy the throne.”
Korra raised one eyebrow. Iroh shrugged. “I have spies, and informants aplenty. I don’t have to guess at what my enemies in politics would do, I know it as fact. They could do it, and they would.”
“What would it take?”
The question caught Iroh off guard. Asami wasn’t even sure where this was going. It wasn’t something Korra had shared with her before, this some play she’d been keeping to herself.
“What would it take?” Korra repeated, politely curious now. “What I’m hearing is that you need something to change opinion. I’m asking, what would it take?”
“Uh...” Iroh tried to think. “Well the moral argument has never made much ground...At this point I think the only way you could do it would be to hurt their wallet. Make it unprofitable.”
“What if I could give that to you?”
This was not where Asami had thought the conversation was heading one little bit. Korra didn’t look like she was joking.
“The Northern Usurper,” The title was almost spat, “currently has most of your nobles in his pocket, and makes them rich by selling off members of the Southern Tribes. A less bastardly Chief would not be amenable to that trade, as in the past; it’s exploded under Unalaq this last decade and made them rich beyond measure. But a different chief...well. That’s a different kettle of seaprunes altogether.”
Korra leaned a little closer.
“Think about it. They’d close the ports and the docks, set the army and the navy against those private traders who came to steal their people. They’d make them pay in blood, never mind coin. Until it was no longer sustainable. Keeping that going, even for a few years, would bleed any major trader of their funds. Rob them of their wealth and so rob them of their power. They’re so reliant on it, so greedy for it, that they’d break their own backs trying to keep the old system afloat rather than change. They would destroy themselves in the attempt. Leave space for new blood to rise to the top, making their riches in favourable trade with the South instead. The stage would be set in a few years, maybe a few decades depending on how deep their pockets are, for a Firelord to go down in history. To be known forever as the one to put an end to the abominable traffic of human flesh.”
Iroh was staring in disbelief, forming the start of sentences only to change his mind and try another, and then another, while Korra was still leaning casually against the back of Asami’s chair like she’d suggested a game of billiards, not a regime change and a massive rewriting of another country’s laws, economic policies and ruling class. Finally he settled on something, his tone derisive despite the spark of something deeper, more hopeful in his eyes.
“Would you put good Chief Tonraq back in power? Or perhaps just the Moon herself?”
Korra’s voice was not cold. It was glacial.
“Should he live, gladly. Or if I were able to coax Yue down once more from the heavens, I would happily see someone so willing to do what was best rather than merely what was easy on the throne.” The silent rebuke was not lost on anyone present. Korra continued. “She was of the royal blood, after all, and laid her life down for the good of her people. What more can anyone ask of their lord? Is there some reason you are so hostile to this idea? Is it that the current state of affairs is more attractive to you than you wish to admit?”
“You’re talking about overthrowing a government when you can barely conquer an island!” Iroh snapped, and Korra’s eyes flashed. Quite literally. He took a step back, stumbling over his chair, unsure what exactly he’d seen but smart enough to realise it probably wasn’t a good sign.
Asami stayed put. From her angle she couldn’t see quite what had transpired, but she knew Korra better than that. If Korra wished harm Iroh would have been dead before he’d comprehended what was going on. It didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger of chewing through her own lip out of nerves. This would probably go down in history as the most fraught incidence of introducing your current partner to your ex.
“I am looking to establish a sanctuary while I can concentrate military effort elsewhere,” Korra ground out. “If I wished, I could cut down every man, woman and child on that blighted island. I could start a war with your whole cursed country, and in the end, when all is bones and ash and the blood has finally dried, I would be the victor. It would cost my soul, it would leave me an inhuman wreck and a slaughtered land where no grass could ever grow again, it may well shatter this reality into ten thousand fragments, but I would win. And I would be left a monster greater than anything I had vanquished, a worse curse upon this world. I cannot slaughter the world into righteousness!”
“My great uncle...he spoke of things like you...” Iroh breathed, and Korra smiled, though there was no humour, no warmth or kindness in it. It was almost predatory.
“I doubt your namesake was so uncouth to use the term ‘thing’. He was always a good man. Kind.” Korra made deliberate eye contact. “A fondness for jasmine tea, and of a slow game of pai sho, though that gambit is rather easily defeated by those who can recognise its formation.”
Iroh bristled. The candles flared.
“How dare you claim to have known...”
Korra didn’t let him finish.
“Do you know what is hidden on the Isle of the Sun Warriors? I do. Iroh told me. Told me of Ran and Shaw and all they could teach me. I know he told you. Have you found time to make that trip yet?”
Asami knew that the Sun Warriors were considered to be the distant ancestors of the Fire Nation, long since extinct, but the names meant nothing to her. Clearly though they meant something to Iroh; he did not so much sit as crumple back into the chair. Korra did not relent.
“You say that you seek the end of this vile trade. I offer the best chance you will see in your life. All I ask, beyond your anointed duty in protecting Asami, a Fire Nation citizen in rather dire straits, by defending her actual legal entitlement, is that you call off a few ships. My quarrel is not with your navy; I have no wish to harm the press-ganged, nor those that followed the drum for a better life. You can spare them! Spare the patriots and those that had no choice, rather than a militia who knew exactly what evil they were signing up for.” Korra looked from Iroh to Asami. “I’ll leave you to mull it over.”
She swept out, leaving the two of them. Iroh looked up at Asami.
“She’s quite something, isn’t she?”
Asami had to agree.
“Why am I trying to shake the feeling I narrowly escaped with my life?”
“I think she does that on purpose. Helps with the image. I mean, ok, she could kill you without breaking a sweat, but she doesn’t like to.”
Iroh gave her a fond look.
“Leaving everything else aside, I am so very glad you’re not dead, Asami. This world would be a crueller, darker place without you.”
Asami tried not to show her impatience, but it was radiating out of every pore. Iroh couldn’t help but notice.
“I need to think about this.”
It wasn’t the answer Asami had been hoping for. Iroh dropped his gaze, ashamed.
“It’s the right thing...” Asami started, tone not confrontational like Korra, but it didn’t have the desired effect.
“It’s treason, Asami. That is not something I take lightly.”
“Tell me about her.” The change of topic was abrupt, forced.
“Iroh...”
“I heard you eulogise her, ‘sams. I heard you mourn. Now don’t pretend you don’t want to tell me about how she is as a living person. Is she good to you?”
“So protective.”
“Well it is my duty. She was rather clear on that, and I feel she’d not be a good person to have as enemy.”
Asami mulled over her answer.
“She’s probably less flawless than I made her seem. So much more...human. Despite the other thing. Warm, and kind, and caring.” The words didn’t really seem sufficient.
“I’m loved.” She said, eventually. “And it’s messy, and confusing and wonderful. I have a home. I have...I have a family. A purpose. And well, without giving offence, I have never been so happy. I have never been so free.”
It was with reluctance they returned to the main party; much longer and people would have begun asking questions. Asami struggled to pick Korra out in the crowd, lost in a sea of fancy hats, and found her way blocked by a young Fire Nation man with an expensive looking outfit and a cocksure grin.
“I was wondering if I might have this dance?” he drawled. Asami just stared. The man was looking hopeful, but as the seconds ticked by the blush started to creep up the back of his neck, ears reddening. “I asked...” He began, a little more forcibly, and stopped. Asami didn’t need to turn to know how had appeared at her side. The look of anger and alarm said it all.“Who the devil are you? Who let you in here? Answer, before I call for the guard!”
“I would be this fine lady’s husband.” Korra said, voice dripping with disdain. “Here at the personal invitation of the Beifong family. Run along now, boy.” The man flushed scarlet and turned on his heel without a word.
“And what if I wanted to dance?” Asami asked, mock chiding.
“Then by all means, lead the way,” Korra gestured towards where the band was about to start up again. Asami tried to read her expression.
“Are you honestly telling me you know how to dance? It was made quite clear on the islands that you do not dance.”
Korra gave a modest shrug.
“Like that would be the most surprising thing about me.”
It was a fair point, but Asami still didn’t buy it. She decided, the main task of the evening having been completed, she could afford to call Korra’s bluff.
“Come on then. Show me.”
There was a moment of hesitation before they started, and Asami nearly pulled them back off the dancefloor, but Korra squared her shoulders, took her hand, and there it was. Not a bluff. Not a bluff at all. Korra was clearly rusty; there were a few titters from the sidelines, but she knew enough to be passable. And that just raised even more questions in Asami’s mind as they twirled about. She was trying to enjoy the moment, this selfish little indulgence in making one of her private fantasies come true, but the question was burning in her brain. There was no way Korra had picked this up as a pirate. Her lack of surety if nothing else testified to how long it had been since she’d exercised this particular skill. And she certainly hadn’t learned it on the Sato plantation, which could only mean that this was another relic of whatever life it was Korra had been leading before her enslavement. Every time Asami learned something new about Korra’s past it didn’t make things clearer, it made them more confusing.
Neither of them saw Iroh observing them from across the room.
Almost before the music finished they found themselves being towed across the room, back towards Suyin and Bataar who were speaking with a small group.
“Ah, Commodore. We were just hearing of your intervention off the shores of Air Temple Island.”
It was a good story, only needing minor revisions to be told to the present company, and explained how a rogue like the fictitious Kuruk could have gotten into the good graces of the Beifong family.
“Quite the adventurer,” said one of the assembled dignitaries. “By all accounts you seem to spend more time at sea than at home.”
The young man who had spoken to Asami earlier cut in before Korra could answer,
“You Southern Tribesmen do love to wander. Drapetomania, I think they call it?”
Asami heard the click of Korra’s teeth as her mouth snapped shut. Suyin caught the eye of a passing footman, and it was a matter of moments before she was pressing a rather large glass of rum into Korra’s hand.
“I don’t think this is the place for that kind of talk, Jeong,” rebuked a man in an Earth Army uniform, and Jeong waved a hand airily.
“Just a little jape between friends, Lord Chin. The good commodore knows I meant no offence.”
Korra gave a stiff nod. Asami’s stomach shifted uneasily. She tried to catch Suyin’s eye, but the matriarch gave nothing away. Asami didn’t realise she’d been spoken to until she saw the expectant expressions turned her way.
“Pardon?”
“Lord Chin was just asking whether you’ve tried to put a stop to your husband’s rovings,” Jeong said. “Personally I’ve found the best way to keep his sort from straying is a solid set of manacles.”
Ice was forming under Korra’s fingertips on the glass. Asami had to physically bite her tongue. She’d heard this sort of remark before, all too many times. She’d not imagined anyone being so crass as to be this rude to someone who, as far as they knew, was of equal standing. And was stood right in front of them. And was armed. But of course Korra couldn’t cut him down in the middle of Suyin’s ball. That would rather scupper everything they’d been aiming to achieve, given that, even with the curious approach the upper classes had to violence, it would not be considered an acceptable response.
“I’d never want to try keep Kuruk at home...” Asami began, and Jeong jumped at the opening.
“Ah, want him out from under your feet I imagine? Bit much to be putting up with all the time?”
Remember the plan. We can’t make a scene. Asami schooled her features into a polite smile. Hells, how did I ever put up with this nonsense?
“Quite the opposite, Jeong. I accompany him on his voyages. Makes for a more enjoyable time for both of us.”
Asami had been hoping the unsaid implication would put the upstart in his place. Instead he just leered, and Asami found herself wishing she could pull her dagger at the absolute least. She’d no intention of hurting him, just to use it at pointed physical punctuation, to underscore the idea that words were failing to convey,
“Ah, capital, capital,” Chin boomed, refilling his own glass and handing one to Jeong, who drained it in one swallow, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“That explains it.”
Asami did not ask what. She did not want to know what it was that Jeong thought needed explanation. That didn’t seem to matter to Jeong. “I’d been wondering how he knew how to act in polite society, but if you’ve been training him up every day it makes sense.”
Chin coughed uncomfortably, feeling the tension increasing but mercifully missing the rum in Korra’s hand freezing solid. She took a long, slow breath, and it returned to liquid. Asami touched Korra’s arm.
“Perhaps we should retire soon, darling” she said, adding a little emphasis to the pet name just to irritate Jeong. The move wasn’t lost on Korra. “So much to do before we get underway.”
“Oh no, I’ve upset you,” Jeong looked suddenly contrite, not that anyone besides Chin seemed to be buying it. “I am so sorry. Please, don’t leave on my account. I would so hate to spoil the evening.”
They should have walked away. Should have made their excuses. But Asami was holding out hope that Iroh would come around that evening, commit to the plan. The idea of having a solution was too enticing to want to wait for. So they stayed.
Jeong managed to hold his tongue. For a little while at least, as they traded stories about their exploits. He didn’t seem to be a popular man and his behaviour was trying his companion’s patience. Chin was an affable enough man, a decent buffer between Korra and Jeong, and seemed to be taking some pains not to insult Korra to her face which was appreciated. Korra, for her part, was reining in her stories about her exploits to avoid provoking Jeong further, while trading sidelong glances with Asami, Su and Bataar that conveyed more succinctly than words could express how little she thought of the little lordling’s posturing. Suyin’s generosity with the drinks was also appreciated. If they hadn’t happened to run out at the same time perhaps it all could have been avoided. But as it was Jeong handed out the glasses, and made them all pause to toast. He looked Korra dead in the eye, raised his glass, and declared,
“To the true Chief of the Water Tribes, and our staunch ally. Praises be upon Chief Unalaq!”
Bataar fiddled with his spectacles, anxious and uncomfortable under the crew of the Ravaa’s scrutiny. He avoided his daughter’s gaze, and accidentally made eye contact with Jinora instead, which was probably worse.
“And that, I’m afraid, was when Korra hit him.”
It was a beautiful punch. It laid him out flat with a meaty thump and a tinkle of breaking glass. Korra knew she’d made a mistake even before her fist had connected. Jeong looked up from the floor, grinning even as his nose started to bleed.
“I accept.”
Korra didn’t react.
“Sorry, you are aware of our laws, no?” Jeong got to his feet, brushing himself down. “Do I need to explain...”
“I know what an Agni Kai is, you impudent whelp!” Korra snarled, no longer bother to hide her true feelings. It wasn’t like she could get into much more trouble. “I assume the usual substitutions will be made?”
“Quite.” Jeong sneered. “I rather doubt you would be so blessed as to be a firebender. Sword and pistol. To the death. I trust you won’t try and flee?”
Korra’s glare was answer enough. Jeong’s smile broadened. “Excellent. I’ll be expecting your blade on the morrow, Commodore.”
Korra stormed along the corridor, heedless of Suyin and Asami at her heels, Suying not telling her anything that she was not already screaming at herself. Killing Jeong would be invite retribution of a kind they could not afford, and put Suyin and her family in unacceptable danger. Running would jeopardise the mission as a whole. Dying was something Korra intended to avoid; she hadn’t enjoyed it the first time. Bending was out of the question lest she reveal her true identity. It was, in all honesty, a situation she’d rather have avoided. She made it into the relative sanctuary of the parlour, finding the sideboard and its glasses and decanter. Her hands were shaking as she tried to remove the cut-glass stopper, dropping it against the tray with a clatter, mercifully not breaking. The liquid sloshed over the side of the glass as she poured with shaking hands. Asami secured the door, Suyin’s guards taking position outside to keep any eavesdroppers away. Korra pressed the tumbler against her temple, as if she’d gone to cradle her head against a sudden pain.
The throw came without warning.
It wasn’t a powerful one, more an instinctive jerk of muscles than a deliberate action, but it still sent the glass hurtling into the opposite wall to shatter on the stonework. The silence in the aftermath was heavy as lead, Korra sagging back against the counter, one head still pressed against her temple, head cocked to one side, as if she were listening to someone unseen. Which, Asami remembered, was quite possible.
“You know,” Suyin said at last. “You didn’t have to take it out on the glasses.”
Korra lifted her head, looking balefully at Suyin who seemed to have gotten over her anger. She gave a half shrug, unable to make a more coherent defence.
“I...Unalaq...I just...”
Suyin let Korra sag against her, head resting against the matriarch’s shoulder, looking not proud or powerful now, but young. So young, and so tired.
“I know, kid. You shouldn’t have done it. Doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve it.”
They were put up in rooms in Suyin’s citadel, with a guard outside the door to prevent Korra disappearing. Korra was still quiet, withdrawn. Once the door was shut and bolted she started what sounded like an apology and Asami held up a hand.
“If you hadn’t hit him I would have. Maybe not on that remark, but I think he had about two left before I went for him. And then, because they don’t let ladies duel, Jeong would have challenged you and we’d be in the same damn position, except I’d at least have had the satisfaction of punching that smarmy lump of shit.”
Korra almost smiled at that.
“Don’t worry about what’s done. Let’s just worry about what’s next. And first things first,”
Asami’s fingers slipped between Korra’s shirt buttons, tugging at the layers of strapping beneath.
“Let’s get you out of this rig so you can breathe, ok? There must be a better way than using bandages if we ever have to pull this trick again.”
Neither expected the late visitor. Iroh shifted foot to foot in the doorway, looking rather unregal. Asami glanced back at Korra, who didn’t really nod but didn’t object either, slumped in a chair at the table. Suyin had had dinner brought, but Korra had barely even picked at it. Asami let the prince over the threshold, shutting the door after him.
“I suppose you know that was a damn stupid thing to do?”
Korra rolled her eyes. She’d shucked her bindings down to minimal to breathe better, and Iroh couldn’t help but do a double take as she stood, stretched, and strolled across to pull a shirt back on, covering at least some of the scars. She didn’t bother to fasten it, not caring about how uncomfortable the prince looked, flopping back down into the seat with a wince.
“I can’t stay long. Look, Jeong...he’s dangerous.”
“He’s a fop,” Korra said dismissively, “A spoiled brat. He’s never fought a real battle in his life.”
“All true, but he’s also killed three men in duels this year alone.” Iroh informed her grimly. Asami paled, but Korra still just looked bored. “It’s pretty much all he’s good for. He drinks, he provokes, he lays down the challenge. And with you being...” Iroh paused. Korra cocked an eyebrow, waiting for the end of the sentence. Iroh coughed awkwardly. “Well...with you he’s not going to fight fair. He’ll turn early, I’ve heard the accusations before. Watch for it. I don’t know how you are with a blade. I hope you’re better than him, for all our sakes.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Iroh ran his tongue across his lip nervously.
“I can’t stop this from happening. I can’t intervene. All I can offer now is my presence tomorrow, in the hope that’ll force the weasel to play fair, and the promise of my protection for Asami, and for your crew should the worst happen.”
Korra’s gratitude to that announcement was a little more genuine.
“Who were his tutors?” Korra asked, before Iroh could leave. Iroh frowned, and Korra clarified. “Who taught him swordplay? He’s rich, certainly, his family has influence, but it takes more than that to earn the tutelage of Master Piandao, for example.”
Iroh blinked past his surprise at Korra namedropping the master swordsman, a recluse not much known even among the Fire Nation, outside of select circles.
“You’d be right. Nobody of that stature. His family’s from the West, so his style has some heavy influences from there. Very classic Fire Nation. Big on the attack, not much defensively but it hasn’t been too much of an issue for him so far.”
Korra chewed the inside of her cheek, nodding.
“I can work with that.”
Even after Iroh left they didn’t talk much that night. The threat of the morning was like a choking fog. Korra was quite, distant. All the rage from earlier had ebbed away left something Asami couldn’t quite name in its wake. She didn’t need to be able to label it to know it worried her, especially coming on the heels of all the...the strangeness, the distance over the last few days. Eventually she gave up trying to persuade an increasingly unresponsive Korra to eat and instead tugged her gently over to the bed.
Eventually Asami managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep but Korra lay awake, staring up into nothing. She could hear Asami’s breathing and she tried to focus on it, to match it, but her breaths were skittering in her chest, a knot forming around her ribs with exhale. She let out a whimper despite herself, fist slamming into the mattress as it all became too much, too real. Asami stirred. Korra bit her lip and forced herself to lie still, all but holding her breath. Asami settled back down again, one hand searching for Korra in the twisted sheets. Carefully Korra disentangled herself from Asami and the sheets and slipped out of the bed.
The floor was cold and uncomfortable but she didn’t seem to notice, resting her back against the frame of the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, as if she could somehow physically hold together all the cracking pieces. If she could have drawn in enough air she might have screamed, if the idea of prying eyes and ears wasn’t so abhorrent. The world was slipping out of her grasp, out of her sight. She could hear the waves again, lapping against the shore. Feel the call pulling at her bones.
Korra was barely aware of anything beyond the way her breath was stuttering, as if her lungs had forgotten how they were supposed to work. Of the way her heart was thumping erratically against her ribcage. She could feel Ravaa’s energy burning under her skin, like white lightning burning through her veins, but it was fading. Everything was fading, everything was distant. Darkness was creeping in around the edges of her vision.
Down in the harbour Jinora snapped awake to the feeling of the air shattering. She’d long since become acclimated to Korra’s spiritual presence. She got used to the sensation, something not quite like but not a thousand miles from the air before lightning storms, almost crackling with purpose. She barely thought about it anymore unless she was specifically trying to find Korra; it was a reassuring constant like the lap of waves or the creaking of timbers. This didn’t feel like that. This was fractured, chaotic. Spikes of pressure like thunderclaps, wild and frantic and then, far more alarming, stretches of nothing. Jinora huddled in her hammock, pulling the blanket tighter, counting the dreadful seconds of absence. She hoped against hope Korra had decided to warn Asami after all, at least to wake her before she’d reached this breaking point. Jinora wanted to throw off the blankets and run up to the citadel, but that was out of the question. She wanted to project herself up there, but that too was off the table. There wasn’t much that could threaten her as a spirit, and even this didn’t pose too much risk, but it was the affect on Korra that stayed her hand. When Korra got like this she needed to be surrounded by as many breathing bodies as she could stand, not more spirits.
When Korra’s senses returned she was sprawled out, face down on the stones, but at least the knot had loosened somewhat around her chest. At least she could feel them beneath her. Her breaths were still coming in ragged snatches, but at least they were coming. The taste of blood was almost reassuring as she probed around with her tongue, trying to feel if she’d bitten through her cheek. She knew she couldn’t have been out long; the room was still dark, dawn still a long way off. It was just about the best outcome she could have asked for.
Those are happening more frequently, Ravaa observed, sounding concerned. Korra pushed herself up, wiping cold sweat from her forehead, taking mental stock. Your body is struggling with the strain. You must take more care of yourself.
“I’ll be fine.” Korra’s response was automatic. “I can keep going. Just a little longer.”
Ravaa tssked.
You may chose to forget that you are mortal, Korra, but your body will not. It remembers dying. It remembers the heart stopping, the blood turning cold...
“I’m aware this stupid meatsack forgets I’m not dead anymore, thank you!” Korra hissed, voice low to avoid waking Asami, trying to focus on the anger to blot out everything swirling beneath it. Anger was easy. Anger was real and tangible and strong.
If this body fails then I will not be able to pull you back into the world again.
“We’re so close,” Korra’s was low and plaintive. “We’re so damn close and I...and I fucking...” She stopped, taking a few deep, slow breaths, forcing her body back into some semblance of rhythm. Ravaa stayed silent, letting her coach her body through the motions. “We’re so close,” she repeated.
This is but one battle, Korra. Not the whole war. Yes, a victory here would be a great one, but a defeat would be ruinous. And if you were to fall it would be a disaster beyond any other.
Korra pressed back against the frame of the bed, feeling the reassuring pressure of the wood digging into her flesh.
“Not to argue with your eternities of wisdom, but I think you might have been better off picking vessel whose body didn’t keep failing them. Who wasn’t fucking broken.”
I have never regretted my choice, Korra.
Korra gave a hollow laugh.
If I wanted a puppet, a mere vessel as you say, I could have taken one. But that is not my way, and so I chose. And I chose the best I had seen in years beyond your calculation. You are human. You are fallible. You are wounded, and you bear a burden too heavy for any one being, mortal or otherwise. And you are magnificent.
“I am feeling particularly magnificent right now,” Korra groused, and in the back of her skull she could feel the laugh.
One step at a time. One breath a time. We will win this war. First we make it through the night. Then we face tomorrow. Then the next day, and the next. That is how you will achieve victory. But for now, Avatar, all you need do is breathe. Just breathe.
By the time Korra climbed back into bed, the odd breath still catching in her chest, the sheets beside Asami were stone cold. Korra eased herself back under the sheets, and clung onto Asami as tight as she dared, fearful of waking her. Asami rolled in her sleep, pulling Korra even closer. Korra settled her head against Asami’s chest, hearing the reassuring thump-thump of Asami’s heartbeat, feeling every slow, easy breath and trying her best to match that rhythm.
First we make it through the night.