-Chapter VII-

"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."
― Oscar Wilde

…

"H-hey, Asami?" Korra turned back, still in the foyer just below the painting. "The more I look at it… Something seems, uh, off about that painting. Who painted it?"

"The General." Asami shrugged. Korra hadn't seen the original; most likely, her friend would assume that Iroh had painted it that way on purpose.

"And you hung that up? I mean, it's pretty awesome, but… I don't think it looks much like you. You're not that… ugly." Korra shook her head, looking away from the portrait at last. "Anyways, I think I should be heading back soon. You're gonna be okay, right?" She did seem to hold a degree of concern for her friend, despite not being fully aware of Asami's relationship with the now dead Tahno.

"I didn't hang it up," Asami scoffed. "Mr. Chang did."

"Same difference," Korra chuckled as she pulled the grand doors open. "I'll see ya later… Tuesday maybe?"

Asami nodded, dismissing her friend. "Of course."

As the massive wooden doors were drawn shut, Asami glared up at the painting. It was getting worse by the hour, every action she took seemed to have a negative impact on the appearance of the portrait. Frustrated, Asami took out one of the grape cigarillos that she had begun to keep on her, and lit it with a small metal lighter.

"Something must be done about that awful painting," She muttered between huffs of heavy, wine-like smoke. As she leant against the banister of the grand staircase, she recalled that Iroh had mentioned he'd be shipping out soon; if she could just hang on long enough for him to leave, she could take down the portrait for good. With her free hand, she pushed the bulk of her hair back behind her ear and sighed.

The more Asami despised the painting, the darker she felt. A heavy shadow rooted in the slug-like presence in her spine seemed to surround her, engulfing the air and feeding off the thick tobacco residue. What thrilled Asami was that the shadow felt nice. The presence was almost comforting; warm like a constant embrace from a lover, as secure as she felt under her covers at night. Inversely, it seemed to tell her it'd always be with her. This darkness was here to stay.

With a heavy sigh, the young woman pushed off from the staircase banister and sauntered down the overwhelmingly gloomy hall to the parlor. She tapped the ash of her small cigar into the same crystal ash tray that rested on the end table the commander had used just the day before. Asami took a seat down at the desk chair for the massive bureau, tossing her feet up on the flat surface. There wasn't much to do on a Saturday; not much that interested her, at the very least. "Perhaps I should go out tonight," she muttered aloud to herself, stretching her arms out and behind her head. The premise was one Asami had stayed away from for quite some time, "going out" in that context. Surely, she'd be alone unless she invited anyone along.

As she glanced up to the ceiling, Asami considered her options. The General wouldn't have any fun if she bothered to ask him, and Korra probably didn't know what a night life was in the first place. There weren't many other people Asami would feel comfortable going out with, after all—Mako was completely out of the question, and Bolin would probably be an embarrassment.

There was the Commander. He seemed to know how to have a fun time. Asami reached for the rotary telephone on her desk, and dialed for the extension to the United Forces' telegraph line.

The slug grew silent; the malevolent presence had fused itself with Asami's being. She stood up from the desk after completing her message, and then sauntered back down the hall with the grape flavored cigarillo in hand.

The General's gardenias were in full bloom in the vase Mr. Chang had left them in. Despite the foyer having few bright windows, the flowers seemed to blossom on the end table under the bright skylight over the staircase landing. She snuffed out the small cigar in a nearby crystal ashtray, leaving the tobacco half-finished.

Asami walked back over to the flowers and stared for a moment, tapping her cheek lightly as she inspected the gardenias. They smelled magnificent; sweet, but not too overwhelming, delicate, but not too modest. In a swift moment, she picked up the vase and carried them up the stairs to her room. Leaving them in the foyer didn't seem right; she couldn't appreciate them as she'd like in such an emotionless place.

Tahno's rhododendrons had long wilted, the petals had begun to dry up near the base of the crystal vase already sitting on her vanity.

The rhododendrons flew into the trash bin by her desk, followed by the cheap frame containing the signed photo of Tahno.

Iroh's flowers took their place, the gardenias filling the room with their pleasant aroma.

…

"Why aren't you coming to the meeting again?" Iroh furrowed his brow in frustration, noticing that Bumi was walking around the top deck towards his cabin in some of his finer street clothes. A white suit, to be precise; the Prince found it a bit crude, somewhat tacky. "It isn't exactly optional."

"I'm the commander of this fleet, General." Bumi frowned, adjusting his collar. "Quite frankly, I do believe I'm entitled to make decisions for myself."

Iroh massaged the bridge of his nose in a rush of anxiety, frustrated that Bumi refused to take his orders. "You may be the fleet commander, Bumi, but I am your superior on this matter." It was because of Bumi's behavior that the prince was so inclined to hold the meeting in the first place; he wanted to make it clear to the Commander that he wouldn't tolerate insubordinate behavior any longer. "I will not accept your refusal on this issue, Commander."

"I don't think you're inclined to make that decision, Sir." Bumi glared directly into Iroh's golden eyes, unnerved by Iroh's strong posture. He knew that the prince's stiff stance only indicated how frail the boy truly was, how easily he'd snap under pressure.

The prince returned the Commander's challenging glance, lowering his brows. "I could see what a court-martial thinks about that, Commander."

"I have over twenty five years of experience, General," Bumi shrugged, stuffing a telegram he had received just a few hours before in his blazer's pocket. "You truly think they'll listen to the complaints of a prince who skated up the ranks because his mommy wanted him to be large and in charge?"

Iroh stammered, unable to force out his words as Bumi's face drew very close to his own.

"I worked to get here, Princey-boy," the Commander's hot breath drew upon Iroh's jaw. "Don't you dare forget—that's what makes us different. In fact, it makes me better." Bumi drew the crumpled paper out of his pocket, and shoved it into the General's chest as he began to walk out his cabin door.

Iroh unraveled the document and looked it over.

Commander, if you're not terribly busy tonight, I would like to invite you out. Stop. I've had this urge to see the Republic City nightlife, and I think you'd be a fun companion to bring along. Stop. There's no need to send a reply, simply show up at my residence around ten in the evening. Stop.

The prince grumbled; the telegram was from Asami. What on earth is she thinking? Iroh walked back and sank into the couch in the commander's cabin. With a heavy sigh, he realized his meeting was still on for 9:30, five minutes from the time indicated by a clock on the wall.

Heaving himself up once more, Iroh straightened out his crisp red uniform and headed out of the Commander's cabin. The crew would be waiting below deck for him, but Iroh found himself staring out to the illuminated city skyline.

Somewhere out there, Bumi would be headed to Asami's estate to show her a night on the town in his atrociously tacky outfit. The prince leaned over the railing of the ship, resting his arms on the metal bars as he released another heavy sigh. Tossing his head down, a lock of his black hair fell out of its place; Iroh didn't even bother to put it back where it belonged.

"What would drive her to ask him instead of me?" he muttered aloud, even though he was aware that no one was around to answer his question. It didn't make sense to Iroh; an old man like Bumi had no business going out for a night on the town with a young woman such as Asami, even if it were strictly platonic. Bumi was uncontrollable; he'd probably even ditch her at some point, Iroh thought to himself.

A light tap came at his shoulder; one of the low-ranking sailors had been sent topside to find the General.

"S-sir!?" The Sailor snapped into a salute.

Iroh nodded, signaling the sailor his right to speak.

"..Sir, I regret to inform you, but you seem to be late to your own meeting, Sir!" The sailor seemed nervous, repeating 'sir' multiple times.

The prince shook his head, walking in the direction of the dock. "Tell them the meeting is postponed until the end of our shore leave, sailor. I have more urgent matters I need to attend to right now."

…

Bumi had gotten used to driving, despite being more of a man of the sea. Somehow, the young prince he worked for had gotten by for a decade without learning to operate one of the machines; the commander was almost thankful he was spending more of a social time with someone who could drive besides himself.

The expansive drive up to the entrance of Asami's mansion looked radically different at night; the stone arches had disappeared, the house itself looked less ornate when coated in the suburban shadows of the estate. Yet, he knew he was still on the drive—the stones beneath the tires still rocked the Satomobile back and forth…violently, if he were to decide to speed.

Bumi wasn't quite aware of Asami's intentions inviting him to go out for a night on the town, but he assumed it wasn't anything… romantic. The commander had an eye for affection, he liked to think, and was acutely aware that the young woman had a degree of feelings for his commanding officer. The commander chuckled to himself in the car; perhaps he could talk the girl into relieving Iroh of his tormenting feelings for her, convince her to acknowledge she had feelings for the prince, too.

The estate looked dark, with the exception of a soft glow coming from the windows of the foyer. After only one knock of the lion turtle shaped doorknocker, the doors were drawn open by Asami herself, clad in a long, shimmering, elegant black dress. In a split second, Bumi considered if her intentions had been something different.

"That's an awfully, uh, sparkly dress, Ms. Sato." The commander offered her his arm, in a gesture to lead her to the military issue Satomobile.

The young businesswoman swiftly declined his chivalrous gesture. "Commander, I'd rather take one of my vehicles…With all due respect to the United Forces' editions of my Satomobile, it's not as…. fashionable as I'd like."

Around the corner was a large garage, perfectly blended into the décor of the mansion's exterior. With a heave, Asami pulled one of the doors open—behind it was a fancy convertible Satomobile in a remarkable, stunning red. The girl tossed a key around in her gloved white hand, holding the train of her dress with the other as she slid into the black leather driver's seat.

Bumi found his seat on the passenger's side, admiring the polished, dark wood interior of the expensive custom vehicle. "So, why exactly did you ask me to come along instead of the General?" He questioned as she turned the key, the powerful engine roaring over him like a hungry predator.

Asami was quiet as she raced down the drive with a split start, carefully weaving between the concrete walls that guided the driveway down to the street. "He…" She finally began, trying to answer the commander's question once they were on the main street of her neighborhood. "I… I just suppose I wanted to be with someone who actually knew their way around a night life, and you were the first to come to mind."

"Well, if that's your reasoning, you did come to the right person," the commander chuckled. "I know a few nice clubs around here, too." Stretching his arms out behind his back, he tried to make himself more comfortable. "But I'm just gonna be blunt—what do you think about my commanding officer, Ms. Sato?"

"I suppose he's handsome," Asami shrugged as she sped through a yellow light. "Why do you ask?"

A bit surprised by her upfront attitude, the commander sat up in his seat a bit more. "Well, that's rather blunt of you. I was asking mostly because… Well, you got the poor guy's head in some sort of mess."

"Really?" She questioned him, not previously aware that the General harbored any kind of emotional feelings for her, at least not to that extent. "What do you mean by that," she chuckled. "I mean, 'his head in a mess'? I don't think I've tried to do such a thing."

"You didn't really have to," he lifted his shoulders, the cool air indicating the ever-approaching winter in the night.

A bar in the lower west end served as their destination; an expensive, respectable club that was known for powerful, sweet mixed drinks. As Asami swooshed through the lowly lit, grand room, she felt as though she were flying, lighter than a feather.

There were a variety of interesting people; all seemed nearly comatose, inebriated by the special drinks the bartender here was fond of fixing. "They're really, well, special..." Bumi had chuckled as he passed her their first round. "I won't spoil the secret ingredient."

Ambient laughter, the clinking of glasses, upbeat, erotic jazz music all combined in the air to form a magnificent symphony; Asami felt her eyes had glazed over into a tranquil haze, a young man reached out and asked her to dance.

The drinks were quite strong, and the so-called "secret ingredient" had an outstanding effect on Asami's mood. She felt content, aware, energetic, and most importantly… happy. Her first still resting half-consumed in her hand, she glanced at the time and gasped; they had already been there for two hours. Quickly, she threw the beverage back, and dashed over to the bartender for a second.

"It's already midnight, huh?" Asami grinned at the bartender as he fixed her a second beverage, grinding a curious plant-like substance in a mortar and pestle. "I swear, it seems like I got here just a little while ago…" Nervously, she began to glance around the room; Commander Bumi's white suit was nowhere in sight.

That worried Asami—either Bumi had passed out, found someone of more interest to spend his drunken time around, or had left her here at the bar entirely. With a heavy sigh, she sat down at one of the stools of the bar.

A grandfather clock flanking the bar began to chime, and Asami took a hearty sip of the drink. It made her lightheaded, depreciated her awareness of her surroundings. A heavy hand was placed on her shoulder, and she whirred around in the seat, expecting to be asked to dance once more.

"Mi-Asami?" the hand was followed by a voice she knew she'd heard before—never saying those specific syllables however, only ever annunciating her surname.

"Iroh?" She coughed out his name, surprised to see the general behind her. "What are you doing… here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," he shook his head. "My commander stumbled into his cabin thirty minutes ago, completely inebriated under the influence of…something." The general rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "And… he was with someone, but it wasn't… you."

Asami shook her head. "No, I've been here this whole time."

"You know what kind of place this is… Right?" Iroh frowned. "Asami, you really shouldn't be here…"

She couldn't take her focus away from how her name sounded rolling off of his tongue, the way he spoke each syllable of it, the motion his lips made when he moved on to the next word following the sounds that identified her.

"Well, perhaps you should help me home?" Asami smiled gently, reaching an arm out to steady herself as she hopped off the stool.

"Of course, Asami." She glanced up at his lips once more. "Except, I don't know how to dri-"

In a sudden impulse, a split second of an overwhelming internal pressure, she used the arm she had placed on his shoulder to interrupt him for a deep, passionate kiss.

…

-sorry this took me so long to complete! I'm probably going to start a regular schedule with these soon-a new chapter should be updated every Wednesday by the latest! I always take your feedback into consideration, so I truly appreciate reviews.