Getting along with Korra was a lot easier than Asami had anticipated.
Mako continued to sulk about it, but for the remainder of the trip back to the Reach, Asami and Korra were practically inseparable. Although Korra still watched her with that same unnerving intensity, she was at least a little more subtle about it, and Asami was able to either shrug it off or ignore it entirely – and once she did, she was surprised by how easy it was to be around the southerner.
Korra had a quick, easy humour, which won her Bolin's approval almost immediately. She wasn't shy about voicing her opinions or her thoughts – but unlike Kuvira, she wasn't aggressive about it, always leaving room for others to speculate. It was this that struck Asami the most – the willingness to actually listen to what others had to say, particularly people who she'd been raised to consider her enemies.
"You're very... open-minded about all of this," Asami remarked on the final day of their journey. She and Korra were hiding on the observation deck – both from Mako and from the various airmen who looked at Korra with far more animosity than made Asami comfortable. To his credit, Mako had tried to speak to them about keeping their prejudices to themselves, but Asami rather thought his own prejudice made him a poor role model in this particular situation.
Korra sat backwards on a chair, her arms folded on its back and her chin resting atop them. She glanced over at Asami, who sat in the seat beside her, her sketch book open but forgotten on the table. "Surprised?" she asked, amusement in her voice.
"Well... yes," Asami admitted sheepishly.
Korra shrugged. "I could say the same about you."
"It's just... when Tenzin suggested this, I never even once considered that I might actually be able to get along with you." Asami felt her ears grow warm beneath Korra's gaze. "It's nice."
"We're only a couple days in," Korra reminded her. "The honeymoon stage, if you will." Her grin was contagious and Asami swatted at her.
"So you don't agree?" Asami asked with a little toss of her head, letting her loose hair fall down over her shoulder.
That intense stare returned for a moment before Korra answered. "I do agree," she said seriously. Asami tried to ignore it, but her ears grew still hotter despite her efforts. She started to fervently wish that she didn't have ears – they seemed to be the only part of her that reddened beneath Korra's scrutiny.
She floundered for something else to say, but Korra spared her the trouble. "Have you thought about how this is going to go down?"
"What, presenting you to my father?"
"Preferably without him trying to kill me, yeah."
Asami gave a humourless chuckle. "I think I have an idea, but we might have to conceal your presence for a few days."
Korra's eyebrows shot up. "That could be difficult. I kind of stand out."
"Yes, I noticed that."
"And your whole crew knows I'm here. How will you keep them from running their mouths?"
"With difficulty, I imagine." She was confident that she could do it, though – Mako had tried and failed, but Mako had never been the most charismatic speaker.
Korra's expression was sceptical. "You certainly have a lot of confidence in your abilities," she said, as if she'd seen right into Asami's thoughts.
Asami smiled sweetly at her. "Trust me."
Korra snorted a laugh. "File under 'things I never thought I'd hear from Asami Sato'."
Asami couldn't keep her smile from spreading into a grin. "It is a little outrageous, isn't it?"
"This whole thing is outrageous, but that's probably a good sign."
"How do you figure?"
Korra's head tilted to the side slightly, but those piercing blue eyes never left Asami's face. "I guess I just have a lot of faith in the ridiculous."
Asami's request that the crew keep Korra's presence in the Reach a secret was, predictably, met with scepticism, but they seemed more ready to listen to her than to Mako – particularly after seeing how much time she was spending with Korra on the airship. Emphasising the need for peace certainly seemed to do the trick – she knew many of them had lost friends and family to the war, and, luckily, none of them appeared the type to cling blindly to revenge fantasies in the face of peace.
"So how are we going to get Korra inside without being recognised?" Bolin asked as they neared the palace, waiting for the ship to dock.
"She's putting on an airman's uniform," Asami shrugged. "As long as she keeps her head down and doesn't stop to talk to anyone, she should be fine."
"And I have to say, the uniform does me a lot of favours."
They turned as Korra approached, clad in the spare uniform of one of the older midshipmen. "I mean," she continued, smoothing her hands over the jacket, "it's a little tighter than I'm used to, but I'm starting to wonder why I never wore a uniform before."
Asami rolled her eyes in an effort to keep from staring. Korra did look good in the uniform – good enough that her stomach seemed intent on tying itself in knots at the sight.
Bolin offered a polite round of applause and Korra grinned, twirling her airman's cap in her hands. "You think this will work?"
Asami moved over to her, taking the cap and carefully tucking the southerner's (incredibly soft) hair into it. She was still recognisable to Asami, but Asami had also spent several days in her company; the only other person who might know what she looked like was Hiroshi, and Asami had no way of knowing just how closely he'd looked when he was screaming Air Temple Island down around his ears.
"It better," Asami said mildly, "or you'll probably end up dead."
Korra snorted. "Thanks."
"We're ready to land." Mako approached them, sparing Korra only a brief glance. "How do you want to do this?"
"I'll need to go straight to my father," Asami said rather ruefully. That was going to be a fun conversation. "Korra, you can help Bolin with the bags – that way you probably won't be required to stop and talk to anyone, and Bolin can show you straight to your room."
"What about me?" Mako asked.
"I need you with me when I talk to my father."
He looked uncertain, but nodded. Poor Mako, Asami thought. Always so eager to be there – he had no idea what he was getting into. "Do we get to know what your plan is for talking Hiroshi into this?" he asked instead.
"No," Asami said, avoiding Korra's gaze. "Not yet." In truth, Korra already knew, but she couldn't tell Mako. He'd never agree to it otherwise.
Asami drew in a deep breath as the airmen around them prepared to lower the ramp and disembark. Her heart was fluttering wildly in her chest and she desperately willed it to calm down, irrationally convinced that it was audible to every ear in the city.
As soon as the ramp was down, Bolin and Korra picked up the bags and headed resolutely into the palace while Asami and Mako followed. The four split off from each other in the entrance hall and as Asami and Mako neared Hiroshi's office, Mako laid a hand on her shoulder. "You'll do fine," he said, and she cast him a grateful – and slightly guilty – smile.
Hiroshi was back at his damn war table when Asami and Mako marched into his office. Varrick stood at his side and Zhu Li hovered in the background, that constant, steady presence behind Varrick's unpredictable zeal.
"Asami!" Hiroshi exclaimed. Asami's heart tugged painfully in her chest; he looked so relieved.
"Well if it isn't our would-be peacemaker," Varrick remarked grandly. "Back in one piece, even!"
Asami spared only a passing glance for Varrick before focusing on Hiroshi. "Can I talk to you, father? Alone?"
Varrick turned to Hiroshi, who nodded. Varrick flashed Asami a greasy smile, bowed floridly, and then wordlessly left, Zhu Li on his heels.
"Asami, about what happened –"
"Please, father. I need to speak." Asami breathed in deep, fighting to steady her nerves. "The talks didn't really go well," she started, "and I wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right. It was a fruitless endeavour. But... something happened while I was gone."
Hiroshi was watching her with a confused mix of relief and worried expectation. She pressed on.
"I realised that peace between the north and the south will never happen, and I... I started to think about my future. Since this is the life I'm destined to live, I thought... it might as well be a happy one, as happy as I can make it." As she spoke, she reached out and took Mako's hand.
Spirits, it was hard to avoid Mako's stunned staring. She could see it from the corner of her eye, and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, every bone in her body regretting that she hadn't told him what was going to happen.
Hiroshi's gaze dropped to their joined hands and realisation flooded over him. His worn features broke into a broad smile. "Asami... really?"
It had been obvious for a very long time that Hiroshi had intended Mako and Asami to marry. She couldn't be sure when he started planning it – whether it was the reason he had them spend so much time together as children, or if it was a result of that – but he'd never been subtle about it. So often Asami had rejected the idea – she loved Mako, but her love for him was so platonic that she couldn't imagine it ever being anything more.
Hiroshi's delight brought a lump to Asami's throat. She hated lying to him like this, especially when the truth would likely send him into a blind rage, but it was the only way for this to work. It seemed that going around her father was a recurring theme in her fight for peace.
"Yes, father. I'd like your permission to marry."
"Of course! Of course," Hiroshi said, finally moving around the war table. He caught the both of them in a crushing embrace, and the look that Mako cast her over Hiroshi's shoulder was pure venom. She was really going to get an earful for this.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to put me on the spot like that?" Mako fumed.
They were in the room that Korra had been given; Korra lounged on her bed, stifling her laughter against a closed fist, and Bolin sat on the floor with Pabu as Mako paced back and forth in front of Asami.
"Because you never would have agreed to it," Asami said in her most reasonable tone. "You didn't really think I was going to try and ask for my father's blessing if he knew it was Korra I intended to marry, did you?"
"Well... it did seem a little optimistic," Mako admitted. "But how are you going to explain showing up to your betrothal ceremony with Korra on your arm?"
"Once we make the announcement, it won't matter," Asami said. "A royal engagement can't be broken after it's been made public. You know that. The second we appear on that stage, there's no going back."
"This is great," Korra chortled. "So much cloak and dagger! I had no idea you northerners could be this much fun."
"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself," Mako seethed from behind gritted teeth.
"Oh lighten up, will you?" Korra sat up, crossing her legs. "In case you've forgotten, we're the good guys in this situation. What we're trying to do is a good thing. You know, stopping a war? Saving lives? Any of this ring a bell?"
Mako glanced at Asami, who arched a slender eyebrow at him, silently supporting Korra's words. He sighed, but nodded. "You're right."
"Make a note of that," Bolin said from behind them. "An apology from Mako is like seeing a flying platypus-bear! Once in a lifetime, if you're lucky!"
"I didn't apologise," Mako grumbled. "I still don't like that I was lied to, but... Korra is right. I forgot what it is we're trying to do here."
Asami reached out to lay her hand on Mako's arm. "I'm sorry," she said as he glanced at her. "I just assumed you wouldn't agree to it if you knew."
"You were probably right," Mako surrendered. "Anyway, it's done now. What's our next move?"
"Father's arranging the engagement party for tomorrow night," Asami said, "so we pretty much just need to keep Korra hidden until then."
"What are we going to do about clothes?"
They all turned to look at Bolin, who stared back at them with wide-eyed innocence. "Well, it's a formal event, so she can't very well show up like that." He gestured to the casual sleeveless shirt and loose pants Korra was wearing. "And we can't get a tailor to fit her for anything – too risky. And there's the matter of colours. Will she wear the colours of the north, to blend in, or will she wear the colours of the south, to drive the point home?"
"I think I know someone who can help," Mako said. "He's... not exactly a tailor, but he knows his way around clothes, and he's a friend. He can be convinced to keep quiet."
"I didn't know you had any friends," Bolin grinned. Mako ignored him.
"I'll go get him." He started for the door and Bolin scrambled to his feet.
"Wait! I'm coming! I need to see this friend with my own eyes!"
Mako's friend was not even slightly what Asami had expected.
The short, skinny young man wandered in behind Mako with an air so relaxed it almost seemed to emphasise Mako's stiff-backed seriousness all the more. "This is Wu," Mako said as Bolin stumbled in behind them with several rolls of material clutched in his arms.
"Princess Asami!" Wu said grandly, offering a florid bow. "Such an honour to meet you. You're even more beautiful up close and personal." His grin was probably supposed to be charming, but it only served to set Asami on edge; soon enough, it was aimed at Korra. "And this must be our lovely guest! They really supply some good product in the south, huh?"
"Korra," Asami said, surprised by the flatness of her tone and the irritation that boiled up in her chest. "Her name is Korra."
Korra gave her a searching glance before she was forcibly dragged to the middle of the room by Wu. "Alright, Korra," he said, circling her with a serious, pensive look. "Let's get you suited up for this little soiree."
Hours later, Wu stood back to look Korra over with a critical look.
"Well, it's not exactly high fashion, but it's pretty good, if I do say so myself."
They'd decided to go for the traditional blue and beige of the south. It would make Korra stick out like a sore thumb, which worried Asami more than a little, but 'driving the point home', as Bolin had said, was definitely something they were intent on doing.
Asami was a little rattled by the way her stomach tightened and her heart fluttered at the sight of Korra in her new outfit. It was simple enough – high-cut around the neck, falling open at the shoulders only to close loosely around her forearms, straight and simple and falling down to her ankles. There was something about the laid back, rough-and-tumble southerner in a dress that brought that damnable heat back to Asami's ears – particularly when Korra looked at her, whether to grin sheepishly or to roll her eyes at Wu.
It was well into the night by the time they finished. Mako and Bolin both left to walk Wu back home, and Asami had barely closed the door before Korra started to take off her dress. When Asami turned, she was greeted by the sight of smooth, dark skin pulled taut over hard muscle; Korra was facing away from her, and she only realised she was staring at that incredibly toned back when the southerner started to turn. Asami whipped around to face the wall, face aflame. "What are you doing?"
Korra laughed behind her. "Such a prude, Princess," she teased. Asami deeply resented the playful tone. "You're probably going to have to work on that, you know."
"We're not married yet," Asami choked out, fighting valiantly to suppress her blush, though she felt it crawling very obviously up the back of her neck.
Korra chuckled. "No, I guess we aren't."
"I should..." Asami reached for the door, trembling hands fumbling with the handle. "It's late."
"Alright," Korra said easily, her grin apparent in her voice. "Goodnight, Princess."
Asami murmured her goodnight and fled.
Sleep did not come easily. Try though she might, Asami couldn't pull her thoughts away from that fleeting glance of Korra's half-naked body, and the memory was feeding a familiar – if surprising – ache between her thighs.
Whatever she'd been expecting when she'd made the decision to get along with Korra, it hadn't been this. She had clung desperately to the hope that the blushing and the fluttering and the tension had only been out of nerves or unfamiliarity; but now that she was lying in bed, unable to sleep because the sight of Korra's bare torso had turned her on so much, she rather begrudgingly let go of that hope.
Stubborn though she was, after several hours of tossing and turning it became clear that Asami would never fall asleep unless she did something about it.
Wetting her lips, she let her eyes fall closed, her hand trailing down her torso and hitching up the fabric of her nightdress. Her breath caught slightly as her fingertips were met with slick heat; her thighs fell apart as the slightest touch sent a wave of pleasure crashing over her, her back arching away from the mattress.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth to needlessly silence herself, though the sound of her own erratic breaths wouldn't be stifled, and only seemed to magnify her sensitivity. "Spirits," she whispered huskily, and the sound of her own voice so strained and breathless brought a hot blush to her cheeks. Her free hand lifted to thread her fingers back through her hair, her head tipping back into her pillow as a throaty groan forced its way free.
She tried to avoid thinking about Korra. The idea of touching herself to the thought of the southerner was mortifying; but no matter how hard she tried, her treacherous brain always found a way to return to that image burning its way into her memory, and before she could stop herself she was imagining Korra's firm hands on her, Korra's eager tongue dragging over hypersensitive skin, Korra's fingers slipping deep inside her, hungry, relentless…
Asami didn't last long, and when her orgasm crashed over her the force of it left her breathless and trembling. For a long while she lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to get her breath back; when she did, she rolled over, bewildered and embarrassed, and let sleep finally take her.