White Knight
3.

Spirits dance around her, like silhouettes; the world is a canvas, splashed with all the colours which the mind can muster. They giggle, and adore her. Caress her cheeks, call her the sweetest. For a moment, she is loved by strangers; by creatures which transcend the very laws of physics.

Then, it is time for the spirits to leave. Time for the sunlight to disappear, and hatred and fear and every other toxic emotion to feast on the land. The world around her becomes infected; dark and forbidding. And she wants to hide away, lose herself; find a cave, a hole, a shelter to protect herself in, and never come out. The little girl starts to cry, and it is exactly as always.

Running has become strenuous. The little girl grows frustrated. Angry. Upset. She had made such wonderful friends with the spirits, and then they abandoned her. They left her here in the dark. And she's angry. Heartbroken. The little girl can't believe her friends would walk away from her, give up on her; stop caring about her. She doesn't deserve to be loved.

It is the forests she hates the most.

The trees hate her also, shadowing down on her; like tall giants, glaring at their disappointment. And they taunt her. Call her names.

Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Lonely.

Destructive.

She doesn't know why their remarks hurt so much. But they're enough to cause the little girl to collapse in despair, hold her knees, and cry. Cry until her eyes are sore, and exhaustion takes over. She cries, and cries, staring up at the black sky, and a voice screams inside her head.

Let me out.

Let me out.

Wake me up!

A whisper. Somebody is whispering, and she looks up, eyes wide with fear. A creature of some sort is moving towards her. The little girl gasps and struggles to stand, but she can't. She's immobile, and terrified, and she sobs. A tiny, fragile thing. Helpless and unable to defend herself. There's nothing she can do, but watch this figure step closer and closer.

What she witnesses is an angel.

Tall, with long, dark hair. But a soft face, and kind eyes.

As if on instinct, the little girl reaches out for her, and, in response, this angel lifts her up. Gently holds the little girl in her arms, and the child immediately feels safe. The angel wipes a few stray tears from the infant's cheeks, and says something the infant doesn't understand.

But she knows they are loving words. Because when the angel speaks, the little girl smiles, and it's the first time she's ever smiled in these woods. The child rests her head on the angel's shoulder, enjoys the moment of being held and protected. With this angel by her side, she is no longer alone.

This wonder woman.

A home, for her.

And it's exactly like that in the dream.

Korra doesn't jolt awake. Not once has she needed to scream, escape the confines of the sheets. There isn't a single ounce of fear in her body when her eyes open. Still half-conscious, she rolls over, and that's when she feels her.

In the little light, Korra can't see much, but knowing Asami rests beside her is all the assurance she needs.

As her eyes adjust to the dark, she gazes at Asami, how sweet she looks; how she is able to rest, soothed in her dreams; whatever they may be. Korra blinks, sighs softly. What kind of strength does it take to be this woman? Someone who had every reason to loathe her, but did exactly the opposite. Even after losing her father, her last living relative, there's still something to live for.

Korra hesitates. Shuffles closer, and cuddles into her. Asami is warm, inviting; completely flawless in her eyes. If Korra could live like her, even for a day––if everybody could live like Asami for a day––then the Avatar believes the world would be a much better place.

But not everybody possesses that kind of will. The ability to forgive, try again. Not everybody is like the girl who rests beside her. Broken, but still walking forward. Korra doesn't envy her for that. Doesn't envy Asami for the things she, herself, cannot overcome.

She just loves her, and it's a confession so close to ripping from her throat.

The angel in her dream isn't a stranger, after all.

Korra buries her face into Asami's top, and tries to ignore the sting in her eyes. How her lungs feel crushed, and she can't quite find the air to breathe. So, she exhales slowly, and allows herself to cry quietly.

When Asami stirs, Korra is about to pull away, wipe her moist cheeks, but Asami stops her. She pulls Korra towards her body, tangles their legs together; she's not about to let her go, regardless of Korra's uncertainties. This is what the Avatar needs. Not recognition, or rest, or awards for her heroics.

She needs a hug.

She needs to be loved.

Korra is shaking in her arms, and it's painful to witness her in this state. But it's something Asami won't take for granted. Korra rarely, if ever, reveals her vulnerability to anybody. Not even her closest friends. But with Asami, it's not so easy to mask her emotions.

They pull away a little. Asami kisses Korra's forehead, and looks down at her; she caresses her cheek with the back of her hand. Korra smiles, but it's a small smile, and it barely lasts.

'What did you dream about this time?'

Korra could describe the forests, the spirits who abandoned her; could talk about the angel who arrived to save her. Her throat narrows, and she would rather stay silent.

(Yet, she would rather tell her everything that happens in that realm everybody else is forbidden to enter.)

'This time it was you.'

Asami frowns, puzzled. 'Me?'

'Yeah. You came along and took me away––I wasn't scared anymore.'

'Oh.' She softens her expression. 'Maybe you should dream about me more often?'

Korra smirks. 'I wish I could.' Drops her gaze. 'I wish I could stop dreaming altogether. I don't know why they hurt so much.'

The Avatar's breath catches. Asami takes her hand, and rests it a little above her breast. Korra is still, feeling the beat of her heart. A constant rhythm, so delicately protected beneath her own palm. Korra can hear it too. The motion penetrates through her whole body, and she meets Asami's gaze.

'We all hurt, Korra. That's what makes you human. Don't be afraid.'

A wave of emotion overwhelms the young Avatar. She suddenly remembers to breathe, and her hand stays put.

'I'm not afraid when I'm with you.'

They are simple words, which don't even come close to how Korra currently feels. Because her body shudders from every emotion Asami causes her to endure, and it's wonderful. Such a fulfilling, whole and real sensation.

'Come here.'

Korra barely hears her, Asami's voice is so soft.

They're kissing, and this time, finally, Korra is relaxed. Nothing forbids her from this kind of affection, and she welcomes Asami's kisses with enthusiasm. She pictures the spirit world they entered together, hands held, brimming with excitement. And it had been one of the most joyful occasions in her life.

That had been the same for two weeks. Just them, lost in a world filled with beauty and solace. Korra was able to heal quickly. Quicker than normal, and while it might have been the isolation from the outside world which helped, she owes it all to the woman kissing her. If fate allowed them, they could return. Maybe they will. Maybe they will disappear into the spirit world.

Never come back.

Korra sinks into the mattress, and pulls Asami down onto her. They tangle themselves, sharing deep kisses. All the emotion she's bottled within her these years is ready to come loose. Asami whispers something, but Korra can't hear her; she's blind, deaf, senseless. Lost and clinging onto her, kissing her and kissing her, fingers lacing through her hair.

The buttons on Korra's shirt become undone. Korra inhales, suddenly very self-conscious, but Asami kisses the bare skin. Passes her lips across her shoulders, her collarbone, her stomach; kissing wounds which are still healing. Korra exhales sharply, and a smile reaches her lips.

It feels good to be touched gently.

Asami has gone quiet, and returns to kissing Korra's mouth. 'You don't have to stop,' Korra murmurs against her lips.

'What gave you impression I wanted to?' They kiss. Hands stroking, touching each other. Korra struggles with Asami's top. She's fumbling too much, and her hands won't stop trembling. Asami smiles, amused. 'You've clearly done this many times before, haven't you?'

Korra pouts. Asami kisses her jawline.

'Shh. Don't worry about me yet.'

A shiver travels up Korra's spine, and she holds onto Asami while she lowers herself. Korra decides to follow Asami's advice, resting her head against the pillow, sighing at how her lips flutter across her skin. When Asami focusses attention to her breast, Korra gasps, eyes wide.

But it's a shock which doesn't last. She turns her head away, and loses herself. The sensation of Asami's tongue sends a shock through her body, and she moans quietly. It's astonishing what this woman can do. She has barely done anything yet, and Korra can hardly contain herself.

When Asami returns to kiss her lips again, Korra wraps her legs around her hips. They kiss with more urgency, breaths hot and heavy. Korra arches her back slightly when Asami's palm delicately presses against her warmth. Another sigh escapes her, and she captures Asami's lips with her own.

She's everywhere. Everywhere. And it's the most amazing touch. Korra continues to kiss her, hands searching for where to hold her. She chooses her arm, her other wrapping around the back of her neck. Korra closes her eyes, and as Asami starts to apply a little more pressure, touch her in a way Korra didn't think was possible, she falls into the sheets, clinging on.

Nothing is rushed. It's soft, gentle; completely tranquil, and they move tenderly into each other. Asami watches Korra, how she struggles to hold back any kind of sound; of course she fails, and her moans send a shudder through her. Asami kisses her, kisses her again, and encourages Korra to let go.

Just as she reaches her peak, Korra pulls Asami closer, kissing her hard so as to silence any noise. It breaks through her effortlessly. Even when she tries to cover her moans, the note which escapes her is high and desperate.

Korra retreats, catching her breath. Her hands fall from Asami, and she blinks in a daze. It's such an adorable look, Asami can't help herself. She kisses her again, softly this time; and she smiles.

'In your dream, what did I do?'

Korra manages to calm down. She looks at Asami; pictures the same forests. The angel who held her, saved her. 'I was a child, and you found me.' She twitches a smile. 'Kinda true to reality, y'know?'

'Yes. It is.'

'Thank you.'

Thank you for finding me in the dark. Thank you, for you.

Korra encourages Asami to rest her head on her chest. Their legs still tangled, bodies warm, and hearts beating. Korra runs her fingers through Asami's hair, and it's enough to send her lover to sleep. She feels herself beginning to fall into her own fatigue too, but she stays awake. For just a moment longer.

Until she can hear Asami's breaths grow even, until she's certain that Asami dreams too, and that when Korra wakes up––Asami will be there, wrapped in her arms, and it will be all the home they need.

author's note: Hey there. Thank you so much for your support so far! I do feel this will be a short story, but expect frequent updates.

Also: if you have a Tumblr account, do find me. It'll be nice to follow fellow LoK fans. My url is wreckofherheart!