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Korra languished in the corner of the ballroom, her dress swirling around her feet. She’d never been particularly good at dancing, the favored pastime of balls and parties, swelling violins crashing over the room. She’d escaped her parents, desperate for a few moments of peace without their constant worrying. It was not that she was apathetic to their nerves, rather the opposite, guilt flooding her veins for the continued lack of ring on her finger.
There had been men and women alike, but neither had truly sparked a fancy, or when they had, been approved by her father. Bolin had been sweet, but like his brother Mako, brought few resources with him, not enough in compensation for an only daughter. Mako had been her one true fancy, but they’d fought more than they loved, too similar and different all the same. She treasured the unlikely friendships she’d made with them afterwards, biting back at the loneliness that haunted her dreams and her bed, ghost fingers skimming her skin.
It wasn’t as if she was truly ducking marriage, it was something she’d known about all her life, a pressing duty of her station and her own dreams. She felt more girlish than she was truly comfortable with dreaming of marriage, but moreso, it was love she longed for. In the South Pole, it was Korra alone. Her parents twinned in love, a love match that they longed for her to have, to find, but she knew time was running out. On the mainland her age was no detriment, not quite unusual in a city as large as Republic City, but in the South Pole, where everyone knew anyone, gossip was spreading faster than the wind.
There must be something wrong with her to still be unwed, nearing age 25. She felt ancient and young all together, couldn’t possibly imagined being wed by twenty like so many of her peers. It was a delightful pride she’d taken, in developing an education before love, but perhaps she’d been too single-minded in her pursuits, so focused on learning and training for the future throne she’d isolated herself from the rest of the world.
She couldn’t imagine what she’d be like if she was already married.
But her dreams took her there all the same.
In the furs of her bed that were too stifling hot in the city, a longing comfort of home while she resided on Air Temple Island, fostered by her uncle, she dreamed of a wedding, dappled in blues and the white snows of the South Pole, the warm summer day glinting off the sheen of melting ice. Of the laughter and warmth that came with marriage, at least in all the stories, the traces of fingertips along her arms, a teasing smile between them.
Korra wanted to fall in love.
But she’d never been truly satisfied, too loud, too abrasive for most men, and yet not enough for women. She was neither the feminine fancy of men on the mainland, knowing too much about ice fishing and how to gut a seal, nor was she the masculine lady to women, buff arms draped in the blue dresses of her homeland that felt as comforting as pants. She felt out of sorts here, less so with the friendship of Bolin and Mako, but she’d never fully settled into the city despite her constant summering here.
Bolin twirled around the dance floor with Opal, a family friend she’d introduced him to weeks ago. She knew they would hit off, but she could practically feel the engagement coming, the two of them so sickeningly in love it made her excited and nauseous all the same. Even Mako, desperate to retain his sulk hid careful smiles of Prince Wu, who was all too infatuated with him when he wasn’t playing off women who came his way. It’s how Korra knew the prince was serious about Mako, shifting quickly from womanizer to a chasing lover the moment he got Mako to talk to him.
It had been years since she’d felt this alone in Republic City, no friends to spend countless evenings with, their time taken up by dreams of a future. It was made all the worse by her parents visiting, she knew her mother would be searching for her any minute, desperate to introduce her to her new friend of the evening. She worried her parents, and it made guilt sink deeper into her stomach than anything.
Korra could take it no longer, ducking out of the ballroom and sweeping out into the moonlit garden. It was improper of her in Republic City, a freedom she enjoyed far more in the South Pole than here. But she could not care for it, her mother would want to talk, her father would stand in stoic silence that was worse, and Tenzin would lament about how finding someone is the best thing in the world.
She wanted too desperately, but could not figure out how to break into the realm that everyone else seemed to get. How to be herself when a persona seemed to be what everyone around her wanted from her. A body too strong, too weak, a smile just a tad too sharp. She’d always been headstrong, a trait she refused to allow anyone to try and wheedle out of her, and yet for so many, she was abrasive, despite softening her words, and cocky, despite softening her lines.
The gardens were a shining green in the moonlight, dark white moon blossoms under a full moon’s glow, the buds of a morning glory waiting for sunrise. Gardens were an escape she treasured in Republic City, the vines of blooming flowers centering her more than any meditation ever had, to the dismay of her teachers. She could never have such fragile plants in a world where snow reigned and soil was spongy and frozen half the year.
“Who goes there!” a voice rang out, sharp and biting, fear ringing on the edges. Korra froze immediately, scanning what she’d thought would be an empty garden, not with the glimmering party just inside.
“I’m not a threat,” she said slowly, raising her hands to the air, spinning, looking for anything. “I didn’t know anyone would be out here.”
A flash of movement to her left had Korra spinning to face it, a women slinking out of the shadows, a knife in hand, pointing it towards her. Her face was a ghostly white, pale under the moon and fear pulling tight at her eyes. She trembled only slightly, a white-knulcked grip around her knife, posing an air of authority that would fool anyone but Korra.
“My name is Korra,” she said quickly, hands remaining up. A jumpy, weapon-wielding woman was more dangerous than any true threat, predicting their movements was near impossible. She twisted her palms to face the woman, “I’m not armed.”
That was a lie, but the woman certainly didn’t need to know that.
The woman, dripping in red and gold, scanned her once, twice, and finally a third before lowering the knife. “You’re a part of Varrik’s ball?”
Korra nodded, watching as she slowly sheathed the weapon in the belt of her dress, hand resting where it hid. “I needed a breath of fresh air.” She paused, “What’s your name?”
The woman stared for one long moment, before sitting cautiously into the garden seat from across the garden, feet pressed firmly to the floor, back ramrod straight. Korra did the same, trying to mirror a more casual demeanor, forcing every inch of her body to become as unthreatening as possible.
“Asamia Sato,” the woman said slowly, “And I too, needed a breath.”
The name was familiar, but Korra had always been better at faces than names. Her father had mentioned a Sato, someone doing business with the South, but she hadn’t squared it away. Perhaps there was a relation here.
They stared at each other, neither truly knowing what to say, and an uneasy silence descended across the garden. Korra had never been good with silence, had always been a talkative child, and quickly took to fiddling with the skirts of her dress, delicately embroidered in Southern style, a gift from her mother to try and find her a partner tonight.
Instead, it was wasted on a garden bench with a stranger.
“You’re not from Republic City,” Asami said after a moment, eyes following her meddling fingers, “You only come in the summers, yes?”
Korra nodded slowly, “That obvious huh?”
Asami let out a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but was the most truthful expression all evening. “You’re not at gala dinners or balls at any other time. And you’re obviously from the South Pole.”
She raised an eyebrow, “You can tell the difference between the North and South?”
“Of course I can? What do you take me for, an idiot,” Asami laughed, a ringing laugh that sent warmth pooling in her belly. “Besides, I only ever see you in the summers with Councilman Tenzin.”
That caught Korra’s attention. “You’ve seen me before?”
The woman scoffed, “How could I not? You’re the talk of the ton when you arrive, the unwed princess of the south.”
“Ah, yes, the details of my unmarried status follow me wherever I go.”
Asami raised an eyebrow, “You do not want to marry?”
Korra huffed, spinning away, skirts wrapping around her legs. “It’s not that I do not want to marry,” she said softly, back to Asami, staring out across the hedges. “But rather, I want to find myself love. My parents are a love match, and truthfully, I have been rather bored with any of those I’ve entertained so far.”
A hand came to rest on her elbow, far too familiar for a stranger, but Korra found she didn’t want to shake it off. “I fear you and I are the same. I am often bored to tears with the suitors my father sets me up with. All perfectly fine for my status, but completely boring. They can barely speak of themselves, I tire of carrying on the conversations.”
Korra laughed, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, “Sorry, that was rude of me.”
“Don’t be,” Asami said softly, “I think you’re perhaps the most real person I’ve met tonight.”
***
Korra’s friendship with Asami grew rapidly, an unlikely friendship the ton liked to remark on. Asami was a genius, inventor in her own right, and Korra was the ever elusive, yet known brash princess from across the sea. Neither were seen to be similar enough to warrant any sort of relationship, and yet, the two of them were close as friends could be.
Marriage announcements from their families between the two of them were bet on before the end of the summer.
But yet, Korra sailed home, no engagement to be spoken of, Asami seeing her off on the docks, the promise of letters to be sent clutched to her heart.
Korra longed for something closer with Asami, heart stuttering like every romance novel her mother had ever read. Asami was brilliant, the most interesting person Korra had ever met, never wanting their time with each other to end. She was smart and funny, stronger than her gold-draped dresses seemed to imply, handy with her hands and mind alike.
Korra was utterly infatuated.
It was no question that a marriage with Sato Industries would be hugely beneficial for the South Pole, bringing industry closer and more affordable than ever. Her father, at least, seemed to not know how to speak of such a proposal with her, far too aware of her infatuation with the heir to Sato Industries. Her mother however had no such conniptions, endlessly asking her if they need to enter a formal courtship period, and that she’d be more than happy to discuss such arrangements with Hiroshi.
But Korra could not risk her friendship with Asami, not for something as fragile as matters of the heart.
It was a strange situation to be in, going from no suitors at all to one that Korra longed to spend her life with, imaging domestic days in bed, children, quiet moments between them. She’d spent so long bored to tears by any who approached her she now did not know how to chase after someone so far out of her league.
This was far worse than having no suitors at all.
By the time they’d arrived back at the South Pole, Korra was missing Asami fiercely. She saw her everywhere, in the flickering street lamps, in the way couples would walk arm-in-arm down the main street in town, in the way every black-haired woman had Korra turning her head, hoping it was Asami against all that she knew.
Korra was whipped, her crush rumbling out of control, finding herself watching the streets from the window hoping every mail delivery had a letter for her, perhaps a response to her own she’d sent out the moment she’d arrived back in the South Pole. Everyone around her could tell she was moping, it was unfashionable of her, nearly a callback to her younger, teenage self, when she was more hot-headed and cocky.
Though, this time she was love-sick rather than overconfident.
She’d nearly lost hope, thinking her summer infatuation was nothing more than a passing fling, tossed back onto the marriage mart friendless and without interesting prospects that would not bore her to tears, when a letter arrived marked to her. In Asami’s artful swirl, the kind of writing she used when she was truly trying.
Dear Korra,
My darling, I find I cannot do these days without you. You’ve left and taken my heart with me, I find myself utterly bored with everyone around me. I did not realize how much you’d grown into every part of my life until I did not have you anymore. How can I go so many months without seeing you, hearing your voice?
You’ve waxed me poetic, and I fear I can no longer pretend. I risk it all in this letter, perhaps I will never hear from you again, but I cannot stand it any longer. You’ve taken my heart Korra, in a way more tied than friendship can name. I’m terrified just writing this, how can I send such a confession that you consume my night and day and mail it as if it is nothing.
I fear I am ruining the very friendship I long for, the one true friend that I can be myself with. You see me more truthfully than anyone in my life, even my father these days. But you have always been so honest to me, and so I lay my heart in your hands. There is no obligation to care for it in the way I wish you to do, but I needed you to know. I long for you in every part of my life, even the most boring pieces, because with you my dear you make everything filled with life, with color. In you I can find adventure and silence in the same breath.
Korra I-
The letter ended abruptly, and Korra was clinging to every word. Where was the rest? This confession of Asami’s, so similar to her own, the unsent one she couldn’t bring herself to send, and yet it was unfinished. She wanted to scream in frustration, the distance separating her from the very woman she dreamt of, longed for in every fiber of her being. And yet, her letter-
A knock sounded from the door, and Korra whipped around, clutching the letter tight to her chest. These words were for her and her alone.
It fluttered to the floor in shock.
Asami stood nervously, the silks of a dress far more appropriate for Republic City covered by a parka of South Pole make, shifting nervously in the doorway, paper clutched in her own hands.
“Hi,” Asami said softly, taking a step into the room.
“How?” Korra’s head was spinning, standing slowly only for the room to shift to the side. “How are you here?”
Asami flushed a brilliant red, sliding down her neck and Korra was helpless to watch it. “I uh, flew here.” She waved a hand, “It’s unimportant, but I had to see you.”
Korra was frozen as Asami approached, hand clutching a letter, shaking slightly. “I got your letter,” Asami said, “Did you mean it?”
Mean it? Korra couldn’t understand what was happening. Her eyes shot down to the letter, crinkled from how tightly Asami had it clutched between her hands. It was only then she realized the paper it was on was that of the boat, the liner she’d road back to the South Pole.
It was her confession letter.
“I got it after I sent my own to you,” Asami was saying, eyes wide. “And I needed to see you after your own admittance.”
“You read it?” Korra whispered, the two of them now barely apart, nearly touching. She could feel Asami’s warm breath on her skin. “Then you know.”
“Say it,” Asami begged, “Please.”
“I love you.”
Asami gasped, hands coming out to grab at Korra’s arms, who in turn stumbled to hold her up. Asami glanced up at her, tears shining in her eyes.
“I love you too Korra.”
There were tears running down Korra’s face, that much she was sure of, but she didn’t make a move to wipe them. This was a dream, surely, but Asami was so real and warm in front of her, clutching at her arms in a near painful tightness.
“And my offer?” She could barely make out the words, heart in her throat.
“Yes,” Asami breathed out, and it was enough to send the two of them into sobbing, giggling fits, clutching at each other in disbelief. Two girls finding solace in each other.
Senna watched the scene from the doorway, Tonraq and Hiroshi at her back, family soon between them all. She knew sending Korra’s confession would be a risk, and would face the wrath of her daughter when she finally figured it out. But perhaps it would be tamed by finally finding happiness in someone who was seeking as thoroughly as her daughter was for a life far more interesting than what her position would imply.
Seeing the two of them clutching each other made all the planning between families worth it. The girls were independent, but they were of the ton.
Parental meddling was always required.
***
Excerpt from the Sato family archives
…Asami Sato and Korra Waters Sato were married in the winter of 1813 after a few short weeks of a formal engagement period. The marriage was the talk of the ton, many expecting such engagement to happen at the end of summer.
The couple quickly became a household name, effectively running the South Pole and Sato Industries when their parents retired. They were a complementary couple, Asami’s wit paired nicely with Korra’s sense of adventure. They were the love match of the decade, many amongst the ton telling their love story to their own children, in hopes for such a match when their time came.
Asami and Korra had two daughters. Their eldest, Sona, was born in 1816 by Asami. Their youngest, Yasuki, was born in 1818 by Korra. Sona married her husband Talo in 1838 and took over Sato Industries. Yasuki married her partner Sor in 1842 and runs the South Pole. The couple were married for 70 years, dying days apart at age 95.
When asked how the two fell in love, they both commonly remarked that their friendship turned infatuation began with a shared distaste of living a boring life. The two did anything but…