Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Woohoo!” Korra’s exhilarated shout echoed across the snowy expanse as she raced down the hill, the cold air biting at her cheeks, invigorating her with a sense of freedom so rare in her daily life. At the foot of the hill, a fluffy white bundle of energy, Naga, waited eagerly, her tail wagging storms in the fresh snow. Even as a puppy, she was Korra’s shadow, her partner in every mischief and adventure.

The daughter of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe was expected to be a portrait of decorum and restraint, her days filled with endless lessons in court etiquette—a stark contrast to the thrilling rush of sledding down a forbidden slope, with Naga bounding joyously beside her on her daring descents.

“It’s about dignity, Princess,” her tutors would chide, all omegas, their voices a dull murmur in her memory compared to the heart-pounding thrill of defiance and the soft panting of Naga as they lay together in the snow, catching their breath.

Korra barely stifled a groan at the thought, her gaze cast toward the horizon where adventure called. Swords, combat, the dances of warriors—these were the lessons her heart yearned for, not the stifling protocols her brother so dutifully ignored. Sometimes, she donned her brother’s attire, a loose tunic and trousers, masking her identity to take his place in lessons of swordplay and governance. She savored each stolen moment, her blade cutting through the air with precision, her mind absorbing the intricacies of ruling. His masters, wise and discerning, undoubtedly noticed the switch, yet their silence spoke disapproval, deeming them childish fantasies she would soon grow out of. Korra didn’t stop. This silent rebellion, though small, was a spark of defiance against the destiny laid out for her, a secret pact between her and the shadows that veiled her true desires. As she reached the bottom of the hill, the snow spraying up around her in a sparkling arc, Naga was there in an instant, showering her with affectionate licks and playful nips, a tangible reminder of the spirited life Korra craved.

She looked into Naga’s bright, eager eyes, and Korra couldn’t help but wonder if the spirits had intended her life to be confined within the walls of expectations, or if, like Naga, she was meant to roam free, untethered by the chains of convention.

“Princess, there you are! We’ve been scouring the tribe for you!” The gruff voice of Master Suntoq, their steadfast castellan, cut through the crisp air, abruptly pulling Korra back from the edge of her daydreams.

“Okay. Coming,” she responded, her voice tinged with resignation. Just as she turned towards the lecture hall, assuming another day of tedious lessons awaited her, Master Suntoq halted her steps.

“Not for lessons today, princess.”

Her brows knitted in confusion, and she absentmindedly scratched her head. “Why?”

“Princess, you have reached the age of thirteen, and it’s time you had a companion of your own age. An ambassador from the United Republic will arrive later with his daughter. Your father has consented for her to stay as your companion,” Master Suntoq explained, his tone laced with a hint of impatience.

“But why?” Korra felt like a broken record. “Naga’s my companion! And what am I and that girl supposed to do, sew and braid each other’s hair?” Korra retorted, her voice sharp, as if the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

The castellan exhaled a weary sigh. “The Chief wishes for you to have a... human friend. And yes, Princess. Sewing and braiding are supposed to be two of the skills you are honing.”

“Fine,” she huffed, her lips curling into a pout of defeat. Once her father made up his mind, there was no changing it. Yet, within, Korra was a tempest of indignation and confusion. She didn’t see the need for a human friend when she had Naga. And why now did her father suddenly take an interest in her? To him, she was merely the spare, her worth yet undetermined until she presented, possibly to be discarded or not.

Her older brother had already presented as a beta, cementing his place as their father’s successor. Korra’s only path to maintaining her autonomy was to present as an alpha, thus avoiding being bartered off in marriage-like property. It was rare for females to be one. Everyone had already dismissed her to be an omega, so Korra had prayed to all the spirits that could hear her that she’d be an alpha. But that moment lay in the uncertain future, leaving her in a limbo of sorts for the present.

Retreating to her chambers, Korra was swiftly engulfed by the flurry of handmaidens, their hands gentle yet insistent, bathing her as though she were still a child incapable of washing herself. They dressed her in the traditional blue of the Water Tribe, layering a dress over her pants, and then they slipped brown boots onto her feet.

Facing her reflection, Korra barely recognized the figure staring back. Her usual unruly wolftails were now twisted up into a bun, styled thus to render her more ‘presentable’ to the ambassador and his daughter. The transformation was stark, the mirror reflecting not the spirited girl who raced down snowy hills with her loyal pup at her side, but a princess groomed for diplomacy and decorum—a role she was reluctantly bound to play.

***

Asami studied her reflection, the light makeup barely concealing the apprehension in her eyes. Her red wool dress clung to her slim figure, a vivid contrast against the stark white backdrop of the Southern Water Tribe’s landscape that sprawled endlessly beyond her window. The dress, chosen for its elegance and warmth, felt like a suit of armor, preparing her for a battle she felt ill-equipped to fight.

Having arrived at the Southern Water Tribe merely a day ago, Asami already longed for the familiar chaos and warmth of Republic City. The concept of her life being uprooted so suddenly was something she had never entertained. As the sole heiress to her father’s considerable legacy, she had long accepted her role as a pawn in his ambitious schemes—a trophy to be paraded before his peers. Yet, the reality of being traded off before she had even presented left her reeling. Her father’s words echoed hauntingly in her mind:

“You’re fourteen, my dear, almost a woman grown. You need to make connections, and what better connection to be had than with the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe’s family? War is brewing, and we need allies. Befriend his children, so whether you remain as a beta or present as an omega, our family’s position will be secured. Don’t disobey me. You know the consequences.”

The chill that ran down Asami’s spine was sharper than any cold the Southern Water Tribe could muster. Her father’s words were a cage, one she had walked into with eyes wide open, but a cage nonetheless.

With a resigned sigh, the ambassador’s daughter stepped away from the mirror. The reflection that stared back at her was a stranger’s—someone groomed for diplomacy, a role she never wished for but was born into. Stepping out of her borrowed room, Asami walked into her new life with a quiet determination. If her fate was to be a pawn, then she would play the game on her own terms.

—

“The ambassador of the United Republic, Hiroshi Sato, and his daughter, Asami Sato,” the herald’s voice echoed through the Great Hall of the Southern Water Tribe Palace as they were ushered inside. Asami's breath caught at the sight: towering pillars of glacier ice, tapestries depicting tribal history, and a grand hearth crackling with welcoming warmth. The hall, bathed in the soft glow of whale oil lamps, shimmered with ethereal light reflected off inlaid ice, casting a spell of awe and intimidation.

At the far end of the hall, a grand dais awaited, upon which sat Chief Tonraq and his family, their regal presence underscored by the stately thrones hewn from ancient ice. Their eyes turned to greet the newcomers, offering a silent welcome that was as formidable as the hall itself.

As Asami’s gaze traveled to the dais, it first fell upon a broad-shouldered man with a commanding presence, his deep brown skin complementing his weathered features, which were as enduring as the ice around them. Clearly, he was the leader of the tribe. Chief Tonraq, she remembered her father said. Beside him sat a woman whose calm and welcoming expression framed her dark hair, her slightly lighter brown skin carrying the subtle scent of an omega, a soothing contrast to the crispness of the hall.

Next to the woman, a lanky young man stood slightly apart, his relaxed posture somewhat detached. His skin was a light shade of brown, akin to faded wood, and his features bore a resemblance to the leader, probably his son. His presence was unmarked by any distinct scent, leading Asami to guess he was a beta. He seemed disinterested in the formalities, his eyes wandering over the crowd below.

Lastly, her eyes were drawn to a smaller figure, a girl about her age, with skin a vibrant shade of brown that seemed to glow against the rich fabric of her attire. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, though stray strands stuck out here and there, betraying her discomfort with such formality. Unlike the others, she did not have the build of a seasoned warrior, appearing almost scrawny, yet there was something unmistakably compelling about her. The girl’s scent, fresh like snow and the crisp winter air, enveloped Asami, drawing her in. It was her eyes, however, that truly captured Asami’s attention; they were a deep, striking blue, as vast and expressive as the ocean, hinting at depths yet to be explored.

Despite the grandeur of the hall and the formality of the occasion, Asami found herself inexplicably fascinated by the young girl, her curiosity piqued by this fierce presence that seemed so at odds with the serene setting. A flicker of hope sparked within Asami—perhaps here, in this place of beauty and power, she could find genuine connections beyond the alliances her father sought.

“Welcome, Hiroshi Sato,” Chief Tonraq’s voice boomed across the hall, echoing off the intricately carved ice walls, commanding an immediate hush over the gathered throng.

Her father bowed deeply, his gestures practiced and precise, a diplomat through and through. Asami hesitated for just a heartbeat before mirroring his reverence, her curtsy graceful yet tinged with a subtle tremor of nervousness. “Thank you for the warmth of your welcome and the shelter of your splendid hall, Chief Tonraq,” her father intoned. “May I introduce my only daughter, Asami.”

As her name echoed through the grand hall, Asami felt dozens of eyes upon her, their gazes like the touch of winter’s chill. She kept her head slightly bowed, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shyness and the effort to hide it. Her dress rustled softly as she straightened, hoping her nerves were as well-masked as her trembling fingers.

Chief Tonraq responded with a warm, encompassing gesture. “We are honored by your visit, Hiroshi, and pleased to welcome your daughter. Allow me to introduce my family.” He turned slightly, his hand resting gently on the shoulders beside him. “This is my wife, Senna, our tribe’s Queen and my counsel in all things.” Senna’s smile was kind, her eyes soft and welcoming. “Beside her is our son, a diligent student of our ways and traditions and the next Chief after me.”

He then gestured to the young girl beside him, who had been observing Asami with a calculated interest. “And this is my daughter, the very image of a Southern Water Tribe princess—graceful, disciplined, and poised.” As he spoke, Asami caught a fleeting roll of the girl’s eyes. It piqued Asami’s interest.

Asami managed a small smile, her heart quickening at the prospect of knowing these people beyond their titles and roles. “May you find friendship and peace within these walls during your stay,” Chief Tonraq concluded, his voice resonating with fatherly pride.

“Tomorrow, we will commence a hunt in your honor, but for now.” He clapped once. “Let the feast begin,” Chief Tonraq declared, his voice resonating with the authority of his station, silencing the hall before the drums took up their beat. The deep, rhythmic pounding filled the expansive space, reverberating off the carved ice walls, as servants flitted between the tables, their movements swift and silent.

Hiroshi and Asami were led to their places at the high table, seats of honor directly before the chief’s family. As they settled, platters laden with the bounty of the tundra were presented before them. The rich aroma of roasted seal and whale meat mingled with the earthy scent of fish stew, heavy with root vegetables and seasoned with seaweed. Beside these hearty dishes lay freshly baked sea-salted bread, its crust golden and crackling. Asami waited for her father to take the first bite—a ritual of respect she never neglected—before allowing herself to taste the feast spread before them.

The hall around them had transformed; the formalities faded into a backdrop of laughter and raucous conversation. Guests indulged in the feast with growing abandon, their manners loosening as the ale flowed freely. Amidst the clamor, Asami’s eyes were drawn once again to the young princess. Korra’s approach to the feast was unguarded and full of zest, each bite taken with a gusto that flew in the face of the refined image she had been introduced to.

Asami nearly choked on her hen at the sight; she hastily covered her surprise by sinking her teeth into the crispy leg, her earlier nerves giving way to amusement. The princess’s eyes were alive with the simple joy of eating, so starkly different from the composed figure she had been portrayed as earlier. Watching her, Asami’s feelings of formality and distance began to melt away, replaced by a spark of kinship.

This unexpected display was oddly reassuring—here was a girl not so different from herself, perhaps. As the drums continued to echo through the hall, Asami felt a flicker of excitement for the days to come.

***

Freedom. A fleeting treasure that Korra clung to within the confines of the palace walls. With her father, brother, and the cadre of alpha guards away on the hunt, the palace felt different—lighter, somehow. It was just her now, her loyal pup Naga, her mother, that impeccably poised new girl, and the remaining omega and beta servants.

“Naga, fetch!” Korra’s voice echoed playfully through the open space as she tossed a saliva-drenched stick. The pup caught it gleefully, sprinting back toward Korra but veering off suddenly. “Naga? Come here, girl,” Korra called, puzzled. Turning, she caught sight of what had captured her pup’s attention.

Laughter, light and unburdened, floated through the air as Naga danced around the newcomer, whose giggles were infectious. “Hello. I’m Asami,” the girl said, her voice directed at Naga but clearly intended for Korra too. The princess stood rigid, caught off-guard by the interaction.

Asami took the initiative, smoothing the front of her dress as she curtsied gracefully. “I know we were introduced last night, but I wanted to introduce myself personally. I’m Asami Sato. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Korra.”

Korra’s response was a silent, wary observation. This girl embodied everything she found stifling about her world—perfection, propriety, a life lived within neatly drawn lines. Yet, there was something in Asami’s gaze, an intensity that belied her composed exterior. Those eyes, green and gleaming like the deepest emerald, had caught Korra’s notice the night before.

Reluctantly, Korra acknowledged the courtesy her position demanded. “Korra,” she replied curtly, then whistled for Naga. “Let’s go inside.”

As she turned to leave, Asami’s voice halted her steps. “Wait! I—I want to talk to you.”

“What do you want?” Korra asked, her tone clipped, her stance defensive.

Asami recoiled slightly, as though the words were a blow. “I just want to get to know you… since I am to be your companion.”

“Well, I don’t want to be friends. I have Naga,” Korra declared with a petulance that belied her usual strength. Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and stormed back towards the castle. The sound of boots crunching on the freshly fallen snow behind her signaled that Asami was undeterred, following her into the heart of the Great Hall.

Korra’s frustration simmered, ready to boil over. She whirled around, intent on confronting the persistent Sato lady, but the sudden creak of the heavy doors and a familiar voice halted her mid-breath.

“Make way! Make way!” The urgency in Master Suntoq’s voice sliced through the hall’s usual calm.

Korra craned her neck, her earlier irritation forgotten as curiosity drew her towards the commotion. A stark, chilling sight met her eyes. Red—vivid, unsettling red—spread across the stone floor, tracing a path from a burdened stretcher. Her heart thudded painfully against her chest as she watched her brother and Master Suntoq carefully navigate through the gathered crowd, their faces etched with grave concern.

The stretcher bore a figure, limp and stark against the blood-soaked canvas, painting a dire picture that Korra couldn’t immediately understand. Her feet moved of their own accord, drawing her closer to the unfolding tragedy, each step heavier than the last.

Korra, driven by a surge of alarm, began to push her way through the swelling crowd, each person’s face a mask of concern that mirrored the dread building in her own chest. Just as she neared the stretcher, a firm hand clasped her shoulder. She turned to see her brother, his expression grave and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Kova, what happened? Who is that?” Korra rushed out as she attempted to move past him.

Her brother tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze. “It’s Father... T-there’s been an accident.” His voice broke as he struggled to continue. “He drank too much and missed his timing. A walrus’s tusks pierced through his stomach… I didn’t get there in time…” His words trailed off into a choked silence, the horrific image hanging between them.

Korra felt the ground beneath her sway as the reality of his words sank in. The world seemed to contract, each breath harder to draw than the last. Her father, the indomitable chief of their tribe, reduced to a figure so frail and bloodied on the stretcher—this was a scene she had never prepared herself to witness.

Around her, the murmur of the crowd faded into a distant hum, as if she were underwater. Her brother’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping her anchored to the spot as her knees threatened to buckle. The hall, with its towering pillars and flickering torches, seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing in with an intensity that mirrored the squeezing tightness in her chest.

—

It took merely four hours for her father to succumb to his injuries. Within a quarter of an hour, the mournful whispers had swept like a chill wind through the Southern Water Tribe—that Tonraq, their venerable chief, had perished.

By the next day, the community congregated at the shore of a serene bay, where the soft murmur of the lapping waves seemed to speak in hushed reverence. Sages and shamans from across the tribes assembled in a solemn semicircle, their robes billowing in the brisk wind, their visages carved with the solemnity of the ceremony at hand.

As the final echoes of the shamans’ chants dissolved into the icy air, Korra stood amidst the throng, feeling strangely detached. She should have been overwhelmed by grief for her father’s demise, yet her heart remained barricaded against sorrow. Even the comforting warmth of her mother’s touch next to her could not thaw the numbness that had claimed her. She was like the frozen tundra itself—cold and unyielding.

“The time of our Chief has ended,” announced a sage with an air of finality. “Let us send him forth on a voyage befitting a warrior and a leader.” The tribe’s young alphas then stepped forward, their movements reverent as they hoisted Tonraq’s shrouded form onto a sailboat laden with offerings—fish for sustenance, weapons for protection, and personal relics marking his life’s milestones. The sail, proudly bearing the tribe’s emblem, fluttered in the wind, as if signaling a last goodbye.

Amidst the thickening scent of salt mingled with the smoke of ceremonial fires, a sage advanced with a burning torch, his voice weaving the ancient incantations intended to guide Tonraq to the spirit world. To Korra, these words felt like mere whispers against the vastness of the void left behind by her father’s departure.

The moment for the boat to be sent off came, the final goodbye. Kova took a bow and an arrow wrapped with cloth soaked in seal oil. He lit the arrow, his hands visibly shaking as he aimed at the boat now drifting towards the open sea. His first shot missed, falling short with a hiss into the cold water. The second and third followed, each failing to meet its mark. The crowd’s murmurs grew, a mix of sympathy and restless sorrow hanging heavy in the air.

This is what he gets for skipping his lessons, the princess mused bitterly. Frustration mounted until Korra could bear it no longer. Seizing the bow from Kova’s unsteady grasp, she swiftly prepared another arrow, her actions smooth and assured from years of secret practice. Lighting the tip, she paused, the world seeming to hold its breath with her. In that suspended moment, all her restrained potential, the silent promises she had made to herself, aligned. She released the arrow with a fluid motion that spoke of certainty and resolve. It streaked across the dimming sky, a brilliant flare against the twilight, striking the boat with a resounding impact. Flames erupted, swiftly enveloping the vessel in a hungry embrace, casting a fierce glow over the water.

As the boat burned, a pyre on the waves, it seemed to carry more than Tonraq’s body; it bore the weight of past and the promise of new beginnings—Korra could only hope. Standing at the edge of the bay, she felt the cold waves gently lapping at her feet, a subtle reminder of life’s persistent flow. She watched as her father’s pyre blazed against the darkening sky. “Goodbye, father,” she whispered, her voice barely above the murmur of the sea, trusting the wind to carry her final words to wherever his soul might journey.

—

“I thought I’d find you here,” came a voice, unexpected yet unmistakably familiar, cutting through the silence and pulling Korra back from the endless horizon.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, irritated that the girl shattered her solitude. The presence of the other girl puzzled Korra. How had she found this secluded place? The answer to her unspoken question came in a playful bark; Naga had unwittingly led the girl straight to her.

As Naga settled beside her, her demeanor mirroring Korra’s own somber reflection, Asami gingerly took a spot to her left. “I thought you could use some company,” she offered softly.

“If I wanted company, I wouldn’t be out here alone, would I?” Korra snapped, the words slicing through the chill air between them.

But Asami remained undeterred, her voice lowering compassionately, “I’m sorry for what happened. It must be painful—”

Korra rose swiftly, her response fierce and raw. “What do you know about pain? I don’t need your pity!”

Yet, Asami’s next words were gentle, a sad smile formed on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My mother... she was killed when bandits attacked our estate. I was just six.” Her admission hung in the cold air, a shared sorrow momentarily bridging the gap between them.

Korra’s stance softened, her anger dissolving into the wind. “I... I’m sorry,” she faltered, the edge in her voice now blunted by regret and guilt.

“It’s okay. That was a long time ago. But the pain, I know it well.”

Sitting back down, Korra let the frigid snow cool her flushed skin as the sea air mingled with Asami’s subtle scent of peach and mint. “Thank you for sharing that,” she murmured, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “It’s not just pain I feel; it’s confusion. My father and I were never close. He saw in me the perfect spare—nothing more. Kova was his heir, grooming him to be the next leader. Yet, he was still my father, and now he’s gone.”

“It’s okay to feel confused,” Asami reassured, placing a gentle hand on Korra’s shoulder as a flicker of pain came and go from her face. The warmth of her touch sparked something within Korra, a glimmer of connection she hadn’t expected to find. “Sometimes, talking about it helps untangle the feelings.”

Asami wasn’t like the other ladies of the tribes Korra had met; she was genuine, her empathy clear in her earnest green eyes. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“Apology accepted, princess,” Asami replied with a soft chuckle.

“Just Korra,” she corrected, a smile breaking through her solemn demeanor.

With a bright smile, Asami extended her hand. “Then, I’m Asami.”

She didn’t know what came over her, but Impulsively, Korra took her hand and gently kissed the back of it. “Let’s be friends.”

Chapter Text

Asami’s heart pounded against her chest as she hurried through the palace halls. It was time for their lessons on the duties of an omega, yet Korra was conspicuously absent. They hadn’t presented yet, but still. She promised me, Asami thought in a mix of worry and annoyance. Korra had vowed not to skip this particular class, yet here Asami was, searching for her best friend instead of learning alongside her. Their tutor would be so angry.

Rounding a corner into the icy courtyard, Asami spotted a disturbance in the snow. “Naga?” she called out tentatively. At the sound of her name, Korra’s loyal polar bear-dog bounded toward her, her tongue lolling happily. “Naga!” Asami exclaimed as the enthusiastic dog bowled her over. “Hey, girl. You’re getting too big for this!” she laughed, struggling to sit up as Naga already towered over her. Amid the playful chaos, Asami noticed a piece of paper rolled into Naga’s collar. She unfurled it, reading the message with a growing smile.

Follow Naga, my Lady.

The scratchy handwriting was unmistakably Korra’s. Ever since their friendship began, Asami found herself increasingly attached to Korra. Lately, each shared smile and moment of laughter stirred unfamiliar feelings within her, feelings that seemed to deepen with every lopsided grin Korra gave her.

With a renewed sense of excitement, Asami urged Naga toward their secret meeting spot, her steps light with anticipation.

—

As Naga led her deeper into the wilderness, Asami’s initial delight gave way to a creeping suspicion that Korra was indulging in some sort of game. Their path meandered through an ethereal forest where trees cloaked in perennial red leaves swayed in a melancholic dance to the whims of the spring breeze. Despite the season, a delicate blanket of snow lay upon the earth, lending an otherworldly quality to the landscape that both enchanted and disoriented her.

Yet, the path was unfamiliar, an uncharted territory that seemed detached from the routines of palace life. She wondered if they were still in the Ice Keep.

It was not long before the purpose of their journey manifested itself before Asami’s eyes. A formidable wall emerged abruptly from the fog, stark and imposing against the delicate fabric of the morning. Beyond this barrier, plumes of steam rose with an almost spectral grace, curling into the cold air and igniting Asami’s curiosity to a near feverish intensity.

Stopping at a modest door set within the wall, Naga paused, her breaths heavy from the exertion. She looked up expectantly, her eyes bright and seeking approval. With a tender touch, Asami offered praise and the treats she always carried. “Good job, girl. Thanks for bringing me here,” she whispered, her voice a mix of gratitude and awe as she stood on the threshold of discovery, pondering what secrets lay veiled behind the enigmatic steam.

Asami pushed the ancient door open, and a rush of steam swept out to greet her, wrapping her in a warm, misty embrace. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the soft, ethereal light within, and the scene before her unfolded like a vision from another era. She found herself in a verdant oasis, where green grass carpeted the ground, starkly contrasting with the eternal snow outside. At the periphery stood a lone tree, its boughs outstretched as if in benediction against the craggy face of the mountain wall. To the left of the tree, a small, weathered shack leaned slightly, its purpose mysterious and unexplained, piquing Asami’s curiosity even further. She wondered briefly what secrets it might hold. Central to this secluded haven was a bubbling hot spring, the source of the enveloping steam, its serene waters a natural cauldron of warmth and tranquility.

“Did you like my surprise?” The voice came unexpectedly, causing Asami to start.

Korra’s sudden presence drew a sharp, involuntary yelp from Asami. “Korra! There you are. What in the heavens is this place?”

A sheepish chuckle escaped Korra as she rubbed the back of her neck, a familiar gesture of her usual unease with formalities. “Well, I hadn’t gotten you a present for your sixteenth name day, and I know this is a fortnight too late, but I found this place many moons ago, and figured that this would be the perfect gift to you. Nobody uses this place, so I had them made walls for privacy, so ta-da!” she exclaimed, her arms gesturing grandly toward the spring.

Asami’s heart skipped, touched deeply by the gesture. “You got this for me?” she murmured, her voice a blend of awe and confusion. Memories of long, solitary days confined within her room, instructed ceaselessly on the virtues of ladylike perfection, flickered through her mind. “You know you don’t have to. I’m not… someone special,” she finished weakly, her voice trailing off as her deep-seated insecurities surfaced.

Korra moved closer, her eyes earnest. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And you are something special, Asami. Don’t say otherwise.”

Asami turned away, her cheeks warming with an involuntary blush, as she sought refuge in surveying their secluded haven. “What price did you pay to create this secret place?” she queried, her voice light, betraying her attempt to steer the conversation from her fluster.

Korra responded with a wry smile, her tone laced with mock solemnity. “Oh, merely the promise to be the perfect princess,” she declared, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Raising an eyebrow, Asami countered playfully, “And how does skipping lessons make you the perfect princess?”

Her jest was met with Korra’s rich, hearty laughter. “You’ve caught me there! But really, come, the spring’s warmth is perfect right now.” Without a hint of reservation, Korra began to unlace her dress, letting it fall gracefully to the ground, followed by her pants.

Asami’s breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Raised in a world where decorum ruled strictly, the sight of Korra disrobing so freely sent a ripple of shock through her. Goosebumps prickled her skin not just from the cold. “Korra! What are you doing? That’s highly inappropriate!”

Korra paused, turning to face her with a quizzical, almost innocent expression. “What do you mean?” she asked before a smug smirk briefly danced across her lips.

“We shouldn’t undress in the presence of others, and...and...” Asami’s protest faltered as the heat from the spring, mixed with the warmth emanating from Korra’s proximity, overwhelmed her senses.

Korra stepped closer, her voice softening. “Asami, to me, you are not ‘others.’ I thought you knew that. Besides, we are both women here; it’s not inappropriate, is it? But, if it truly bothers you, I can step away and let you bathe alone.”

Asami’s eyes, which had fluttered closed, now opened to meet Korra’s gaze—blue and deep and sincere. Enveloped in that gaze, Asami felt her reservations begin to melt. “No, don’t leave,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure?” Korra asked gently, her hand reaching out in offering.

“Yes.” Asami gave a small nod, then turned her back slightly, a touch of boldness surged through her. “Would you help me with my dress? It’s a bit more complicated than yours.”

Beneath the dappled light filtering through the canopy above, mid-morning rays warmed the secluded grove, enhancing the natural serenity of the hidden hot spring. Korra’s hands paused at the small of Asami’s back, a brief hesitation—a silent request for permission that Asami granted with a small, affirming nod, her breath catching slightly in the quiet of the oasis.

Korra’s fingers then moved deftly, gently tugging at the ribbons that laced Asami’s dress. Each pull loosened the fabric a bit more, revealing glimpses of the fair skin beneath in soft whispers of silk sliding against skin. Asami felt a shiver travel through her, stirred not by the chill of the shade but by the warmth of Korra’s fingertips brushing occasionally against her back as she skillfully unraveled the knots.

“There,” Korra murmured, her voice a low hum close to Asami’s ear, eliciting a flutter deep within her. The dress, now undone, hung loosely, clinging to Asami’s shoulders by a mere thread of modesty.

Asami’s heart thudded audibly, each beat echoing her mixed feelings of vulnerability and profound trust. The morning air kissed her back where the dress parted, contrasting sharply with the heat emanating from Korra’s proximity. Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Asami allowed the dress to slip from her shoulders, the fabric pooling quietly at her feet.

Turning to face Korra, Asami looked into the deep blue of her friend’s eyes, finding not just the usual boldness but also an affectionate tenderness that was unexpected. Korra’s hand reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Asami’s ear, her touch lingering, sending cascades of warmth down Asami’s spine.

“You’re beautiful,” Korra whispered, her words resonating in the steam-filled air with tremulous sincerity.

Overwhelmed by the depth in Korra’s gaze and the intimacy of the moment, Asami’s earlier reservations melted away, replaced by a profound connection. “Thank you,” she replied softly, her defenses lowering in this secluded paradise where the only witnesses were the ancient tree and the gentle murmur of the spring.

As they stepped closer to the inviting warmth of the hot spring, the lines between princess and friend blurred into something beautifully indefinable, marked by the quiet understanding and acceptance glowing silently between them.

—

Days melded into one another, and Korra, with a semblance of dutiful grace, had donned the mantle of the perfect princess—a charade Asami knew would only hold her friend’s restless spirit temporarily. During a quiet morning session of needlework, a small ball of thread playfully bounced off Asami’s hand, disrupting the monotony of their stitches. It was a silent, mischievous signal from Korra, whose head subtly gestured towards their tutor. The old omega woman, lulled by the warmth of the sunlit room, had drifted into a gentle slumber.

Turning back to Korra, Asami was met with a glint of rebelliousness in her eyes, a spark that whispered of impending adventures. With a soft sigh of resignation mixed with anticipation, Asami gave a slight nod. They were about to abandon their royal duties—again. Korra’s smile in response was brilliant, her eyes alight with the thrill of their secret defiance.

They slipped out quietly, fetching Naga before making their way to their secluded oasis, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface, carefully contained to avoid drawing attention. Once sheltered by the walls of their hidden sanctuary, they caught their breath, the cool air mingling with their exhilaration. “What are you planning, Kor?” Asami asked, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

With a wide, knowing smile, Korra pointed towards the old, enigmatic shack. “I know you’ve been curious about that shack.”

Asami feigned indifference. “No,” she lied, poorly masking her intrigue.

Korra rolled her eyes. “Sorry this took longer than I hoped, but it’s part of my surprise.” Her tone was teasing as she took Asami’s hand, leading her toward the mysterious structure.

“Another surprise?” Asami’s voice held a note of incredulity blended with a trace of delight.

“Yup!” Korra’s affirmation was buoyant, filled with the promise of more hidden wonders to explore.

Korra’s hand lingered on the latch for a moment before she swung the shed door open, revealing its secrets to Asami’s eager eyes. Asami stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the space that Korra had transformed into what could only be described as a craftsman’s station, ingeniously adapted to the harsh climes of the Southern Water Tribe. The interior was organized with meticulous care—tools hung from carved ice hooks, and workbenches made of sturdy whalebone were lined with an array of gears and gadgets, each piece reflecting the dim light with a soft glow.

“Do you like it?” Korra’s voice broke through the hushed awe, pulling Asami’s attention from the intricate setups around her. “Because I know you like to tinker on things, I figured you wanted a place of your own to do whatever stuff you want to do.”

Overwhelmed, Asami turned back to Korra, her eyes brimming with tears. She hadn’t realized how deeply Korra understood her, how profoundly her silent wishes had been acknowledged. “I love it, Kor. Thank you!” The words barely sufficed to express her gratitude as she wrapped her arms around Korra, drawing in the familiar, comforting scent of her best friend.

“Now,” Korra said, stepping back with a playful gleam in her eye once they had released each other, “you have two choices. Tinker in here, or read me a book.” She held up a well-worn volume of an ancient book: The Knight and The Princess.

Asami snatched the book, her fingers brushing over the familiar script. “This again?”

“Yeah. That’s my favorite!” Korra protested with mock indignation.

“Aren’t you fed up with this one?” Asami teased, a smile tugging at her lips despite her feigned annoyance.

“No. Now, come on.” Korra’s tone was light, but there was a definitive edge of excitement.

In the end, Asami chose to read to Korra, settling under the enigmatic tree whose name she still didn’t know. The branches above whispered with the wind, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow over the pages as she began to read aloud. Korra settled down, laying her head gently in Asami’s lap, a gesture of trust and closeness that warmed Asami’s heart. With Korra’s eyes closed in contentment, she listened intently to the rise and fall of Asami’s voice weaving the tales of love and sacrifice.

—

As Asami returned to her quarters, a light smile graced her lips, still warmed by the afternoon spent under the ancient tree with Korra and the thing they did. Yet, as she opened the door, her smile dissolved into a cold knot of dread. The potent, pungent scent of her sire, Hiroshi, saturated the room, a smell that clung to her senses in the most repulsive way.

“Ah, there is my darling daughter. How are your lessons with the princess?” Hiroshi’s voice, smooth as oiled leather, broke through the tense silence.

“It went well,” Asami replied, her voice steady despite the fear curling inside her. She had to mask her true feelings; her father must not detect the lie in her scent, lest she be thrust back into the darkness of his disfavor.

Hiroshi turned to face her, his eyes narrow slits that seemed to dissect her very being. “Very well. So, I take it you have heard the good news?”

Asami’s mind raced. She hadn’t heard any news—Korra’s carefree spirit and their secluded respite had shielded her from the happenings of the palace. Cursing silently, she nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ll be moving to the Hand’s Quarters on the morrow.”

Hand? The title struck Asami with surprise—her sire was to be Hand of the Chief, the second most powerful person in the realm. She masked her shock quickly, schooling her features into a mask of neutrality. “Yes, father.”

Hiroshi’s smile was thin as he patted her shoulder—a gesture meant to be comforting but felt like the weight of a shackle. As he turned to leave, he paused at the threshold, his next words hanging heavy in the air. “I want you to get close to Kova. Only five moons are left before he is crowned Chief. Oh, and dear,” Hiroshi said before he could forget. “Wear your mother’s dresses.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Asami alone with a swirling mix of dread and desperation. Her father’s ambitions were clear, and they wrapped around her like chains, each word from Hiroshi a link in the cold, heavy burden she was expected to bear. The thought of getting close to Kova, not out of friendship but as a strategic maneuver orchestrated by her father, filled her with a silent horror. As the reality of her situation settled in, the walls of her chamber seemed to close in around her, the shadows cast by the fading light mimicking the bars of a gilded cage.

Asami’s heart pounded painfully against her ribcage, each beat a reminder of the life she was bound to, far away from the simple joys she had just started to rediscover with Korra under the boughs of an unnamed tree.

***

Korra’s lips tingled, a sensation lingering like the afterglow of a fleeting yet profound moment. Ever since that first day, despite her initial hostility towards the newcomer, Asami had unwittingly begun to thaw the frost that had long encased Korra’s heart.

As she lay there, her head resting gently in Asami’s lap, listening to the lilt of Asami’s voice weaving through the tales of old, she found herself captivated not just by the stories but by the storyteller herself. The way Asami’s eyes lit up with each recount of a knight’s bravery, the way her lips moved, forming each word with care and grace, and the way she occasionally paused to meet Korra’s gaze—each detail pierced the armor Korra had meticulously fashioned around her emotions.

Noticing Korra’s intense gaze, Asami snapped the book shut. “Are you listening, princess?” she asked, her tone teasing yet gentle.

A chuckle escaped Korra, borne from a mix of affection and a surge of bravery. “Honestly, no.” Her gaze remained fixed on Asami, who responded with a playful flick to Korra’s forehead. “Then why did you make me read it?”

“It’s because I love the sound of your voice,” Korra confessed, her words flowing freely now, emboldened by the warmth in Asami’s eyes. She sat up, driven by a force she could no longer contain. “Asami,” she began, her voice soft yet earnest, capturing Asami’s hand and holding it between her own as if it were something precious. “From the moment you thawed the ice around my heart, I’ve found myself drawn to you in ways I had never anticipated. Every waking hour, every dream—you’ve filled my life. I like you. No—I love you.”

Asami’s response came as a whisper, laden with emotion. “Korra… I love you, too.” But her eyes held a flicker of concern. “But we’re both girls… this is taboo.”

Korra shook her head, a dismissive gesture that spoke volumes. “I know, but they don’t need to know. It’s only us here.”

In the seclusion of their verdant haven, time seemed to stand still. The air was filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft murmurs of the nearby spring. Korra’s eyes searched Asami’s, finding a universe of emotions swirling within the verdant depths. Asami’s hesitant whisper of love still echoed between them, mingling with the subtle fragrance of the forest.

Korra’s heart beat a fierce tattoo against her ribs, each throb urging her to bridge the final gap of uncertainty between them. She inched closer, her gaze flickering from Asami’s eyes down to her lips and back, seeking permission in the silent language that had grown between them. Asami’s breath hitched slightly, her eyes reflecting a tender invitation.

With a reverence that trembled in the quiet air, Korra leaned in. The moment their lips touched, it was a soft confluence of warmth and wonder, as gentle as the first snowflake of winter yet charged with the promise of spring. The kiss was a whisper, a delicate tracing of new paths yet to be explored, sweet and tentative, as if both were afraid that a breath too deep might break the spell enveloping them.

As they parted slightly, their foreheads remained pressed together, their breaths mingling in the cool air. Asami’s fingers reached up to touch her own lips, a smile blossoming slowly as she looked into Korra’s eyes. There was no need for words; their shared smile was a silent symphony of joy and understanding.

In the sanctuary of their hidden grove, beneath the ancient tree that stood as a silent witness, Korra and Asami found a new depth to their bond—a gentle, unspoken promise sealed with a kiss, as sweet as the stories of old yet as enduring as the stones around them. The world outside, with all its rules and reservations, faded into insignificance, leaving only the purity of their connection, as fragile and as powerful as the first light of dawn.

“I promise you, Asami. As soon as we are of age, I will take us far from here—to a place where we can live freely, unbound by the chains of this forsaken land,” Korra vowed.

Tears glistened in Asami’s eyes, catching the faint light as if holding onto fragments of hope. “And Naga?” she asked, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Yes, of course, we’ll take Naga,” Korra assured, taking Asami’s hands in hers, grounding her promise with the warmth of her touch. “And we’ll be together. Forever.”

A silent strength seemed to flow from Korra’s grasp into her own, fortifying her resolve as Asami looked up, her eyes now steady and clear. “Then I promise to stay by your side. Forever.”

A smile graced Korra’s lips at the recent memory. She couldn’t wait when that day came, whether she stayed a beta, or presented as… something else. They could make it work. Three more years, she thought wistfully as sleep claimed her.

—

In the days that followed, Korra observed a subtle shift in Asami’s demeanor. The spontaneity that once characterized Asami’s willingness to abandon their lessons for shared adventures had waned. Now, when Korra suggested they skip their duties for a while, Asami would offer only a gentle smile and a firm shake of her head. Despite Korra’s playful cajoling and attempts to tempt her away, Asami remained resolute.

Puzzled and increasingly concerned, Korra tried a more direct approach, probing gently for the reason behind Asami’s newfound reticence. “What’s wrong?” she would ask, her voice laced with worry. Each time, Asami would give a noncommittal shrug. “I’m just tired from the move,” she would say. It was a plausible explanation, yet it didn’t quite sit right with Korra.

Doubts began to creep into Korra’s thoughts, casting shadows over her heart. Was it her fault? Had her declaration been too sudden, her emotions too overwhelming? Had she, in her eagerness, pressured Asami into a confession she wasn’t ready to make? Was she too selfish? There was nothing else in this world Korra wanted than Asami. And her instincts told her Asami wanted her, too. Or was she wrong? The questions plagued Korra, each one a piercing needle of uncertainty.

She longed to press for answers, to clear the fog of ambiguity that had settled between them. Yet, if Asami needed space—to process, to breathe, to find her footing—then Korra would grant it, no matter how much it pained her. In her heart, she vowed to be the support Asami needed, even if it meant enduring the silence that had fallen over them.

So, when a few more days later, and Korra didn’t find Asami during their sawing lessons, she knew it had come to a boiling point. She snuck out as soon as her tutor fell asleep.

Korra had searched Asami’s room first, only to find it empty. With a sinking feeling, she moved on to check the kitchens, then the courtyard, and finally, almost as an afterthought, their secluded sanctuary by the hot spring. She chastised herself for not thinking of it sooner, for Asami often found solace there.

When she arrived, she discovered Asami already immersed in the gentle embrace of the hot spring, seemingly lost in thought or distress. Korra approached quietly, shedding her clothes with careful silence before slipping into the warm water, her presence a soft whisper. “Hey,” she murmured, but Asami did not startle as she normally would. Her best friend's gaze remained distant. “Asami? What happened?” she tried again.

Asami’s gaze finally lifted, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Korra?” She looked around, slightly disoriented. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. Are you oka—” Korra’s question was cut off as Asami leaned forward, capturing her lips in a fervent kiss. The surprise quickly gave way to passion, and Korra responded instinctively, pressing Asami gently against the edge of the spring. The doubts that had clouded her mind began to dissolve with each kiss.

But as they drew closer, Korra caught a scent on Asami’s skin. It was unsettlingly familiar. She pulled back sharply, her eyes searching Asami’s face for answers. “Asami, what did Kova do to you?”

Her beloved’s body tensed, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “N-nothing,” Asami stammered, a flicker of fear in her eyes.

“Asami, please tell me.”

Reluctantly, Asami averted her gaze. “He just hugged me and kissed my cheek. I swear that’s all.”

Anger flared within Korra. “I’m gonna kill him. Why is he even talking to you?”

“Korra, no! You don’t want to be a kinslayer. It’s not a big deal, please Korra. Just kiss me again,” Asami pleaded, her hands reaching up to cup Korra’s jaw, pulling her back into a desperate kiss. As they reconnected, Asami guided Korra’s hand to her breast, their mutual moans filling the air. “Touch me, Korra,” Asami breathed out.

Korra needed no further encouragement, her actions guided by the depth of their bond and the urgency of their mutual desire. If Korra hadn’t been so utterly captivated by the scent of Asami’s skin, by the intoxicating closeness of their bodies, she might have noticed sooner that something was terribly wrong. Her hands traced a path along Asami’s body, her touch leaving a visible trail of goosebumps on her porcelain skin.

When Korra’s fingers grazed Asami’s sensitive skin, a sharp gasp escaped Asami’s lips, her body reacting with an intensity that buckled her knees. She collapsed into Korra’s arms, her body trembling, skin unnaturally hot to the touch. “Asami!” Korra cried out, her haze of desire snapping as panic took hold. She lifted Asami from the water, her beloved’s body still shaking as she clung desperately to her.

Asami blinked several times, trying to get her bearings. “Korra, please. I need you. It hurts.”

“I’m here, Asami. I’m here,” Korra reassured, her voice steady even as her mind raced, unsure of how to ease her pain. She hurriedly wrapped them in cloaks, her hands trembling as she tried to focus while Asami’s teeth grazed her skin in a mix of pain and delirious need.

Outside, Naga barked urgently upon seeing them. Without a second thought, Korra carefully placed Asami on Naga’s broad back. “To the palace, Naga. Hurry!” she commanded. The loyal creature kicked her powerful hind legs, dashing towards the Hand’s Tower with a speed that matched the urgency of Korra’s voice. “Just hang in there, Asami,” Korra whispered, her words lost to the wind as they raced against time.

—

The princess paced restlessly within her chamber. As soon as she had returned to the palace, Korra had cried out for help. Almost instantly, Master Suntoq, along with a few sages, shamans, and her mother, had converged around her. Overwhelmed with a sudden, fierce protectiveness, Korra found herself growling, an instinctive possessive wave surging through her—she couldn’t explain why.

After several intense moments, Korra managed to calm down enough to allow the sages to escort Asami to her quarters. Intent on following, Korra was stopped by a gentle but firm shake of her mother’s head. “I’ll deliver any news to you, my dear. Please, go to your own room.”

Hours dragged by, each minute stretching longer than the last.

Finally, a knock at the door shattered the silence. Korra rushed to answer it, her heart in her throat, to find her mother's concerned face greeting her. Panic surged, imagining the worst, but she steadied her voice to ask, “Mom, how’s Asami? Is she doing alright?”

Senna’s smile was a balm, soothing Korra’s frayed nerves as it always had. Before Asami, her mother had been her anchor, the only one who truly understood her depths. “She is,” Senna’s voice was gentle, grounding. “But there’s something you need to know, sweetie.” She sat on the edge of Korra’s bed, patting the space beside her for Korra to join. “Korra…”

Korra took her place beside her mother, unaware that the next words would irrevocably alter the course of their lives.

“Asami’s in her first heat. She’s an omega.”

Chapter Text

For several harrowing days, Korra had maintained a relentless vigil outside Asami’s door. The muffled sounds of Asami’s painful moans seeped through the wood, each one clawing at Korra’s resolve like a physical torment. Yet, she endured. If the mere sound was agonizing to her, Korra could only imagine the excruciating pain Asami must have been enduring. Night and day, she stood watch, a steadfast guardian against the encroaching despair.

On the third day, as the hallway’s dim light cast long shadows, Hiroshi Sato arrived to check on his daughter and found Korra there. His greeting was superficially polite. “Princess,” he said with a cordial nod. Yet, the smile he offered was brittle, his eyes not quite masking the hostility simmering beneath. Korra’s instincts sharpened immediately, her back straightened with wary alertness.

“It’s already late. Aren’t you tired? Perhaps, you should return to your own chambers. I will take care of my daughter,” Hiroshi suggested smoothly, though his voice carried an underlying command rather than a suggestion.

“No,” Korra responded. She didn’t have a sword, but the coldness in her voice might as well be her blade.

He sighed impatiently. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be so hard-headed, Your Grace.” From his coat, he produced a scroll, holding it out as he added, “From the Queen Dowager,” he explained, his tone implying the weight of authority behind the message.

Korra snatched the scroll from his hand, her eyes scanning the contents rapidly. The words were a blur of formalities and commands, none of which softened the blow they delivered. With a surge of defiance, she crushed the scroll in her fist, the parchment crinkling under the force of her grip. Without uttering a single word, Korra turned and stomped away from Asami’s room, each step heavy with the heartache of departure. The echo of her boots on the stone floor seemed to beat like a somber drum, resonating with the vow forming silently in her heart: I’ll be back .

As she moved away, the distance felt like a physical ache, a tearing at the seams of her being. But Korra knew this was temporary. No decree, no matter how royally mandated, would keep her from returning to Asami’s side.

—

The princess was confounded. Why had her mother insisted on her leaving Asami’s door? Korra wasn’t causing any harm; she was merely standing guard. Her mother had explained that an omega in heat was particularly vulnerable, but Korra was skeptical. True, she was a beta, and though she often skipped her lessons, she understood well enough that only alphas had a profound effect on omegas during such times. Something else had to be at play.

Her suspicions quickly turned to the one person she believed was behind her being barred from Asami’s side.

“Don’t ever touch Asami again!” Korra’s eyes blazed with fury as she confronted her brother.

Kova attempted to appear unaffected, shrugging. “Why? She was the one who approached me.”

“You didn’t see her afterward. She was trembling! She didn’t like it!” Korra’s voice was thick with accusation.

To this, Kova scoffed his disdain. “If she didn’t like it, why would she make the first move, huh?”

“W-what? She wouldn’t do that! I know Asami. She wouldn’t…she was scared!” Korra’s protested, her belief in Asami’s innocence unwavering.

“Korra, just stop it. I can’t help it, she can’t help it. It’s biology. You’ll see. Once you come of age, the council will find a match for you, too, and you’ll probably act the same when you go into heat for your lord husband,” Kova retorted dismissively.

A cold shock washed over Korra’s entire body at his words. “What?”

“It seems you forget your duty, little sister. You’re a princess. You’re to be married off for an alliance,” Kova smirked, his words cutting deep.

“Fuck you, Kova!” The curse burst from Korra’s lips, a raw expression of her rage and despair, echoing down the palace corridors as she stormed away, her heart pounding with betrayal and indignation.

—

For a torturous week, Korra had been deprived of Asami’s presence. No sight of her, no word on her condition—it was maddening. In defiance, she abandoned all her lessons, even those she favored, retreating to their secluded oasis where Naga stood vigilant watch. Disapproving teachers and the pained disappointment etched on her mother’s face mattered little to her now. Her world had narrowed to a singular concern: Asami’s well-being, about which no one would offer her any clarity.

Time stretched interminably until one day, a familiar yet somehow altered scent caught her attention. It was Asami’s, now more enticing than ever. Korra whirled around to see her best friend approaching—the first glimpse since Asami had presented, since their intense, shared kiss. All worries about the past were instantly overshadowed by concern. “Asami! Are you alright?” she called out, rushing towards her and pulling her into an embrace.

Asami’s body relaxed against hers, releasing her tension as she returned Korra’s hug. “I’m okay, Kor. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. How are you, really? They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that you were in heat. I was so worried,” Korra pressed, her voice laced with frustration and concern.

Asami offered a sad smile. “Yes, I was. I’m an omega now.”

Korra clasped Asami’s trembling hands in her own, squeezing them reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s changed. We’ll still leave here. I’ll still get us out.” That was one promise Korra intended to keep.

“Okay.”

Korra sealed their promise with a kiss, a moment of perfect reassurance that righted the world around them, if only temporarily.

Only for everything to unravel a moon’s turn later.

***

For a month, Asami had been walking a tightrope between her time with Korra and Kova. It was a delicate balance, particularly with Korra’s intense attachment to her. Despite the emotional strain, Asami fulfilled her obligations, adhering to her father’s instructions to spend as much time as possible with the future chief, all the while keeping these interactions hidden from Korra. To mask any lingering scents that might give her away, Asami applied a special perfume, dubbed a ‘scent blocker’ by one of the Master Sages, before each encounter with her lover. All of her efforts, all the secrets, were leading to this pivotal moment.

Asami gazed into the mirror, the reflection that stared back barely recognizable as her own. Yes, it was still her, but the changes were unmistakable and profound since presenting as an omega. Her eyes now sparkled a more vivid shade of green, her cheeks flushed with a constant rosy tint. Glancing downward, she noticed how her body had filled out the red dress that once belonged to her mother, her breasts fuller, shaping the fabric in new ways. However, tonight would mark the most significant turning point in her life.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of the feast that evening. She could still hear her father’s ambitious plans reverberating in her mind:

You have done your part in getting close with the future Chief. And fate has allowed us to rise to the pinnacle of power. The gods have bestowed upon you the prestige of being an omega. I have spoken with the council, and even the Dowager Queen herself. Tomorrow, we will celebrate this at the feast. Be ready.

The memory made her stomach churn, and she picked at the skin around her nails in nervous agitation. Oh, gods. I still haven’t told Korra. What would her best friend, her confidante, think of all this? Just like when Kova had hugged and kissed her cheek, Korra had been ready to kill her own brother, what more when she had heard the news? She barely had time to dwell on these fears when a knock at her door interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

“You look marvelous, darling. Just like your mother,” her father remarked as he entered, his voice carrying a fleeting tone of longing that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. “Are you ready?” When Asami nodded, Hiroshi extended his hand, which she took with a mix of reluctance and resolve.

Stepping into the future laid out before her, Asami tried to steady her trembling heart, grappling with the enormity of the night that lay ahead.

—

Asami was overwhelmed by the cacophony of the feast—the pulsating rhythms of the drums, the sinuous movements of the dancers, and the relentless parade of servants setting dish after dish before her. Yet, despite the opulence, a pit of anxiety gnawed at her insides, rendering her unable to eat. Korra had not yet arrived, and Asami was torn between wanting her there for support and fearing her reaction to the impending announcement.

Lost in her turmoil, the rustle of fabric snapped her back to reality. “Hey. You look beautiful,” Korra whispered, and a blush tinged her cheeks as she quickly added, “Not that I don’t think you’re always beautiful! I mean, you look even more beautiful than usual.”

The earnest clumsiness of Korra’s compliment coaxed a chuckle from Asami, momentarily lifting the weight on her chest. “Thank you. You look beautiful yourself.” As she spoke, Asami’s eyes traced the contours of Korra’s attire—a stunning traditional Southern Water Tribe dress in vibrant blue, accented with white patterns that seemed to shimmer in the feast’s light, complemented by practical breeches underneath. Korra’s dark brown hair was swept up into a bun, a style that harkened back to when they first met.

Korra’s smile warmed as she covertly took Asami’s hand under the table, offering a squeeze of reassurance. “I don’t know why my brother suddenly threw a feast. But, eh, can’t waste good food, right?”

Her words were meant to lighten the mood, but they unwittingly brought all of Asami’s trepidation crashing right back. “I- I don’t know,” she managed to murmur.

Korra, perhaps oblivious to the depth of Asami’s anxiety, cheerfully suggested, “Come on. Let’s eat.”

As the feast wore on, Asami felt each minute stretch into eternity, her dread mounting with the passage of time. Finally, after two grueling hours that felt like an age, the end of the feast approached. Asami braced herself for what was to come, her hand tightening around Korra’s beneath the cover of the tablecloth, seeking strength in their connection as she faced the impending moment that would undoubtedly change everything. Korra felt the sudden tension in Asami’s grip just as Hiroshi tapped his glass with his fork, the clear sound quieting the merry chatter and laughter of the crowd.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this splendid feast,” Hiroshi began, his voice carrying across the gathered assembly with an authoritative ease. “Now, you may not yet know the purpose of our celebration tonight, but allow me to unveil this joyous mystery. My darling Asami, please, come forward.” He extended a hand toward her, beckoning her to his side.

As Asami disentangled her fingers from Korra’s and walked toward her father, her steps were hesitant, her body taut with trepidation. The crowd’s eyes followed her, a murmur of curiosity rippling through the room, but Asami’s focus was on Korra’s piercing blue gaze, searching her face for understanding, for support. Asami took her father’s hand and turned to face the crowd, deliberately avoiding Korra’s eyes to shield herself from the emotion she might find there.

“We are gathered here today,” Hiroshi continued, “to celebrate a most auspicious and joyous occasion. It is with great pride and immense pleasure that I announce the betrothal of my daughter, the radiant Lady Asami Sato, to the honorable Lord Kova, future Chief of our lands. They would be wedded after Chief Kova’s coronation.”

The crowd erupted into applause, the hall echoing with claps and cheers, but to Asami, each sound was a dull thud against her chest. The chiefs and ladies of the other tribes nodded approvingly, their finely crafted garments rustling softly as they clapped, the council members,  and even the common folk, gathered at the back, joined in, their cheers more robust and less restrained, swept up in the spectacle of the occasion. Her gaze drifted—first to her future Good Mother, whose eyes shimmered with delighted anticipation, then to her father, who wore a look of triumph as if he had won a great battle, and finally to Kova, whose smug smile sent a shiver of revulsion through her. But it was Korra’s expression that cut the deepest—her sharp, hurt eyes that seemed to bore into Asami with a look of utter betrayal.

As Hiroshi placed Asami’s hand in Kova’s, the metallic scent of rage emanated so palpably from Korra that it nearly overwhelmed the spice of the feast. Asami shut her eyes against the uproar, her heart clenching. She felt trapped, knowing that to pull away from Kova’s grasp would be to defy her father openly, to cast herself back into the dark isolation she had once endured under his strict control. I can’t go back to the darkness.

When the roaring approval finally subsided, Asami dared to open her eyes, but the comforting blue gaze she so desperately sought had vanished. She felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, her throat tightening with a grief too profound for words. Korra was gone, and with her, a piece of Asami’s spirit seemed to have slipped away into the shadows of the night, leaving her to face the glaring lights and expectant faces alone.

—

After enduring a relentless stream of congratulations from lords, ladies, and village chiefs along with their wives, Asami finally escaped the oppressive festivity. The event lost all its charm when she was its reluctant center, particularly in Korra’s absence.

The image of Korra’s changing expressions haunted Asami throughout the feast. Her best friend’s eyes—first clouded with confusion, then darkening to hurt, anger, and finally betrayal—played over in her mind, disrupting her focus and stirring a turmoil within her. She longed to rush to Korra, to explain, to apologize, but she was held in place, first by her father’s firm grip and then by Kova’s.

Exhausted, Asami sighed as she opened the door to her chambers, a sanctuary she assumed would be empty. She startled at the sight of a figure by the window. “Korra?”

“Did you know?” The question was simple, heavy.

“Just last night.”

“Why didn’t you say no?” Korra’s voice was low, her back still turned.

“Because…” Asami struggled for words. Should she admit her fear of the darkness her father’s wrath could summon? Would Korra understand her dread? “It is my duty… as an omega.”

Korra whirled around, her confusion now mixed with pain. “Duty?! What about our promise? That you’d wait! That we’d get out of here! Does that not matter to you?”

“And what future would we have, huh, Korra? Tell me!” Asami’s voice rose.

“W-we’d be together! We’d be happy! I love you, Asami. Don’t you love me, too?” Korra countered.

“I love you, Korra! But, it would ruin my life— our lives! We would always be on the run, Korra. They will hunt us down for our sins. I—I don’t want a life like that. We’re still young. We shouldn’t make decisions on a whim. We’ve only known each other for what? Two years? That’s too early, Korra.”

Korra’s expression of shock was almost too much to bear. “So what now? You’re just going to spread your legs and bear him heirs?”

The slap that followed was loud in the quiet room. Asami’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock at her own reaction. “Kor, I’m sorry.” She reached out, but Korra stepped back, her posture stiff with dignity.

“No, my Lady. I should be the one to apologize. I’ve spoken out of line. I shall leave you now, if it please you.” With those words, Korra walked past her, not once looking back.

“Korra…” Asami’s voice broke as she reached out to the empty air. But it was too late.

Four months had slipped by, each day passing in a strange, disorienting blend of haste and agonizing slowness. Asami hadn’t seen Korra since their painful confrontation. Her former lover had vanished from their usual haunts—absent from lessons, nowhere to be found in her chambers, and even missing from their once-shared oasis. Asami felt a void where Korra used to be, a constant ache for reconciliation. She told herself they needed to mend fences, for soon they would be family. Yet, deep down, it was Korra herself she yearned for—their conversations, their intimacy, the tenderness of her kisses. But those days were gone, perhaps forever.

Now, standing alone, Asami adjusted the folds of her mother’s old wedding dress. The fabric was as immaculately white as on the day it was sewn, preserved in time, unlike the wearer. She smoothed her hands over the non-existent creases, each motion a futile attempt to calm her nerves, to prepare for what was to come. It was time to face the future she had agreed to.

The heavy oak doors opened, and drums echoed through the venue, a large, open pavilion adorned with the tribe’s colors and symbols, reflecting its deep connection to both water and spirit. Asami was heralded inside, her arrival announced with the deep, resonant tones of a conch shell, signaling the commencement of the ceremony.

Hiroshi stood at the entrance, his arms outstretched to receive his daughter. Asami took his hands, her own trembling noticeably. Together, they walked down the aisle lined with the tribe’s nobility, the herald announcing their titles and lineage, echoing their status and the significance of this union.

Despite her resolve to face her new future, Asami’s heart lurched as her eyes fell on Korra, standing solemnly beside the Queen Dowager. She was surprised to see her there. Korra wasn’t at the coronation earlier. The anger and betrayal that had once darkened Korra’s gaze were gone, replaced by an expression full of sadness, regret, and hurt. It pained Asami to see her former friend in such sorrow; she forced herself to look away, focusing instead on the man waiting for her at the altar.

Kova stood there, his attire a traditional garment of the tribe— a finely tailored blue tunic that clung to his lanky form, paired with sturdy brown breeches and matching boots. And lastly, draped over his shoulders, a white cloak flowed elegantly to the ground, embroidered with the sigil of their tribe—a majestic grey Direwolf. He looked every part the future chief, dashing and proud. Yet, the sight of him stirred a sense of dread deep within Asami.

Finally reaching the altar, they were greeted by Master Arrnuk, the head Sage, and signaled the start of the ritual. “Today, we bind these two spirits in the sacred union of marriage,” Master Arrnuk began, his voice carrying over the crowd as he lifted a ceremonial bowl of water. “Water is life, and just as it binds together the earth and sky, may it bind these two souls, mixing and merging until they are indistinguishable.”

He dipped his hands in the water, sprinkling some over Asami and Kova, symbolizing the cleansing of their pasts and their rebirth into a shared future. “With this union, may you bring prosperity to your people and honor to your ancestors. You may now kiss your omega.”

Kova stepped forward, his eyes locking with Asami’s as he leaned in for the sealing kiss. Asami’s heart raced, not with excitement but with an overwhelming urge to pull away. His lips met hers, and she felt a stark contrast to the warmth and gentleness she had once known with Korra. The kiss was perfunctory, lacking the love and passion she yearned for, and she couldn’t suppress the wave of revulsion that washed over her.

Asami’s mind involuntarily flashed back to Korra’s kisses—how different they were, how they were filled with affection and sincerity. She pulled back as soon as she could, her eyes briefly flitting to Korra, whose sorrowful gaze held a world of what could have been. And she could only blame herself.

—

The celebration droned on, but Asami merely pushed her food around her plate. Lords and ladies came by to offer congratulations, but their words faded into the background of her preoccupied mind. Her attention was entirely fixed on Korra, who sat beside Senna, visibly struggling. As the evening progressed, Korra’s condition seemed to worsen—she was visibly sweating, her discomfort palpable even from a distance. Asami’s heart ached to go to her, to find out what was wrong, but her new role as Kova’s omega wife anchored her to her seat, rendering her helpless to do anything but watch.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” she heard Senna’s concerned voice cut through the festive noise.

Korra’s response was visceral; she suddenly curled inward, a low growl escaping her lips—a raw, animalistic sound that seemed to reverberate through the hall. Master Arrnuk was quick to react; he stood abruptly and pressed the back of his hand to Korra’s forehead. His eyes widened in alarm. “Your Grace, if you’ll excuse us, I must take the princess to her chamber,” he whispered urgently to the Queen Dowager.

“What’s happening?” Senna’s voice trembled with worry.

“The princess is presenting… as an alpha,” Master Arrnuk announced.

At that moment, Korra’s knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, her body wracked with pain and confusion. The crowd gasped collectively, their festive murmurs turning into whispers of shock as Senna and Master Arrnuk quickly helped Korra to her feet and began to escort her out of the hall. Asami watched, frozen, as the reality of the situation sank in. Korra was an alpha. The music ceased abruptly, and the hall fell eerily silent.

But how could that be? Whispers swept through the crowd like wildfire.

A female alpha?

It’s rare, isn’t it? But not impossible. The last female alpha was from half a century ago.

What will happen with the succession now? Doesn’t an alpha have the first right?

Amidst the rising tide of speculation, Hiroshi’s voice boomed, attempting to restore order. “I am sure the princess was just overwhelmed with the celebration. Let us continue the feast of this glorious day for His Grace and your new Queen.” Reluctantly, the musicians picked up their instruments, the music resuming its rhythm.

But for Asami, the world had come to a standstill, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. She couldn’t breathe, each breath a struggle as the weight of her decisions pressed down on her. Asami should’ve seen the signs. Korra was brash, assertive, fiercely protective, and naturally commanding. All of these traits unmistakably pointed to her being an alpha. If only she had waited , she thought despairingly, she might not have found herself trapped in this colossal mistake.

Chapter Text

Korra awoke with a start, her eyes darting around as she tried to orient herself within the familiar confines of her bed chamber. “What happened?” she whispered to herself, the events of the previous night a blur. As clarity slowly returned, she attempted to stand, but a deep soreness throughout her body halted her movements. “Ugh. I need water,” she rasped, her throat parched as the room grew inexplicably hotter by the minute.

Frustrated, Korra threw the sheets off, intending to rise and fetch herself some water, but paused abruptly as she noticed an unfamiliar, aching presence between her legs. Her hands trembled as she touched the unexpected anatomy—a hard, aching cock that was entirely new yet unmistakably part of her now.

“Oh gods. I’m an alpha,” she murmured in a mix of awe and confusion. Being an alpha was something she had envisioned, associated with strength and dominance, but the reality of it filled her with a tumultuous blend of emotions. She had yearned for this power, believing it would reshape her destiny, yet now, separated from the woman she loved, it seemed like a cruel twist of fate. She had resigned herself to a lesser life, perhaps even as a broodmare to some lesser chief as she had feared. But now, fate had presented her with this ironic gift.

The throbbing need grew unbearable, and Korra curled into a ball, fighting the urge to touch herself. The scriptures of their faith stated that a person could not touch oneself for it was a sin of the body. Shame be damned. But as the heat intensified, her resolve faltered, and desperately, her hand wrapped around her newly formed cock, gripping it tightly. The relief was immediate and intense, a guilty pleasure that she couldn’t deny herself. Lying back on her bed, she began to slowly pump her fist up and down her shaft, each movement a mix of pain relief and forbidden pleasure.

As she surrendered to the physical sensations, her mind whirled with the implications of her transformation. What did this mean for her future? For her identity and her desires? The room felt stiflingly small as she grappled with these questions, the echoes of her rapid breathing and the slick sounds of her motions the only sounds in the otherwise silent chamber.

But as Korra pumped faster, all her swirling thoughts and looming questions evaporated, replaced by a rising tide of pleasure that overwhelmed her senses. She drove herself toward the edge until release burst from her in intense spurts. Hot cum spilled across her hand, shaft, and stomach, offering a temporary respite from her aching need.

The sudden creak of the door jolted her back to reality. Korra's hand snapped away from her cock as she scrambled to cover herself, but she wasn’t quick enough. Master Arrnuk had already seen the aftermath. His eyes widened, yet he offered no reprimand, a silence that hung heavily in the room. Korra braced herself for a scolding about divine propriety that never came. Instead, he spoke calmly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, my Princess. And then you can drink this tea.”

“What is that?” Korra’s voice was hoarse, her mind still reeling.

“This is a tea made from Greaseberry. It will help suppress your rut, Your Grace.”

“Oh.” Relief mixed with resignation in her voice. After cleaning herself up, she accepted the bitter and astringent tea, its effects immediate and soothing. Her arousal subsided, and the relentless urge to seek an omega receded. “Thank you, Master Arrnuk.”

“It is but temporary relief, Your Grace. You must drink this every six candle marks.”

“Okay.” Her thoughts then flickered back to the events that preceded her collapse. “What about Asa– my brother’s wedding?” she stuttered, the weight of the day crashing back upon her.

“It is done, Your Grace. We are well into the morrow. Dawn is coming, and—”

He was interrupted as the door swung open again. Kova and her mother stepped into the room, disregarding any semblance of privacy. Korra’s irritation flared silently. What is it with people barging into my room without knocking? Her brother’s smile was strained, clearly not born of happiness.

“How are you feeling, little sister?”

“Fine,” Korra replied curtly, masking the turmoil beneath her stoic facade.

A tense silence fell, broken only when her mother finally spoke, “Sweetie, I’m glad you’re finally awake. I may not understand exactly what you are feeling, but I know the pain of being in heat.” Her brother scoffed at the words, his disdain thinly veiled.

“Well. Since your rut has been suppressed, I guess you’re itching to get back into the action, right?” Kova smirked, his tone dripping with insincerity. Korra knew that look all too well; it was the same one he wore whenever he schemed. She had seen it during their childhood—from letting her take his place in archery training or the way of the sword to crueler antics like pushing her into the snow when they were just babes. His sneer jolted her back to the present. “I suppose it’s only right to take you with us on the hunt.”

Master Arrnuk was quick to object. “But your grace, the first rut is always a delicate time for any alpha. You mustn’t force the princess out to hunt—”

“I am the Chief and her brother. I know what’s best for my little sister,” Kova interrupted arrogantly.

“My son, please listen to Master Arrnuk,” Senna interjected, her voice laced with worry. “Think about it—if you let Korra out while she’s still vulnerable and she goes out of control, it could tarnish the good reputation you’ve built among the chiefs.”

Hearing her mother’s words, felt like a slap in the face. Was her own mother ashamed of her? Discussing her condition as if she weren’t present felt like another deep cut. She clenched the sheets tightly, her eyes blazing. “I’ll go.”

“Sweetie, you can’t,” Senna protested gently.

Kova waved off his mother’s concerns dismissively. “Let her be, Mother. She volunteered. Now I won’t be the one to blame if she acts up.” He then turned to Korra. “See you at first light tomorrow, sister.” With those words, he left the room, Master Arrnuk hurrying after him.

Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but Korra, still reeling from the pain of her words, cut her off. “Thank you, Mother. You should go with him, so you won’t lose face with the other nobles. I need to drink my tea.” Without waiting for a response, Korra turned away and took a sip from her cup.

As the door clicked shut, Korra exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Tomorrow, she would face the world anew. But for now, she would lock herself in her room and confront the enormity of her transformation alone.

—

Korra rode astride a sturdy snow camel, with Naga trotting faithfully beside her as they made their way toward the walrus bay. The thrill of the hunt mingled with a tide of nerves—it was her first venture beyond the palace, and the vast stretches of snow unfolding before her were both awe-inspiring and intimidating. The landscape was dotted with occasional igloos and remote villages, their isolated simplicity standing in stark contrast to the opulence of royal life.

Suddenly, Naga veered off the path. “Naga!” Korra called out. 

Master Kuruk, the General Warrior with a frame as robust as his reputation, reassured her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Your Grace. She’s going on her own hunt. Let her be in her natural element.”

“But how will she know where we’re headed?” Korra’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Instincts. And her connection to you, Your Grace,” Kuruk responded, his voice imbued with a calm certainty.

Korra was not entirely convinced but nodded reluctantly, turning her gaze back to the path ahead. She immersed herself in the breathtaking scenery to distract from the carriages trailing the hunting party. Inside one of the elegant carriages were her mother, Kova, and Asami. Kova had insisted that the omegas of each guest tribe witness the raw beauty and the brutal reality of the tundra, a display meant more for his own glorification than any educational purpose. Korra rolled her eyes at the thought; her brother’s penchant for showing off knew no bounds.

As they continued their steady pace, Korra pondered the change in her brother. When had the boy she grew up with begun to look at the world—and her—with such hardened eyes?

Then her thoughts turned to Asami. Things were awkward now between them. Korra had unexpectedly bumped into her good sister as she exited her room. Startled at first, Korra quickly remembered that after her wedding, Asami would move into the consort’s chambers, just two doors down from hers. Asami opened her mouth, perhaps to say something, but Korra, overwhelmed by shame for the harsh words she had last spoken to Asami, merely bowed her head. Unable to meet the eyes of her former lover, she muttered a quick “Good morning,” before turning away and leaving the Queen Consort hanging.

“We are near, Your Grace,” Master Kuruk’s booming voice pulled her from her thoughts as he instructed the other alphas to slow down.

The hunting party slowed as they approached their destination. As the sound of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels came to a gradual stop, a hush fell over the hunting party. Korra’s breath caught at the sight before her—down the cliff was a spectacle of nature’s raw power, dotted with massive walruses. Their bulky forms sparred playfully, clashed tusks, or rested peacefully against the icy backdrop, each animal magnificent in its wild, untamed presence. They grunted and shuffled; their deep, resonant calls intermingled with the gentle lapping of the waves against the icy shore. The natural symphony soothed Korra’s roiling emotions, the turmoil within momentarily calmed by the raw beauty of her surroundings.

The serenity of the moment was punctuated by Master Kuruk’s authoritative voice as he began to shout instructions to set up camp. “Dismount and prepare the grounds!” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the cliffside.

Korra dismounted her snow camel, her boots sinking into the fresh snow, marking her first steps in this new chapter of her life. She had abandoned the traditional dress and pants for breeches and a tunic underneath her parka—a change that had come with her new status as an alpha. She was thankful for the attire for it offered a freedom of movement that she found liberating, especially in moments like these where practicality was paramount.

Uncertain yet eager to engage, she approached a veteran of the hunt, a grizzled hunter whose face bore the tales of many winters. “Could you teach me how to set up the tent? I’ve never done this before,” she asked, her voice reflecting a blend of humility and the readiness to embrace the duties of her new role.

The hunter, a robust alpha with light blue eyes that sparkled with understanding, and grey hair nodded appreciatively and beckoned her closer. “Of course, Your Grace. Let us start with the stakes,” he instructed, his hands demonstrating the technique as he handed her a stake. Korra watched intently and then mimicked his movements, driving the stake into the frozen ground, her actions gradually finding rhythm with Master Kuruk’s reminders to only hunt one walrus per tribe and the distant calls of the walruses echoing off the icy cliffs.

The scene around them was bathed in the soft glow of the twilight, the icy expanse stretched out like a vast, untouched canvas, the air crisp with the mingling scents of the sea and snow. Under the hunter’s guidance, Korra moved from one task to the next, her initial hesitance giving way to a growing sense of competency and belonging.

Once the stakes were securely anchored in the frozen ground, the hunter showed Korra how to assemble the skeleton of the tent, a framework of sturdy poles made from Ironspruce wood that would support the structure. Together, they methodically arranged the poles, ensuring each joint was tightly fastened before draping the heavy skins over the skeleton. The thick hides fell into place with a satisfying series of thumps, each one echoing slightly in the crisp air.

“Thanks, um…” Korra began, unsure of the hunter’s name.

“Arrak, Your Grace.” He extended his forearm towards her, a gesture rich with the traditions of their ancestors—an old greeting from the days before the Southern Water Tribe had embraced the customs of the North. Korra clasped his arm firmly.

“If you want to get used to setting up tents, why don’t you help me and the other hunters set up theirs?” Arrak suggested, a friendly challenge in his eyes.

Korra smiled, nodding with eager enthusiasm to learn more. Together with Arrak and the other hunters, she moved from one tent to another, the camaraderie among them growing with each shared task. By the time they had finished, the sun was high in the sky, its light glinting off the ice and snow. Korra wiped the sweat from her brow, her physical exertion under the intense sunlight bringing a deep sense of satisfaction. However, a familiar throbbing sensation reminded her of her urgent need. The emerging discomfort from her cock signaled that it was time to brew her suppression tea immediately.

Excusing herself with a light-hearted joke that drew chuckles from the hunters, Korra made her way back to her tent. One look inside, and the simplicity of the hunter’s abode was evident. A mat made from woven tundra grass lay flat on the frozen ground, offering a spartan but effective resting place. A seal oil lamp cast a warm, flickering light, adding a cozy glow to the otherwise austere surroundings. Nearby, a simple metal brazier held a small fire, ideal for heating her tea.

She quickly set about brewing the tea, placing a small kettle over the flames. The familiar routine was a comforting ritual amidst the chaos of new experiences. As the bitter liquid simmered, Korra took a moment to truly appreciate her own space, a simple haven carved out of necessity.

After finishing the cup, Korra stepped back outside, only for her breath to catch at a sight she wasn’t prepared for. Asami was just stepping out of the carriage, assisted by a beta warrior Korra recognized. He might be the new guard assigned to be her sworn protector. A chump. A low, involuntary growl escaped her lips before she could check herself, the sound sharp enough to startle Asami and turn heads in her vicinity.

“Korra,” the Queen began, her voice laced with concern and a hint of reprimand.

Unable to face another moment of confrontation, Korra turned away sharply. She strode over to Arrak, seeking to bury herself in the preparations for the hunt, hoping that the focus on a familiar task would steady the turmoil churning inside her.

—

Korra’s senses sharpened as they crouched behind a slab of ice, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Arrak gave her a spear, or more like a harpoon with the tip threaded with strong sinew. She fiddled with it, studying the sharp barb that slid out of the shaft. And they waited some more for a walrus to be isolated from its pack. An ache set in her back and arm from holding the spear for too long, but she remained still, falling into an odd sort of meditation at that moment.

Arrak then pointed to the one sliding near them and placed his finger on his lips. Korra nodded, remembering his instruction. “One strike. Use your forearm and wrist,” he said. When the walrus was near enough, it was as though she’d known it would happen, and the harpoon landed true, slicing through its eye socket hard enough to pin its head against the ice slab as it thrashed its final moments away, a blood-curldling sound.

“Good strike,” Nukkuk said, almost in shock. “You’re a natural at this.”

Korra rubbed the back of her head, suddenly giddy from her hunt. “Really? Well, I had a lot of spear-throwing practice.”

The hunter looked surprised, but he did not ask how. “Yes. We’ll have to have you join our next hunts!” Arrak clapped her shoulders again. “Now, is the easy part.” He handed her a knife. “Collecting the blood.”

Korra took the knife from Arrak, feeling the weight of the cold metal in her hand. “Start at the neck, slicing down to the belly along the natural line of the body,” Arrak instructed, his voice low and steady. Korra pressed the blade against the thick blubber, applying more pressure as she made the initial incision.

“Keep the cut even, and don’t go too deep,” Arrak advised as she reached the belly. “Be careful not to puncture the internal organs; that could spoil the meat.”

As she worked, Arrak guided her hand, showing her how to peel back the layers and reveal the rich, red meat beneath. “Now, separate the meat from the ribs,” he directed, pointing to the areas where she should focus. “Walrus meat is tough but nutritious and will feed many.”

Korra moved methodically, Arrak’s nods of approval bolstering her confidence. “Once you’ve removed the bulk of the meat, we’ll break down the larger pieces into smaller, manageable portions,” he explained. “Every part of the walrus has a use, from the tusks to the intestines. Nothing is wasted.”

With hands now steady and bloodied, Korra finished her task and stood back, grateful. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said, her voice carrying a newfound pride. “I feel closer to our traditions, to our ancestors.”

“You’ve done well, Korra. You honor them with your respect and willingness to learn. I am glad that you came with us,” Arrak replied, his broad smile mirroring her own satisfaction.

“I am honored, Arra–” But Korra’s words were abruptly cut short by a commotion erupting behind them.

“Your Grace! You cannot hunt any further!” a hunter exclaimed frantically, attempting to restrain Kova from launching his spear.

“And why is that?” Kova demanded, irritation flaring in his tone.

“Princess Korra has already secured a kill for your tribe. The rules must be honored, Your Grace.”

Kova’s expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief, then settled on a scowl directed at Korra. “You! You always spoil my enjoyment!” He stormed toward her, his footsteps heavy on the snowy ground. Korra instinctively stepped back, tripping over the walrus’s flipper, which sent her reeling. As Kova raised his hand to strike, he froze, halted by a sudden warning.

“Your Grace, look out!”

In that instant, a stray walrus charged. Kova, paralyzed by surprise, stood immobile, forcing Korra’s protective instincts to surge forth. She pushed through the pain, rushing to shove Kova out of harm’s way.

“Aargh!” Pain erupted in her shoulder as a walrus tusk gored her, pinning her momentarily against the ice. She managed to free herself, but the injury was severe, blood soaking her clothing as she collapsed onto the cold ice. Clutching her gushing shoulder, she watched helplessly as the walrus turned to charge again. She braced herself for the end, overwhelmed by a flood of regrets—her strained relationship with her brother, the unspoken words to her mother, and her unresolved feelings for Asami. This is how I die , she thought bitterly, her eyes closing in resignation.

But death did not come. Instead, a fierce growl filled the air. Korra opened her eyes to see Naga standing protectively over her, fur bristled, teeth bared in defiance. The polar bear dog lunged at the walrus, distracting it just long enough for Arrak to act, his spear flying true to its target. The last thing Korra saw before darkness enveloped her was Arrak’s concerned gaze, his voice echoing, “We won’t let you meet Chief Tonraq’s fate.” Then, the cold embrace of unconsciousness claimed her.

—

Korra drifted through the ethereal space of her dream, where the walls of the Ice Keep loomed, both familiar and strange. She chased after Naga, her voice echoing oddly in the vast, frozen corridors, young and high-pitched as if time had wound backward. “Naga! Where are you going?! The kitchen’s that way!” She glanced down to see her hands, small and unscarred by holding to spears and swords larger than her—child’s hands. Despite knowing herself to be ten-and-six and fully grown, the incongruity was merely a ripple in the dream’s logic.

Her pursuit led her through the sinuous halls into her parents’ chambers, where she found her father, Tonraq, broken with grief, muttering to himself, “Where did I go wrong?”

“Father?” Korra’s whisper seemed to float through the air, barely reaching him.

Tonraq turned, his face crumpling with sorrow. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. I failed you. I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have listened to them,” he confessed, dropping to his knees with a heavy heart.

“Father, what do you mean?” Korra pressed, her voice softening with concern.

“There’s no time, Korra. Go,” he urged, his words laden with urgency.

The scene shifted seamlessly, and Korra found herself standing in the middle of her oasis, now grown. An alpha. Recognition of her changed body brought back the familiar, painful ache of her transformation. She collapsed to her knees as the discomfort intensified, reaching desperately for her breeches.

A soft, warm hand intercepted hers. Looking up, Korra met Asami’s emerald gaze, ethereal and calming. “Asami?” she breathed, a mixture of longing and confusion in her voice.

Her friend’s smile was tender. “Let me help you,” Asami offered, her voice echoing with a surreal clarity.

Korra recoiled slightly, the reality of their relationship intruding upon the dream. “But you can’t. You’re my brother’s wife!”

“Not in here,” Asami murmured, her voice soft as morning mist, dissipating Korra’s fears.

Relenting, Korra withdrew her hands, allowing Asami to gently untangle her breeches. As the fabric slid down her legs, her cock sprang free, hard and urgent. Asami’s delicate touch on the tip sent a jolt of pleasure through her, anchoring her momentarily in the visceral sensations of the dream.

Korra’s breath hitched as a pair of red lips enveloped her tip. “Asami…” she whispered, the name escaping on a sigh filled with the thick, intoxicating scent of the omega. As she inhaled deeply, the connection deepened, intensifying the whirlwind of sensations. Her knot swelled, a primal response that couldn’t be controlled, and she grunted as Asami took more of her into her mouth. Korra’s hips instinctively bucked, seeking to deepen the contact, to push further into that welcoming warmth.

She felt Asami’s throat work deliberately, swallowing around her, and Korra couldn’t hold back a sharp cry. Her fingers found purchase in wavy, black hair, gripping tightly as the wave of her climax built. With a deep, guttural groan, she surrendered to the rush, her release pouring forth in a powerful stream rather than brief spurts. Some of it escaped Asami’s lips, despite her efforts to catch each pulse.

Asami released her with a wet, gasping sound, panting heavily. “I love the way you taste, Korra…”

Korra woke suddenly, gasping for air, her dream dissolving into the dim light of her tent. The vividness of the dream left her trembling, her skin still tingling with the phantom touch of Asami’s lips. She was panting, exhausted, feeling the aftermath of her dream-induced climax as a dull ache spread across her shoulder.

As she oriented herself, catching her breath, the warm, familiar scent of peaches and mint lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the dream. Despite the chaos of her thoughts and the lingering pain, sleep crept back, pulling her into its deep, enveloping quiet. The last conscious thought that flickered through her mind was the sweet, soothing aroma that seemed to promise peace, at least until dawn.

Chapter Text

Ever since her mother’s death, Asami had watched her father transform into someone unrecognizable. His once gentle and loving demeanor had hardened into something stern and unforgiving. He had once embraced her interests—her love for dancing, tinkering, reading, and numbers—but his grief seemed to warp his perspective on what was appropriate for her, tightening the reins on her freedom.

He became an enforcer of traditions, dictating what she could read—only poetry, tales of gallant alphas, and stories that emphasized the subservience of omegas. He went as far as to burn her books on subjects he deemed inappropriate for her and dismantled her workshop, destroying all her projects. When she had protested, tears streaming down her face, he had struck her and confined her to darkness.

“Know your place, Asami!” she could still hear him shouting as the door slammed shut, a reminder of the consequences whenever she stepped out of line. Thus, she learned to comply, to follow his commands without question.

For years, that was her life, until Korra entered it. Korra was like a beacon of freedom, a breath of fresh air amidst the stifling control of her father. But even that brief respite was snatched away when her father arranged her marriage to someone she did not love. The thought of opposing him terrified her, fearing a return to the darkness , despite realizing that Korra could have been her salvation—her light with those bright blue eyes and her radiant smile.

Now, trapped in a life she had never wanted, Asami felt the weight of her choices.

“Asami?” Kova’s voice cut through her reverie. “What are you doing? You’ve been quiet the whole ride, and you’re picking at your nails!”

Before she could fabricate a reply, the Dowager Queen intervened. “Oh, dear son. I’m sure Asami’s just longing for something to hold onto. You two haven’t had a babe yet, after all. All omegas are like that after marriage.”

Kova’s cocky smile widened, a look Asami had come to loathe. “Really? It’s a shame we’ll have to wait for your seventeenth name day to consummate our marriage.”

The remark made Asami blush, her discomfort palpable. Maybe Korra was right. Her fate now should be spreading her legs and bearing the chief heirs. Thankfully, their consummation was delayed—a small mercy. Masking her true feelings, she murmured, “Yes. And I’m just a little queasy from the travel, Your Graces.”

“Oh, before I forgot. Asami, you need a lady in waiting with you, now that you’re queen.”

She merely nodded at Senna’s suggestion and left it at that.

Conversation flowed around her as Kova and Senna discussed trivial matters, but Asami’s thoughts were elsewhere, with the figure leading the hunting party. Her heart ached for the day she might once again embrace the princess, her only glimpse of true freedom in a constricted world.

As the carriage jolted to a stop, Asami was abruptly pulled from her reverie. The door swung open and her new sworn protector, Warrior Nuktuk, extended his hand to assist her. Grasping it, she stepped down, her senses immediately assaulted by a familiar scent—an alpha in rut. Her alpha. A low growl resonated nearby, and her inner omega keened instinctively to the possessiveness in Korra’s tone. “Korra,” she uttered, her voice mingling longing with a gentle reprimand. They were not alone; decorum mattered here.

Korra, however, turned at the sound of Asami’s voice, her attention shifting so swiftly it was as if the queen ceased to exist for anyone else. The queen pulled her thick fur coat tighter around her, feeling a chill not from the frigid air.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s just jealous you get to be the queen she’ll never be,” Kova remarked coldly, his words slicing through the tense air.

Asami flinched inwardly as Kova took her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it in a gesture that forced a blush to her cheeks—not from any affection for him, but from memories of a tender moment long past, when Korra had touched her just so. Misinterpreting the flush of her cheeks, Kova’s confidence seemed to swell.

“I’m going to show you, my Queen, how a real man hunts,” he declared before striding off to join the other hunters, leaving her momentarily alone in the brisk air.

The crisp, icy breeze did little to cool the warmth of her cheeks, nor did it ease the turmoil swirling within her as she pondered her constrained existence and the paths not taken.

—

The chatter of omegas, whose names Asami couldn’t recall, filled the air along with the soft clinking of ceramic tea cups. They were gathered inside the largest hut in the camp, a warm sanctuary amid the icy exterior. The hut itself was a construction of skillfully arranged animal skins, with thick furs carpeting the ground and a modest campfire crackling at its center, radiating a comforting warmth that made their heavy coats unnecessary.

Asami’s gaze wandered across the cozy interior, absorbing the intricate details, but her attention snapped back when a conversation piqued her interest. A young omega was enthusiastically speaking of Korra. She was of Asami’s age, but have a more… blessed bosom than her. “Did you hear that the princess helped erect all of the huts?”

“Really? That’s so gallant of her,” another omega added.

“Since she presented as an alpha, I can’t take my eyes off of her,” the first continued.

The second omega giggled, “That was just two days ago.”

“Yes, and she’s already captured my attention. I have to talk to my father to see if he could make a match. He’s the chief of the Bear Tribe. I’m sure Chief Kova would agree.” Then she turned to Asami. “What do you think, Your Grace? She’s your friend. Do you think I would be a good match for the princess? Oh, you have to tell me all about her!”

Asami forced a smile, her fingers nervously picking at her nails. The last comment clenched her stomach with a surge of jealousy so strong she nearly crushed the cup in her hand. This bitch thought I’d help her steal my alpha? She was desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere but before she could speak, a sudden uproar drew everyone’s attention.

“Make way! Get the princess into the healing hut!” the shouts of the hunters cut through the air.

Asami felt a pang of alarm. What had happened? She hurried toward the commotion, her heart racing as she came upon the bloody sight. Korra, pale and grievous, was being carried by the head hunter and Master Kuruk toward a central hut. The usually vibrant alpha was now a ghostly shade, draped in crimson.

“Asami, where are you going?” Kova’s voice shook as he grasped her shoulder, looking as horrified as the other hunters.

“What does it look like?” she retorted sharply, the urgency of the situation stripping away any pretense. Shrugging off his hand, she rushed into the hut, driven by a desperate need to be by Korra’s side, her own fears and protocols momentarily forgotten.

As Asami lifted the flap of the hut, she stepped into a realm of controlled chaos. Alphas bustled about, their movements sharp and urgent, each following the commands of an authoritative omega who directed the efforts with seasoned precision. This omega, perhaps in her fifties, had her grey hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, issued orders with clarity and command. Is she a sage?

At the heart of this frenetic activity lay Korra, prone and disturbingly still on a makeshift cot. The sight of her so motionless struck a deep fear in Asami’s heart, the kind that tightens the chest and stills the breath. Korra’s tunic had been cut and removed, leaving her in her underbindings while the omega meticulously tended to a severe wound on her shoulder.

Frozen by the doorway, Asami felt an overwhelming surge of helplessness. She had come with the intent to assist, yet the gravity of the scene rendered her momentarily uncertain of her role. Her paralysis lasted only until the older omega’s sharp gaze fell upon her.

“You! What are you standing there for? Get some water and clean cloth now!” the omega commanded with an urgency that cut through the thick tension in the room.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Asami responded, her voice a shaky whisper that barely concealed her distress. Prompted into action, she hurried to gather the requested supplies, driven by a renewed sense of purpose.

—

As the final bandages were secured around Korra’s shoulder, twelve candle marks had quietly slipped by. The bustle within the hut gradually diminished, leaving only the soft glow of an oil lamp to illuminate the dim space. Outside, the rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the cliff and the occasional calls of walruses filled the silence that had settled inside.

Master Kya, the healer, as Asami later found out, let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly with fatigue. “The princess’ condition is stable now,” she announced, relieved and exhausted. “It’s up to her own strength and will to live. But I believe she will pull through. Her spirit is strong.”

“Thank you, Master Kya,” responded Arrak, the head hunter, whose presence was as worn as the healer’s.

Master Kya acknowledged him with a nod, then turned her attention to Asami. “I apologize for my earlier outburst, Your Grace. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

Asami waved away the apology with a gentle shake of her head. “It was no trouble. I’m glad you snapped me out of my shock, or I’d still be frozen at the doorway.”

Kya settled beside her, exhaustion lining her features. “Still, thank you for your help, Your Grace.”

Curiosity and concern mingling within her, Asami leaned in slightly. “What happened? Do you know?”

It was Arrak who responded, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “The princess was a natural at hunting. She had already secured a great kill, adhering to the strict rules—one per tribe. But... His Grace... Chief Kova insisted on hunting as well,” he explained, his eyes darkening with fury. As he detailed the events, Asami’s emotions churned violently.

A sickening cocktail of horror, anger, and disbelief twisted in her stomach. She felt an overwhelming urge to cry out, to unleash the scream that bubbled just beneath the surface, but more than anything, she wanted to confront Kova. His recklessness, his need to assert his masculinity at such a cost—Asami remembered his parting words the day before. Now, understanding why he had trembled when he stopped her from entering the hut, she saw him for what he was: a profoundly disturbed man.

“This wouldn’t have happened if the princess was Chief in the first place.” Arrak’s words fell heavily in the quiet of the healing hut, sharp and jarring. 

The air around them suddenly stiffened. Master Kya knew the danger of such outspokenness, and leaned in, whispering, “Hush, Arrak. Should his loyalists overhear, you’d be beheaded for treason!”

Yet, Arrak’s resolve was unshaken, countering, “It’s not treason if it’s for the good of the whole tribe.” His scorn for the current leadership was palpable. “One glance at that boy ,” he spat the word with disdain, “and it’s clear the north’s traditions have ensnared him. But the princess—she was willing to learn our ways, the old ways.”

Asami, caught off guard by the intensity of the conversation, found herself drawn in. “What do you mean?” she asked before she could stop herself, her voice threading through the tension.

Arrak turned to her, his expression one of earnest fervor. “Your Grace, long before the northern influence, the Southern Water Tribe was a realm of freedom. Here, alpha, beta, or omega—any could lead if they were deemed fit, for our survival dictated such equality. But then the North came with its gifts, its promises of riches, swaying many chiefs to bend the knee. Those near the capital were quick to fall, and even we, far from their reach, were not immune. Yet, we remember. That’s why you see Master Kya here, not some northern sage.”

“Oh.” Asami absorbed his words, a mixture of shock and revelation washing over her. How could she have known? Her father had shielded her from the true history of this place, wrapping her world in the stringent doctrines of the North. The conversation offered her a glimpse into a different world, a world where perhaps things could have been different if only…

“Why are you telling me this? I’m the Chief’s wife. Aren’t you afraid that I’d tell him about this?” Asami asked.

Arrak’s chuckle broke the tense atmosphere as he responded to Asami’s query. “Your Grace, forgive me, but one does not stand here helping the princess and questioning the ways of their tribe if they harbor even a shred of affection for the Chief.”

Asami acknowledged his point with a nod. “Fair enough.”

Master Kya swiftly intervened. “We should leave. Such discussions of tradition could endanger us all. We need to rest, and the princess needs her peace.”

“May I stay a bit longer?” Asami’s request came out more plaintive than she intended, her voice betraying her desperate need to remain by Korra’s side.

Kya paused, considering the request, then nodded slightly. “I was to inform the Dowager Queen of the princess’s situation, but I will allow you a few more candle marks here, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Asami said, relief washing over her as she bowed gratefully. The permission to stay offered a precious few moments more beside Korra, a small solace in the storm of her current life.

Once she was alone, Asami settled on the fur blanket beside Korra, her eyes tracing the faint rise and fall of her best friend’s chest, reassuring herself with each breath that Korra was still fighting. The faint light of dawn crept into the hut, illuminating the rhythmic movement of Korra’s breathing and casting long shadows on the walls.

The silence was profound, broken only by the distant waves below the cliff and the occasional calls of walruses. The stillness amplified the pounding of Asami’s heart, and she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, fury and anguish coursing through her veins.

Why was fate so cruel?

“Korra,” she whispered, wrapping her trembling hand around Korra’s cold fingers. She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, lingering there as she breathed in Korra’s scent with her eyes closed. If she focused hard enough, she could pretend they were back in their oasis, talking, kissing, and perhaps doing something more. She took in Korra’s scent again, smelling as she always did—like fresh snow and the crisp winter air. “I’m sorry. Please wake up. Even if I can’t have you, you have to wake up. I can’t live in this world without you. I refuse to live in this world without you.”

Then Asami froze. She sensed movement behind her, and Korra’s hips shifted, causing the blanket to rise where her crotch should be. That was when Asami caught the unmistakable, musky scent of an alpha in a rut.

She knew she should leave, but Korra’s scent rooted her in place, driving her mad with lust. Her hand moved on its own, lifting the blanket to reveal what lay beneath.

She gasped, her breath hitching.

Korra lay there, clothed only in her bindings and small clothes, yet there was no doubt—the outline of her shaft was unmistakable, even under the thin fabric. A large bulge strained against the cloth, betraying the intensity of her rut.

xXx

Asami knew she should walk away, that she should maintain her composure. But the scent was too intoxicating, and her inner omega keened with desire as she traced her fingers lightly over the fabric, feeling the heat emanating from Korra’s swollen shaft.

“Korra…” she whispered again, her voice a trembling plea as her hand lingered, unable to pull away.

“Asami…” The sound of her name spoken in such a desperate plea made the queen flinch, freezing her in place. She carefully checked to see if Korra was awake, her breath hitching as she gazed at the alpha’s face. But Korra’s eyes remained closed, her breathing deep and rhythmic, confirming she was still unconscious.

It was also her undoing.

Slowly, Asami peeled away Korra’s small clothes, sliding the fabric down the length of her tan legs. As the garment passed Korra’s thighs, her cock sprang free, swelling in the cool dawn air. It was an impressive sight: large and tan, with a flared, mushroom pink-tinged head curving gracefully towards her belly. Veins sculpted its length, disappearing down into a broad base nestled within a tuft of messy dark brown curls. Asami felt a shiver of desire trace her spine, igniting a deep, primal need within her.

From her lessons in human anatomy, Asami had learned the general shapes and sizes expected of an alpha or a male beta’s penis, but she had never encountered one quite like Korra’s in any book or illustration her teachers had shown her. She was huge and girthy. Her inner omega was deeply stirred by the sight.

Her lip caught between her teeth, Asami was torn between her duty to remain faithful and pure, and the raw demands of desire. She hesitated, caught in the throes of indecision until Korra made a pained grunt. Her hips instinctively rolled upward, seeking touch, seeking relief. A bead of pre-cum welled from the slit at the tip of her cock, tracing a glistening path down the shaft.

The sight of Korra in such a state, combined with the potent aroma of the alpha’s rut, overwhelmed Asami’s senses. Her reservations melted away under the heat of her mounting desire, and she moved closer. Her hands hovered, then settled, her touch light on the heated skin, as she prepared to give Korra the relief she so clearly needed. Acting on instinct, she licked her lips, leaned down, and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip, tasting the salty tang of pre-come on her tongue.

“Don’t worry, Korra. I’m going to help you.” At Asami’s reassuring words, Korra’s cock twitched as if she had heard them in her dreams, eliciting a surge of warmth between Asami’s legs. Gently, she parted her lips, easing herself onto the shaft, surprised by how naturally her body responded to the task. Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was the potent allure of Korra’s scent drawing her in. Either way, Asami was certain—this was exactly where she was meant to be.

As she continued, the small hut filled with the sounds of Korra’s breathy moans. Asami increased her pace, her fingers exploring her own slickness before returning to stroke Korra’s length that extended beyond her lips, marking the alpha as hers even if for a moment. She was surprised by the pleasure that coursed through her own body as she pleasured Korra, realizing for the first time that she could derive such gratification from giving pleasure to someone else.

Korra’s hips jerked upward, pushing deeper, causing Asami to gag briefly, yet urging her to take even more. “Asami, please…” The desperation in Korra’s voice spurred Asami on, her tongue working fervently around the tip before diving deeper.

Suddenly, Korra’s body stiffened, her breaths sharp as she clutched the fur beneath her. With a guttural cry, she climaxed, releasing into Asami’s eager mouth. Asami swallowed much of the warm rush, though some escaped, tracing a line down her chin and then Korra’s length. Internally, Asami’s pussy raged with jealousy—such potent seed should be spent inside her.

Reluctantly, Asami let go of Korra’s cock with a slick sound, gasping for air. She meticulously cleaned her hand, now streaked with remnants of Korra’s release, her tongue chasing every last trace.

Once her hands were clean, the gravity of her actions settled in. The haze of desire faded, replaced by a wave of shame and guilt. “What have I done?” she whispered to herself. She had violated the love of her life in her sleep. Realizing she could no longer trust her impulses around Korra in such a vulnerable state, Asami hurriedly adjusted her dress and fled the hut, her heart pounding with a tumult of emotions.

xXx

“Where is it?” Asami frantically rummaged through her belongings, her trembling hands searching for the small vial of scent blocker. Her heart pounded with every rustle of fabric, her mind racing with anxiety. The camp was still, the entire party exhausted from the chaos of the day before. She counted herself fortunate that no one had been awake to hear her or witness what had transpired in the hut.

“Are you looking for this?”

The voice made Asami jump, her heart sinking into her stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, and not her. Of all people to find out, it had to be the dowager queen.

“Senna, it wasn’t… I- I can explain.”

“Explain why you reek of my daughter’s scent? You shouldn’t. I’ve suspected as much about your relationship. However, what you did was wrong, and you should tell Korra when we return.”

Asami’s heart thudded in her chest. This was it. Senna would tell Kova, and she would be accused of treason… and rape. Or worse, she would tell her father, who would punish her mercilessly. She could already see herself locked away in darkness again. No, she couldn’t go back. She’d rather lose her head than return to that dreadful place.

“But, don’t you worry, child,” Senna’s words cut through her panic like a splash of cold water.

“What?”

The dowager queen stepped forward, and Asami instinctively took a step back.

“Do not be afraid of me, Asami. I understand your feelings. I once stood where you are, in love with an alpha who wasn’t my betrothed. Who wasn’t my husband. He wasn’t highborn, but he was a special, different. Alas, my father married me off to the most powerful tribe in the whole South.”

Asami’s mind struggled to absorb the sudden revelation. “What do you mean? You didn’t love Chief Tonraq? But I thought you—”

“I loved him? Yes. Because I had to look the part.” Senna took another step closer. “I pretended well for I would not have survived playing this game.” She reached out and placed the small vial in Asami’s hand. “And you, Asami Sato, are now tangled in this web. But fear not, child, for I shall teach you how an omega takes what she wants.”

Chapter Text

Korra tested the flexibility of her left shoulder, noting the stiffness had lessened, though movement still brought a dull ache—a stark reminder of the peril she’d faced. The concoction Master Kya had administered worked wonders, healing bone and flesh in merely a cycle of the moon. But as she examined herself in the mirror, her eyes fell upon the scar that marred her tanned skin.

Jagged and discolored, the scar twisted across her shoulder like an angry bolt of lightning. She traced its path with her fingers, feeling the uneven ridges where her skin had knitted together. The memory of the walrus tusk tearing into her flesh flashed vividly in her mind, accompanied by a shudder that coursed through her spine.

It was an ugly testament to her sacrifice, a grim souvenir of the day she’d saved her brother from peril. But had it been worth it? She searched the reflection in the mirror, her thoughts tangled between duty and resentment. Kova hadn’t so much as visited her once during her recovery, yet here she stood, scarred and aching, for him.

With one last look at the scar, Korra pulled on her white tunic and layered a blue doublet over it, as though the fabric could conceal not just her wound but the memories it carried.

As she walked the silent halls of the Ice Keep, the tapestries of past chiefs seemed to scrutinize her, whispering of what might have been. Had fate decreed differently, she would now preside over the Small Council, rule from the throne, and perhaps, have Asami at her side as more than a friend. Dismissing such daydreams with a shake of her head, Korra pushed open the doors to the council chamber.

The heavy oak swung inward with a resonant thud, drawing all eyes upon her. The council, assembled in the austere room, fell silent. At the table’s head sat Kova, with Asami to his right, clad in the pale blues and whites of their tribe. Their mother, arrayed in blues and silvers, occupied his left. The Hand, Hiroshi, donned a red doublet with amber highlights, the colors of his house marking him distinctively.

Beside Hiroshi sat Master Suntoq, keeper of the tribe’s coin, and next to him, a lesser chief whose grey-streaked hair and attire marked him as from the Bear Tribe. Opposite him, the tribe’s most formidable warrior, Master Kuruk, held the dual titles of Master of Ships and Head Warrior.

Kova greeted her first. “How are you, little sister?”

Korra’s eye twitched at the charade, the audacity of his concern when he had not once visited her during her recovery. Yet, before the watchful eyes of the council, she mustered a diplomatic smile. “Doing better, dear brother.”

Before she could say more, Hiroshi interrupted. “Your Grace, what brings you here? Should you not be resting?”

Stepping into the room, her stance resolute, Korra addressed them all, “Thank you for your concern, Lord Hand, but I am well. And I intend to make my words count today, for I wish to join this council.”

Murmurs of disbelief and gasps from Hiroshi and Master Suntoq punctuated the tense silence that followed her declaration. Korra could feel the weight of Asami’s gaze as it lingered upon her, a tapestry of concern and awe intricately woven into her emerald eyes. Yet, Korra chose to disregard it. Asami belonged to another now, and yet—

Why did her presence set Korra’s skin aflame?

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but your presence here does not seem necessary,” Hiroshi’s voice intruded, sharply yanking Korra back to the stark chambers of reality.

“And why might that be?” Korra’s tone, edged with defiance, filled the room.

Hiroshi’s lips thinned. “Your Grace, it is your duty now to be betrothed to a lady, or a male omega if you so wish, upon reaching your sixteenth year. In fact, Chief Cupun and I were just contemplating a suitable match between you and his daughter.”

“Yes, Your Grace. If you would have my daughter, she would be pleased to be courted,” Chief Cupun happily agreed.

The notion struck a raw nerve in Korra. Even having presented as an alpha, was she merely to be traded off, married to another as though she were but a pawn? Does she not deserve a sliver of autonomy now?

Before her thoughts could turn to protest, Asami spoke. “But father, surely it would serve the court well to have the princess engaged here.”

Kova interjected abruptly, “Why? My presence surely suffices for our family’s voice.”

“My love,” Asami began, the endearment sending a sharp pang through Korra’s heart. When had Asami begun to refer to Kova with such intimacy? “Think on it. It demonstrates to our people that unity prevails within our family despite…” she paused, searching for her words, “despite the trials we’ve faced before.”

Korra caught her mother nodding slightly towards Asami, her expression one of approval. Why this pride? But deciphering these motives mattered little to her now. Overcome with frustration at being diminished, she declared, “If I am unwelcome in the council, allow me then the honor of serving as a warrior.”

Kova’s gaze snapped to her, his lips curling into a sardonic smile as he leaned forward, resting his chin thoughtfully on his fist. “Well, that does seem fitting. You are an alpha now—big, strong, capable.”

“My love, please reconsider this decision,” Asami implored, her fingers tightening around his arm.

“Son, heed your wife’s counsel,” their mother chimed in gently.

“I am.” Yet Kova dismissed their concerns with a casual flick of his hand. “But since Korra insisted, I am only granting her wish. And luckily, you arrive at a moment of need, little sister. Master Kuruk has just brought to light troubling news of pirate attacks in the Eastern Sea by a band calling themselves ‘The Fifth Nation.’ If you seek to prove your value to our tribe, to be a warrior, confront this threat.”

The air in the council room grew heavy, charged with the weight of decisions made and the paths now set before Korra.

In a moment wrought with a tenderness that seemed to draw a hush over the council chamber, Asami gently laid her hand upon Kova’s cheek, coaxing him to face her. “Perhaps, then, allow the princess to first train. Maybe under Master Kuruk’s guidance?”

As Kova’s features softened beneath Asami’s caress, Korra felt a painful heat rising within her. She turned her gaze away, unable to bear the sight. What had unfolded during the month of her recovery? Had they grown close in her absence?

“Very well,” Kova conceded, turning to address the Head Warrior. “My sister’s training and safety are now your responsibility.”

Master Kuruk stood, his presence as resolute as his voice. “Rest assured, Your Graces, I will adequately prepare the princess. We shall require a fortnight to make ready for our journey to the east.”

Thus, the matter was decided. The remainder of the council blurred past Korra, the words of the assembly ringing hollow in her ears. She barely remembered taking her place at the table, the discussions melding into a dull, distant drone. While she should have been heartened by the prospect of training under the realm’s most esteemed warrior, the gentle intimacy between Asami and Kova gnawed at her spirits. Korra found herself contemplating, with a weary heart, that perhaps distancing herself from this place, from them, was the most prudent course she could take.

—

To describe Korra’s feelings as merely nervous would be a vast understatement. The moment had arrived, signaling a stark turn in her life’s course. Her chests, packed with clothing and essentials for the journey east, were ready. She instructed her chambermaids and helpers to transport them to the ship.

In the fortnight that had elapsed, Korra had undergone rigorous training with Master Kuruk. This was a stark departure from the playful swordplay of her youth under Kova’s tutors. Master Kuruk’s training was relentless, and even thinking about it now made her muscles ache.

Korra cast one final glance around her room, grasping her bag, ready to step into her new life, when the door creaked open. She froze. Asami entered.

“Why are you here?” Korra couldn’t hold back the question; it escaped her lips before she could restrain it.

“Can’t I say goodbye to my friend?” Asami replied, her voice soft.

Korra nearly retorted with something biting, something to wound Asami as she felt wounded. But the evident pain in Asami’s green eyes softened her resolve, and she found herself simply saying, “Fine.”

Asami’s smile then cracked the walls Korra had built around her heart. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Korra shrugged dismissively, an unspoken acknowledgment of their reality hanging between them. Asami was right. They were young, bound by duty, and her dreams of a storybook happy ending with the queen were just that—dreams. Asami had moved on, learning to love Kova, and perhaps it was time for Korra to do the same. “You have nothing to be sorry for. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

“Korra wait! There’s something I wanted to say… I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I was being cowardly about it, and…” Asami stammered, her fingers nervously picking at her nails—a telltale sign of her anxiety.

“What is it?”

“I… Last month, during the hunt. Y-you were unconscious. I was there with you in the hut,” Asami paused, her gaze darting around, avoiding Korra’s eyes. “I- I may have—”

Their moment was shattered by a knock at the door. A chambermaid entered. “Princess, Your Grace,” she bowed. “The ship is ready. Master Kuruk, Lady Senna, and Chief Kova are waiting for you at the docks. They insisted you be there immediately.”

Korra nodded, dismissing her with a polite smile. She turned back to Asami. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“Korra…” Asami’s voice trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She hesitated, then extended a carved necklace. “Please, take this. It’s made from the walrus’s tusk, to remind you of your bravery.”

Korra accepted the necklace without so much as looking at it, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a jolt through her. “Thank you. I must go.”

“Please be careful out there. I’ll be waiting for you to come back home.”

Korra merely nodded, slinging her pack over her shoulder and leaving the queen alone in the middle of the room. As she walked away, she thought she heard Asami whisper, “I love you,” but she shook it off as a figment of her wishful thinking.

—

Korra walked with her head held high along the deck of the ship bound for the Bay of Seal, her gaze steadfastly fixed on the shrinking horizon of her homeland. Despite the determined set of her jaw, unease churned in her stomach. It was her first time aboard a ship, and the rolling waves did little to ease her nerves. She hoped fervently that the vessel would remain steadfast and true through their journey.

Naga padded alongside her, her presence a comforting constant in the swaying world of sea travel. Korra often found herself reaching down to stroke Naga’s fur, grounding herself through the contact.

In one such moment, seeking further distraction for her anxious fingers, Korra slipped her hand into the pocket of her breeches. Her fingers brushed against something small and solid. Curious, she drew it out and found herself holding the necklace Asami had given her. As she looked at it, really looked at it, she noticed the intricacies of its design for the first time.

The piece of walrus tusk had been meticulously shaped into a smooth, rounded medallion. Etched upon its surface was the image of a tree—no ordinary tree, but the ancient one that stood sentinel in their secret oasis. The realization made Korra’s breath catch in her throat.

A single tear escaped her eye, trailing down her cheek to fall upon the tusk, blurring the carved lines. This gift, so thoughtfully crafted, felt like a final farewell—a testament to a shared past now relegated to memory. Naga, sensing her shifting emotions, nudged her gently with her nose, bringing a small, grateful smile to Korra’s lips. Asami cherished their time together, but it was just that: the past. Korra was not her future. With a sigh, Korra slipped the tusk over her head and tucked it beneath her tunic, a small comfort that a part of Asami would always be with her.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped Korra from her reverie. She turned to see Master Kuruk approaching, a gentle smile on his lips. “How are you, Your Grace?”

“Please, we’re not in the Keep anymore. Out here, I’m just Korra,” she corrected softly, her voice tinged with melancholy.

“Very well, Korra. How are you faring?” he asked, his tone warm and inviting.

“A little seasick,” she admitted, managing a weak smile.

Kuruk chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “That’s normal for first-timers.”

“What’s it like? Out here at sea?” Korra asked, her curiosity piqued despite her unease.

Kuruk leaned against the railing, his arms folded before him. “The sea is much like life itself—unpredictable and ever-changing. We have our calm days, and then, without warning, we might face tempests that test the strength of our hull and spirit alike,” he began. “I’ve seen my share of battles here,” Kuruk continued, his gaze drifting across the water. “Pirates, storms—challenges that make you realize the sea demands respect. It teaches you to be vigilant and prepared. Navigating through a storm, especially, requires calmness and precise judgment. It’s tough, but it’s also where you learn what you’re truly capable of.”

“I’m nervous,” Korra confessed, the admission hanging between them like the salty sea air.

“Understandable,” Kuruk nodded, his gaze returning to the horizon. “The sea is vast and unknown, but it also brings new beginnings. Perhaps, on these waters, you’ll find what you’ve been searching for.”

Korra looked out over the rail, the endless blue stirring a sense of adventure she hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, this journey could be the start of something new.

—

They arrived at the Bay of Seal on a sun-drenched day. Korra was grateful that the seas had remained calm throughout the five-day journey. Nevertheless, seasickness had claimed the majority of her time, confining her to her cabin where her only solace was the company of Naga, and the necklace Asami had given her.

Initially, Kova had suggested Naga remain at the Keep, but Korra had insisted, unable to bear the thought of parting with her friend. “She’s coming with us,” she had firmly told her brother, and with the intervention of her mother and Master Kuruk, he ultimately conceded.

Stepping onto solid ground, Korra heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the firm crunch of earth beneath her boots—a stark contrast to the constant sway of the ship. Naga, seeming unfazed by the sea voyage, padded contently by her side. She had no specific expectations of what would greet them, but the welcoming party that did await them was certainly not what she could have imagined.

There stood a motley crew: an old woman whose back was hunched yet who carried an aura of undeniable strength, as if she were as sturdy as an ox despite her age. Beside her, a man in his forties, and a young boy about Korra’s age. All three bore the muted scent of betas. Around them, the bustling activity of the bay continued unabated.

The Bay of Seal stretched before Korra, a tapestry woven with the vibrant hues and sounds of bustling life. Small patches of mud dotted the landscape, where fishermen busily prepared their gear, their movements fluid and practiced. The air was thick with the briny scent of the sea, mingling with the robust aroma of fresh fish being sorted and sold.

Children darted between stalls and boats, their small hands skillfully maneuvering carts laden with fresh clams and oysters, shouting offers to passersby. Their voices, high and clear, cut through the ambient noise of chatter and seagulls, adding a layer of youthful energy to the scene.

The sun, high and bright, cast a shimmering glow over the water, making the waves sparkle as they lapped gently at the docks. Korra could feel the sun’s warmth on her skin, a stark contrast to the cool, salty breeze that whipped her hair and tugged at her clothes, invigorating her senses.

Naga, intrigued by the new smells and sights, sniffed the air and occasionally wagged her tail, clearly enjoying the exploration as much as Korra did. Every so often, a fisherman would haul in his catch, drawing a small crowd that Naga observed with keen interest, her blue eyes bright and alert. The sharp, salty smell of the sea was everywhere, grounding Korra in the moment and reminding her of the vast, untamed ocean they had just traversed.

Nearby, an elderly vendor hawked her wares, the steam rising from her pot of simmering seafood stew mixing with the salty air, inviting Korra to sample its flavors. It was a mosaic of life and livelihood, each element crucial to the rhythm of the bay, and Korra found herself momentarily swept up in the sheer vitality of it all.

As Korra took it all in, her senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells, the bay seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of a world far removed from the courtly intrigues and quiet battles she had left behind. Here, life was raw and vibrant, a vivid splash against the vast canvas of the sea and sky.

The old woman stepped forward, bowing in reverence. “Welcome, Your Grace, to the Bay of Seal.”

***

A week after the hunt, Asami found herself trailing behind Senna through the labyrinthine corridors of the Keep. Initially, she perceived their gatherings as mere social engagements, filled with idle chatter amongst omegas in waiting, her father, and Kova. Asami struggled with the tedium, her mind often wandering to tasks she deemed more productive or urgent, like her small project of carving a certain walrus tusk. She couldn’t help but voice her frustration when alone with Senna, dismissing their activities as trivial.

Senna had simply smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. “We aren’t there to just gossip, child. We are the eyes and ears of the Keep. Stroke an alpha’s ego, provide a comforting space for them, and you cannot imagine what they’re willing to divulge, what they’re willing to give.” Senna’s gaze pierced Asami’s. “Knowledge is power.”

Minding Senna’s advice, Asami approached their next meeting in the tea room with a newfound resolve.

Asami sat at the elegantly set table, flanked by Hiroshi, Senna, and Kova. The afternoon light filtered through the grand windows of the dining hall, casting a golden hue over the gathering. The conversation meandered through several trivial matters until Hiroshi, with a calculative glance, turned towards Asami. 

“Tell me, my dear,” her father began, his voice smooth as silk, “How does marriage to our chief treat you?”

Asami turned to face him, a faint frown marking her brow but Senna gave her a look, and she corrected it. “It’s going well, father,” Asami responded with a practiced smile. “The Chief is everything I could hope for in a man. Thank you for asking.” However, she hoped the slight tremor in her voice didn’t betray the falsity of her words. Stroke their ego.

Hiroshi leaned forward, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I presume we can hope for a princeling quite soon?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Asami’s stomach churned at the implication, but she masked her discomfort with a composed smile. “I can only hope the gods will bless us with a child soon after we consummate our marriage, Father.” The words felt hollow even as they left her lips.

Kova smiled. Asami knew it was the right answer. He took her hands, and lifted it to his lips, his eyes locked on hers. “I can’t wait. Only six moons away.”

Asami’s skin crawled at the contact, but she managed a strained, “Me, too, dear.” Inside, she felt a wave of nausea threatening to overcome her composure.

Glancing around, she saw Hiroshi’s smile of approval, filled with the satisfaction of a well-laid plan progressing as desired. Her eyes then met Senna’s gaze, who also smiled, but Asami recognized a different depth in her expression—a mix of empathy and subtle encouragement that only she could detect. She did a good job. This unspoken understanding from Senna offered Asami a sliver of comfort, albeit in a sea of discomfort.

Asami had seemingly won their affection, but it felt as if she had lost a piece of herself in the process. The weight of the pretense and the forced smiles left her feeling hollow, as though she had betrayed her own soul. After the meeting concluded, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her; she needed to wash away the stench of duplicity that clung to her like a second skin.

Summoning her chambermaid, Asami requested a bath be drawn. As the warm water enveloped her, she scrubbed vigorously, as if she could cleanse the residue of her father and Kova’s presence from her body. Yet, the water could only wash away so much.

Seeking solace where she knew it still existed, Asami made her way to Korra’s bedchamber. The door was guarded by a warrior, who nodded respectfully as she approached. “Queen Asami,” he greeted her in a hushed tone, stepping aside to allow her entry without question.

The door creaked softly as she entered the dimly lit room. There, Korra lay peacefully sleeping, her features relaxed in the quiet of the chamber. Naga lifted her head from the foot of the bed, acknowledging Asami with a sleepy gaze before settling back down. Asami offered a gentle pat on her head and then turned her attention back to Korra.

She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, taking in the sight of Korra’s unruly brown locks spread across the pillow, her serene, sleeping face, and lips slightly parted. Asami’s heart ached with a mixture of peace and painful longing. Tentatively, she reached out to caress her face, her thumb lightly tracing Korra’s lips, remembering the warmth of their past kisses. The desire to feel Korra’s lips against hers surged through her, but she retracted her hand, stifling the impulse. Guilt gnawed at her—she couldn’t allow herself to cross that line again, not after what had happened.

With a heavy heart, Asami left and walked to their cherished oasis, entering the small shack that Korra had once gifted her as a symbol of their bond. There, in the quiet solitude, she took out a piece of walrus tusk that Master Arrak had given her. Settling into the familiar space, she began her task, each movement a meditation, an attempt to reconnect with the parts of herself that felt lost in the charades of the court.

Asami’s life for a moon’s turn became a strategic dance under Senna’s tutelage, revolving around observing and interacting with alphas and other influential men in the Keep. She learned to listen, to laugh, and to praise—a façade perfected to ensure these men believed she was firmly on their side, subservient. At Senna’s insistence, Asami faced her first real test: she needed to persuade Kova to allow her a seat at the Small Council meetings. She had prepared meticulously but had yet to find the right moment to make her move.

Such was her life during the day.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon each day, Asami took those quiet moments to visit Korra, spending a few minutes at her side before she retreated to her shack to continue working on the pendant. These visits continued until Korra’s recovery reached a point where sneaking in became impossible.

Weeks trickled by, and word reached Asami that Korra was fully healed. A genuine smile touched her lips at the news—she was truly happy for Korra, even though she herself wasn’t ready to face her yet. The weight of what she had done a month earlier loomed over her; she had rehearsed her confession countless times but faltered with each attempt. The thought of facing Korra’s possible scorn—or worse, loathing—was too daunting. Reluctantly, she decided it was better to keep her distance.

Thus, her days were split between her shadowing Senna and the time she spent with Kova, navigating the complex dynamics of their relationships. Then, one sunny afternoon, she found herself walking alongside Kova in one of the Keep’s lush gardens. She had resolved to broach the subject of joining the small council once more. The garden, with its serene paths and the gentle rustle of leaves, seemed like the perfect backdrop for difficult conversations. As they strolled, Asami gathered her courage, rehearsing her arguments meticulously even through the churning of her stomach. Today, she hoped, she might finally sway Kova’s opinion in her favor.

“Kova, I was thinking,” she began, her voice dripping with a sweetness that belied her internal grimace, “how wonderful it would be for the council to see us united in all things. To see me by your side during the meetings.”

Kova paused, turning to face her with a skeptical frown. “I’m not sure it’s the right place for you—”

“But, love,” Asami interrupted, her voice soft and coaxing, “remember your father? Queen Senna was always by his side. It’s good that the council will see me support you with your endeavors.”

He stopped walking, his rough hand capturing hers. Asami fought the urge to pull away as he looked at her, a childish grin spreading across his face. “You called me ‘love’. You love me?”

Asami was taken aback, her rehearsed lines turning to ash in her mouth. “Yes. I do.” The words slipped out, hollow and unintentional, sealing her fate. There was no turning back now.

Kova’s grin widened, oblivious to Asami’s discomfort. “Then you shall be by my side later at the meeting.”

Asami sighed in relief, her objective achieved. Senna was right. Men were easy. However, her triumph was short-lived. Without warning, Kova leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle—the kind that should have stirred her heart. Yet all Asami felt was a profound wrongness. It was the wrong lips, the wrong kiss, the wrong person. Her body yearned not for Kova but for someone else, a certain someone she could never have.

“Shall we, love?” Kova asked as he pulled away, offering his arm to her.

She took it, forcing a smile that felt like a mask on her face. “We shall... my love.” As they walked back toward the Keep, Asami’s mind raced, her heart a battleground of duty and desire, her smile a shield guarding the turmoil within.

—

The moment Senna caught sight of Asami entering the council meeting room, her face lit up with a knowing smile. Asami had passed the test. She should have felt a surge of pride, but instead, a wave of disgust washed over her. She masked her emotions well, however; she needed to be strong, unyielding.

The members of Kova’s small council turned to greet her, expressions varying from surprise to curiosity. Her father was the first to recover from his astonishment. “Asami, this is unexpected,” he remarked, his tone mixing surprise with a hint of approval.

Kova, clearly pleased with himself, pulled out the chair beside his at the head of the table and gestured for her to sit.

The council meeting began, and Asami caught Senna’s eye. There was a depth in her gaze that conveyed a silent command: Listen.

So, Asami listened.

Hiroshi, taking on his role with gravitas, produced a scroll from the table. “Let us address the crown’s coffers first. Since winter is coming, Master Suntoq, can you tell us how our coffers and supplies fare? Will they last throughout the winter months?”

Master Suntoq bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Lord Hand.” He unrolled another scroll, reading through it meticulously. “The supplies in the keep, along with reports of produce from fishing and hunting, are sufficient for the tribe to sustain through the winter,” he reported confidently.

The matter was swiftly closed, and they moved on to the next agenda item. Master Kuruk leaned forward to report on recent pirate sightings near the Bay of Seal. It was at this moment that the door to the council room swung open again.

Asami’s breath hitched in her throat. Korra stepped in, her presence commanding immediate attention. She was dressed regally in her blue doublet and white cloak, embodying every bit the authority and dignity of her rank. The room fell momentarily silent, caught off guard by her unexpected appearance.

Kova was the first to break the ensuing silence, his greeting laden with contempt as he acknowledged Korra, who responded politely. As the council meeting progressed, Korra declared her intentions, prompting Asami to watch her with a blend of pride, awe, and concern. Her alpha was battling in her own unique way.

However, the atmosphere soured when Hiroshi suggested a potential match for Korra—a match with the very omega Asami had found insufferable during the hunt. Asami felt her blood boil with jealousy and indignation, her emotions spilling over into words before she fully grasped her outburst. Deep down, she knew such feelings were unbecoming, but she couldn’t suppress them; she was an omega, and her very being belonged to Korra.

When Kova voiced his disagreement, Asami knew she had to intervene. “My love,” she began, the term of endearment churning her stomach as she noticed Korra’s intense stare. She swallowed hard, pushing through under the weight of Korra’s scrutiny. “Think on it. It demonstrates to our people that unity prevails within our family despite…” she paused, searching for the right words, “despite the trials we’ve faced before.”

Senna gave Asami a nod of approval and pride, acknowledging her effort to sway the council. But just as Asami felt a glimmer of hope, Korra made another declaration, asserting her desire to be recognized not just as a princess but as a warrior.

Panic surged through Asami as Kova responded with a leering comment, dismissive of the dangers such a role entailed. “My love, please reconsider this decision,” Asami implored, her grip tightening on Kova’s arm. The intensity of Korra’s gaze scorched her anew.

Yet, her plea fell on deaf ears. Kova brushed her concerns aside, decisively sending his sister into the fray with no regard for her preparation. Asami felt a crushing sense of failure; she had not only been unable to protect Korra from the council’s decision but also from the dangers that lay ahead.

With Master Kuruk’s agreement, the council’s decision was sealed. Korra was set on a path that might take her away forever. Asami watched, helpless and heartbroken, as the possibilities of what could have been began to slip through her fingers.

—

A fortnight had passed all too quickly, and Asami now found herself standing hesitantly before Korra’s door. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that everything was set for Korra’s journey east. Though part of her screamed to halt this departure, to hold onto her love for just a little longer, duty and destiny dictated otherwise. With a deep breath to steel her resolve, she pushed the heavy door open without knocking, stepping into the threshold of separation and imminent farewell.

As the door to Korra’s quarters creaked open, Asami stepped into the dimly lit room, her heart heavy with a sense of impending loss. Korra was packing her last belongings, her movements deliberate and laden with the weight of a departure neither of them truly desired. Upon hearing the intrusion, Korra turned abruptly, her expression one of guarded surprise.

“Why are you here?” The words slipped from Korra’s lips, sharp and tinged with a residue of hurt.

“Can’t I say goodbye to my friend?” Asami’s voice was soft, layered with an earnest plea for understanding.

Korra paused, her initial bristle softening, and with a voice a mere whisper against the stillness of the room, she conceded, “Fine.”

“I’m sorry. For everything,” Asami confessed, her smile fragile as it tugged at the corners of her mouth, hoping to mend the fractures between them.

Korra responded with a noncommittal shrug, the distance in her gesture speaking volumes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go,” she stated, her voice firm yet hollow, as if echoing through the halls of their lost dreams.

“Korra wait!” Asami had to say it now, or forever hold her guilt. “There’s something I wanted to say… I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I was being cowardly about it, and…” her voice faltered, fingers nervously picking at her nails.

“What is it?”

“I… Last month, during the hunt. Y-you were unconscious. I was there with you in the hut,” Asami hesitated, her gaze flitting away, unable to meet Korra’s piercing stare. “I- I may have—”

Their fraught exchange was cut abruptly short by a knock at the door. A chambermaid entered, bowing respectfully. “Princess, Your Grace,” she announced, “The ship is ready. Master Kuruk, Lady Senna, and Chief Kova are waiting for you at the docks. They insisted you be there immediately.”

Korra nodded, giving the maid a dismissive smile before turning back to Asami. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“Korra…” Asami’s voice broke slightly, her eyes welling with tears she fought to control. She hesitated, deciding not to burden Korra with her confession. Coward. Extending her hand, she offered the carved necklace she had made from the walrus’s tusk. “Please, take this. It’s to remind you of your bravery.”

Korra accepted the necklace without so much as glancing at it, their fingers briefly touching, a fleeting connection that sent a jolt of longing and pain through Asami. “Thank you. I must go.”

Take me with you, she wanted to say. Instead, she whispered, “Please be careful out there. I’ll be waiting for you to come back home.”

Korra merely nodded, her silhouette framed by the doorway as she turned to leave, her departure leaving a void that Asami felt acutely. As Korra walked away, Asami whispered into the room, “I love you,” hoping that her feelings would reach the one who got away.

Once Korra had departed, leaving behind only the echoing silence of the room, Asami felt a profound solitude envelop her—the stark, unmistakable sensation of being truly alone for the first time in her life. She found herself questioning the path she had chosen. “Was this charade worth it?” The doubts crept in like unwelcome shadows, but she quickly pushed them aside. There was no time for such hesitations. She had to—no, she needed—to make it worth it. Her resolve had to be unshakable.

Chapter Text

Korra woke with a start, blinking several times to shake off the remnants of a dream she couldn’t quite recall. As her heart rate steadied, she glanced around and realized she was no longer in her room at the Ice Keep. This was a new, simpler space, her home for the foreseeable future.

The room was simple yet sturdy, crafted from rich, dark wood that exuded a faint scent of pine and earth. The walls were bare, save for the natural grain of the wood that seemed to tell its own quiet story. To her left stood a modest desk, its surface smooth and worn from years of use. On it, a scroll of parchment lay ready, accompanied by a bottle of ink and a quill, inviting her to pen her thoughts or plans.

To her right was a simple wooden dresser, its drawers slightly uneven, yet functional. The dresser held a faint aroma of lavender, likely from sachets placed within to keep her clothes fresh. The bed she lay on was firm but comfortable, the sheets crisp and cool against her skin, smelling faintly of sun-dried linen.

At the foot of her bed, Naga slept soundly, her large form rising and falling with each peaceful breath. The familiar, comforting presence of her loyal companion brought a sense of home to this otherwise unfamiliar place.

The morning light filtered through a small window, casting a gentle glow across the room and highlighting the specks of dust that floated lazily in the air. The cool morning breeze carried the scent of the nearby sea, salty and invigorating, mingling with the earthy aroma of the wooden room.

Korra took a deep breath, absorbing the newness of her surroundings. It was different from the grandeur of the Ice Keep, but there was a charm to its simplicity that she found grounding. 

Deciding to start the day, she threw off the furs and pulled on her blue robe, feeling the chill of the morning air. It was a strange sensation, performing tasks she had never done before. Drawing herself a bath seemed daunting when it had always been her chambermaids who prepared everything for her.

Descending the creaky wooden stairs, Korra made her way to the kitchen, where the rich, savory aroma of stew filled the air. The scent of tender meat and earthy vegetables, mingled with fragrant herbs, was so enticing that it made her stomach grumble in anticipation. Master Kuruk’s wife stood by the stove, stirring the pot with a practiced hand. Her long, light brown hair was tied back, revealing a face framed by a few loose strands. Her skin was warm and light brown, her gray eyes exuding a quiet wisdom.

Lady Ummi turned as Korra entered, her eyes crinkling into a welcoming smile. “Good morrow, Your Grace.”

Korra felt a blush rise to her cheeks, embarrassed by her rumbling stomach and the awkwardness of her request. She bowed slightly, her voice soft. “Good morrow, my Lady. I’ve come to boil water for my bath.”

Lady Ummi’s smile widened, her expression kind and understanding. “I am no lady, Your Grace. I am but a simple person, of common birth. And if it please you, there’s an empty cauldron you can use. You may draw water from the well out back.”

“Oh. My apologies. And please, call me Korra,” Korra said, bowing again before heading out to the well as she tried to hide the embarrassment from her cheeks. The rich scent of the stew, mingling with the faint sea breeze drifting in through an open window, made Korra’s mouth water as she filled her bucket.

A common born marrying a noble? she thought as she drew the water. It was only her first day in this place, and already she had learned so much.

The old woman who had greeted her upon arrival turned out to be the Seal Tribe’s chief. When the woman introduced herself as such, Korra’s eyes widened in shock. Chief Unna had chuckled amusedly. “We still follow the old ways, Your Grace. Out here, far from Wolf’s Cove.” Korra’s confusion must have shown on her face, for the chief went on to explain that in the Bay of Seal, anyone could lead. There was no succession, no nobility, except in name when they visited the capital.

And now, Master Kuruk, a noble, had a wife who was of common birth. All the things her tutors had told her... were they all lies? She hoped not, but the seeds of doubt had been planted.

Shaking her thoughts away, Korra gripped the rough, braided rope. She began to pull, each tug making her hands sting and her arms ache. The bucket rose slowly, the water sloshing inside, and by the time she finished drawing it up, her muscles burned with the unfamiliar effort. She repeated the process until the cauldron was almost full. Determined, she lifted the cauldron by its handle, struggling to maintain her grip as she carried it back toward the house. Each step was a challenge, the weight of the water testing her strength and resolve.

By the time she got inside and placed the cauldron on the hearth, Korra was breathing hard, her chest heaving with exertion. She wasn’t used to this kind of labor, but she was determined to make it work.

After a short but refreshing bath, Korra joined Lady Ummi for breakfast. The aroma of freshly baked bread and stew filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of the sea. Master Kuruk soon returned, bringing with him a catch of fish and clams for dinner. The warrior joined them at the table, his presence solid and reassuring.

As they ate, they talked and laughed, sharing stories and experiences. For the first time, Korra felt part of something. The camaraderie reminded her of family meals at the Ice Keep, though it couldn’t have been more different. Their meals had always been quiet affairs, save for her and Asami’s animated conversations about anything and everything. The memory of Asami’s bright eyes and eager voice brought a pang to her heart, and she suddenly lost her appetite. She fingered the necklace around her neck, tracing the carving on its smooth surface, finding a bittersweet comfort in its touch.

When breakfast was over, Master Kuruk stood and beckoned Korra to follow. “It’s time to train,” he said, leading her out of the house and toward the barracks a few miles away. Korra took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

Master Kuruk opened the massive iron gate, and Korra was immediately engulfed by the sights and sounds of the barracks. The clashing of swords and shields echoed through the air, accompanied by grunts and groans of pain from the warrior trainees. The sharp tang of sweat and metal permeated the atmosphere, mingling with the earthy scent of the training grounds.

The scene before her was a symphony of combat: warriors sparring with fierce intensity, their movements fluid and precise. The rhythmic clanging of steel on steel resonated in her ears, a stark contrast to the cries of exertion and the occasional thud of a body hitting the ground. Soil kicked up from the ground as boots pounded against it, creating a hazy cloud that added to the gritty ambiance.

Korra stepped inside, taking in her surroundings. The stone armory at the back was old, windowless, and narrow, brimming with weapons. Racks of spears, long staffs, and swords lined the walls. Maces, morningstars, and flails hung from the ceiling like chandeliers. A dozen practice dummies stood at the far end of the room, marked with scars from swords, axes, and arrows.

A tall, lanky man approached them, clasping Master Kuruk’s arm in his. “Master Kuruk. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Master Nanuk, I have a new recruit. This is Her Grace, Princess Korra of the Wolf Tribe.” The Head Warrior turned to her. “Korra, this is Master Nanuk, the Master-at-Arms here. He’s responsible for training grunts like you.”

Nanuk laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Princess Korra, huh. What’s a clueless royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

The tone of his voice irritated Korra, fueling her determination to prove him wrong. Before she could answer, Master Kuruk gently pushed her toward the Master-at-Arms. “She volunteered to be a warrior. A new force to help us in the impending pirate attacks. You can start assessing Korra on her skills.”

She squared her shoulders and spoke with confidence. “I can take him on, Master Kuruk. I’ve been trained by the best at the Ice Keep.”

Master Nanuk scrutinized her with a critical eye. Korra felt exposed, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her skin crawl, especially with the overpowering alpha scent he exuded. “Pick up a sword then,” he said, his tone challenging. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Korra selected a longsword from the rack and took her stance, the familiar weight of the weapon steadying her nerves.

“Let us begin,” Nanuk commanded.

Korra moved forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She had trained with swords since she was old enough to know she always wanted to be a warrior, sparring with Kova’s tutors in the yard at the Ice Keep. She would show him just how “clueless” she really was.

The other warriors-in-training stopped what they were doing, drawn by the spectacle. By now, everyone knew who she was.

Korra was quick, her movements fluid and precise, confidence radiating with each strike. She circled Nanuk, looking for an opening, but Nanuk stood his ground, his expression calm and calculating.

Korra lunged, aiming for his midsection, but Nanuk sidestepped effortlessly, countering with a swift strike that Korra barely managed to deflect. The force of his blow reverberated up her arm, but she maintained her grip, determined to show her skill.

They exchanged a rapid series of blows, their swords clashing with a metallic ring that echoed through the training grounds. Korra could feel the eyes of the other recruits on her, their silent judgments a tangible weight. She parried a high strike, then ducked under another, her movements increasingly desperate as Nanuk’s relentless attacks pushed her back.

Nanuk’s experience was evident in every move. He shifted his stance, feinted a low sweep, then brought his sword down in a powerful arc. Korra saw the feint too late and scrambled to block, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Nanuk pressed his advantage, his strikes coming faster, each one precise and punishing.

Korra’s frustration mounted. She swung with all her might, aiming for Nanuk’s shoulder, but he sidestepped again, his sword flashing out to tap her lightly on the side. The move was more a demonstration of superiority than a strike, and it stung worse than a real blow.

Then his sword came at her from an unexpected angle. It slipped past her defenses, striking her sword arm and numbing her grip. Her sword clattered to the ground as she fell, and before she could react, Nanuk’s blade was at her throat. She was utterly defeated and humiliated.

“Now you see, princess? Your royal status doesn’t mean anything here. Whatever swordplay you learned back at the palace is child’s play! This is the real world!” Nanuk’s voice was harsh, cutting through her frustration.

“That’s enough, Nanuk. Korra has heard enough. I’ll take over from here,” Kuruk said gently, stepping forward to help Korra back to her feet.

Korra’s cheeks burned with shame, but she accepted Kuruk’s hand, her grip firm as she rose. Fuck! Tears welled in her eyes, a mix of frustration and humiliation. She had always thought of herself as skilled, but this defeat was a harsh reminder of her limitations. The sting of Nanuk’s words cut deeper than the pain of the fall.

How could I have been so naive? she thought, her mind racing. I’ve trained for years, but it wasn’t enough. I need to be stronger, faster. I need to be better. The realization was bitter, but it also fueled a fire within her.

“That’s alright, Korra,” Kuruk said gently. “We must learn defeat before we can gain victory. Let this be a lesson to you.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Now, come on. Let’s get you acquainted with some of your companions.”

Korra nodded, swallowing her frustration. She knew she had a long road ahead, but she was determined to prove herself, not just to others, but to herself as well.

—

Despite the humiliation she had faced earlier in the day, Korra deemed it a success. She was sore and bruised from practice, but she grinned through her pain. She had made friends today, she thought.

Two brothers, Mako and Bolin, had joined the training grounds. They were not native to the Southern Water Tribe but rather shipwrecked survivors a fortnight ago from the Earth Kingdom, fleeing a dictator named Kuvira. Mako, the older of the two, was brooding and somewhat standoffish, but he warmed up to Korra after she helped Bolin train with a sword. They had thanked her, recognizing her as the princess of the Southern Water Tribe and expressing gratitude for the warm hospitality they had received.

Korra just nodded, not telling them that the crown had no idea about their presence. She knew she would have to talk with Chief Unna to learn more about their story.

Later, at Kuruk’s home, they shared a hearty meal of rice, fried fish and baked clams with Yak cheese. Korra asked Lady Ummi to teach her how to cook her own meals so she wouldn’t depend on their hospitality during her stay. Ummi smiled and insisted she wasn’t intruding, but still promised to teach her.

After dinner, Korra tended to Naga’s needs, realizing her loyal polar bear dog needed exercise and training. She would make time for this, she promised herself.

And so, Korra’s life began in the Bay of Seals.

Every morning began the same way for Korra. The first rays of dawn found her drawing her own bath water, her muscles straining with the effort but growing stronger each day. The cool, crisp air filled her lungs as she pulled the heavy bucket from the well, and carried the cauldron back to the house, the routine becoming less daunting with each passing sunrise. The simple act of self-reliance was a far cry from the pampered life at the Ice Keep, but it grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Once her bath was done, she would head to the kitchen, where the rich, welcoming aroma of breakfast greeted her. Ummi was always there, her kind eyes crinkling with a smile as Korra entered. They would cook together, Ummi’s patient instructions guiding Korra’s hands as she learned to prepare meals. The scent of sizzling fish, baking bread, and earthy vegetables filled the small kitchen, mingling with the salty tang of the sea breeze drifting in through the open window. Each dish was a lesson, each meal a small triumph.

After breakfast, Korra’s days were consumed by training at the barracks. The clashing of swords and the rhythmic thud of boots on the ground became the soundtrack of her mornings. She sparred with Master Nanuk and the other recruits, her skills honed and sharpened with each bout. The weight of the sword in her hand grew familiar, the dance of combat becoming second nature. Sweat and dirt became badges of honor, the soreness in her muscles a testament to her dedication.

In the afternoons, she trained Naga. The loyal polar bear dog responded eagerly to Korra’s commands, their bond strengthening as they worked together. They would run along the coastline, the cool sea spray mingling with Naga’s playful barks and Korra’s laughter. Training Naga was a respite from the intensity of the barracks, a joyful partnership that brought lightness to her rigorous routine.

This was also the time when Korra would mingle with the villagers. She listened to their stories of fishing and navigating the treacherous seas, tales of getting lost and miraculously finding their way back home. She heard of food supplies dwindling and the ever-present worry of the next catch not being enough. Meeting other refugees from the Earth Kingdom, she learned of their harrowing escapes from Kuvira’s tyranny and their hopes for a new life in the Bay of Seals. Korra did more than just listen; she helped where she could, her strong arms and willing spirit a boon to the struggling community.

Those were news to her. In all her life back at the palace, she never once heard that the people far from the capital of the Southern Water Tribe were having a hard time finding food. But that must be impossible, right? She should’ve overheard some things when she snuck out of her room. Or was she not paying attention? Regardless, she put it in her mind to know more about their situation so she could help.

Dinner was a time of relaxation and reflection. Back at Kuruk’s home, they would gather around the table, the day’s exertions giving way to shared stories and hearty laughter. The meals Korra helped prepare with Ummi were shared with newfound friends, each bite a celebration of their small community.

The nights were quiet, the gentle lapping of waves against the shore lulling her to sleep. As she lay in her simple bed, the sounds of the sea mingling with the faint murmur of the wind, Korra would reflect on the day. At every moon’s turn, she would write to her mother about her experiences and she would get an answer in return. Each day brought new challenges, new lessons, and new strengths. She was far from the sheltered life of the Ice Keep, but in the Bay of Seals, she found a sense of purpose and belonging she had never known.

And just like that, Fall turned to Winter.

—

Korra breathed out slowly, her senses heightened. This was it. Her final test to prove herself worthy of being a warrior. She faced Ser Nanuk again, but this time, she wouldn’t dare underestimate the alpha. He was the master, and she was the student. But hopefully this time, she would pass.

Master Nanuk bowed to her, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Show me what you've learned these last six moons. Show me you are worthy to be a warrior, princess.”

Her teacher moved first. He struck left, which she parried easily. The clash of steel echoed through the training grounds, a sharp sound that sent a thrill through Korra’s veins. Nanuk pressed forward, his attacks swift and relentless. Korra met him blow for blow, her movements fluid and precise. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, trickling down her face, mingling with the dust and grit of the training ground.

With each parry and thrust, her grip on the sword slickened with sweat. Her fingers clenched tighter around the hilt, refusing to let go. Nanuk’s strikes were powerful, testing her limits. She could hear his grunts of exertion, mirroring her own, their breaths harsh and rhythmic in the heat of battle.

The other recruits had gathered around, watching intently. The world narrowed to just her and Nanuk. His blade came at her from unexpected angles, but she met each attack with a steadfast defense. Suddenly, he feinted to the right, pivoting with a downward slash aimed at her shoulder. Korra reacted instinctively, her sword coming up to block. The force jarred her, but she held firm. She needed to be smarter, faster.

Drawing a deep breath, she feinted a high strike, quickly shifting her stance to drop low and sweep her leg out in a calculated move. Her foot connected with his ankle, throwing him off balance. He stumbled, and she saw her opening. With a swift, precise movement, she brought her sword to his chest, stopping just short of making contact.

The training ground fell silent, the only sounds were their heavy breaths. Sweat dripped from Korra’s brow, her heart pounding.

Nanuk looked at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. He bowed deeply. “Congratulations on being a warrior, Princess Korra of the Wolf Tribe.”

Korra bowed in return, pride swelling in her chest. Mako, Bolin, and the other recruits cheered around her. She looked to Master Kuruk, who nodded and smiled, his eyes filled with pride and respect. She had proven herself. She was a warrior.

Later that day, after some recruits had also passed the test, Mako and Bolin dragged Korra to the outskirts of town. Master Kuruk allowed her to go, saying she deserved a break and to celebrate her becoming a full-fledged warrior.

They stood before an inn just outside the Bay of Seals’ border. Korra squinted at the faded sign, trying to make out the name, but the letters had been weathered away by snow and dirt. Mako told her it was called “The Silk Lounge.” Korra didn’t think much of it and followed them inside.

At first glance, the inside looked like any regular inn. Wooden tables and chairs were scattered around, and a warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a cozy glow. The air smelled of spiced ale and roasted meat. Korra began to relax, thinking it was just a place for a quiet celebration. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she started noticing details that set this place apart.

The servers were all omegas, and they were scantily clothed, their attire designed to reveal rather than conceal. Silken garments clung to their bodies, leaving little to the imagination. The atmosphere was charged with a different kind of energy, one that made Korra’s heart beat a little faster. She turned to Mako and Bolin, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice low.

Mako and Bolin smirked, exchanging a glance. Mako clapped her on the shoulder. “You think you’d get away with skipping your sixteenth nameday, huh? Well, we’re here to celebrate!”

Bolin nodded enthusiastically, his grin matching his brother’s. “Yeah, Korra. You’ve earned this.”

Korra’s confusion deepened. “But why in a brothel? We could’ve celebrated at Master Kuruk’s home!”

Mako’s smirk turned even more mischievous. “Because, my friend, you’re now going to be a real alpha.” Before Korra could protest, Mako nudged her towards the bar where an omega was cleaning cups. The omega, likely the owner, looked up and smiled slyly at her.

“Is she the alpha you’re talking about?” she asked Mako, her eyes never leaving Korra.

“Yes. And do we have a deal? She’ll have any omega she wants?”

“Yes,” the omega replied, but her gaze was still fixed on Korra, an intensity in her eyes that made Korra’s pulse quicken.

Korra felt a surge of panic, almost backing out. But then she saw an omega across the room with snow-white skin and black wavy hair, and her heart leaped out of her chest. The omega’s delicate beauty captivated her, reminding her of a certain someone and for a moment, everything else faded away. Mako and Bolin’s snickers barely registered in her ears as she turned back to the bar owner.

“Is she available?” Korra asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The owner smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Yes. She is. Good choice, Alpha. That omega is as skilled in sucking cock as a master is in wielding a sword. And a warrior’s sword like yours needs a sheath.”

—

Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. Her body was screaming for that omega.

The door creaked open, and in came the omega who had captured her eyes. Korra’s breath hitched. The resemblance was uncanny. Why, after six moons, did she think she had moved on? But one look at this woman, and her mind raced back to the person she had left at the palace. She had tried so hard to forget her, to forget her scent, her eyes, her smile… everything about her. Korra hadn’t even uttered her name again, but now…

The omega’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, clearly noticing her nervousness. The woman flashed a warm smile and said, “Relax, princess. Please, take a cup of wine while I make everything ready.”

Korra did just that, sitting down on the plush bed made of feathers. She took the time to observe the woman while she moved around the room, comparing her to the omega back at the palace. While they had an uncanny resemblance, the omega with her now was a few years older. She had a fuller face, fuller breasts, fuller hips, and her eyes were grey instead of green.

“What’s your name?” Korra found herself saying.

The omega smiled at her sweetly— almost innocently—, as if she wasn’t a whore doing her job. “Hana, Your Grace.”

“You are one of the refugees?”

Hana’s eyes turned slightly distant, but it was gone with a blink. “Yes, Your Grace. But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here because of you.” Hana lit a candle, its floral scent filling the room.

Korra watched as Hana moved gracefully, her every gesture exuding confidence and warmth. The soft glow of the candlelight accentuated Hana’s curves, casting a seductive light that made Korra’s pulse quicken. She took a sip of the wine, the rich flavor calming her nerves slightly.

Hana approached her, her movements slow and deliberate. She placed a gentle hand on Korra’s shoulder, then straddled her, the omega’s touch sending shivers down Korra’s spine. “Let me take care of you, princess,” Hana whispered, her breath warm against Korra’s ear.

“Please, just call me Korra,” she said, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be touched by Hana’s skilled hands. She felt the weight of her responsibilities and the pressure of her new role melt away, replaced by the simple, primal need that Hana awakened in her. As Hana’s lips brushed against her neck, Korra’s mind drifted back to the palace, to the one she had left behind.

“As you wish. Tell me, Korra,” Hana whispered, her voice a soothing melody. “What do you desire?”

Korra’s breath caught in her throat, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She knew she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this, but the pull was too strong to resist. She reached out, her hand trembling as she cupped Hana’s face, her thumb tracing the curve of her lips.

“I… I just want to forget,” Korra admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hana smiled, a sad understanding in her eyes. “Then let me help you forget, even if just for a little while.” She looked delicious, but once more the wrongness of it all nagged at Korra. She wasn’t the one Korra wanted. But if she wanted to move on, then she had to do this.

So, she indulged herself, pushing forward to capture the alluring omega’s lips, her taste sweet and intoxicating. 

Her cock was already stiff, and when Hana’s hand pressed against her growing bulge, a gasp escaped Korra’s lips. “Fuck,” she muttered as the omega slipped a hand beneath the rough fabric of her breeches, grasping the throbbing shaft. Slowly, Hana began to pump up and down, the sensation making Korra’s hands fist. It only took a few strokes before the familiar fluid began to seep from her tip. Suddenly, memories of her dreams of the omega when she was unconscious came to the forefront of her mind. The hand stroking her suddenly felt familiar, more slender and smooth. It was as if it had happened in real life. But how could it be when it was only in her mind?

“Your cock looks divine, Korra. Nice and thick and long,” Hana whispered, pulling Korra out of her thoughts. The pressure of Hana’s thumb circling her cock’s head increased. “I can’t wait to have it inside me.”

Korra groaned, the mixture of pleasure and guilt a tumultuous storm inside her. She knew this wasn’t right, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She needed this escape, this moment to forget everything else, even for one night only. Hana’s touch was electric, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Hana shifted, positioning her wet cunt over Korra’s aching shaft. She lowered herself slowly, taking Korra inch by inch, her tight heat enveloping the alpha completely. Korra’s breath hitched, the sensation overwhelming. Hana’s movements were deliberate and skilled, each motion designed to drive Korra wild with desire. The alpha went with the flow, thrusting into the omega, letting her instincts drive her body until they were both screaming in climax.

By the time they finished, the candles around them were almost burned out. They lay there, breathless and spent. Korra knew that while this moment wouldn’t erase the past, it gave her a fleeting reprieve from the weight of her memories. She held Hana close, savoring the warmth of another body against hers, and for just a little while, she allowed herself to forget.

—

The next day, Master Kuruk had an announcement to make. They were at the barracks, and her friends were all looking at her slyly, silently congratulating her on experiencing what it was like to be a “real alpha.” She chided them. Even though she had participated in such acts, Korra didn’t want the sex workers—she refused to call them whores after being with Hana—working in that brothel to be treated like objects. She had said as much to Hana last night, and the omega had thanked Korra for treating her like a human instead.

Master Kuruk stood on the podium, his presence commanding attention. “Warriors. Thank you for coming here on such short notice. An urgent report came in this morning: the Fifth Nation has threatened an Air Nation ship sailing north of here on a diplomatic visit to Wolf’s Cove. If we do not get there in time, they will attack, causing a rift between the Southern Water Tribe and the Air Nation. We must make haste in intervening. Prepare yourselves for battle. We sail at dusk tonight.”

The head warrior dismissed them, and Korra’s heart pounded in her chest—whether from fear, nervousness, or excitement, she didn’t know. All she knew was that this was it. It was time to put what she had learned to the test.

Chapter Text

Since being wedded to the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, Asami thought her job was to look pretty, be part of his counsel, and bear him heirs. However, under Senna’s tutelage, the Queen Consort learned that her responsibilities extended far beyond those initial expectations.

Managing the whole Keep was no small task. The sprawling halls, filled with the echoes of daily activity, required her constant attention. She oversaw the chambermaids and cooks, coordinated the efforts of teachers and sages, and meticulously planned feasts and balls. Receiving guests demanded not only grace but also a keen ear for subtle whispers. The servants’ gossip provided invaluable insights, and Asami learned to sift through the chatter for useful information. The sheer volume of tasks was overwhelming, to say the least.

Yet, the most daunting duty was her role as Chief Kova’s wife. She dreaded being summoned to his chambers, especially at night. Kova’s disregard for tradition frightened her, and she lived in constant fear that he might consummate their marriage prematurely. Fortunately, he hadn’t done so yet. Instead, he would show off his collection of animal skulls, and trophies from his hunts. Asami suspected that these trophies were not entirely his own, perhaps bought or collected by someone else. Still, she smiled and praised his hunting prowess, feigning admiration as he rambled on until he eventually fell asleep.

That night was no different. Kova was particularly animated, showing off a new addition to his collection. The dim candlelight cast eerie shadows across the room, highlighting the grotesque features of the skulls. Asami feigned interest, her mind wandering to thoughts of Korra.

Korra had set off to the Bay of Seals a moon ago, and Asami missed her dearly. She wanted to know how her alpha was doing, or if the princess was eating properly. How was she faring? Was she looking at the same moon as Asami every night? Was she safe? Was she thinking of her too? The uncertainty gnawed at her, adding to the burden of her daily duties. Despite their last painful parting, Asami’s heart ached with worry and regret. Korra had left hurt because of her actions, and the memory of their strained goodbye was etched in her mind.

Korra’s face still haunted her, laced with pain and disappointment. Asami wanted to confess, to clear the air but the words had caught in her throat, leaving only silence between them. Now, that silence was filled with unspoken apologies and a longing that gnawed at her soul.

Kova’s voice pulled her back to the present. He was describing the latest skull in great detail, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Asami nodded absently, her thoughts still on Korra.

“You seem distracted, my dear,” Kova said, his tone laced with suspicion.

Asami quickly composed herself. “I’m sorry, dear husband. It’s just… your collection is so impressive. I was lost in thought, imagining the bravery it must have taken to hunt such creatures.”

Kova’s suspicion melted into a satisfied smile. “Indeed, it takes great skill and courage. Perhaps one day, you’ll accompany me on a hunt since it was rudely interrupted the last time.”

Asami forced a smile, hoping her unease didn’t show. “I would be honored.”

—

Asami breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into her bedchamber, needing to compose herself before she was sure she was truly alone. It had taken longer than necessary, but her lord husband had finally fallen asleep. She was about to call for her chambermaids to help her out of her dress when she froze. Senna was already sitting at her writing desk, holding a scroll. Suddenly, her stomach fluttered with nerves, the cold wind seeping through the window turning even colder.

“Your Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Asami curtsied.

“Asami, dear. You don’t need to be so formal when it is just the two of us,” Senna began, her voice warm and soothing. “I take it you’d like to know how my daughter is faring?”

“Yes,” Asami blurted out before she could compose herself.

Her good mother smiled, gently placing the scroll on the bed. “Then I’ll leave this to you.” Senna walked past her, touching her shoulder lightly before heading to the door. “Oh, and before I forget, prepare for tomorrow. You’ll join Kova in hearing petitions.”

With that, the door closed behind her. Asami took the scroll, breathing in its scent. The familiar aroma of parchment mixed with Korra’s fresh snow and crisp winter air scent enveloped her senses. It calmed her racing heart for a split second. She started breathing heavily, her fingers trembling as she unfurled the scroll.

Dear Mother,

My first month at the Bay of Seals has been challenging but rewarding. The training here is rigorous; we rise before dawn and spend hours in combat practice, strategy sessions, and endurance drills. I’ve learned much about their fighting techniques and their unique approach to warfare. I know now how to sail. I pray to the gods I’ll be a warrior soon.

But it’s not all about the training. I’ve had the opportunity to immerse myself in their culture. The people here are resilient and deeply connected to their traditions. They’ve been kind enough to teach me their customs and stories, which has given me a new perspective on our shared heritage.

And the children here all love me.

I’ve also made a few friends. They’ve been great companions during this time, making the experience more bearable. But I miss home, and I miss... familiar faces.

Mom, there are things Kova needed to know. I’ll tell him and you all about it when I get back.

I hope all is well back at the Keep. Give my regards to everyone.

With love,
Korra

Asami clutched the scroll to her chest, the scent of Korra bringing a bittersweet comfort. She sank onto the bed, letting the reality of their separation wash over her. How had she let things go so wrong between them? She replayed their last conversation in her mind over and over, the hurt in Korra’s eyes, the words left unsaid.

But now was not the time for regret. She had to stay strong, for herself and for Korra. Asami took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges ahead. Tomorrow she would face the petitions with Kova, but tonight, she would hold onto this piece of Korra, this small connection to the woman she loved.

—

Near the doors, petitioners gathered: innkeepers, fishermen, smiths, merchants, farmers, and priests, all kept at a distance from the throne. Asami sat on Kova’s left, her father on the Chief’s right. The Queen Consort felt a flutter of nerves but reassured herself that these were only petitions. She could sit here and hear them out.

The first petitioner, a broad-faced beta man with a button nose, stepped forward with a complaint about a border dispute. Asami listened attentively while her father instructed Master Suntoq to look into the issue and report back his findings. Following him, a merchant came forward, seeking justice for stolen goods. Her father again assured the petitioner that the thief would be punished.

Throughout the petitions, Kova merely looked on, likely bored out of his mind. Other complaints followed, each petitioner heard, considered, and judged. Yet, Asami couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. As Chief, Kova should have his people’s interests at heart. He should be listening to them, hearing their pleas no matter how small. But why was he like this?

The next petitioner, a man in his forties, and a young boy about Asami’s age, stood before them, bowing in reverence.

“Rise,” Hiroshi commanded.

“Your Grace, I am Keena, the son of the chief of the Seal Tribe, from the Bay of Seals.”

His words caught Asami’s interest, pulling her back to the throne room. It seemed Kova’s interest was piqued too, as he straightened on the throne. Asami’s heart raced at the mention of the place where Korra was now, and she paid even closer attention.

“What are your concerns?” Kova asked, speaking up for the first time since the petitions began.

“Your Grace, winter is upon us, and we fear that our supplies of fish and seafood will not be sufficient to feed our tribe if the quotas of shipment to Wolf’s Cove remain unchanged. Pirates bombard the waters, causing the fish and squid to swim farther away.”

Hiroshi spoke up instead of Kova. “I’m afraid we cannot grant your request.”

Keena looked horrified. “I beg your pardon, my Lord Hand. We have enough for now, but come winter, there won’t be enough to feed our people!”

“The quota must be met. If it’s not, how will the people here in the capital survive?”

“Please, my Lord Hand, I beg of you! The princess has already given her blessing to talk to you about this!”

“You insolent peasant!” Hiroshi thundered, his voice echoing through the hall.

Asami’s heart raced even more wildly at the mention of her love. If Korra had spoken to these people and what they were saying was true, then they must believe Keena.

In an instant, Aguta, Kova’s sworn sword, stepped in front of Keena, his weapon drawn and pointed menacingly. Asami sprang to her feet. “Stop!” All eyes turned to her. She knew she shouldn’t have spoken, but the words were out before she could stop them. “What are you all doing? Please, listen to him.”

Kova raised his hand, a gesture that silenced the room and dismissed Aguta. He placed his hand on hers, gently but firmly, guiding her back to her seat. “Lord Keena,” he began, his tone measured, “If you say that my sister has seen your condition, then why hasn’t she done something about it? She promised to solve the pirate problem, hadn’t she?”

“Your Grace, the princess is still in training with the other warrior recruits. Our warriors aren’t enough to completely eradicate the pirates yet. Until Princess Korra and the others are ready, we can’t do anything about it.”

Asami opened her mouth to plead further, but Kova stopped her with a look. “Then that just means my sister isn’t doing her job correctly.”

No. That wasn’t right. Asami had to do something. Think. “My love,” she said, her voice soft and pleading, “We have other sources here. We may trade with the United Republic, or send a letter to the North about a harsh winter. We certainly can accommodate the Seal Tribe’s request. Or we can talk to Master Suntoq about our stocks. This will surely gain you favors.”

Kova looked at her, a flicker of consideration crossing his face. The room held its breath, waiting for his response.

—

Asami took a deep breath and smiled at Kova. “My love,” she said, making her voice as sweet as possible, “That was so gallant of you to grant them their request. Thank you for listening to me.”

Kova visibly preened under her praise. “Of course, my dear. It is my duty as Chief to protect my people.”

“Yes. And you do it so well, and with pride,” Asami agreed, even though she was grimacing internally. She longed to retreat to her chambers, to rest and to think about Korra. But she was bound to this role, compelled to shower her lord husband with praise. She needed to.

Asami lowered her eyes demurely, playing the part of the grateful and adoring wife. “I am so lucky to have you, Kova,” she said. “You are everything I could ever hope for in a husband and chief.”

Kova reached out, pulling her into a kiss. “I can’t wait until we can have children. They will be so glad to have you as their mother.”

“Yes,” she answered. No , her mind, body, and soul screamed, rejecting his touches. As she remained in his bedchambers, she kept up her stream of flattery and admiration, all the while thinking of when this farce would end. When would she be free of this charade she was forced to play? Never , a voice in her head that sounded like her father echoed in her mind. The thought sent a pang of pain through her heart. She would have to endure this for the rest of her life. Caged in a cell she wanted no part of. If only she could turn back time. If only she’d said yes to Korra. Maybe they would be far away from the Keep right now.

Although she had resolved to make this farce worth it, moments like these created cracks in her resolve, especially when she missed her alpha so deeply.

Finally, after what felt like endless hours of flattery, Kova fell asleep. Asami slipped back to her own chambers, seeking rest, only to find her father already there.

“You insolent child! Are you trying to undermine me?” he said, slapping her with the back of his hand.

Asami clutched her cheek, surely turning red from the impact. “What? No—”

“Ah. I get it. You’re still in cahoots with the princess, right? That’s why you convinced the Chief to help the tribe, conveniently where the princess is right now. Have you learned nothing, Asami?”

“Father, please. It’s not—”

Before she could finish, Hiroshi grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her toward the wall. He pressed a stone, and Asami gasped as the wall shifted to reveal a hidden door. She had never seen this passage before. How did her father know about it? Panic surged through her. If he knew of these secret doors, then… did he also know about her and Senna’s conversations, their hushed whispers? Was he spying on her?

Asami didn’t have time to ponder. Hiroshi’s grip was strong, pulling her through dark, narrow, winding passageways. The air grew colder, and the walls seemed to close in around her. She stumbled, trying to keep up, her mind racing with fear and confusion. 

Her father grabbed a torch as they passed by, the flickering flame casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls as he continued to drag her to gods knew where. Finally, the creak of rusted iron echoed through the passageway. Hiroshi shoved her roughly, and she stumbled onto the rough ground, scraping her palms on the cold, unforgiving stone.

“I thought you had finally learned to be an obedient omega,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “But you still have much to learn. Do you know how hard I’ve worked to gain that boy’s trust? To sway him to our side instead of his family’s? And you wish to undo it with your insolence!” Hiroshi finally allowed himself to scream, bending down to her level. “Asami, dear. It seems you still don’t know how this game works. Let me make it clear. Your duty is to bear Kova heirs. Understand? Next time, shut your mouth. Or better yet, there shouldn’t be a next time. An omega has no place in the council anyway.” He started to walk away.

“Father, please don’t leave me!”

“Hopefully, this will be the last time I have to do this.” That was the last thing Asami heard before the iron bars clanged shut, leaving her in the dark. Again.

As the torchlight faded with her father’s departure, the oppressive darkness closed in around her. Her cheeks still stung from the slap he had given her earlier, the pain a stark reminder of her helplessness. She was back in the dark, alone and cold. Tears streamed down her face as she hugged herself tightly, the chill seeping into her bones.

She had done all that was asked of her. She obeyed her father when he forced her to befriend Korra. She obeyed him when he forced her to wed Kova. She tried following Senna’s advice. But look at where it got her.

Back in the dark.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the sound of her own ragged breaths. She felt utterly abandoned, the weight of her father’s words crushing her spirit. The walls seemed to close in, the darkness amplifying her fear and despair. She trembled, and not just from the cold.

As she hugged herself, Asami felt something soft yet rough peeking out from her dress between her bust. It was Korra’s letter. In her desperation to keep something from her alpha, she kept it to herself. She had forgotten that she had placed it there, close to her heart, so she could always smell Korra’s faint scent on it. It had calmed her nerves during the petitions, and now, taking it out, the omega breathed in the familiar aroma. Thank the gods Korra’s scent still lingered.

She took a long whiff, and immediately, her tears and breath began to slow. The comforting scent of fresh snow and crisp winter air filled her senses, bringing a small measure of peace to her troubled mind. The darkness around her seemed less suffocating with this small connection to her love.

She thought of Korra as she lay on the cold, hard ground, unmoving, staring into the void. The memory of Korra’s strength and warmth gave her a flicker of hope. She could almost hear Korra’s reassuring voice, telling her, “It’s going to be okay,” and feel the protective embrace that had always made her feel safe.

The letter was a lifeline in this sea of despair. Asami held it tightly, feeling the rough texture of the parchment against her fingers. She closed her eyes, letting the scent and the memories wash over her, imagining Korra by her side, whispering words of comfort and encouragement.

“Asami! Meet me in the yard!” Korra’s whisper floated through the open window, pulling Asami from her reverie. She glanced at the candle, noting it was indeed past the third mark. Korra was right on time.

Asami raised her hand. “Master Imaq, may I use the privy?”

The sage sighed wearily. “Yes, you may, my Lady.”

The young woman smiled politely, though inside she was screaming with glee. Life felt unbearably dull without Korra by her side, and it seemed her friend had concocted some new mischief.

Asami walked toward the door with measured steps, but once outside, she dashed, her heart racing with anticipation. It didn’t take long to find Korra, who was waiting in her usual blue dress and brown breeches, a toothy smile lighting up her face.

“You made it!” Korra exclaimed, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the far side of the Keep. Despite the cold, Asami felt her cheeks warm at the contact, her heart fluttering with excitement.

Asami chuckled, allowing herself to be dragged away on yet another adventure. The world seemed brighter, more alive, when she was with Korra. The crisp air nipped at her skin, but the warmth of Korra’s hand in hers made it all worth it.

The two of them raced through the courtyard, the stones beneath their feet echoing with the sounds of their laughter. The moonlight bathed the Keep in a silvery glow, casting long shadows that danced around them as they moved.

Korra led her to a secluded spot, hidden away from prying eyes. “Look,” she whispered, pointing to a small cluster of blue winter roses that had miraculously bloomed despite the frost.

Asami gasped, the sight taking her breath away. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes reflecting the delicate petals.

Korra reached down and plucked one of the roses. “This blooms only once in a hundred years! It’s a good omen. We’re lucky,” she said, her voice full of wonder. She then held the rose out to Asami. “It’s rare. Just like you,” Korra whispered, gently placing the flower between Asami’s head and ear.

Asami blushed even more, her heart racing. She felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she thanked Korra demurely, tucking a non-existent hair that had fallen out of place. In that moment, as Korra’s fingers lingered near her cheek and their eyes locked, Asami realized the extent of her feelings. This was more than friendship; it was something deeper, something that made her heart soar and her soul sing.

They spent the next few minutes playing in the snow, their laughter echoing through the cold night. But then, Asami tripped and fell onto a patch of thorny bushes. The sharp thorns cut into her skin, and she cried out in pain.

Immediately, Korra was by her side, her face etched with concern. “Shh. Let’s get you to the sage healer. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, helping Asami to her feet and supporting her as they made their way back.

Those words, filled with such care and reassurance, echoed in Asami’s mind in the present. In the darkest moments, the memory of Korra’s unwavering support and gentle voice was a beacon of hope and strength.

Asami did not know how long she had been reminiscing. Time was irrelevant in this horrid place. The stench was nauseating, the smell of blood, piss, and waste lingering in her nose. All she knew was that she must get out of this place. And when she did, they would all pay. Hiroshi, Kova, the people at court… Senna. She was but a mere pawn in their game.

No more. Asami would do anything to get back at them. And to get back to Korra.

She would endure everything if it meant she could be with Korra again. Asami envisioned talking to her love, fulfilling her broken promise, and they’d run away together, like they had always planned. She would willingly bear Korra’s children, and they would live a life full of joy and freedom.

The Queen Consort closed her eyes, picturing what it would be like when they had their own family. She could almost hear their children’s laughter ringing through the crisp winter air, see their tiny footprints dotting the snow-covered ground. Their cries echoed in her mind as they fell, scraping their knees, and she imagined their small, eager hands reaching out, all wanting to embrace their sire and mother. The warmth of those imagined hugs, the softness of their chubby cheeks against hers, filled her with a yearning so intense it took her breath away.

Yes, that would be their future together. Asami clung to that hope with every fiber of her being. She would endure, she would survive, and she would find her way back to Korra.

The oppressive darkness and foul stench seemed less overwhelming with that vision in her mind. The thought of Korra’s strong arms around her, the warmth of her embrace, gave Asami the strength to face her grim reality. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the rank air, and focused on the love she held in her heart.

Asami’s resolve hardened. She would not be broken by this. She would survive this nightmare and reclaim the life that had been stolen from her. And when that day came, she and Korra would be free to build the future they had always dreamed of.

—

Asami awoke with a start, her eyes darting around to make sure where she was. She had expected to see the oppressive darkness of the dungeon, but instead, the familiar shadows of her room greeted her. She breathed in the scent of herbal remedies, a sharp contrast to the stench of blood and waste she had endured.

Suddenly, her father’s harsh voice echoed in her mind. “Have you learned your lesson, Asami?”

“Yes,” she had answered weakly, though inside she had seethed with rage. She remembered Hiroshi’s rough hands as he pulled her from the cell, dragging her through the dark, narrow passageways. Each step had sent jolts of pain through her body, her legs barely able to support her weight. She had struggled to stay conscious, but the putrid stench and the unrelenting grip of her father had been too much. Darkness had claimed her once again.

Now, as she lay in her bed, she realized she was not alone. The head sage was there, mixing a concoction at her bedside. His presence, though somewhat comforting, reminded her of her captivity. She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain in her muscles.

“Master Imaq?” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and weakness.

The head sage turned to face her, a soft smile on his lips. “Glad you are awake, Your Grace.” The sage continued his work, grinding herbs with practiced precision. “You need to rest, Your Grace. Your body has been through a great ordeal.”

Asami lay back, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice barely concealing her frustration.

“I am here to ensure your recovery. Your father ordered it,” he replied, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of sympathy. He gently applied a cool herbal paste to the cuts on her arms, soothing the inflamed skin.

As the sage worked, Asami’s mind raced. She was filled with fury at her father, at Kova, and at herself for being so helpless. The memory of Korra’s reassuring voice echoed in her mind, a stark contrast to her current reality. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her body was too weak, her spirit momentarily crushed.

The head sage finished applying the paste and handed her a steaming mug of tea. “Drink this. It will help with the pain and aid your healing.”

Asami lifted the mug to her lips, inhaling the soothing aroma before taking a cautious sip. The liquid was warm and slightly bitter, but it filled her with a comforting warmth. She drank slowly, her anger not abating but finding a temporary outlet in the hot liquid.

She closed her eyes, allowing the tea’s warmth to spread through her body. The head sage’s presence, though a reminder of her imprisonment, was also a small comfort. She knew she needed to bide her time, to gather her strength. She would endure this, and she would find a way to fight back. For now, she had to survive.

Asami opened her eyes and met the sage’s gaze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The sage nodded, his expression unreadable. “I shall take my leave, if it please, Your Grace.” When Asami nodded, he bowed, “Rest now, Your Grace.”

—

“Asami! My dear, how are you feeling? They told me you were sick for days and that I could not see you. What happened?” Kova asked as soon as she stepped into his chambers.

Asami curtsied, stepping further into his space. “I am well, my love. You need not worry.” She held his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his touch. It was time. “But, my love, I am afraid. I fear for my life, as well as yours,” she said, her voice trembling with feigned fear.

“Afraid? How so?” Kova looked at her, worry etched in his eyes as he took her hands in his.

“I was not sick for days, my love. It was my father. He locked me up in a dungeon for defying him. For siding with you.”

“Hiroshi? Why would he hurt you? You are his daughter,” Kova said calmly, but Asami could see the rage building behind his eyes.

“Because he wanted to divide us, my love. He wanted me to stay his obedient daughter. Can’t you see?” she pleaded. “Think about it. When we arrived, bad things started to happen. Your father died in an accident.”

“Wait, are you insinuating that…?”

“Yes, my love. My father was with your father during the hunt. The sages all told you Chief Tonraq was drunk. As a native of this land, did you really believe that he would disrespect your traditions so easily? And then in the petitions. He wanted your people— our people— to starve to death during winter. And who would they blame? You, my love, not the Hand.”

Asami watched the doubt creep into Kova’s mind, his eyes flickering with confusion and anger. She tightened her grip on his hands, willing him to believe her. “Please, Kova. Think about it. My father has always been ambitious. He wants control, and he will do anything to get it. Do you know why we came to the Southern Water Tribe?”

“Why?”

“Because our influence had been waning in the United Republic. He wanted your power by being the Hand.” Asami knew that was not true, but she had a strong inkling that Kova did not know the state of governance outside the Southern Water Tribe.

Kova’s face hardened, the rage simmering just below the surface. “If what you say is true, then he must be stopped. I will question him, Asami.”

“Yes. But do so in front of everyone so that he may not have any means of escape,” she whispered, her voice filled with false vulnerability. “But you must be careful, please. He is cunning and dangerous. Start with his allies.”

Kova nodded, his resolve firming. “You’re right. I will bring him down. No one challenges me, and gets away with it.”

Asami felt a surge of triumph mingled with her deep-seated anger. She would endure this façade, and play the role of the dutiful wife until the time was right. She had to be patient, to weave her web carefully.

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Kova’s cheek. “Thank you, my love, for protecting me. With you by my side, I feel safe.”

Kova smiled, though the shadow of doubt lingered in his eyes. “We will see this through, Asami. I promise.”

—

For two moons, Asami had sat on the sidelines, letting Kova believe he had control over his decisions while she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. He would smile sweetly, thanking her for being such a good, dutiful wife, and express how he couldn’t wait to be a true family when she bore him heirs and spares.

The Queen Consort would smile, kiss him on the cheek, and echo his sentiments, though inside she gagged at the thought.

She obeyed her father’s command to avoid petitions and council meetings. However, Asami did not remain idle. She accompanied Senna, listened to gossip, befriended servants, and all the while, set her trap.

A few weeks after being released from the dungeon, Asami snuck into her father’s chambers while he was in a meeting. She walked over to his writing desk, penned a letter to Master Imaq, and used her father’s seal before slipping it into the master’s chambers. When she returned to her room, she wrote letters of her own.

It worked.

The next day, Kova summoned everyone to the throne room. She entered and saw Master Imaq kneeling in front of Kova, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Your Grace. I– I did not mean it. I was only following orders!” Senna and other members of the council were present, her father already looking pale but trying to keep his composure.

“Orders? From whom?” Kova demanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

“Your Grace, I cannot tell you. It would forfeit my life.” Master Imaq was now bowing, his forehead pressed flat to the ground.

“According to your reports, my father died because he drank too much and was not quick enough to avoid the walrus tusk. We all know he would not do that. Chief Tonraq hunted all his life.” Asami hid her smirk, knowing Kova was only repeating what she had told him. “Do not lie. I intercepted your letter last night meant for someone else. Tell me the truth, Master Imaq, or you will face the consequences!”

The Master Sage sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “It was the Hand, Your Grace! It was him!”

A loud gasp echoed across the room. The council members exchanged shocked glances, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief.

Kova’s eyes blazed with fury. “For telling the truth, your punishment will be light. You shall leave your post as the head sage of the Ice Keep.”

Master Imaq’s sobs subsided into relieved whimpers. But her father’s face turned ashen, though he struggled to maintain his composure. Asami watched him, her heart pounding with a mix of triumph and dread. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the moment when the truth would unravel her father’s schemes.

Kova turned to Hiroshi. “Is this true?” he demanded, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Hiroshi’s fear flickered before he masked it with a stern facade. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Kova. You let yourself be poisoned by my daughter’s sweet words when I should be the one you’re listening to. I am your Hand!” He wrenched his hands free from the warriors holding him. “When every Chief and lady in this wretched land gossiped that Korra should be the Chief, tell me then, who was responsible for getting them back on your side!”

Kova faltered, doubt creeping into his mind as he turned to Asami. But the Queen was ready. “My love, remember who he is. A manipulator. As he said, it was all gossip, chatter of silly omegas not knowing how to spend their time reasonably. You know your sister as well as I do. Her loyalty lies in you and your family. Isn’t that right, good mother?”

Senna was taken aback, clearly not anticipating Asami’s move. But she nodded, smiling proudly. “Yes, my son. You know your sister loves you so. That was why she went to eradicate the pirates. In honor of your name.”

“Don’t listen to that brat! She’s an omega! She doesn’t know anything!” Hiroshi shouted, his voice desperate.

Kova turned back to him, his face hardening. “Don’t you dare insult my wife! She is your Queen and she is to be respected in this court! I’ve made up my mind. Take that man away! Let him rot in the dungeons.”

As the guards seized Hiroshi, dragging him away, he cast one last venomous look at Asami. “You will regret this, Asami,” he hissed.

She met his gaze, her expression unyielding. “No, Father. You will.”

As the doors closed behind him, Asami took a deep breath, the weight of her actions settling on her shoulders. She had set the wheels in motion, and she had only just begun.

—

It finally came for Asami and Kova to consummate their wedding. It was a celebration like no other. The grand hall of the Keep was alive with the flicker of candlelight and the hum of conversation. Chiefs and Ladies from all over the Southern Water Tribe had gathered, congratulating them for this joyous occasion. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh-baked flatbread, creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

Asami sat beside Kova on the dais, her gaze drifting over the lavish feast spread out before them. Platters piled high with succulent roast seal and fragrant fish, bowls of bright, tangy fruits, and intricately woven baskets of steaming bread covered the long tables. The guests indulged heartily, their laughter and chatter blending into a symphony of celebration.

Yet, despite the opulence surrounding her, Asami could only pick at her food, occasionally nibbling without appetite. Her stomach churned with anxiety, her hands clammy with sweat. Even though she had managed to outmaneuver her father, she was still trapped in the Keep until Korra returned. The weight of her duty loomed heavy over her.

Senna, seated to her left, caught Asami’s attention with a gentle touch. Her good mother’s hand was warm and steady, a stark contrast to Asami’s trembling fingers. Asami glanced at Senna, still uncertain of the woman’s true loyalties, unsure whether to trust her or not.

“I can understand what you are feeling right now. Remember, I have been where you are,” Senna whispered, her voice soft yet firm. “But you have to do your duty. Trust me.”

“I know,” Asami replied, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart was pounding.

“No, Asami. Trust me,” Senna repeated, looking straight into her eyes. There was something in her gaze—a depth of understanding, a promise of support. Asami felt a flicker of hope, a sense that perhaps Senna could be trusted after all. For now, she chose to follow her instinct and nodded.

“Very well, child. After the bedding, return to your chambers immediately.” Senna quickly withdrew her hand and resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

Asami’s gaze roamed the hall, hoping to find Korra among the guests. She had wished so desperately that Korra would find the time to come home, to be here and whisk her far away. But to her disappointment, the princess did not attend the celebration at all. The realization sent a pang of sorrow through her heart, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

The evening wore on, the feast growing ever more raucous. The musicians played lively tunes, and the guests danced with abandon, their movements a blur of color and joy. Asami felt detached from it all, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. The moment of consummation loomed ever closer, and despite her triumph over her father, the reality of her situation pressed heavily on her.

xXx

At last, the time came. The guests cheered and toasted, their faces flushed with wine and excitement. Kova rose from his seat, extending a hand to Asami. She took it, her fingers cold and trembling in his warm grasp. The room spun around her as they made their way to the bedchamber, the weight of expectation pressing down on her.

Inside the chamber, the air was thick with the scent of lavender and the soft glow of candlelight. Kova’s touch was gentle, yet it scratched her skin. His voice was soothing, yet it grated on her ears. He started to undress her, but Asami’s mind was elsewhere. This was her first time, but Kova never asked her how she was doing, never checked to see if she was ready.

As he climbed on top of her, the pain began immediately. Each thrust sent a sharp, searing ache through her body. She steeled herself, thinking of Korra, of their promised future. She would endure this, she told herself.

Every painful movement made her wish more intensely that it was Korra here with her, not Kova. Korra’s touch would have been gentle and soothing, filled with love and understanding. Instead, she felt only discomfort and sorrow. A single tear slid down her cheek, her silent protest against the reality she was forced to endure.

As the night dragged on, her mind drifted away, escaping to memories of happier times with Korra. The pain dulled in the background as she lost herself in thoughts of the woman she truly loved, her heart clinging to the hope that one day, they would be together again.

xXx

After the bedding ceremony, Asami returned to her chambers, body, mind and spirit weary from what transpired. She had barely taken a step inside when she caught the familiar scent of herbs. For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming, still caught in the haze of the night’s events. But no, the figure before her was real. “Master Kya?”

“Yes, Your Grace. At your service.” The older omega bowed deeply, her expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here? Since when did you get here?” Asami’s voice trembled slightly.

“I’m here to make sure the Chief’s seed will not take,” Kya replied, offering a cup of steaming tea.

Asami stared at the cup, confusion clouding her mind. “What is this?”

“Moon tea, Your Grace. Drink this every time you mate from henceforth, if you wish not to bear him heirs.”

Asami’s thoughts raced. Why would Kya give her such a thing? Then realization dawned on her. “Senna brought you here.” The master healer nodded. “Why does my good mother wish me not to bear her own son’s heir?”

Master Kya’s smile was small, but it held a world of secrets. “You will know soon, Your Grace. For now, drink. And take a bath, wash away the stench he left on you.”

Asami hesitated, the bitter scent of the tea mixing with her uncertainty. But then she raised the cup to her lips, the liquid sliding down her throat, its bitterness matching the turmoil inside her. Relief and apprehension mingled as she drained the cup. Nodding to Kya, she headed to the bath, the warm water a welcome escape from the night’s harsh realities.

As she sank into the tub, the heat seeping into her bones, her mind churned with questions. Senna’s motives remained a mystery, but for now, she would follow her instinct. She would trust the advice given and hope it led to a future where she could be free and reunited with Korra.

Chapter Text

Korra had been up in the crow’s nest for hours, her sharp eyes scanning the endless expanse of ocean. They had sailed a week ago, but the seas remained calm, a mirror of blue reflecting the sky above. No sight of pirates or the Air Nation ship that was supposed to visit Wolf’s Cove. The sky was a canvas of azure, dotted occasionally by drifting arctic birds with their stark white feathers. The cold was biting, relentless, seeping through her thick clothes and chilling her to the bone. Each breath she took crystallized in the air, a reminder of the harsh environment she was navigating.

This had been her duty most of the time during their voyage, perched high above, keeping watch. Sometimes, when monotony threatened to dull her senses, she descended to help the crew with heavy tasks. Hauling ropes, adjusting sails, anything to keep her hands busy and her mind sharp. She did not want to feel useless, a mere passenger on this journey.

One day, the wind had abandoned them entirely, leaving the sails slack and the ship adrift. The crew, faces grim and determined, had to row, their muscles straining against the weight of the sea. Korra joined them, every stroke of the oar a testament to their collective will. By the end of that day, she was left exhausted, her limbs aching and her body sore.

Today, as she was about to head down from her lookout, a black speck caught her eye on the horizon. Curiosity piqued, she raised the far-eye, a polished brass telescope, to her eye. She focused the lens until the distant blur sharpened into the form of a bird, its dark wings beating steadily against the pale sky, heading straight toward them.

She shouted down to the deck below, her voice cutting through the still air, “Messenger bird up ahead! Notify Master Kuruk!”

The man below, catching her words, yelled back an affirmative. Immediately, the deck came alive, the crew bustling with activity. Orders were barked, feet pounded the wooden planks, and the air filled with the scent of salt and the tang of anticipation.

Korra descended swiftly, the rough rope of the rigging chafing her hands, but she barely noticed in her urgency. Reaching the deck, she joined the crew, the sense of purpose uniting them in a flurry of preparation. The sounds of their efforts—the creak of the ship, the murmur of voices, the distant cry of the approaching bird—enveloped her. She could feel the cool sea breeze on her face, taste the salt on her lips, and smell the brine that permeated everything.

By the time Korra got down on the deck, the messenger bird was already perched on the railing of the ship. Master Kuruk approached it carefully, his fingers deftly untangling the parchment from its leg. As he read the note, his brows furrowed, deepening with each passing moment. The crew could feel the atmosphere shift, the air thick with tension as Master Kuruk’s angry alpha scent began to permeate the deck. No one dared to speak.

Korra, mustering her courage, stepped forward. “What does it say?” she asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety knotting her stomach.

Kuruk snapped his eyes towards her, and for a moment, Korra felt a pang of fear, instinct urging her to step back. But she held her ground, refusing to show weakness. The captain’s gaze was piercing, but he returned to the letter and began to read aloud.

“Master Kuruk, Pride of the Southern Water Tribe,

I hear you’ve been sniffing around the Eastern Sea, trying to poke your nose where it doesn't belong. Well, let me save you the trouble—I’ve got the Air Nation ship, and their crew is at my mercy. I'm sure that gets your blood boiling.

But let’s cut to the chase, shall we?

I’ve got a proposal for you, Master.

Let us parlay. Word on the wind says you’ve taken the princess under your wing. I want her in exchange for the Air Nation ship. Meet me at the twin icebergs north of Bay of Seals within five days. I’m sure a seasoned sailor like you won’t have trouble finding the spot.

And just so you know, if I don’t see your ship on the horizon within those five days, I’ll send the Air Nation crew to the bottom of the sea, piece by piece.

Time to see what kind of man you really are.

Yours truly,

Tagaka, Marquess of the Eastern Sea, Pirate Queen of the Southern Ocean, and Waterborne Guardian of the South Pole”

Korra felt a chill run through her, colder than the fiercest winds of the South Pole. The self-proclaimed pirate queen’s demands were clear and ruthless. They wanted her life.  Korra felt like the answer was easy. However, before she could voice her thoughts, Master Kuruk turned to address the crew.

“Warriors, we will not give in to these filthy pirates’ demands. We are the shield of the Southern Water Tribe. We will not bow down to them.”

Korra was stunned. Was Master Kuruk really going to abandon innocent people for her sake? That couldn’t be true. Surely, her life wasn’t worth more than those of the hostages. “Master Kuruk, we can’t stand by and do nothing!” she protested.

Master Kuruk looked at her, his blue eyes blazing with anger. It was the first time he had looked at her like that. “The next time you speak out of turn, I’ll have you punished,” he snapped.

Immediately shutting her mouth, Korra backed down, her scent shifting to one of defeat as everyone looked at her with mixed reactions. Master Kuruk turned back to address the crew, his voice commanding and firm. “But worry not. We will make a plan. We have five days to prepare for them. Rest up for tonight. We’ll reconvene on the morrow.”

—

That night, when all the ship had was a skeleton crew, Korra was about to take her station again at the crow’s nest, punishing herself for her outburst, when Master Kuruk called her into his cabin. Korra’s heart skipped a beat. Would he punish her immediately? Would he deem her unworthy of being a warrior? Would he demand her to sail alone back to the village? With those thoughts swirling, Korra forced her feet to move.

“Master Kuruk? It’s me,” she announced outside his cabin door.

A gruff “Come in” came from the other side, signaling for the princess to enter. She was greeted by the warm, well-lit captain’s quarters. The space was large and functional, dominated by a massive wooden table in the center, cluttered with maps and parchments. A seal oil lamp cast a soft, flickering glow, illuminating the intricate details of the room—shelves lined with nautical instruments, books on seafaring, and mementos from past voyages.

Korra bowed. “Master Kuruk.”

“Have a seat, Korra.” He gestured to a wooden chair in the far corner. She took a seat, the chair’s legs creaking under her weight. “Do you know why I called for you?”

“No, Master Kuruk,” she answered honestly, her voice steady but filled with trepidation.

The captain sighed, his stern features softening slightly. “You spoke out of turn this morning. However, I will be the first to tell you that we will not do nothing. You should’ve trusted me.”

Korra stood up, bowing low on the wooden floor, her heart a knot of regret and self-reproach. How could I have doubted him? she thought. I failed to see the larger picture. I let my own fears and emotions drive my actions. “I apologize, Master Kuruk. In my ignorance, I have failed you as a warrior. I accept my punishment as you see fit.”

She braced herself for his reprimand, expecting the warrior to raise his voice, but instead, she heard a soft thud. She looked up to see the greatest warrior of the Southern Water Tribe kneeling to her level. The anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a look of deep compassion. “Korra, in front of the crew, I have to be stern, to be the leader they respect. But it pained me to do that to you. In the past six months, you have become like a daughter to me. Even Ummi thinks so.”

Tears welled suddenly in Korra’s eyes, blurring her vision. She had nothing but respect for Master Kuruk and Lady Ummi, and to hear him say this made her heart swell with a mixture of relief and gratitude. The warmth of the cabin, the flickering light, and the sincere compassion in Kuruk’s eyes wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

“Thank you, Master Kuruk,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I will strive to be worthy of your trust and kindness.”

The captain reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We face difficult days ahead, Korra. But we will face them together. Now, stand up. We shall think of what we will do with this Tagaka.”

—

Korra was shivering, but it was not from the cold.

The Southern Water Tribe’s flagship, the Tidal Fury , approached the designated place at an agonizing pace. It was the opposite of her heart, which was racing, threatening to leap out of her chest at any given moment. The plan she and Master Kuruk had concocted was a good one, but it wasn’t without risks, particularly on her. But she trusted the general with her life. These were pirates they were going up against, after all.

“Prepare to dock!” the lookout shouted from above.

The crew scrambled into formation, their movements precise and practiced as they prepared to land. Master Kuruk approached her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Korra blew a heavy sigh. “Yes.” No , her mind screamed. But she would do her duty if it meant saving many lives.

Master Kuruk then placed her wrists in metal cuffs, the cold claws digging into her flesh like icy fangs. “Let us go.”

They walked down the gangplank, the rough wood beneath her feet a stark contrast to the smooth metal biting into her wrists. The other crew members followed them, their faces set in determined masks. From their second ship, Icebreaker , Mako and his team disembarked, their eyes meeting hers with a subtle nod of solidarity. Korra looked ahead, focusing on the task at hand.

They stepped onto the massive, flat surface of an iceberg, its frozen expanse stretching out beneath them. The ice was smooth and treacherous, every step a careful balance between sure-footedness and the risk of slipping. The cold radiated up through their boots, a biting reminder of the harsh environment.

There, a short distance away, was the infamous Fifth Nation. The pirate ships loomed menacingly on the horizon, their dark sails billowing against the cold, clear sky. Dominating the fleet was their flagship, the Seven Stars, as she recalled Master Kuruk telling her. It was a formidable vessel, larger than any other ship, with dark wood and intricate carvings of constellations along its hull. Its masts were tall and imposing, adorned with the black and gold sails that marked the Pirate Queen’s domain.

The scent of salt and brine filled the air, mingling with the faint, acrid smell of burning oil from the ships. The sounds of creaking wood and the distant cries of seabirds echoed around them, a constant reminder of the peril they faced.

The pirates’ camp was a chaotic sprawl of yurts, sturdy and round, designed to withstand the brutal winds. The ground around them was littered with debris and the remnants of their past plunders. The pirates themselves were a rough-looking bunch, their eyes glinting with suspicion and malice as they watched the newcomers approach.

Korra scanned the area, noticing that the Air Nation hostages were nowhere to be seen. A pang of worry struck her heart. Were they hidden inside the yurts? Or was this a sign of deception? She pushed the paranoid thoughts aside, focusing on the mission at hand. They had to trust that the pirates hadn’t already betrayed them.

Korra’s senses were heightened, every detail imprinted on her mind—the feel of the cuffs, the cold wind biting at her cheeks, the taste of salt on her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the danger they were walking into. But she kept her gaze steady, her steps firm, determined to see this through.

As they neared the center of the camp, Korra could see in front of the pirates, stood the figure of a tall, imposing figure that could only be Tagaka. Her voluminous white coat billowed around her like ship sails, and her grey, shiny hair fell over her shoulders in intricate braids. Despite her advanced age, she commanded attention with her sharp, piercing blue eyes.

Korra felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked at the pirate queen. Tagaka’s omega scent, sharp and penetrating, invaded her senses. How could an omega lead a band of ruthless pirates? This was the woman who had terrorized the seas?

Tagaka walked toward them with supreme confidence, like she was the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe arriving for an audience, not the other way around. Tagaka’s coat, made from the pelts of polar bear dogs, flared with each step, and her boots crunched on the ice. It was a wise decision to leave Naga behind, Korra thought with terror.

The pirate queen spread her arms wide in a grand gesture before turning her gaze to Korra. “Welcome, Master Kuruk,” Tagaka purred, her voice smooth but edged with steel. Tagaka eyed her up and down, as if savoring the sight. The intensity of her gaze sent shivers down Korra’s spine. “Why, hello there. You are the princess Korra, I presume.”

Korra stayed silent, steeling her nerves. She didn’t want the pirate queen to notice the tremble in her voice if she answered.

Master Kuruk stepped forward, his posture rigid and straight—a clear sign of disrespect. “Where are the Air Nomads?” he demanded.

“Tsk, tsk. As impatient as ever, I see,” Tagaka replied, snapping her fingers at one of her pirates. The man bowed, then ran toward a yurt. “But first, come with us. We have prepared a feast for you. We have much to discuss.”

Master Kuruk did not move, maintaining his stance. The tension in the air was palpable as they waited for the pirate to return with the hostages. Korra could smell the multitude of scents mingling—fear, anger, irritation, anxiety, calmness—but most of all, Tagaka’s overwhelming lust directed at her.

Tagaka smirked, shaking her head. “Do not worry, Captain. We have not poisoned the food and water we have prepared for you. We may be pirates, but we keep our guests safe.”

A few minutes later, the pirate returned, and their captain finally relented, motioning for all of them to follow.

—

Inside the yurt, the scent of grilled arctic fish and seal meat mingled with the salty tang of the sea. The long, wooden table at the center, sawed in half and reassembled, was laden with an extravagant feast. Platters of grilled arctic fish, their skins crisp and glistening with oil, sat beside succulent squid rings cooked to golden perfection. Thick slabs of seal meat, charred and tender, exuded a rich, smoky aroma. Pitchers of frothy ale stood among the dishes, their contents sloshing as servants moved back and forth, continuously adding more food to the table.

“We are too kind. Isn’t that right, Master Kuruk?” Tagaka said, once they were seated at the table. Her voice was smooth but carried an underlying edge. She turned her gaze to Korra’s wrists, bound by cold metal cuffs. “Master Kuruk,” she said, her tone reprimanding, “how can the princess eat if her hands are tied like that? Please, make her comfortable.”

Master Kuruk hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. He produced a key from his belt and unlocked Korra’s cuffs. The cold metal fell away, leaving her wrists sore and red. Korra rubbed them, trying to restore some warmth and feeling.

The atmosphere in the yurt was thick with tension. The rich scents of the feast, the warmth from the open fire, and the close quarters all combined to create an oppressive feeling. Korra glanced at the food, her stomach knotting with unease. She picked at the grilled fish, feeling Tagaka’s eyes on her, the pirate queen’s presence a constant, unsettling weight.

Master Kuruk sat stiffly, his face set in a hard mask. The crew members around him exchanged wary glances, their discomfort palpable. The clinking of utensils and the occasional murmur of the servants were the only sounds breaking the heavy silence.

Tagaka watched them all with a smirk, clearly enjoying their unease. “Please, eat,” she urged, her tone mockingly sweet. “We have much to discuss, and I wouldn’t want our conversation to be interrupted by empty stomachs.”

Korra took a tentative bite, the rich flavor of the fish clashing with the tension in her gut. Each movement felt scrutinized, each glance weighed and measured. The warm, inviting scents of the feast did little to alleviate the cold dread settling in her bones. She forced herself to chew and swallow, her eyes flicking to Master Kuruk for reassurance, but finding none.

The yurt, with its rich smells and inviting warmth, felt more like a trap with every passing second. The lavish feast was a stark contrast to the fear and suspicion gnawing at Korra’s heart, making her every bite taste of bitterness.

“Let’s get right to it. What do you want to discuss, Tagaka?” Master Kuruk said sternly after a few minutes had passed.

Tagaka chuckled, shaking her head in clear amusement. “Why the rush, Master Kuruk? We’re sitting here, eye to eye, breaking bread together. There’s no need to hurry your stay.”

“I don’t trust you. And I want this over with. Where are the hostages?” Kuruk’s voice was firm, unyielding.

“Tch. Why are you so eager to trade off the princess?” Tagaka leaned back, her gaze sliding over Korra with an unsettling intensity.

“She’s a nuisance to the crown. I know you’re aware she’s an alpha and the chief is a beta. By every law of the land, she has every right to claim the throne. She’s a threat to the crown. I can’t have a civil war in these times. You can do with her as you wish,” Kuruk replied, his tone cold and dismissive.

Korra winced, hurt by the way Master Kuruk had phrased it. They had rehearsed this reasoning to convince the pirate queen without a shadow of a doubt, but the words still stung.

“Really now?” Tagaka’s eyes gleamed with malice as she looked at Korra again. “So, I get to keep the princess without any consequences? Hah! That’s the best news I’ve heard all week!” She turned to her pirates, her voice rising. “Heard that, boys? I get a new puppet to play with!”

Another bout of shivers ran down Korra’s spine. It was a good thing they had something planned out. She didn’t want to imagine what the pirate queen would do with her otherwise.

As the meal continued, Tagaka’s menacing chatter filled the air. She occasionally addressed Master Kuruk, her tone dripping with mockery, or made lewd comments to her crew, her laughter ringing out like a predator’s call. The warmth of the yurt, the rich scents of the food, the flickering light from the seal oil lamps—all combined to create an atmosphere that felt both dangerously intimate and suffocating.

Master Kuruk remained stoic, but Korra could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched with every mocking word from Tagaka. The crew mirrored his unease, their eyes darting between the pirates and their captain, ready for anything.

Korra tried to focus on her meal, the flavors of the grilled fish and seal meat mingling with the sour taste of dread in her mouth. Every time Tagaka spoke, her voice cut through the air, each word a sharp blade that kept Korra on edge. The pirate queen’s eyes, sharp and calculating, never seemed to leave her, making her every bite feel like a test of endurance.

As Korra forced herself to eat, she began to notice something unsettling about the servants. Their movements were too stiff, too controlled, as if they were not entirely present. One of the servants passed close by, and Korra caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were green. They had taken people from the Earth Kingdom? How had they become so powerful without the palace knowing? Yet one more glance and Korra noticed they looked at her with a pleading intensity. At first, Korra thought it was because they were serving pirates, but she could not shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.

Her unease grew as she continued to observe the other servants. However, their eyes were grey, expressions were devoid of emotion, and they seemed to respond mechanically. She glanced at Master Kuruk, who was engaged in a meaningless conversation with Tagaka, but he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. She needed to alert him without drawing attention to herself.

“Captain Tagaka,” Korra interrupted, unable to keep silent any longer. “May I be taken to my quarters now? It seems my former captain has grown tired of me.”

Tagaka smirked, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Already weary of our hospitality, princess? Very well. Perhaps some rest will do you good.”

Korra took a deep breath, then added, “If it’s not too much trouble, could the servant with the green eyes attend to me? She seems... capable.”

Tagaka’s smirk deepened, but she waved her hand dismissively. “As you wish. You heard Her Majesty. Go with the princess.”

As Korra rose from her seat, she subtly brushed her hand against Master Kuruk’s arm, letting her fingers linger just long enough to convey urgency. She made sure her eyes met his, darting repeatedly to the servants and then back to him, hoping he would catch on. Kuruk’s expression momentarily broke from its stern mask to show a flicker of understanding.

Tagaka called for one of her pirates to escort Korra. The burly pirate moved to her side, his presence looming as they began to leave the yurt. Korra cast one last glance at Master Kuruk, their eyes locking in silent communication. Her message was clear: something was very wrong with the servants.

When they arrived at a particularly massive yurt, Korra noticed that it was significantly better than the others. The interior was lavishly decorated, with rich furs lining the floor and intricate tapestries depicting naval battles hanging from the walls. A large, imposing desk cluttered with maps and navigational tools dominated one corner, clearly marking it as Tagaka’s domain.

The pirate who had escorted her shoved her inside, sneering, his yellow teeth showing through his lips. “You think you’re lucky to be the Capt’n’s pet? Think again. I’ll be outside, so don’t think about escaping.” He walked outside, the flap of the yurt swaying from his movement. “You!! Serve this alpha bitch, will ya! And make it quick! Capt’n needs you back at the feast!” Korra heard him shout.

The servant with green eyes hurriedly stepped inside. “H-how may I be of service, Your Grace?” she said meekly, bowing her head low.

Korra walked toward the woman, recognizing the scent of an omega, and gently held her shoulders, pulling her up and away from the entrance. “You don’t need to do that. We’re both prisoners here.” When the woman stood up, Korra finally took the chance to see what emotions lay behind her green eyes.

The servant had a delicate, almost ethereal beauty. Her hair was short, just above her shoulders, dark and lustrous. Her skin was tan, but lighter than Korra’s, complementing her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones that hinted at both strength and vulnerability. The green eyes that had caught Korra’s attention earlier were large and expressive, filled with a mixture of fear, defiance, and an underlying spark of hope. Her lips were full but pressed into a thin line, betraying her nervousness. Despite the circumstances, there was a quiet dignity about her, an inner strength that made Korra feel a surge of empathy and determination.

Korra offered a reassuring smile. “What’s your name?”

The woman hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at the yurt’s entrance before replying. “Opal, Your Grace. My name is Opal.”

Korra nodded, then gently pulled Opal further from the entrance. “Opal, I need your help. We’re in a dangerous situation, and I think you know more about what’s going on here than I do.”

Opal didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took Korra’s hand, and with a quick glance towards the entrance, began writing a message on Korra’s palm with her finger. The sensation was ticklish and urgent, each letter imprinting on Korra’s mind.

“What?!” Korra suddenly exclaimed. Opal immediately cupped her mouth to stop her from shouting more.

“Your Grace, please,” Opal whispered urgently. “Help us. We know how to fight, but we’re outnumbered and starved.”

Korra’s heart ached at the desperation in Opal’s voice. “We will help you get out of this, Opal. I promise. Tonight, we will commence our plans once they have gone to sleep.”

Opal nodded, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and fear. “Thank you, Your Grace. We will be ready.”

—

“I see you made yourself at home, princess,” Tagaka’s sultry, menacing voice snapped Korra out of her sleep. “I was expecting you to try and escape.”

Korra blinked, quickly composing herself. “There is no point for me to do that. My own people don’t want me.”

Tagaka approached her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “Well. That’s fine by me.” She circled Korra, touching her face with light, feathery strokes. Her scent was overwhelming, a mix of salt and something darkly enticing. Korra had to force herself to stay composed, resisting the urge to let her inner alpha instincts drive her logic away. “It’s their loss.” Then Tagaka pulled away.

Korra let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “What are you going to do with me, then? Are you going to ask my brother for my ransom? It won’t work. Kuruk already told you, he wanted me far away from the capital. That’s why he sent me to the Bay of Seals in the first place.”

Tagaka let out a sinister laugh. “Oh, princess. I’m not going to do that. I have a much, much better plan for you.” Then the pirate queen straddled her, leaning in close. Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a desperate warning. This wasn’t part of their plan. She had to think of something to stall for time.

Korra’s mind raced. The proximity of Tagaka was disorienting, her scent filling Korra’s senses, making it difficult to think clearly. She could feel the heat of Tagaka’s body pressing against hers, the pirate queen’s eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Korra’s own alpha instincts screamed at her to push back, to assert dominance, but she knew she had to stay in control.

She tried to focus on the plan she had made with Master Kuruk and Opal, but it was hard to concentrate with Tagaka so close. The pirate queen’s fingers traced a line down Korra’s cheek, sending a shiver through her body. “It’s a shame they don’t appreciate you,” Tagaka whispered, her lips so close to Korra’s ear that Korra could feel the warmth of her breath. “But I do.”

Korra swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “What plan could possibly be better than a ransom?”

Tagaka’s smile widened, a cruel glint in her eyes. “I think you’ll find out soon enough, princess. But for now, let’s just enjoy our time together.”

The pirate queen was about to lean in for a kiss when a blood-curdling scream echoed outside the yurt. Korra smirked, thinking their ambush had worked. But her confidence wavered as she saw Tagaka grinning wickedly down at her. The screams continued, a cacophony of terror, and one scream in particular was heartbreakingly familiar to Korra. Her face contorted in shock and fear.

Tagaka’s expression was one of triumph, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. Her voice was smooth, almost purring with satisfaction. “From the look on your face, princess, it seems you did not expect us to set up an ambush of our own.”

With a swift, practiced motion, Tagaka slid a knife against Korra’s throat, the cold blade pressing firmly against her skin, pinning her onto the bed. “I know you noticed that the servants are the Air Nomads. Why do you think I let you out of my sight?”

Korra felt a wave of horror wash over her. She had been a fool, a young, naive, and stupid fool. These were pirates, after all—cunning, manipulative, and ruthless. The realization cut deeper than the knife at her throat. With a surge of defiance, she spat in Tagaka’s face. “Fuck you!”

Tagaka’s grin only widened, her eyes sparkling with dark amusement. She wiped the spit from her face with the back of her hand, her gaze never leaving Korra’s. “Oh, you still can, princess. But fucking me won’t save you or your friends now.”

Korra’s mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare. She could feel the weight of the knife, the cold steel a stark reminder of her peril. The screams outside grew louder, more desperate, each one a dagger to her heart. She knew she had to stay strong, but the odds were quickly turning against her.

She needed to do something. And she needed to do it now. With a surge of adrenaline, Korra screamed, pushing off of the bed, the edge of the knife pricking her skin. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her neck but ignored it, her mind focused on the need to protect her people.

She tackled Tagaka to the ground with fierce determination, grunting in pain as they hit the floor. Tagaka’s scent changed, becoming sharp and aggressive, but Korra held her ground. She could feel Tagaka’s nails clawing at her skin, but she didn’t relent, using her strength and agility to keep the pirate queen pinned.

Korra’s muscles burned with effort, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. Tagaka fought back with feral intensity, but Korra’s resolve was unbreakable. She had to protect Opal, Master Kuruk, her crew and all the Air Nomads. She couldn’t afford to lose.

Their struggle carried them outside the yurt, where chaos reigned. Her crew and the Air Nomads were fighting valiantly against the pirates. Master Kuruk, his body already bloody, was in the thick of the battle, taking on more men than anyone else. Amidst the turmoil, Opal joined Korra, wielding a staff to fend off pirates trying to aid Tagaka.

Korra focused back on Tagaka, her determination unwavering. She and Tagaka continued to grapple, each trying to gain the upper hand. With a swift, decisive move, Korra managed to wrench the knife from Tagaka’s grip. She brandished it at the pirate queen, both of them panting heavily.

Tagaka wiped the blood from the cut on her lips, a dark smile playing on her face. “I must admit, you impress me, princess. You have skills. But it’s not enough.” Before Korra could react, Tagaka produced a smaller knife. No, not a knife—a sharpened bone—and hurled it towards Opal.

Without hesitation, Korra threw herself in front of Opal, the bone embedding itself in her arm. Pain shot through her, but she didn’t falter. Opal’s eyes widened in horror, her face contorting in shock and fear. “No!”

Korra winced, pain shooting through her arm, but she quickly took out the bone and threw it to the ground, blood flowing freely from the wound. “Out of tricks?” she asked, her voice strained but resolute.

Tagaka just smiled, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. “Not yet.”

Korra tightened her grip on the knife, determination burning in her eyes. She could feel the pain in her arm, but she pushed it aside, focusing on protecting those around her. “Opal, stay behind me. We will get through this,” she said, her voice filled with conviction.

Opal, despite her fear, stood ready by Korra’s side, her staff poised to defend against any further attacks.

The cold breeze of the southern waters clung to Korra’s skin as she and Tagaka continued their standoff, the intensity of their gazes unwavering. The chaos of the battle swirled around them, but in that moment, it was as if time stood still. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Korra saw Master Kuruk approaching, having defeated all his enemies.

She smiled, feeling a surge of hope. Finally, the tides were turning in their favor. “Surrender now, Tagaka. You’re completely surrounded.”

But Tagaka’s smile remained, her eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. “Oh, I am surrounded, but I am not defeated. You are.”

Korra was about to call her bluff when the world suddenly tilted, and she found herself staring up at the night sky. What the hell? She tried to move, but her body refused to obey her mind’s commands. She couldn’t even speak.

“Korra!” she heard Master Kuruk yell, his voice filled with alarm. Opal rushed to her side, her green eyes wide with panic.

Korra’s heart raced, the terror of not being able to move her body coursing through her veins like ice. She could see Opal’s frantic attempts to check her vitals, her hands trembling.

Tagaka’s laughter cut through the chaos, a chilling sound that echoed in the night. “That is Shirshu venom, one of the most deadly venoms in the whole world. And I found a way to increase its potency. You have one candle mark to get the antidote, or the paralysis will spread, and when it reaches your heart…” She trailed off, her smile widening. “I have the only vial of the antidote left. I shall give it to you if you let me and my men go. You will not pursue us and will grant us free reign of the Eastern Sea.”

“Alri—” Master Kuruk began, but Korra managed to interrupt, though how she had no idea.

“N...no. Just pursue... jus...tice, Master…” Her voice was barely a whisper, every word a struggle.

“Korra, I can’t let you die,” Master Kuruk said, his voice breaking.

“You... can still de...feat her within a can...dle mark,” Korra insisted, her eyes pleading.

Master Kuruk looked torn, his fists clenching in frustration. Opal’s eyes darted between them and Tagaka, desperation etched on her face. “We can’t let her get away,” Opal whispered fiercely. “We’ve come too far.”

Korra’s vision blurred, the edges darkening. She fought to keep her focus, to stay present. She couldn’t let Tagaka win. “Go... after... her,” she forced out, her breath shallow.

Master Kuruk’s jaw tightened, and he nodded resolutely. “We will get the antidote. And we will bring you to justice, Tagaka. You will never terrorize the seas again.” He turned to his men, barking orders. “Secure her! We don’t have much time.”

Tagaka’s expression faltered for the first time, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. “You are a fool, Kuruk. You think you can beat me in a candlemark?”

“We will do whatever it takes,” he responded coldly.

Opal squeezed Korra’s hand, her touch a small comfort in the midst of panic. “Stay with us, Your Grace. We won’t let you down.”

—

Korra jerked awake, the bitter taste still lingering on her tongue. She blinked several times, her mind struggling to catch up with her surroundings. The sway of the ship and the distant sounds of battle outside told her she was not in a dream. As her vision cleared, she saw Opal leaning over her, a look of intense concentration on her face.

“Thank you,” Korra managed to whisper, her voice barely audible over the chaos around them. The antidote for the shirshu venom was already working, the paralysis lifting from her limbs.

Opal’s green eyes softened with relief. “Don’t thank me yet, Your Grace. The battle’s not over.”

A scream cut through the air, sharp and desperate. Korra’s head turned towards the sound, and she saw Master Kuruk on his knees, his sword arm trembling. Tagaka stood over him, her blade raised, ready to strike.

Korra’s heart pounded in her chest. I won’t let him die! Summoning all her strength, she grabbed the sharpened bone lying nearby and forced herself to her feet. She moved forward with a determination she didn’t know she possessed.

With a fierce cry, Korra thrust herself between Tagaka and Master Kuruk, driving the bone deep into Tagaka’s neck. Blood sprayed, the metallic scent filling the air as Tagaka staggered back, her eyes wide with shock as the light of life slowly faded.

As she fell, Korra felt a searing pain in her own torso. Looking down, she saw blood gushing from a deep wound. Her vision blurred momentarily as she pressed a hand to the injury, trying to stem the flow.

“Korra!” Master Kuruk gasped.

Korra looked down at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Master Kuruk. It’s over.”

Seeing Tagaka fall, the other pirates hesitated, their resolve breaking. They began to retreat, but the remaining crew of Korra’s ship pursued them with relentless determination, taking down every last one of them.

Opal was suddenly there, supporting Korra as the adrenaline began to fade. “You did it, Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice a mix of pride and worry. “You saved us all.”

Korra nodded, her vision blurring further as exhaustion and blood loss overtook her. “Just... call me Korra,” she murmured, her knees giving way as she collapsed into Opal’s arms, the blood loss too much to bear.

The last thing Korra heard before succumbing to the darkness again was Opal’s voice, steady and comforting. “We’re going to get you home.”

Chapter Text

Being summoned by the Chief at night to his chambers always sent a shiver down Asami’s spine, making her stomach churn with unease. It meant he would want to bed her again. Asami had no choice but to obey. The moon tea was just a small consolation for her predicament. After every bedding, she would return to her chambers, drink the moon tea, and scrub herself clean, trying to wash away the humiliation and despair.

That night, however, Asami found herself surprised when Chief Kova did not intend to bed her. He was fully clothed and sober, a rare occurrence. Her confusion must have been evident on her face, as Kova chuckled at her reaction.

“We are going for a walk. The moon is out tonight and there is no snowfall. Are you that disappointed we won’t be making heirs tonight? We can still do that.”

“No!” Asami answered a little too quickly, her voice sharp with panic. Kova’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing in offense. Asami immediately backpedaled, her heart racing. “What I mean, my love, is I was only surprised. A pleasant surprise. I have been bored to death inside the Keep, my love, and it is gallant of you to take me for a stroll. But outside? It’s the middle of winter. The cold will be unbearable.”

Kova seemed placated, the smile returning to his face. “Ah, yes. We shall stroll along the gardens. I heard that the moonflowers are in bloom tonight.” He reached behind his chair and pulled out a thick, luxurious coat made of the finest pelt and spotted fur in the South Pole. “I had this made for you. It will keep you warm.”

Asami hesitated for a moment, then took the coat, her hand trembling slightly. The fur was incredibly soft, the lining thick and warm. She slipped it on, feeling the weight and warmth envelop her. “Thank you, my love. It’s beautiful,” she said. And it truly was beautiful. Though she wished it was Korra gifting the fur to her.

Kova offered his arm, and Asami took it, her hand still shaking slightly from the encounter. “Shall we?” he asked, his tone gentler now, as if trying to soothe the tension he had caused.

Asami had no choice but to nod, a tight smile on her lips. She supposed the stroll was better than being bedded. “We shall.”

As they walked, the winter air bit at Asami’s cheeks, but the coat kept her warm. She forced herself to maintain a calm facade, though her heart hammered in her chest. Her steps were measured, and she kept her gaze forward, trying to avoid Kova’s scrutinizing eyes. The night was clear, the moon casting a silvery glow on the snow-covered garden, making the moonflowers look like glowing stars against the white blanket of winter.

Kova’s grip on her arm was firm, almost possessive. As they strolled through the garden, the cold air making their breaths visible, Asami’s mind raced. What was he planning? Why this sudden change in behavior?

She glanced at Kova, his face serene as he admired the moonflowers. Her own face remained a mask of polite interest, but her eyes betrayed her wariness. The gardens were beautiful, the moonflowers glowing ethereally in the moonlight, but Asami felt like a prisoner, trapped in a gilded cage.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Kova said, breaking the silence. He turned to her, his expression softening. “Sometimes, we forget to appreciate the beauty around us.”

“Yes, my love,” Asami replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “It is truly beautiful.”

They continued their walk, Kova speaking of inconsequential matters while Asami nodded and smiled in all the right places. It was then she had realized he had no ulterior motives. Kova only wanted to talk about himself.

Then the Chief pulled her toward a bench, putting his disgusting hand on her stomach. Asami almost flinched instinctively, but she fought it down. “My dear, it has been a fortnight of us constantly making love. I can feel that we are going to be parents soon,” he said with a smile that made the rats in Asami’s stomach gnaw her from the inside even more.

“Yes. It must be soon,” she forced herself to say without vomiting.

“What shall be their names? Maybe Tonraq, after my sire. It is only fitting for the future Southern Water Tribe chief to have a strong name like my father’s.”

“It is, my love. Wonderful choi—” Before the queen consort could finish her sentence, giggling from one of the garden halls interrupted them.

“Illa, tell me all you know,” a high-pitched voice came from behind them. Asami turned slightly to see two omega women engrossed in conversation, their voices carrying in the still night air.

“Ever since Hiroshi’s imprisonment, some of the ruling has been a mess,” one omega said. “It’s like everything is falling apart.”

“I know, right? The Chief can’t seem to handle it all. It’s chaos,” the other omega replied, shaking her head.

“Take the dispute between the Camel and Bear Tribes, for example. It’s been weeks, and there’s still no resolution. The tension is escalating daily.”

“And don’t forget about the grain shortage in the western settlements. People are starving in the middle of winter, and the Chief’s decrees haven’t done anything to help. It’s like he doesn’t even care.”

“And the trade routes! Ever since Hiroshi was imprisoned, the merchants have been complaining about increased bandit attacks. The Chief promised to send more patrols, but nothing’s been done.”

The first omega sighed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “People are starting to lose faith. They say he spends more time in the Keep with his new consort than actually governing.”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” the second omega warned, glancing around nervously. “If anyone is to hear us—”

Their conversation was abruptly cut off as Chief Kova’s booming voice echoed through the garden. “Who says that?”

The omegas, caught off guard, looked up in surprise and then fear. “Your Grace, we did not know you were out. Our apologies,” one of them stammered.

“You are speaking of treason! Aguta!” Kova called, and his sworn shield, who had been lurking in the shadows as they walked, was suddenly by his side.

“Yes, my liege,” Aguta said, snapping his fist over his heart as he bowed stiffly like a warrior.

“Arrest these omegas for spewing treason!”

The two women pleaded for their lives, their voices trembling, but Asami saw that there was no changing Kova’s mind. She had to step in and stop this farce, feeling like it was her fault. She had her father imprisoned by using Kova, after all.

“My love,” Asami began, her voice calm and soothing, appealing to Kova’s narcissism, “do not listen to them. As I have told you before, these are omegas gossiping during their free time. Nothing more. Surely, their idle words hold no weight against your greatness.”

Kova paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Asami. She could see the conflict in his expression, the desire for validation warring with his anger.

“They mean nothing, my love. They came from the mouths of chambermaids,” Asami continued, stepping closer and placing a hand gently on his arm. “You are the Chief, the strong and capable leader of the Southern Water Tribe. Your people know this. Do not let the idle chatter of a few foolish omegas disturb you.”

Kova’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at her, the anger slowly ebbing away. “Very well,” he said finally, turning to Aguta. “Release them. But let this be a warning,” he added, glaring at the trembling omegas. “Any further treasonous talk will not be tolerated.”

The omegas nodded frantically, their faces pale with fear. Asami watched as they were released, relief washing over her. She had managed to defuse the situation, at least for now.

“Thank you, my love,” she said softly, her hand still on his arm. “Shall we continue our stroll?”

Kova nodded, his mood lightening as he offered his arm once more. “Yes, let us continue. The night is still young, and there is much to admire.”

Asami took his arm, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she had only bought a temporary reprieve. But for now, it was enough. They walked on, the moonflowers glowing softly in the night, a fleeting moment of peace in a world filled with turmoil.

—

Once they were in front of Kova’s chambers, he harshly pulled her inside, gripping Asami’s hand so tightly that she screamed in pain. “What are you doing, m-my love?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

“You! This is your fault!” Kova screamed, shoving her onto the bed with a force that left her breathless. His eyes were wild with rage, his face twisted in fury.

Asami’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing to understand what had provoked this outburst. She struggled to sit up, her hand throbbing from his grip. “My love, I don’t understand—”

“Don’t play innocent with me!” Kova roared, his voice echoing off the walls. “Those omegas were mocking me because of you!”

“Please, Kova, listen to me,” Asami pleaded, her eyes wide with fear. “I would never do anything to undermine you. You’re my husband. My protector.”

Kova’s face contorted with rage. “You got your father imprisoned to gain power for yourself, didn’t you? Are you trying to undermine my rule, too?”

Asami’s breath hitched. Part of it was true, but part of it was to get revenge on her sire. She forced herself to remain calm, to show only the desperation and fear she knew Kova would expect. “No, Kova, I swear. I did it to free myself from Hiroshi, not for power. I would never undermine your rule. You are my husband, and I need your protection. A weak omega like me doesn’t stand a chance against an alpha like Hiroshi.”

Kova stared at her, his chest heaving with the intensity of his emotions. For a moment, she thought he might strike her. But then, something shifted in his eyes. He seemed to realize the pain he had caused, and his expression softened with regret. “I hurt you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Asami nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, my love. You hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Kova said, his voice breaking. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched away. The sight of her recoiling seemed to wound him deeply. “Please, stay with me. Let me make it right.”

Asami shook her head, the tears spilling over her cheeks. “I can’t. I need to be alone. Please, let me go to my own bedchambers.”

Kova’s face crumpled with sorrow. “Asami, please. Don’t leave me.”

She let out a sob, knowing exactly how to play on his emotions. “I need time, my love. I need to heal.”

Kova hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he nodded, though his expression was one of deep anguish. “Very well. Go.”

Asami rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, every step a testament to the pain she felt. She walked to the door, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. She turned back to him one last time, letting her tears flow freely. “Goodnight, my love.”

Kova’s eyes were filled with torment as he watched her go. “Goodnight, Asami.”

She closed the door behind her, the sound of the latch clicking into place echoing in the silent corridor. Asami allowed herself a moment to breathe, to gather her strength. She had managed to escape, but the danger was far from over. She had to be careful, to play her role perfectly, if she was to survive this nightmare.

The next day, Asami was summoned to the small council meeting. The room was filled with tension, the air thick with the scent of ink and parchment. Asami kept to the shadows, her eyes downcast, but she could feel Kova’s gaze on her, burning with unspoken words. Senna was there too, her presence a small comfort in the sea of political machinations even if she hadn’t determined if she could trust the dowager. For now, she chose to do so. Master Suntoq then asked who would they put in place of Hiroshi as Hand of the Chief.

Senna cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence. “I will nominate Master Arrak, our Master Hunter.”

“Why him?” Master Suntoq contested, his tone sharp. “He hasn’t stepped in court for years and has shunned our summons before.”

Senna remained calm, her voice steady. “He has been to all of the tribes in our chiefdom and has seen the situation they are in. The people know and like him. He has no allegiance to any tribe but the crown. If we summon him and promise him the position of Hand, I am sure he will gladly take it.”

“If he agrees,” Master Suntoq retorted, skepticism etched in his features.

“Yes,” Senna conceded. “If he agrees.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Suntoq pressed, his eyes narrowing.

“Then we shall find another candidate,” Senna replied, her gaze unwavering.

“Very well,” Kova said, his voice authoritative yet edged with impatience. “Master Suntoq, write a letter or summons to Master Arrak.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Suntoq muttered, bowing his head slightly.

“We shall attend to the next matter at hand,” Kova announced, shifting in his seat.

Master Suntoq produced a scroll from his robe, handing it over to the Chief. “A messenger bird arrived this morning from the Bay of Seals, Your Grace.”

Asami’s heart quickened at the mention of the place. It had been several moons since there was news of Korra. She had stopped writing letters to the dowager, and Asami had missed the princess dearly. She wanted to know what Korra was doing, and now, finally, her heart rejoiced at knowing there was news.

Kova took the letter from Master Suntoq, his face darkening as he read. Asami felt a knot tighten in her stomach. What had happened? Did something happen to Korra? She was about to ask when the chief threw the scroll on the table in irritation.

“My son, what has happened?” Senna asked, echoing the question burning on Asami’s lips.

Kova clicked his tongue in frustration. “It says Master Kuruk and his crew have taken care of the pirate problems.”

Senna’s eyes shone with relief and pride as she took the scroll from the table. “That is wonderful news! Then what is the matter?”

“It says Korra was the one who killed the so-called ‘Pirate Queen.’”

Asami’s breath caught in her throat. Korra had done it! Her love had succeeded in defeating the pirates! She could come home now. Asami imagined telling her to take her away from this cage and—

“She’s not coming home yet.”

In a heartbeat, Asami’s hope shattered like glass dropped from a great height. Why wasn’t her alpha coming home? Senna glanced at her briefly, sensing her distress. “Master Kuruk says that Korra has requested to stay at the Bay of Seals to finish some important matters.”

Important matters? What could be more important than coming home to rest and celebrate? Asami’s mind raced, her thoughts a tempest of anxiety and longing. Did Korra not want to return? Had she found solace elsewhere? Perhaps in the arms of another omega? The thought alone made Asami’s heart clench painfully, a deep ache settling in her chest.

“Oh.” Kova’s voice snapped Asami out of her spiraling thoughts. “Then good. She can stay there as long as she wants.”

“Kova,” Senna reprimanded, her tone sharp with disapproval. The chief just rolled his eyes.

“We shall wait for my sister’s return then.” As the meeting drew to a close, Kova finally addressed Asami directly. “Asami, you have been unusually quiet today. Do you have anything to add?”

Asami’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to formulate a response. She forced a calm smile, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. “No, my love. I trust in the wisdom of the council and in your leadership.”

Kova’s eyes lingered on her, searching for any hint of deceit. Finding none, he nodded. “Very well. This meeting is adjourned.”

As the council members began to disperse, Asami remained seated for a moment, the weight of the news pressing heavily on her shoulders. She rose slowly, her movements mechanical, and made her way to her chambers. Each step echoed the hollow feeling inside her.

In the privacy of her room, she finally allowed herself to collapse onto the bed, her body trembling with suppressed emotion. The cold of winter seeped through the walls, the chill matching the emptiness she felt. “Korra, please come back,” she whispered into the silence, the name a balm and a curse, burying her face in her hands, her tears hot against her cold skin.

—

A few days later, Master Arrak arrived at the Keep to take his place as Hand of the Chief. The throne room buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with the mingling scents of perfumed courtiers and burning incense. Kova sat on the throne, Asami at his left, and Senna beside her. The cold stone beneath her hands felt grounding, a small comfort amidst the tension.

“Thank you for accepting our summons, Master Arrak,” Kova said, his voice echoing through the grand hall.

Master Arrak knelt before him, his weathered face lined with both age and wisdom. “Your Grace, it is an honor to serve you and the realm.”

“Do you promise to serve me, the realm, and all our subjects with unwavering loyalty and dedication?” Kova intoned, his gaze piercing.

“I do,” Master Arrak replied solemnly. “With my life.”

Asami watched the scene unfold, her heart beating steadily in her chest. The formalities continued, each word a ritual binding the new Hand to his duty. Asami’s mind wandered, wondering if this man could truly be trusted, or if he was just another player in the endless game of power. She recalled how Master Arrak had saved Korra from peril during the walrus attack, his quick thinking and bravery standing out in her memory. He had shown genuine concern for the princess, a rare quality in the treacherous world of court politics. For a moment, she felt a flicker of hope that perhaps, in him, they had an ally.

After the oath-taking, Master Arrak rose and approached Kova, handing over a folded parchment. “I will fulfill my oath. As a matter of fact, I am doing my duty to you now, Your Grace.”

“What is this?” Kova asked, unfolding the parchment with a frown.

“I have intercepted a letter that was meant to be read by a traitor in your court. Read it and you shall know.”

Kova’s eyes scanned the letter, his expression darkening with each word. He read aloud, his voice thick with anger and disbelief. “ ‘The time is ripe. His rule weakens. Move swiftly, and the crown shall be ours.’ ”

The throne room fell silent, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air. Asami felt a chill run down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest. Who could be plotting against Kova? Was this part of Senna’s plan, a calculated move to sow further distrust? Or was there truly a traitor among them?

Kova crumpled the letter in his fist, his knuckles white with fury. “Who dares to betray me?” he growled, his eyes scanning the room with suspicion.

He was met by silence.

Master Arrak bowed deeply. “I will get to the matter at hand and solve this as soon as possible, Your Grace. The traitor will be found.”

Asami’s thoughts swirled, a maelstrom of doubt and fear. She glanced at Senna, whose face remained a mask of serene composure. Could she be trusted, or was she manipulating events from the shadows?

She forced herself to remain calm, her face a portrait of composed neutrality. But inside, she felt the gnawing unease grow. Asami clasped her hands tightly in her lap, the cool fabric of her gown grounding her in the moment. Whatever the truth, she knew she had to tread carefully. One misstep, and the fragile balance she maintained could shatter, plunging her deeper into danger. It made her wish that Korra was with her right at that moment for she was the only one whom Asami could truly trust.

—

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a full moon’s turn. There was still no news about Korra or reports of who the traitor was. Kova’s paranoia had made him miserable, oftentimes secluding himself to his chambers. Asami feigned concern for him, but inside she was joyous. Keeping himself confined to his chambers, and not talking to anyone meant she was free from him, and free to do as she pleased.

Asami did her duties… as well as something else.

During the day, Asami still did her duty to the Keep, accompanying Senna to talk with the other ladies in court. Sometimes, they met with Master Kya when they had the chance to be alone. Every now and then, they would pass by Master Arrak, and Asami would notice that Senna and Master Arrak kept making eye contact with one another. Even during small council meetings, the two kept looking at each other. Maybe because Master Arrak was Senna’s ally. Asami had no reason to believe otherwise.

But at night, she explored the secret tunnels that connected to her room at night. She made a mental map of the winding halls, noting every twist and turn, every hidden alcove and shadowed passage.

At first, she hadn’t even taken a few steps into the dark halls when her breath became erratic, her heart pounding in her chest. The claustrophobic darkness threatened to overwhelm her, the memories of her imprisonment by Hiroshi flooding back with a vengeance. She could feel the cold, damp walls closing in, the air thick and stale. Asami did not push through with her plan that night.

But as the weeks passed, she gathered her courage to face her fears. Little by little, she conquered the way toward where Hiroshi had imprisoned her, each step a victory over the past. The tunnels, once terrifying, became a refuge where she could think and plan.

On the fourth week of exploring the secret tunnels, she stumbled upon something she should not have. There was a door, half-hidden behind a tapestry, the wood worn and unassuming. She heard two distinct voices behind it, their tones hushed and urgent. Curiosity piqued, Asami decided to peek into the room.

She carefully pushed the door open a crack, her heart beating faster as she pressed her eye to the gap. A gasp escaped her lips without her knowing at the sight.

It was Senna with Master Arrak… kissing.

The scene before her was one of heated passion. Senna’s hands clutched the front of Arrak’s tunic, her fingers white with the intensity of her grip. Arrak’s arms encircled her waist, pulling her close, their bodies melded together. The dim light of the room cast a soft glow over them, highlighting the desperation and fervor in their embrace.

Asami felt a rush of shock at the discovery. The raw intimacy of what she was witnessing, made her feel like an invader. She could hear the soft, breathless murmurs between them, the rustle of fabric, the quiet sighs of longing. The air was thick with the scent of candle wax and the faint musk of their closeness.

Senna’s face was a mask of passion, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she kissed Arrak with a fervor that spoke of hidden depths and forbidden desires. Arrak’s face, usually stern and composed, was now softened with emotion, his hands moving possessively over Senna’s back.

Asami’s mind raced. What did this mean? In her shock, Asami’s grip on the torch faltered, and it slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor with a loud, echoing sound. The light flickered wildly before stabilizing, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.

Senna and Master Arrak snapped their heads toward her, their expressions morphing from passion to surprise and then alarm. “Asami!” the Dowager gasped, her voice a mixture of shock and desperation. Arrak’s eyes wide, equally in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I was... exploring the tunnels,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” Asami stood frozen in the doorway, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind scrambling to make sense of the situation. The air was thick with tension, the silence heavy and oppressive.

Finally, Master Arrak decided to break the tension. “Your Grace, we can explain, if it pleases you.”

Asami nodded. “Very well. Please close the door behind you.” When Asami did so, they all moved to Senna’s sitting room where a chambermaid served them tea. The clinking of their cups was the only sound that sliced through the silence.

This time, it was Asami who broke the silence. “I apologize for intruding on your intimate moment, Queen Senna, Master Arrak.”

Senna shook her head, her lips curling into a small, amused smile. “My dear, it should be us apologizing. We never intended to keep you in the dark for too long. We were going to tell you about it when we’re ready, but I guess this unfortunate incident presented itself so we can explain now.” She then took Master Arrak’s hand before turning back to her once again. “My dear, he’s the one I was telling you about back in your tent.”

Master Arrak nodded, looking at Senna tenderly. “Ever since meeting back during the royal hunt, we’ve... rekindled our relationship. Now that… Tonraq had been gone for almost three years, I felt like I am able to finally pursue the person who my heart belonged to.”

“Oh. Oh!” was all Asami could say. “That is wonderful.” And the Queen had meant it truly. In part, she was slightly jealous, but it gave her hope that she could also do the same. But, one question lingered. “Why did you want to tell me?”

Senna leaned forward, her eyes earnest. “I told you because you are trustworthy. And so you know you can trust me, trust us. But we implore you to tell no one. Pretend you hadn’t seen us.”

Asami nodded slowly, the weight of their trust settling heavily on her shoulders. “I understand. Your secret is safe with me. Thank you for telling me. It is my honor.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, replaced by a fragile sense of camaraderie. Suddenly, the dowager turned serious. “Now, can you tell me more about these secret tunnels in the Keep?”

—

The Keep was abuzz with excitement. Word had spread like wildfire throughout the capital: Princess Korra was coming home . Even now, Asami could feel the anticipation coursing through the halls, the faint hum of conversations blending with the rustling of the whole court.

A fortnight after her conversation with Senna, Master Arrak had finally received a letter from the Bay of Seals, proudly announcing Korra’s triumphant return.

Asami had immediately set to work, organizing a grand homecoming feast and ball. It gave her a purpose beyond the monotonous mingling for appearances. Master Arrak had told her it would take Korra a fortnight’s journey by ship to reach Wolf Cove’s docks. She had ample time to prepare.

Asami kept herself busy, meticulously listing everything needed for Korra’s return: the finest silks for the hall’s decorations, the most exquisite dishes prepared by the chiefdom’s best chefs, a guest list that included nobles from far and wide, and musicians who could play melodies to make the night unforgettable.

The day of Korra’s arrival finally came. Asami stood at the foot of the throne alongside Senna, Master Arrak, and surprisingly—or not, it was his duty, after all— Kova, who had emerged from his chambers to welcome his sister home. The throne room was filled with an expectant hush, the only sound the faint rustle of fine fabrics as the court awaited the princess.

Finally, the herald announced, “Princess Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, Slayer of the Pirate Queen, and Champion of the Bay of Seals!” The heavy oak double doors opened with a resounding creak, and the cheers of the people outside the Keep filtered in faintly, blending with the excited murmurs within.

Asami fought to remain in place, digging her nails into her palms to steady herself. Then Korra, her alpha, her one and only love, walked in. Asami felt lightheaded, almost fainting when the princess's scent wafted through the air as she approached. It made her whole body thrum with longing and relief.

Korra knelt before them, the air seeming to still. “Your Graces,” she greeted, her voice echoing around the throne room as she stood up. Asami’s heart raced at the change in her alpha’s voice—deeper and more resonant. Korra stood back up, and Asami noticed another change. In the span of almost a year, Korra had grown taller—taller than her, if Asami’s need to look slightly up into those piercing blue eyes was any indication. She now wore boiled leather armor, the garb of a warrior, which did little to hide the definition of her arms, now muscled from likely training with swords, shields, and all sorts of weapons every day. Asami’s omega instincts screamed to rush to Korra and touch her, but her logical mind fought for control, warning her that any misstep could ruin everything.

Asami was pulled out of her thoughts when Kova spoke up. “Welcome home, sister,” he said in a tone that said otherwise.

“Thank you, my brother.” Korra looked at Senna, bowing. “Mother.” Then finally, she turned to Asami, this time looking directly into her eyes. “Your Grace, my Queen.” Her blue eyes were intense, full of fire, and it took all of Asami’s will not to rush forward and kiss her.

But she did not need to. Suddenly, Korra turned around, gesturing for another woman behind her, one Asami had not noticed at first. She was strikingly pretty, petite, with green eyes and black hair, and most of all, she was an omega. Immediately, Asami’s inner omega felt a surge of possessive rage, which was confirmed when Korra introduced her.

“Your Graces, I am pleased to introduce you to Opal Beifong, an ambassador from the Air Nation. And the person who has captured my heart.”

Chapter Text

When Korra woke up, the first thing she noticed was the familiar sway of a ship in motion. She could hear the distant sound of the sea splashing against the hull. What had happened after she had blacked out? 

The sound of the ship’s door creaking open pulled her out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw was green— deep, emerald eyes staring back at her.

“Korra, you’re awake,” Opal said, worry lacing her voice. “How are you feeling?”

Korra looked at the Air Nomad, noticing that the omega was holding a basin with a cloth draped over the edge. She was momentarily mesmerized by the sway of the woman’s hips as she walked over to her and placed the basin on the table beside her. When Opal smiled at her, Korra suddenly remembered that she had been asked a question. “Thirsty,” she croaked.

The omega chuckled softly. “I figured. You had been asleep for a day.” She poured a cup from a nearby pitcher and handed it to Korra, who drank eagerly.

“Thank you.”

Opal gave her a warm smile, taking the cup from her hand. “It’s no matter, Korra. I’m the one who should thank you, and your crew.”

Korra shook her head. “You don’t need to thank us. It is our duty. You and your people had been taken from our waters. And the Fifth Nation is Water Tribe. They are our people. They are our responsibility and the crown should have crushed them before they got this much power.”

“Still. You saved my life from the poison, you sacrificed your body to defend your people, and other people.” Opal took her hand, making Korra’s face heat up. “I owe you my life, Korra. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

Korra sighed, squeezing Opal’s hand gently. “We are all part of the same world, Opal. We have to look out for each other.”

Opal’s eyes softened, and she squeezed back. “You’re too humble for your own good, Princess. Or should I say, Slayer of the Pirate Queen?” Her eyes sparkled with admiration and a hint of mischief.

Korra chuckled, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “Titles are just words. What matters is the actions behind them.”

Opal giggled, dipping the cloth into the basin, then gently began to clean Korra’s wounds. The touch was tender, yet it made Korra’s heart race and her cheeks burn even more. Blood began to seep from the wound on her stomach, mingling with the water on the cloth.

“Don’t worry, Korra. I’ve learned from the best in the Southern Air Temple on how to clean and heal wounds.”

“A-alright,” Korra stammered. It wasn’t worry she was feeling, but Korra was not about to tell Opal she was a little shy about a beautiful omega touching her.

“Master Kuruk said we are heading straight to Wolf Cove,” Opal informed her, breaking the silence.

For some reason, Korra did not want to go home yet. She felt like she still had more to do for the Bay of Seals. So, she tried to get up but grunted in pain as her stomach protested, causing more blood to trickle from the wound.

Opal gently pushed her back down to the bed. “Korra, your wound is not fully closed. You must not exert yourself.”

“Then... please tell Master Kuruk to change course back to the Bay of Seals.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Alright. I will. Stay put.” Opal left the room.

A moment later, Opal returned with the news that they were now headed to the Bay of Seals. Korra thanked her, and Opal continued to clean her now-open wound on her stomach. Korra clenched every time Opal dapped her wound with a wet cloth, cleaning away the blood that had clotted there. The omega maintained her composure, but Korra could see that there was a hint of red on the woman’s cheeks.

After Opal had cleaned the wound, she applied a concoction of mashed herbs. The smell hit Korra’s nose immediately—grassy and earthy, with a pungent undertone that was a bit unpleasant. Korra winced and grunted as Opal spread the mixture over her wound.

“I’m sorry. Please bear the pain a little,” Opal said gently.

Korra managed to hiss out, “It’s alright.”

Opal finished applying the herbs and then bandaged Korra’s wound again before handing the princess another cup. “What is this?” Korra asked, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.

“It’s milk of the poppy, Korra. It will help with the pain.”

Korra sniffed it, the unfamiliar scent making her hesitate. She drank, feeling the cool liquid soothe her throat. It was sweet yet bitter, rich and heady with a slightly spicy undertone. Opal took the cup from her again, then tidied up the things she had used to clean Korra’s wounds. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy, and she tried to stay awake.

“Rest now, Korra. I’ll be back to check on your wound again after four candlemarks.”

Korra breathed a sigh of relief as the milk of the poppy took effect, her body relaxing into the bed. “Okay. Thank you, Opal,” she managed to say before succumbing to sleep.

That had been Korra’s days during their journey back to the Bay of Seals while she healed. Opal visited her frequently, checking on her wounds, their conversations growing deeper with each passing day. Sometimes, Master Kuruk also visited, expressing his gratitude for her saving his life.

After a week, they finally arrived at the Bay of Seals. As Korra stepped off the ship, the air was filled with the deafening cheers of the citizens, their voices rising in a wave of gratitude and celebration. The scent of the sea mingled with the earthy aroma of the village, creating a heady mix that invigorated her senses. The townsfolk had gathered in throngs, their faces alight with relief and joy.

Chief Unna was there, flanked by her son and grandson. “Thank you, Princess Korra, Master Kuruk, for ridding our waters of pirates. Our fishermen can now freely fish again without fearing for their lives.”

Korra bowed slowly, mindful of her still-healing wound. “It is our duty, Chief Unna.”

“We shall celebrate your triumphant return, Your Grace.” Chief Unna turned to her son. “Prepare for a feast tonight!”

Lord Keena smiled before bowing deeply. “It shall be done, mother.”

Once the pleasantries were over, a familiar face ran toward Korra. A goofy smile and a wide body greeted her, almost about to crush her with his signature hug, but Master Kuruk stepped in front of her, preventing Bolin from making contact.

“Warrior Bolin, you must control your strength. Korra has not yet fully healed from the battle.”

Bolin’s face fell, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Korra! I just missed you so much.” He stepped back, his enthusiasm unabated but more controlled. Just then, Mako appeared and hugged his brother, a fond smile on his usually stoic face. They said their goodbyes, promising to clean up for the feast.

After the reunions, Korra introduced Opal to Chief Unna. “Chief Unna, this is Opal from the Air Nation, seeking help from the crown.”

Opal bowed gracefully. “We were supposed to head straight to Wolf’s Cove, but the Fifth Nation intercepted our ship and took us all hostage. Some of us did not make it. If it pleases you, my Lady, may my remaining people take refuge in your tribe for a few days?”

Chief Unna’s eyes were full of understanding, then she smiled softly. “You may stay here for as long as you wish. We have many refugees from the Earth Kingdom, and they are welcome here as long as they keep the peace and earn their keep. We are but a small village and it is the middle of winter. Food is only enough. However, without pirates roaming our seas, I know the fish will be back, and we shall have an abundance of food for everyone.”

Opal bowed, as did Korra and Master Kuruk. “Thank you, Chief Unna. Rest assured, my people will work for our keep.”

After talking some more with Chief Unna and ensuring all the Air Nomads were housed and the surviving pirates were put inside a cell. Korra limping alongside Master Kuruk, had invited Opal to their home, offering her a place to stay. Opal agreed, albeit not without Korra convincing her.

As they entered Master Kuruk’s home, Lady Ummi gasped in relief at seeing her husband and Korra, who she considered her own daughter. She rushed forward, hugging them tightly. Korra winced but allowed Ummi’s embrace, feeling the warmth and love in the gesture.

The familiar sound of Naga’s excited barking filled the yard as Korra stepped outside. The polar bear dog bounded towards her, tail wagging furiously. Naga nuzzled Korra’s face, her soft fur brushing against Korra’s skin, eliciting a joyful laugh from the princess. She buried her face in Naga’s neck, inhaling the comforting scent of her loyal companion.

Later that night, the festive atmosphere enveloped them all, the cheers and applause of the people echoing around them. The scent of roasting seal meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the salty tang of the sea. Korra felt a deep sense of gratitude and belonging. She was home , surrounded by her people, her friends, and those she loved. The journey had been arduous, but in this moment, with the warmth of Naga’s fur against her skin and the joyous sounds of celebration in her ears, Korra felt at peace.

—

The next morning, Korra rose with the sun. As the first light of dawn kissed the snow-covered village, she finished her daily chores and ventured into the heart of the community to help clean up after last night’s festivities. The air was crisp and clear, a fair morning—a rare occasion in the middle of winter. Korra silently thanked the gods for blessing them with such wonderful weather.

As she walked through the village, people greeted her warmly, their voices mingling with the sound of broomsticks scraping the snow-covered ground. The aroma of fresh pine and the lingering scent of last night’s feasting filled the air, a pleasant contrast to the usual sharpness of winter. Korra smiled as she passed by, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

Approaching the center where they had held the feast, her smile grew wider. Opal was already there, helping the tribespeople pick up large wastes and placing them in a wicker basket for disposal. The sight of her working diligently, her green eyes bright with determination, warmed Korra’s heart.

“Good morrow,” Korra greeted.

Opal turned to look at her, a sweet smile spreading across her face. “Good morrow, Your Grace.”

“Let me help with that.” Korra took the full, heavy wicker basket, hauling it over her shoulders. The weight put pressure against the wound on her stomach, but she ignored the twinge of pain, eager to assist the omega. Opal looked at her with a raised brow, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“What?” Korra asked, noticing the omega’s amused expression.

Shaking her head, Opal gently placed her hand on Korra’s arm, the touch sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Korra, remember that your wound is still healing. Maybe use a wheelbarrow to make it easier for you. Or are you trying to show off?”

Korra felt the heat creep up her face even through the cold. “N-no! I— This is how I lift things, even back in the barracks!” she reasoned, her voice a bit higher than intended.

Opal chuckled softly, her laughter like the gentle tinkling of bells. “Are you always this stubborn, Korra? Please put it down, let’s not risk reopening your wound.” She guided Korra to a nearby wheelbarrow, the wood creaking slightly as they loaded the basket onto it.

The village around them buzzed with activity. Children played nearby, their laughter echoing in the crisp morning air. The scent of fresh bread baking drifted from a nearby house, mixing with the earthy aroma of the damp, thawing ground. Korra took a deep breath, savoring the blend of scents and the sense of community that surrounded her.

As they worked side by side, Korra couldn’t help but steal glances at Opal. The way her hair caught the sunlight, the gentle determination in her eyes, and the grace with which she moved made Korra’s heart flutter. Despite the cold, the warmth of Opal’s presence seemed to wrap around her, making the chore feel less like work and more like a shared moment of connection.

“So… My Lady, forgive my rudeness, but I haven’t gotten the chance to ask you how you are faring?” Korra asked as they wheeled the last batch of waste baskets to the compost pit, feeling as if she had been neglectful to her guest.

Opal hummed beside her, her voice soft and melodic. “With all that has happened, surprisingly, I am doing well. Grateful to be alive, mostly. It’s ironic how we wanted help from the Southern Water Tribe, yet we were taken hostage by its very people.”

Korra felt her insides twist at the truth. The Fifth Nation were her people. But they were pirates and had done wicked things without them knowing. If only the crown had paid attention early on, then they couldn’t have caused so much damage to nature and to people. “I apologize, my Lady, for not being able to stop them earlier.”

Opal bumped her shoulder lightly, a reassuring gesture that sent warmth through Korra despite the chill in the air. They were now in front of the compost pit. Korra tilted the wheelbarrow, dumping all of its content into the dug ground. As the debris tumbled down, Opal spoke again. “It is not your fault, Korra. I’m sure if you had rushed to attack them before you were ready, then we might have had a different outcome. Besides, my people are resilient. We shall mourn today, live with their memory tomorrow. And... I do not think I would have met you if things had been different.”

Korra’s heart raced at Opal’s words, heat creeping up her cheeks once again. The world around them seemed to fall away for a moment. The sounds of the village, the scraping of brooms, the distant chatter, all faded into the background. She felt the softness of Opal’s touch lingering on her shoulder, smelled lavender amidst the earthy aroma of the compost mixed with the crisp winter air, and saw the sincerity in Opal’s green eyes.

“I… I’m glad we met too, Opal,” Korra managed to say, her voice a little unsteady.

They continued their work, the atmosphere lighter. They spoke of simpler things, sharing stories about their childhoods, their favorite foods, and dreams for the future. Korra learned that Opal loved the sound of the wind chimes in her home, and how she missed the gentle rustling of the wind through the high cliffs of the Southern Air Temple. Opal listened intently as Korra recounted tales of her training, the adventures with Mako and Bolin, and her love for Naga.

Later that night, as the house settled into the quiet rhythms of sleep, Korra lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The day’s events played over in her mind, and she suddenly remembered Opal’s true purpose for sailing to the Southern Water Tribe. The realization gnawed at her, and she knew she had to ask.

Rising from her bed, she padded softly to Opal’s room, the wooden floorboards cool beneath her bare feet. She hesitated for a moment, seeing the door ajar and gathering her thoughts. The dim light of the moon filtered through the small window, casting a gentle glow over Opal’s peaceful face. Korra knocked softly, not wanting to startle her.

Opal opened her eyes, blinking in the low light. “Korra? Is everything alright?”

Korra nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Opal. I just… I remembered why you traveled here. What exactly do you need?”

Opal sat up, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. She took a deep breath, her expression turning solemn. “I was originally from the Earth Kingdom. A small state called Zaofu. My mother was the matriarch of the state, but the Earth King did not like having a woman leading a state. So, he ordered his soldiers to reclaim it. The captain of our guards, Kuvira, led our army to defend the state and she had won. But power consumed her, so she took the whole Earth Kingdom, including Zaofu, for her own. She killed my family when we opposed. I’m the only survivor.”

Korra felt a pang of sorrow for Opal. She dropped her hand from the door and rushed closer, taking Opal’s hand in hers, offering silent comfort. The warmth of Opal’s hand in hers was grounding, and she felt a fierce protectiveness rising within her. Without thinking, she pulled Opal into an embrace. Opal hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace, her body trembling slightly.

“I’m so sorry, Opal,” Korra whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “No one should have to endure that.”

Opal continued, her voice steady but laden with pain. “Mother told me and my brothers to escape to the Southern Air Temple, and the monks would take us in. Unfortunately, we got caught by the border, and my brothers protected me from Kuvira’s forces. I made it to the temple, and they became my second family. I learned from them—their art, their way of living, and how they defend themselves. But now, Kuvira threatened my family again. She wants me back in the Earth Empire , as she now calls it, but I refused. So, a few of the monks traveled with me, hoping we’d get protection from your army. In return, we will share our food and knowledge of crops. We have an abundance of it.”

Korra did not know of the situation in the former Earth Kingdom. It was, once again, a failure on her part not knowing more about what was happening outside the Southern Water Tribe. As the princess, she vowed to be more aware. It was her duty. Pulling back slightly, her eyes searched Opal’s, giving off a calming, comforting scent. 

The room was filled with the faint sounds of the house settling, the distant call of a night bird outside, and the comforting crackle of a dying fire in the hearth. Korra felt the weight of Opal’s story settle over her like a mantle, and she resolved to do everything in her power to protect her and her people. “You did the right thing coming here. We will help you, Opal. I promise.”

“Thank you, Korra,” Opal said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

Korra gave her a reassuring smile. “Rest now, my Lady.”

As Korra left the room, she felt the cool air of the hallway against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Opal’s embrace. She returned to her bed, the moonlight casting silver patterns on her blanket, and fell into a deep, determined sleep, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with renewed purpose.

The execution platform was a grim sight, stark against the morning sky. Korra stood on the gallows beside Master Kuruk, her heart pounding in her chest. The cold air bit at her cheeks, and the sharp scent of salt from the nearby sea filled her nostrils. Below them, the remaining pirates were lined up, their hands bound, faces etched with defiance and fear. A stone slab lay before them, its surface stained from countless executions.

Master Kuruk stepped forward, his voice steady and resonant as he began to recite the ancient rites. “By the laws of the Southern Water Tribe, and in the name of justice, we are gathered here to carry out the sentences for these men, who have brought suffering and death to our people.”

The crowd below was anything but silent. Angry shouts and curses filled the air, the villagers’ voices rising in a cacophony of rage and grief. “Thieves!” someone yelled. “You robbed us of our livelihood!” another screamed. The sound of their fury was almost deafening, a tangible force pressing in on Korra from all sides.

The first pirate was dragged forward, his eyes darting wildly. He was forced to kneel before the stone slab, his head positioned for the blade. Master Kuruk raised his double-handed sword, the blade glinting in the pale light of dawn. “May your sins be washed away in the next life,” he intoned, before bringing the sword down in a swift, clean stroke. The pirate’s head rolled to the side, the body collapsing lifelessly as his blood flowed down the stump where his head was supposed to be.

Korra’s stomach churned, but she kept her face impassive, drawing strength from the stoic presence of Master Kuruk beside her. She focused on the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the distant call of seabirds, anything to steady her nerves.

One by one, three more pirates were brought forward, each meeting the same fate. The crowd’s anger did not abate; if anything, it grew louder with each execution. “Monsters!” a woman cried out, her voice cracking with emotion. “You poisoned our waters!” Another man spat at the feet of the condemned, his face contorted with rage.

Korra’s heart hammered in her chest, each execution feeling like a lifetime. Finally, Master Kuruk turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a solemn intensity. “Now, Korra, it is your turn to bring justice. This man,” he gestured to the pirate who had shoved her into Tagaka’s tent, “is yours to judge.”

The pirate was dragged forward, a sneer on his face. “You don’t have the guts,” he jeered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re just a girl playing at being a warrior.”

Korra felt a surge of anger, but she forced herself to remain calm. Master Kuruk leaned in, his voice a steady whisper. “Swing hard, and swing true.”

Korra nodded, taking the heavy sword from Master Kuruk’s hands. The weight of it felt immense, the cold metal pressing against her palms. She took a deep breath, the chill air filling her lungs, and stepped forward. The pirate’s eyes bore into hers, daring her to act.

She raised the sword, her muscles straining under the weight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she steadied herself, focusing on the task at hand. The pirate’s mocking grin fueled her determination. With a powerful swing, she brought the sword down in one swift motion.

The blade met flesh and bone, and the pirate’s head severed cleanly from his body. Korra felt a jolt run through her, a mix of horror and relief. The body slumped forward, blood adding to the pool on the stone slab. She could feel bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to show any weakness in front of her people.

The crowd’s angry shouts and curses began to subside, replaced by murmurs of approval and respect. Master Kuruk placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You did well, Korra,” he murmured.

Korra nodded, her hands still trembling slightly as she handed the sword back to him. She took a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs and grounding her. The scent of blood mingled with the salt of the sea, a stark reminder of the price of justice.

She turned to the crowd, their faces a mixture of relief and lingering anger. Korra realized that she had been neglecting her duties to them. No more. “People of the Bay of Seals,” she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “Today, we have taken the first step in reclaiming our waters and our livelihood. The pirates who tormented our seas are no more.”

There was a murmur of agreement, the crowd hanging on her every word. “But this is just the beginning. I vow to help each and every one of you survive this winter. We will work together to rebuild what was lost. We will ensure that our fishermen can return to the waters without fear. We will protect our homes and our families.”

Korra’s voice grew stronger, carried by the wind. “I will personally oversee the distribution of supplies to make sure everyone has enough to eat now and the future. We will repair our boats and nets, and I will call upon the Southern Water Tribe crown to send additional resources to help us through these tough times. We will not just survive; we will prosper.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their anger transformed into hope and gratitude. “Thank you, princess!” a man called out. “We can fish again without fear!” a woman added, tears of relief streaming down her face.

Turning away from the gallows, Korra felt a new sense of resolve. She had faced her first execution, and though the memory would haunt her, it also steeled her determination to protect her people and uphold the justice they deserved.

The next day, Korra began her work in earnest. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea and the distant promise of a new beginning. The sun cast a golden glow over the village as Korra, Opal, Bolin, Mako, and Master Kuruk made their way to the docks. The boats lay battered and worn from the pirates’ raids, their nets frayed and useless.

Korra rolled up her sleeves, her breath visible in the chill air, and set to work alongside the villagers. The rough texture of the ropes chaffed her hands and the smooth wood of the boats scratched her fingers. Together, they mended the fishing nets, knotting them with careful precision. Bolin and Mako worked tirelessly, their laughter and camaraderie a comforting backdrop. Opal was there every step of the way, her gentle guidance and encouragement bolstering Korra’s resolve.

When the boats and nets were repaired, Korra turned her attention to hunting. She led small groups into the forests, her keen senses attuned to the sounds and smells of wildlife. The earthy scent of the underbrush and the crisp bite of pine filled her lungs as they tracked seals and arctic fowl, bringing back much-needed food to the village.

In the afternoons, Korra visited the brothel. She spoke to the omegas working there, her heart heavy with their plight. “You shouldn’t have to sell your bodies to live,” she told them. “If you wish to join the tribe, we will welcome you with open arms. If you choose to stay here, that is your right as well.”

One omega, the woman Korra had been with on her nameday, stepped forward. Her eyes were filled with determination. “I want to join you,” she said. “I used to farm in the Earth Kingdom before coming here. I can help with the fields.”

Korra welcomed her warmly, and soon she was working alongside Opal in the fields, teaching the villagers new farming techniques. The scent of freshly turned earth and the sight of green sprouts pushing through the soil as winter was coming to an end brought a sense of hope and renewal.

Korra also helped train new warrior recruits to Ser Nanuk’s delight. The air nomads, with their unique martial arts, taught the villagers new ways to defend themselves. The sound of wooden staffs clashing and the rhythmic chants of training filled the air. One day, Opal began to teach Korra how to use a staff.

“Watch your stance,” Opal instructed, her voice soft but firm. Korra followed her lead, feeling the weight of the staff in her hands, the smooth wood cool against her skin. They moved in tandem, the fluid motions of their practice bringing them closer. Korra’s heart raced, not just from the exertion, but from the proximity of Opal, her scent of fresh herbs and the warmth of her touch.

During her free time, Master Kuruk taught Korra how to saddle and ride Naga. The polar bear dog was now at the age where she could be Korra’s main transportation. The first time Korra mounted Naga, she felt a surge of exhilaration. The powerful muscles of the beast moved beneath her, and the cold wind whipped through her hair as they rode along the shoreline.

In quieter moments, Korra and Opal got to know one another more, basking in each other’s presence. They shared stories and dreams by the fire, its soft glow illuminating their faces and casting dancing shadows. The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint aroma of herbs that always lingered around Opal, creating an atmosphere of comfort and intimacy. They often walked through the village, the rhythmic clatter of weaving looms, the cheerful shouts of children, and the soothing crash of waves creating a symphony around them.

Korra felt the rough texture of ancient stone pathways beneath her boots, the cool sea breeze, and the warmth of Opal’s hand brushing against hers. They paused to watch sunsets, the sky ablaze with hues of orange and pink, sharing quiet laughter and talking about everything and nothing. Opal’s laughter was a melody that resonated with Korra’s soul, bringing lightness to her heart. 

With each task completed and each challenge met, Korra felt a deep sense of fulfillment. The village was thriving, and the bonds she formed with those around her grew stronger. And through it all, Opal was by her side, her constant presence a source of strength and comfort.

As the sun set on another day of hard work, the village glowed with the warmth of new life and hope. The scent of cooking fires mingled with the cool sea breeze, and the sound of laughter and conversation filled the air. Korra stood with Opal, their hands brushing lightly as they surveyed the bustling village.

“Thank you, Opal,” Korra said softly, her eyes meeting the omega’s. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Opal smiled, her eyes sparkling in the fading light. “It’s my pleasure, Korra. Always.”

—

Over the course of a moon’s turn, the tribe had thrived. As winter finally came to an end, Chief Unna reported with great satisfaction that there had been no casualties. They had survived the cold and starvation, a feat they owed largely to Korra’s help. With the tribe now self-sufficient, Korra informed Chief Unna of her decision to return to Wolf’s Cove. She had duties to other neglected tribes that needed her aid, and it was time to help them thrive as well. She also felt a strong obligation to Opal and her people, who sought her protection. Her heart was resolute.

Korra expressed her gratitude to Chief Unna for teaching her the ways of the tribe. Chief Unna smiled warmly. “I’m proud of you, Princess Korra of the Southern Water Tribe. Your brother may be chief in name, but in our hearts, you are our one true chief.”

Korra was at a loss for words. Such a declaration could be considered treason, yet with Kova’s men nowhere in sight, the Tribe of Seals was safe. Bowing deeply, she honored the elder chief. “It is an honor, Chief Unna.”

Lord Keena offered to host a grand farewell feast, but Korra declined, preferring a more intimate dinner with Master Kuruk, Lady Ummi, Mako, Bolin, and Opal. Her chosen company gathered in the warm glow of Master Kuruk and Lady Ummi’s home, a comfortable cocoon against the lingering chill outside. Together, they prepared a meal befitting the princess of the Southern Water Tribe.

Master Kuruk and Lady Ummi orchestrated the kitchen, their hands deftly moving through the ingredients. Korra joined them, slicing fresh fish, while Bolin and Mako stoked the fire and added herbs to the bubbling pots. Opal arranged platters of roasted seal meat and steamed vegetables, her nimble fingers weaving delicate garnishes from seaweed and flowers. The air filled with the rich aromas of slow-cooked stew, grilled seafood, and baked bread, creating a symphony of scents that promised a feast to remember.

As the meal came together, laughter echoed through the house. Bolin recounted tales of their past adventures, each story punctuated by Mako’s dry wit. Lady Ummi and Master Kuruk shared ancient legends, their voices rising and falling with the rhythm of the tales. Opal’s laughter was a melody of its own, light and infectious, blending seamlessly with Korra’s hearty chuckles. The warmth of the fire and the closeness of friends enveloped them, creating a moment of pure joy and camaraderie.

After dinner, Korra retreated to her quarters to pack her belongings. As she opened her drawer, her hand froze upon finding the walrus tusk necklace Asami had given her. The intricate carving of the ancient tree back in their hidden oasis and smooth surface brought memories flooding back—the warmth of Asami’s smile, her gentle touch, and the love they had shared. Yet, these memories were tainted with bitterness. Asami had moved on, leaving Korra with the sting of abandonment and betrayal, the ache of love lost. With a deep breath, she placed the necklace in her rucksack, resolving to put those memories aside for now.

Packing the last of her things, Korra suddenly remembered that Opal was not accustomed to the cold. Realizing that their journey to the capital would subject her to harsher climates even at the beginning of spring, Korra decided to give Opal one of her fur coats. She grabbed the thickest, warmest one she had and made her way to Opal’s room.

In her haste, Korra forgot to knock. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, only to find Opal in the midst of changing clothes. Korra’s eyes widened, and she quickly covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry, Opal! I didn’t know you were—” A warm giggle cut her off.

“It’s okay, Korra,” Opal’s voice was calm, reassuring. Korra felt a soft hand gently pulling hers away from her face. “Really, it’s okay.”

Korra’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Opal standing before her, the flickering light casting shadows across her bare skin. Her eyes roamed over Opal’s body, taking in the smooth curves of her breasts peaked with brown nipples, the soft swell of her hips, and the delicate line of her collarbone. The sight was intoxicating, each inch of Opal’s skin a testament to her beauty and vulnerability. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension. Opal stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Korra’s. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, her senses heightened. She could smell the faint scent of lavender from Opal’s skin, feel the warmth radiating from her body. “What is it, Opal?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Opal took Korra’s hands in hers, her touch sending shivers down Korra’s spine. “I have feelings for you, Korra. I’ve had them since the day I met you. Being near you, seeing your strength and kindness… and your scent. I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Korra’s eyes widened with surprise, then softened with understanding. “Opal… I feel the same way. I’ve tried to push it aside, but I can’t ignore it any longer.”

Opal’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She pushed on her tiptoes and leaned in, her breath warm against Korra’s cheek. “Then don’t,” she whispered.

Korra’s resolve melted. Cerulean eyes locked onto emeralds, and she could see the vulnerability and hope that mirrored her own feelings. She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the line of Opal’s jaw before tilting her head down and closing the distance between them.

Their lips met softly at first, a tentative brush that sent a thrill through Korra’s entire body. The warmth of Opal’s mouth against hers was electrifying, a spark that ignited a fire deep within her. She felt Opal’s hands slide up her arms, pulling her closer, and Korra responded with a growing hunger.

The kiss deepened, their mouths moving together with increasing urgency… hunger. Korra tasted the sweetness of Opal’s lips, felt the softness of her skin beneath her fingertips. She could hear the quiet gasps of breath between them, the mingling of their heartbeats in the stillness of the room. The scent of lavender intensified, mingling with the heady aroma of their shared desire.

Opal’s body pressed against hers, warm and inviting. Korra’s hands roamed down Opal’s back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin, the curve of her spine. She pulled the omega closer still, their bodies melding together, every point of contact a symphony of sensation. Opal’s fingers tangled in Korra’s hair, and she felt a shiver run through her as Opal’s nails grazed her scalp.

Their kiss was a dance, a merging of souls that left Korra breathless and yearning for more. She could feel the tension coiling tighter, the desire building with every touch, with every whispered breath. Opal pulled back slightly, just enough to look into Korra’s eyes, her own filled with a mixture of love and longing.

“I want you, Korra,” Opal murmured, her voice a soft caress.

“I want you, too,” she replied. However, before Opal could undress her, Korra remembered the rules of the gods. Omegas born of noble blood shall remain celibate until their wedding night. With all her strength, Korra pulled back from Opal’s lips. “But, my Lady, we should not—”

Opal interrupted her with a searing kiss, seemingly knowing what she was going to say. “Korra, I was raised among those who dismissed such edicts. When I sought refuge with the Air Nomads, I discovered their minds were not fettered by these constraints. Only the Water Tribes and Earth Empire still cling to the oppressive decrees of their gods.”

Korra was taken aback by this newfound knowledge, her thoughts swirling. But Opal, impatient and eager, pushed Korra toward the bed, her determination clear in her eyes.

Opal straddled Korra, their bodies pressed together, the heat between them rising. She captured Korra’s lips in another passionate kiss, her hands roaming over Korra’s strong, muscular frame. Korra succumbed to her lover’s touches, letting her body do the talking, her doubts melting away in the face of their undeniable chemistry.

Slowly, deliberately, Opal began to undress Korra. She kissed Korra’s jaw, then moved down to her collarbone, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Korra’s breath hitched as Opal’s kisses grew more insistent, her tongue tracing the curve of Korra’s breast before taking a hardened nipple into her mouth. Korra moaned softly, her hands tangling in Opal’s hair as pleasure coursed through her.

Opal continued her descent, her mouth worshipping every inch of Korra’s body. She kissed her way down Korra’s stomach, paying special attention to the huge scar on her stomach, kissing it tenderly, as if to heal the old wound with her love. Each touch sent shivers of anticipation through Korra, the sensation intensifying as Opal’s lips lingered on the scar.

When she reached Korra’s breeches, she paused, her eyes locking with Korra’s, silently asking for permission.

Korra nodded, her heart racing. Opal’s fingers deftly untied the laces, and as she pulled the breeches down, Korra could feel her cock stirring to life. Opal’s breath was warm against her skin, her touch gentle yet firm. She kissed the length of Korra’s shaft, her lips soft and reverent.

Korra’s world narrowed to the sensations of Opal’s mouth on her, the pleasure building with every touch, every caress. Just by the omega’s motions, Korra knew she was the more experienced person. And then Opal’s hands held her hips steady as her lips and tongue worked their magic, drawing Korra closer to the edge.

Korra was on the verge of her climax, but then she remembered the dream she had of Asami helping her through her rut the first time eight moons ago. The sensation of dream Asami’s lips on her cock felt vividly real as Opal took more and more of her length. Why do I keep recalling things we never did? she thought, a wave of confusion mingling with her pleasure.

The thought was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming sensation building within her. With a grunt, she came, biting the back of her hand to stifle her scream. She felt Opal’s throat working to swallow every bit of her seed, milking her for everything she had.

Opal released her cock with a gasp, her eyes twinkling with delight. “You taste exquisite,” she giggled, wiping the corner of her mouth.

Korra panted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She reached for Opal, urging her to come up to her. They kissed again, the taste of herself mingling with the sweetness of Opal’s lips. “I want to return the pleasure you gave me,” Korra murmured against her mouth.

With a gentle but insistent motion, Korra shifted their positions, laying Opal down on the bed. She took a moment to admire Opal’s body, her eyes tracing the soft curves and delicate lines. She kissed Opal deeply, her hands caressing her sides, then moved her lips to Opal’s neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin there.

Korra’s mouth traveled lower, her kisses trailing down Opal’s collarbone to her breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it while her hand teased the other. Opal’s moans were music to her ears, encouraging her to continue. She lavished attention on Opal’s breasts, switching between them until they were both taut and glistening with her saliva.

Korra kissed her way down Opal’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. She paused to kiss Opal’s inner thighs, her lips brushing against the soft skin there, building anticipation. Opal’s breathing grew ragged, her hips arching in silent plea.

Finally, Korra reached Opal’s core. She spread Opal’s legs wider, taking in the sight of her glistening folds. With a soft kiss, she began her worship, her tongue parting Opal’s folds and finding her sensitive clit. Opal cried out, her hands gripping the sheets as Korra’s tongue moved expertly, flicking and circling.

Korra’s hands held Opal’s hips firmly as she continued her ministrations, her tongue plunging deeper, tasting her lover’s arousal. She could feel Opal’s body trembling, her moans growing louder and more desperate. Korra’s mouth and tongue worked in perfect harmony, bringing Opal closer and closer to the edge.

Opal’s breathing hitched, her body tensing as she approached her climax. With one final, skillful flick of her tongue, Korra pushed her over the edge. Opal cried out, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, her hands clutching at Korra’s hair as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Korra continued to lap at her gently, drawing out every last bit of Opal’s pleasure until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and sated. Until she felt Opal’s delicate hand wrap around her hardening cock.

“Inside, please,” Opal pleaded, her voice a breathy whisper. Korra looked into her eyes and saw the green swallowed by black, a deep pool of desire reflecting her own.

The room was filled with the heady scent of their mingled arousal, the air thick with anticipation. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an intimate cocoon around them. The crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound aside from their heavy breathing, a comforting backdrop to their shared moment.

Korra positioned herself between Opal’s legs, the warmth of her lover’s body drawing her in. She could feel the softness of the furs beneath them, contrasting with the hard, toned muscles of her thighs. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing through her entire being as she guided her cock to Opal's entrance.

The initial contact sent a shiver down Korra’s spine, a tantalizing mix of heat and wetness enveloping her. She paused, savoring the sensation, her eyes locked onto Opal’s. Slowly, she pushed forward, the tightness and warmth of Opal’s core wrapping around her inch by inch. A deep groan escaped Korra’s lips, mingling with the omega’s soft moan of pleasure.

The sensation was exquisite, every nerve in Korra’s body alight with pleasure as she sank deeper into Opal. She could feel the gentle tremors in Opal’s thighs, the soft, needy grip of her hands on Korra's shoulders. The scent of lavender mixed with the primal aroma of their lovemaking, filling her senses.

Korra began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was measured, her hips rolling forward with a steady pace that drew out the pleasure for both of them. Opal's breathy moans grew louder, her nails digging into Korra’s back, urging her on.

The sensation of Opal tightening around her, the slick glide of their bodies moving together, was intoxicating. Korra’s eyes roamed over Opal’s form, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, the way her lips parted with each moan, the soft rise and fall of her breasts. She leaned down, capturing one nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing with her tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from Opal.

“Korra,” Opal whispered, her voice a mix of plea and ecstasy. “Harder.”

Korra complied, increasing the intensity of her thrusts. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a primal symphony of skin against skin. She felt the tension coiling within her, the heat building with each powerful movement. Opal’s legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, deeper.

The world outside their union faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment. Korra’s senses were overwhelmed with the sheer intimacy of their connection—the taste of Opal’s skin, the feel of her body arching beneath her, the sound of her name on Opal’s lips, the intoxicating scent of their combined arousal.

Opal’s breath hitched, her body tensing as she neared the edge. Korra could feel the pulsing heat around her cock, the tightening grip that signaled Opal’s impending climax. She thrust harder, faster, driven by the need to bring Opal to the peak of pleasure.

With a final, powerful thrust, Korra sent Opal over the edge. Opal cried out, her body shuddering, her inner walls convulsing around Korra’s cock. The sensation was too much, and Korra followed her into bliss, a deep, guttural moan escaping her as she released, filling Opal with her seed.

They stayed locked together, bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. Slowly, Korra lowered herself onto Opal, their hearts pounding in unison. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of Opal’s chest against hers, the lingering warmth of their shared pleasure.

As their breathing slowed, Korra pressed a gentle kiss to Opal’s forehead, her lips lingering in a tender caress. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain.

Opal smiled, her eyes soft and glowing with contentment. “And I love you, Korra,” she replied, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Korra’s back.

They lay there in the warm cocoon of the furs, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. With Opal, Korra felt like she was coming home. The fire crackled softly, casting a gentle glow over them as they drifted into a peaceful, sated sleep, united in body and soul.

 —

The journey west aboard Tide Fury was uneventful, save for the constant, passionate lovemaking between alpha and omega. The days and nights blurred together in a haze of desire and closeness, each moment spent together strengthening their bond. And before Korra knew it, the deafening cheers of the people of Wolf’s Tribe filled her ears as they approached their destination.

Korra greeted the gathered crowd with a warm smile, nodding and waving as she passed them, mounted on her loyal companion Naga. Opal sat securely behind her, her arms wrapped around Korra’s waist. The cheers of the people were a cacophony of joy and welcome, their faces bright with admiration and respect.

Naga started on a trot toward the Ice Keep, her powerful strides steady and purposeful. The grand structure loomed ahead, its icy towers glinting in the light, a majestic symbol of power and endurance. The gates of the Keep opened to welcome them, the massive wooden doors creaking as they swung inward.

At the threshold of the throne room, the herald stepped forward and announced with a booming voice, “Princess Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, Slayer of the Pirate Queen, and Champion of the Bay of Seals!” The heavy oak double doors opened with a resounding creak, revealing the grand hall within.

Nobles and commoners alike turned to greet her, their cheers echoing off the walls. Korra acknowledged them with nods and smiles, but her gaze was quickly drawn to the one person she thought she had forgotten. Asami. Queen Asami.

Conflicting thoughts surged through Korra’s mind. Their last words to each other had felt final, a painful end to a cherished chapter. But now, here they were, in the same room once more, breathing the same air. She tried to remind herself that she had Opal now. Asami was her past, and Opal was her future. Yet, seeing Asami again stirred emotions she had thought buried deep.

Korra was pulled from her thoughts when Kova spoke up. “Welcome home, sister,” he said, his tone carrying an undercurrent of tension.

“Thank you, my brother.” Korra looked at Senna, bowing respectfully. “Mother.” Then, finally, she turned to Asami, her eyes meeting the Queen’s directly. “Your Grace, my Queen.”

With a steady voice but a pounding heart, she spoke, “Your Graces, I am pleased to introduce you to Opal Beifong, an ambassador from the Air Nation. And the person who has captured my heart.”

Asami’s gaze on her intensified at the introduction, her eyes lingering on Korra and Opal. There was a flicker of something in her eyes that Korra couldn’t quite decipher, a blend of emotions that sent a shiver down her spine.

“I am home.”

Chapter Text

Deafening silence enveloped the throne room as Korra uttered, “I am home.” Nobody moved, waiting for the next person to break the tension. Korra’s eyes swept over the room, seeking the familiar faces of her family and allies, but it was not from them that the next voice came.

“Ko- Princess, Your Grace,” Master Arrak’s voice rang out from her right. Korra turned, finding him almost leaning in, his expression a mix of relief and happiness. He bowed deeply instead. “Welcome home. The crown and the whole Southern Water Tribe are in your debt.”

Korra was taken aback. She had not expected this kind of reaction from him. Master Arrak had always seemed so stoic and reserved, except for when he taught her how to set up their tent and hunt. And why was he here in Wolf’s Cove?

Remembering her manners, Korra bowed in return. “Thank you, Master Arrak. You honor me, but it is my duty to serve and protect my people. And I did not do it alone. I had my crew, Master Kuruk, the Air Nomads, and Opal to help me.” As she glanced up, she caught the Queen’s eyes darkening, though she couldn’t fathom why.

Master Arrak smiled at her, a rare display of warmth. “No matter, Your Grace. You still fought and cut the head off the snake.”

“Yes,” Senna’s voice echoed, filled with pride. “I am so proud of you, my daughter.”

Korra felt warmth spread through her at her mother’s words, a stark contrast to the icy grandeur of the hall. The crowd’s anticipation was palpable, their breaths visible in the chill, their eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Enough pleasantries,” Kova’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. “My sister’s home. She has brought glory and fame, new allies for the Tribe, and whatnot. Let us go and celebrate,” he announced, though his tone suggested anything but joy.

The gathered crowd—chiefs, ladies, and commoners alike—erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the hall. “The princess is home!”

The sound was overwhelming, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to sweep Korra away. But then, she felt the small, grounding touch of Opal’s hand in hers. It was a simple gesture, but it anchored her amidst the chaos, reminding her of what was real and true. Opal’s fingers were warm against her skin, a comforting presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Korra took a deep breath, the mingled scents of cedar smoke and the sea filling her lungs. She glanced at Opal, who gave her a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with unwavering support. As the cheers continued to echo around the hall, Korra straightened her shoulders, ready to face whatever lay ahead. For now, she was home.

***

The celebration went off without a hitch. Winter had ended, spring had come, and Korra was home. Yet, Asami could not find it in her heart to be joyful. Not when the sound of Korra’s laughter rang out louder than the ruckus of the guests and the band around them.

Asami had observed everything about Korra from the moment she stepped into the throne room, like a hawk watching its prey. But Korra was anything but prey. When they first met, Korra moved not with grace, but with a brash, unrestrained energy, not caring about who she bumped into or whether she was “lady-like.” But now, she walked with casual grace, not like a typical princess, but with the poise of a seasoned warrior—tall, proud, and unyielding.

In just under a year, Korra’s scrawny body had transformed into a warrior’s build—muscular, sinewy, and powerful. Her voice was deeper, more resonant, commanding attention. It was no wonder many omega ladies swooned whenever Korra graced them with her presence.

Most of all, Asami noticed how happy Korra now looked compared to the last time she had seen her friend. Her blue eyes shone with a light that was snuffed out before, outshining the spring sun. Her laughter was rich and full, echoing through the hall. There was a spring in her step, a buoyancy that Asami had never seen. And it all had to do with the omega beside her.

Opal Beifong.

She knew of their family. Hiroshi made sure of it. They had ruled Gaoling for generations, and had vast amounts of wealth. However, two generations back, history said that their blind alpha son left home to find his own path. Now… the omega in front of her told a different tale. He wasn’t a son, but a daughter that defied her family.

And from what Asami had gathered from Korra and Opal’s retelling of their story, this woman was like her grandmother: resilient and had forged her own path. Someone who did not give up on life. And someone who made Korra happy… alive.

Asami’s heart clenched with jealousy, an icy grip that squeezed tighter with each passing moment. She felt a knot in her stomach, her breath catching in her throat. Every time she looked at them, her fingers tightened around the goblet in her hand, the metal cool against her skin, contrasting with the heat that flushed her cheeks. The scent of spring flowers and roasted meat filled the air, but all Asami could focus on was the sight of Korra and Opal, their closeness a painful reminder of what she had lost.

Her eyes followed every movement of Korra’s, every smile and laugh shared with Opal. The joy in Korra’s eyes, the way she leaned into Opal, the effortless intimacy between them—it all cut Asami deeply. She remembered the last time she and Korra had spoken, the finality of their words, the heartache that had lingered long after Korra had gone.

Now, seeing Korra so transformed, so alive, with someone else, made Asami’s jealousy burn brighter. She tried to hide it, tried to maintain her regal composure, but the tightness in her chest and the lump in her throat betrayed her. She felt hot, her skin prickling as if the room were closing in around her.

The noise of the celebration faded into the background, replaced by the thudding of her own heartbeat in her ears. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—all seemed distant and hollow compared to the vibrant presence of Korra and Opal.

Asami’s eyes burned with unshed tears, a mix of anger and sorrow. She had loved Korra, had dreamed of a future together, but now that dream was shattered. And the pieces lay scattered at her feet, glittering mockingly in the light of Korra’s newfound happiness. Asami wondered if what she had endured, what she had survived over the past year, was still worth it. She had done everything they had asked of her so that she could be with Korra, but now...

Opal leaned in to whisper something to Korra, and Korra’s face lit up with a smile that took Asami’s breath away. She turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer, her heart aching with a longing that she could not suppress.

Asami forced herself to take a deep breath. She raised her goblet of red to her lips, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the fire within her. She had to compose herself, had to remember her place as Queen, but the raw wound of seeing Korra so happy with someone else was a pain she wasn’t sure she could ever heal from.

Before she could excuse herself, Kova’s voice sliced through the merry celebration. “Sister, how would you like to have a tourney in your name?” he asked, a smile on his face. But Asami knew that smile. And from the look on Korra’s face, she knew it as well.

“Thank you for looking out for me, brother,” Korra answered politely. “But I’d rather spend what’s in our coffers for the people. If you wanted something done for my name, I want it to be a feast in the square, where every tribesperson— commonfolk or not— can gather and eat.”

The banquet, which was filled with nobles , was met with silence once more. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the tension that hung in the air.

For a moment, Asami felt a surge of pride. She wanted to agree out loud, to lavish Korra with praises for her wisdom and selflessness. But that wretched omega beat her to it.

“That is a great idea, my warrior,” Opal agreed, her voice warm and supportive. “I shall help with the preparations.”

“But what about your request—”

Opal interrupted her with a chaste kiss, and Asami had to resist the overwhelming urge to stab the omega with her knife. The sight of their lips meeting, even briefly, sent a jolt of anger and jealousy through her.

“That can wait. This is your hero’s welcome,” Opal murmured, her eyes shining with affection for Korra.

“And what, exactly, is Lady Beifong’s request?” Asami asked sharply before she could stop herself. The words were out, cutting through the air with an edge that drew the attention of everyone in the hall. All eyes turned to her, and she felt a flush creep up her neck, a mix of embarrassment and defiance.

Korra’s eyes met hers, a flicker of surprise and something else— something unreadable— passing through them. Asami swallowed hard, the taste of wine lingering on her tongue, her throat dry despite the liquid.

Opal turned to face her, a serene smile on her lips. “I was supposed to request the crown’s protection for the Southern Air Temple from the Earth Empire’s forces. But as I said, that can wait. Master Kuruk himself vowed to check in with my people. The people’s celebration for the princess is more important right now, Your Grace.”

Asami’s jealousy flared again, a bitter taste in her mouth as she watched Opal and Korra exchange another glance, their connection palpable. She took another sip of her wine, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the heat of her emotions. “Of course,” Asami finally said, her voice more measured, though the sharpness had not completely faded. “A feast for the people is a worthy cause.”

The moment stretched on, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Asami forced herself to smile, a mask she had perfected over the years. She would endure this, as she had endured everything else. But the ache in her heart, the longing and the jealousy, would not be so easily dismissed.

The resounding sound of Kova’s goblet slamming down on the table echoed through the hall, cutting through the murmurs and uneasy silence. It was a sharp, commanding noise, drawing every eye to him. The flickering torchlight cast his face in harsh relief, his impatience clearly etched into his features.

“Enough talk of this nonsense. The Lady Beifong is right. Tonight, we shall celebrate.” He clapped his hands twice, the sound crisp and authoritative. “Start the dance.”

***

Korra had been getting confused by the Queen and the Chief. Even from across the room, she could smell their scents—agitated, irritated, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It was distracting, a constant undercurrent to the festivities that tugged at her attention.

As her brother led his wife away to the dance floor, Senna caught her eye and gave her a meaningful look. Korra was dumbfounded at first, but she quickly realized her mother’s intent. She cleared her throat, turned to Opal, and smiled. “Would you care for a dance, my lady?”

Opal smiled generously. “It would be my pleasure, my warrior.”

As they stepped onto the dance floor, every gaze in the room turned their way. Korra, however, ignored the onlookers, concentrating on the woman by her side. “Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” she murmured, placing one hand on Opal’s waist and the other on her shoulder just as the music began, marking the start of the dance.

“This is how I’ve dressed all day,” Opal teased, rolling her eyes, but her pleased expression betrayed her words. She pressed herself against Korra as they twirled across the floor. “It’s been a lovely evening so far...”

“But?” Korra prompted, sensing there was more.

“But, I think the Queen has some... reservations about me. She has been glaring at me since you introduced me.”

Korra took a quick glance at where Asami was dancing with Kova. It was the first time her eyes truly lingered on her former friend, taking in the sight. The omega had changed. Her body had become fuller, more mature. She now fit her mother’s dresses perfectly, her curves accentuated by the rich red fabrics. Conflicting feelings surged through Korra—regret, longing, confusion. And now, finally realizing she hadn’t seen Hiroshi anywhere tonight, only added to her unease. Moreover, she noticed how stiff Asami was moving, her steps forced and mechanical. Kova’s grip on her was firm, almost possessive, and his attempts to lead seemed more like forcing her compliance. It was clear to Korra that Asami did not want to be there. But why? The last time she saw the Queen, she had been all over Kova.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Opal abruptly tilted her head to face her again. “Why do you think Her Grace is like that?”

“I...” Korra hesitated. For a moment, the princess contemplated about telling Opal she did not know. However, that would not be fair to her omega. She didn’t want to lie to Opal. “We were secretly together before we presented.” Korra swallowed the lump in her throat, turning away from Opal’s gaze. “And before I went to the Bay of Seals, we had a falling out. She chose my brother over me. She wanted to talk before I left, but I walked away. We still have some things to resolve. And I think her glares were directed at me, not you.” The alpha’s chest tightened at the reminder of their lost closeness. Then she shut her eyes, afraid that Opal would leave her. She was prepared for the worst, but instead, Opal pressed herself even more into Korra’s space.

“Thank you for telling me,” Opal said softly, her voice filled with understanding. “Whatever it is, I think—no, I know you can handle it. You can resolve it.”

Korra was taken aback. She had been sure Opal would get angry, push her aside, and march back to the Southern Air Temple after such a revelation at this time. But she should have known Opal would understand. Korra did not know what she had done to deserve this woman, but here she was, with an omega as great as Opal Beifong.

Releasing the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, Korra embraced Opal tighter. She tuned out everyone around them, focusing on the beat of their own music—the beat of their hearts in perfect synchrony. The world around them faded into the background.

Korra’s senses zeroed in on Opal—the warmth of her body, the soft fragrance of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. She felt the steady, reassuring rhythm of Opal’s heartbeat against her chest, grounding her amidst the chaos of her emotions. The soft rustle of their clothes as they moved together, the whisper of their breaths mingling, created a private symphony that was theirs alone.

Korra felt a wave of gratitude and love wash over her. They continued to dance, their movements fluid and harmonious, each step a testament to their bond. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Korra whispered into Opal’s ear, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I’m so grateful you’re here.”

***

If looks could end someone’s life, the Lady Beifong would have been burned out to sea by now.

Asami watched Korra and Opal dancing, the two of them lost in their own world. Every movement was fluid and harmonious, their bodies perfectly in sync. The sight of Korra’s powerful frame moving with such fluidity and confidence was both beautiful and painful. It was impossible not to notice how happy they looked, the genuine smiles that lit up their faces, the way their eyes sparkled when they gazed at each other. They were in love, and it was painfully obvious.

Each laugh Korra shared with Opal, each tender touch and glance, twisted Asami’s gut. She felt a cold, hard knot of jealousy settle deep within her, coiling tighter with every passing moment. The room around her seemed to blur, the vibrant colors and cheerful sounds fading into a dull haze. The music was loud, the laughter and chatter of the guests a constant hum. Asami felt detached from it all, as if she were watching from a distance.

Asami’s fingers tightened around Kova’s shoulder as they moved stiffly across the dance floor. The cool fabric of his jacket was a stark contrast to the heat of her emotions. Her heart pounded in her chest, a relentless reminder of the feelings she was trying so hard to suppress. The scent of flowers and roasted meat, once pleasant, now seemed cloying and oppressive. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, a burning sensation that mirrored the fire of jealousy within her.

Kova, noticing her distraction, leaned in and whispered, “My dear, are you all right?”

His grating voice snapped the dark bubble she was in, and she knew she couldn’t stay. Not when every moment felt like a knife twisting in her heart. The air felt stifling, the noise now overwhelming, and all she wanted was to escape. She released Kova and stepped back, her movements abrupt and jerky. “I need some air,” she muttered, turning away from his concerned gaze.

Asami moved quickly through the hall, her footsteps echoing loudly in her ears. She ignored the curious glances from the guests and the concerned look on Kova’s face as he called out to her. “Asami, wait!”

The queen ran and ran and ran until she stumbled in front of her bedchamber. She pushed open the door and slipped inside, the heavy wooden door closing behind her with a reassuring thud. The quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the celebration outside. Asami leaned against the door, her eyes sliding shut as she tried to steady her breathing.

It was unfair. Life was unfair to her. She had endured all these things for nothing! She had sold a piece of herself for nothing! She let herself be treated like a puppet, and for what? Korra had moved on, left her behind to wallow in this pitiful existence. She remembered the sunlight on her face, the bright promise in Korra’s eyes, the moments when everything seemed possible. But those days were gone. Korra had asked her to run away, to defy her father and abandon her duty. She should have said yes. She should have had the strength to stand up to her father, to claim the life she wanted. If she had been braver, perhaps she would be the one in Korra’s arms right now, dancing in front of everyone.

But she wasn’t strong like Opal’s grandmother. She had stayed behind, tethered to duty and obligation. Duty to her father, duty to her family name, duty to the crown. And what had it gotten her? Loneliness and heartache. She was cold and alone, her dreams shattered like fragile glass. Duty, after all, was the death of love.

Her breaths suddenly came in rapid, shallow bursts, her chest heaving with the effort as her thoughts spiraled. She felt lightheaded, the room spinning slightly as she crossed to her bed and sank down onto the edge, her fingers gripping the soft fabric of the quilt. Her mind raced, replaying the scenes of Korra and Opal dancing, the looks they shared, the undeniable love between them.

Asami felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away, unwilling to let herself break down. She had to be strong, had to maintain her composure. But the ache in her heart, the longing and the jealousy, were almost too much to bear. Her vision blurred, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that threatened to spill over.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the storm within her. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. It was a sanctuary, a place where she could let her guard down, if only for a moment.

Asami knew she would have to face Korra and Opal again, would have to confront her feelings and find a way to move forward. But for now, she allowed herself this brief respite, a moment of solitude to gather her strength and steel herself for the challenges ahead.

—

By the time Asami had covered up her red, swollen eyes and made her way to the dining area to break her fast, Opal was already there. She had hoped to eat alone, to hide away from prying eyes and unwanted conversations. But there sat Opal, serene and graceful, a picture of calm.

Asami approached the table, her movements stiff and her smile forced. “Good morrow, Lady Beifong,” she said, her voice clipped.

“Good morrow, Queen Asami,” Opal replied, her tone warm and welcoming. “How are you faring? I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough,” Asami answered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sat down. She sized up the other omega, taking in her soft features and the gentle demeanor that seemed to radiate kindness. It irritated her, this unassuming kindness, especially when she wanted to be angry.

Opal, sensing the tension, remained civil and understanding. “Korra is in the training grounds, drilling with the warrior guards at this moment,” she said, her eyes meeting Asami’s with genuine concern. “She was worried about you when you left the festivities so abruptly.”

Asami scoffed internally, her thoughts bitter. If she truly cared for me, she would have checked on me , she thought, her anger simmering beneath the surface.

Opal’s expression softened. “Your Grace,” she began, her voice gentle but firm. “I hope that whatever lies between you and Korra can be resolved. Forgive me for my opinion, but the princess had told me about your history. Please, don’t be mad at her. She only wanted to tell me what I had asked of her. And she speaks highly of you. I believe there is a lot of unfinished business that needs closure.”

How dare she? This outsider did not know anything about what she had been through. Before Asami could respond, Opal stood and gave her a gentle touch on the shoulder. “I truly wish you well,” she said with a sincere smile before leaving the room.

Asami sat there, frustration bubbling within her. How could she hate the omega who had stolen Korra’s heart when she was genuinely kind? Now she understood why the princess had fallen in love with her. Opal’s kindness was disarming, making Asami’s own bitterness feel petty and misplaced. It only deepened her inner turmoil, making her question not just her feelings for Korra, but her feelings about herself.

Perhaps Lady Beifong had spoken truly. The time had come to speak to Korra about their unresolved matters. She steeled herself to face whatever destiny had woven for her—whether Korra’s forgiveness would mend their fractured bond and rekindle their friendship, or if the fates had a more sorrowful end in mind.

***

Steel clashed on steel, the sound echoing through the training yard with the same authority as Korra’s voice. She drilled the warriors assigned to the Keep relentlessly, her sharp eyes catching every flaw, every misstep. They were lacking in discipline, precision, and the fierce determination she demanded.

From the edge of the yard, Senna and Master Arrak observed her intently. Though they spoke in hushed tones, Korra noticed how they glanced her way whenever they thought she wasn’t looking. She filed the moment away in her mind, intending to question them later, along with Hiroshi’s whereabouts.

As the warriors practiced, Korra’s mind wandered back to the previous night. Worry gnawed at her, especially for Asami, who had left abruptly, practically fleeing toward the door. Was she sick? The thought had haunted Korra all night. Pregnancy perhaps? Asami had celebrated her seventeenth nameday only two moons ago, and with it, the consummation of Asami and Kova’s wedding.

The idea of Asami being pregnant with her brother’s child made Korra feel sick to her stomach. She remembered Asami’s pale face, the way her hand had clutched her belly for a brief, telling moment. But Korra had not noticed a bump, no hint of a swelling stomach beneath Asami’s gown. The absence of any visible signs brought little comfort. The fear of what might be growing within her former lover’s womb lingered, a dark cloud over her thoughts. Should she ask Master Kya then —who she learned was here in the Keep, tending to some sick lady— to know the answer? But that would be unfair to Asami.

Sighing, she watched the warriors, their movements mechanical and uninspired, and found herself growing impatient.

Before she could step in, the clang of swords ceased suddenly as the warriors halted and bowed. “Your Grace,” they greeted. Korra turned to see Kova approaching, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re up early, sister. It’s unlike you to enjoy the mornings,” Kova said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ve changed, brother. Ser Nanuk’s early morning drills have become second nature to me,” Korra replied, her tone measured and cautious.

Kova scoffed. “Training with the best doesn’t grant you the right to interfere in their training. You’re not the Lord Commander of these warriors.”

“I’m aware. But Master Kuruk has tasked me with their training, to make them better.”

Irritation flared in Kova’s eyes. “Is that so?” He stepped closer, the tension between them palpable. “Then perhaps you’d care to prove your worth in a duel with me.”

The air grew thick with anticipation, the warriors and onlookers silent and watchful. Senna tried to interrupt them. “My son, perhaps you—”

“Do not try to stop us, Mother,” he cut her off.

Korra nodded, gripping her wooden sword tighter. “Very well.”

They faced off, the yard eerily quiet save for their breaths. Korra decided to hold back, not wanting to humiliate her brother. Their swords met with controlled intensity, each strike calculated.

Kova noticed her restraint and sneered. “Why are you taking it easy on me? Are you afraid? I promise, nothing will happen to you even if you strike me. If you can,” he taunted, his smirk widening.

Senna and Master Arrak moved to intervene once more, but Korra stopped them with an outstretched arm. She shook her head, signaling them to hold back.

The duel resumed, fiercer this time. The scent of sweat and earth filled the air, the sound of clashing wood resonating around them. Korra felt every vibration through her sword, every shift in Kova’s stance. With a swift, decisive move, she struck Kova’s thigh, making him stumble. In an instant, her sword was at his throat.

Kova’s face burned with anger. As Korra extended her hand to help him up, he slapped it away, his pride wounded. “Do not touch me!” He stood on his own, glaring at her before storming off, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Korra stood in the middle of the yard, the echoes of clashing swords fading as her thoughts churned with unease. Kova’s actions were growing increasingly erratic. He had never liked her, but now it felt personal, as if he were trying to prove something. But what? He was already the Chief.

Before Korra could delve deeper into her thoughts, Senna and Master Arrak approached her. Her mother’s eyes were filled with worry as she asked, “Are you alright, my daughter?”

“I am well, Mother. Kova did not hurt me. Although I did bruise his ego, it seems,” Korra replied, attempting to lighten the mood. The rough wooden sword in her hand felt heavier now.

Master Arrak chuckled beside her mother. “You have grown, Princess. You fight well. You make me and your mother proud.” His eyes held a warmth that contrasted sharply with his stiff posture. Korra glanced at him and saw only truth in his gaze. She gave him a small smile in return, feeling a spark of pride.

“You honor me, Master Arrak.” She paused, remembering her earlier question. “If you don’t mind, Master Arrak, why are you in the Keep? Surely, you are not bored of hunting?”

His eyes turned sharp, a hint of unease flickering in them. “Your Grace, has no one told you yet?”

“Tell me what?” Korra’s heartbeat quickened, the steady rhythm of the training yard fading as a sense of foreboding crept in.

“I am the new Hand.”

“What?” Korra’s mind raced. Master Kuruk had not received any letter informing them of the change. The air seemed to grow colder, the sunlight dimming as clouds gathered in her thoughts. “Since when? And where is Hiro—”

“Korra!” Opal appeared, breathless and urgent. “Thank goodness I caught you. I need your help with planning the feast.” She paused, taking in the scene before her. “Oh. Your Grace, Master Arrak. Is this a bad time?”

Senna’s gaze sharpened momentarily, but was quickly masked by a warm smile as she turned to Korra. “No, go on, my daughter. Your intended needs you.”

Korra felt a blush creep up her neck, a stark contrast to the chill in the training yard. She dismissed the fleeting concern, attributing it to her imagination. “Alright,” she said softly, taking Opal’s hand in hers.

—

In the kitchen, the air buzzed with activity. The scent of freshly baked bread and simmering stews mingled with the sharp tang of herbs. They joined the bustling staff, discussing arrangements for the upcoming feast. Servants moved with purpose, their efficiency palpable. Omega ladies lingered, their eyes often straying towards Korra with curiosity and desire.

After the meal was established, they left the kitchen, the crisp air outside the Keep biting at their skin. They decided to ride out to the plaza, where preparations for the feast were underway. The ground was covered in a light blanket of snow, the white contrasting against the dark stone buildings.

As they rode through the streets on Naga, Korra took in her surroundings. The houses were built to withstand the harsh Southern Water Tribe winters, their sturdy construction evident. Signs of spring peeked through the snow—icicles melting, the first buds of hardy flora. The streets were alive with activity, faces lighting up as they saw Korra.

“Good day, Princess Korra!” an elderly woman called out, her face wrinkled but bright with a smile. “Thank you for your generosity!”

Others echoed her sentiments, gratitude evident in their voices and eyes. Even among the common folk, Korra felt the weight of curious, desirous gazes from omegas, their eyes lingering on her with admiration and longing.

In the plaza, Korra and Opal dismounted, joining the people in setting up as Korra let Naga play with the children. The scent of woodsmoke and fresh snow filled the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the stone plaza. Korra helped string up lanterns and arrange tables, momentarily distracted by the physical labor.

Despite the lively atmosphere, Korra’s mind was elsewhere the whole day. Her thoughts circled around Hiroshi and the impact of his absence on Asami. The clatter of pots, the hum of conversations—all became background noise to her internal turmoil.

Opal, ever perceptive, noticed Korra’s distraction. She touched Korra’s arm gently, a warm spark amidst her cold thoughts. “Perhaps we should stop for the night,” she suggested softly. Korra nodded, grateful for the respite.

As the evening light faded, they made their way back to the Keep. The ride back was quiet, the crunch of Naga’s massive paws in the snow the only sound that accompanied them.

Back in the warmth of the Keep, Opal finally voiced her concern. “Korra, what’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all evening.”

Korra sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I’m just wound up from my duel with Kova,” she replied, choosing to divert her attention to another topic than about her former friend.

Opal’s brow furrowed. “Tell me about it.”

Korra took a deep breath, thankful that Opal did not see through her lies. “Since Father died, Kova has changed. He’s become more... resentful towards me. I don’t understand it. He challenges me at every turn, as if he is trying to prove something. Today was just another example of that.”

Opal listened intently, her eyes never leaving Korra’s face. When Korra finished, Opal squeezed her hand gently. “It’s going to be okay in the long run. Maybe he’s dealing with his own grief and insecurities, but he’ll come around.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “But for now, I know what we can do that might help you relax.”

Korra raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her earlier frustration. “Oh? And what might that be?”

Opal stepped closer, her fingers trailing up Korra’s arm, sending shivers down her spine. “Let me show you,” she whispered, her breath warm against Korra’s ear.

The air around them seemed to thicken, the faint sounds of the castle fading into the background as Opal’s touch became the center of Korra’s world. The warmth of the Keep’s interior contrasted with the cold outside, creating an intimate cocoon around them. Korra’s pulse quickened, her worries momentarily forgotten as Opal’s lips brushed against her neck, promising solace and intimacy.

Their surroundings faded, the world narrowing to just the two of them. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating a cocoon of warmth and desire. Opal’s fingers traced gentle patterns on Korra’s skin, each touch igniting a fire within her.

Giggling, Opal grabbed Korra’s hand and pulled her toward the Keep, their laughter lightening the somber corridors. As they passed by servants and warriors, Korra couldn’t help but feel the burn of curious gazes, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Korra, maybe you should go inside first,” Opal suggested with a playful wink, trying to mask the true nature of their intentions. Korra nodded, the thrill of their secrecy heightening her senses. She slipped inside her bedchamber, the heavy door creaking slightly as she pushed it open. Moments later, Opal followed, closing the door softly behind her.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of candles. The scent of lavender and freshly drawn bathwater filled the air. Korra had prepared a bath for them, steam rising from the tub, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

They moved towards each other, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss as they began to undress. Garments fell to the floor, forgotten in their urgency. Korra’s cock was already hard, standing at a stiff mast, and throbbing with anticipation. The heat between them was almost palpable, their breaths mingling in the charged air.

Korra stepped into the tub, the hot water enveloping her in soothing warmth. She sat down, her eyes never leaving Opal’s as the omega followed suit. Opal straddled her, their bodies sliding together with a tantalizing ease. The feeling of Opal’s wet cunt against her hard cock made Korra gasp, her hands gripping Opal’s hips.

Opal settled onto Korra’s lap, their bodies perfectly aligned. Her wetness made the glide effortless as she positioned herself over Korra’s cock. “Tell me about the history of the Southern Water Tribe,” Opal murmured, her eyes dark with desire.

Korra’s breath hitched, but she obliged, her voice trembling slightly. “The Southern Water Tribe was founded by the ancestors who braved the harsh winters, their resilience shaping our traditions and strength...Oh…” Her words faltered as Opal lowered herself, taking Korra’s cock inside her inch by inch, the heat and tightness making her groan.

Opal gasped in delight at the intrusion, her hips rolling with each word Korra managed to utter. “And... and they built their lives around the sea, finding sustenance and solace…” Korra continued, her voice strained with the effort to remain coherent.

For every piece of history Korra recounted, Opal moved, her hips undulating in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through them both. Korra’s hands roamed over Opal’s body, her fingers tracing the curves of her back, the soft swell of her breasts. The warm water lapped around them, adding to the sensuality of the moment.

Korra let Opal take control, her omega setting the pace. Each thrust brought them closer, the tension building between them like a storm. The room was filled with their moans and the sound of water sloshing, the world outside forgotten in their shared ecstasy.

They were on the brink of climax when a loud gasp shattered the moment, followed by the clang of metal hitting the ground. They snapped their heads towards the sound.

Standing there in shock was Asami, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Chapter Text

After breaking her fast in peace, Asami’s head still ached from the tears she had shed the night before. The food had been tasteless, her appetite dulled by the turmoil in her heart. She had not slept, her mind plagued by fantasies she feared would never come to pass. The memory of Lady Beifong’s counsel still lingered, yet the Queen remained hesitant about approaching Korra.

Having finished her meal and thanked her servants, Asami made her way to the apothecary where Master Kya practiced her healing arts. The space was small and dimly lit, filled with the rich, earthy scents of dried herbs and medicinal brews. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with vials and jars, each containing remedies for various ailments. The air was thick with the smell of lavender and chamomile, mingling with the faint, sharp tang of antiseptic tinctures.

“Are you faring well, Your Grace?” Master Kya asked as Asami settled onto a cushioned bench. The older omega moved with grace and dignity, her hands deftly measuring out leaves and stirring the mixture with practiced ease. Each movement was deliberate, honed by decades of experience.

“Yes. However,” Asami replied softly, rubbing her temples, “could you brew some tea to ease the ache in my head?”

“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” Kya answered, her voice filled with understanding.

Asami watched Master Kya, admiring the fluidity of her actions and the calm authority she exuded. It was a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her own mind.

“Are you truly faring well?” Kya’s voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her back to the present.

Asami sighed deeply. “No, I’m afraid not. May I stay here until my headache abates? But do not tell anyone, please.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Kya nodded, her eyes filled with compassion.

Asami spent the day in the apothecary, the soothing environment providing a small measure of comfort. She shirked her duties for the day, unable to face the courtly obligations with the storm in her mind. She listened to the gentle clinking of glassware, the soft rustle of pages as Kya consulted her tomes. The rhythmic bubbling of brewing teas was a constant, calming background noise. The rich, earthy scents of dried herbs and medicinal brews mingled with the faint, sharp tang of antiseptic tinctures, creating an atmosphere of peace amidst her inner turmoil.

She rehearsed what she would say to Korra, the words tumbling over and over in her mind.

Korra, I apologize. It was all my fault.

Korra, please, can we still be friends? I don’t want to be alone anymore.

The scent of the tea was comforting, a blend of mint and valerian root designed to ease her throbbing head. She inhaled deeply, letting the steam envelop her, but it did little to quell the anxiety gnawing at her heart.

Korra, I miss you. I should have been braver, stronger.

Korra, can we start over? I need you in my life.

She sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through her, offering a fleeting reprieve from her worries. The dim light of the apothecary, the soft murmur of Master Kya’s work, all combined to create a sanctuary from her troubles.

Korra, I never stopped loving you. Can you forgive me?

The day slipped by, each passing hour marked by the slow drips of the apothecary’s candle. Asami’s headache gradually eased, but the weight in her heart remained. The words she wanted to say to Korra felt both necessary and impossible, each one a step towards a future she feared might never come.

As the light outside began to fade, casting long shadows through the small windows, Asami knew she could no longer delay. She would have to face Korra, to lay her heart bare and hope against hope that there was still a chance for them.

—

After wallowing in her thoughts for an entire day, Asami finally resolved to speak with Korra. Rising from the bench that had become her sanctuary, she thanked Master Kya as she passed her on the way to the door.

Outside, the familiar walls of the Ice Keep loomed around her, the cold stone imbued with a sense of foreboding. Tapestries depicting the faces of distant chiefs seemed to watch her every move, their stern gazes a silent reminder of duty and tradition. Asami’s footsteps echoed softly in the empty halls, each step bringing her closer to a confrontation she both dreaded and longed for.

She arrived at Korra’s door, her heart pounding. Her fist hovered over the heavy oak, hesitation freezing her in place. But for their sake, for closure, she finally rapped her knuckles on the door three times.

Silence greeted her. Confusion settled in. Korra should have been inside by now—it was well past sunset.

Summoning her courage, Asami opened the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung inward, revealing Korra’s chamber. The first thing that hit her was Korra’s scent, enveloping her in a comforting embrace of fresh snow and crisp winter air. She breathed it in deeply, but her relief was short-lived. Another scent lingered—lavender and something else that stirred her omega instincts.

The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering light of a single candle casting long shadows on the stone walls. Asami’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, her gaze sweeping the room for any sign of Korra. The bed was neatly made, the furs undisturbed. Her weapons were arranged meticulously on the wall.

Asami’s heart raced, the mingling scents causing a pang of jealousy to rise within her. She stepped further into the room, her mind awhirl with questions. Where was Korra? And who had been here with her?

Her eyes darted around the room, and there, on the floor lay strewn clothes—Korra’s familiar blue doublet and a green dress. Her heart sank.

“Oh!” A familiar moan filled the air, and Asami’s heart raced. She knew what was happening just beyond the partition. She knew she should leave, should return another time. But her feet betrayed her, carrying her closer to the sounds of moans, grunts, and sloshing water.

Asami gasped at the sight before her. Korra was in the tub, Opal straddling her, their bodies entwined in heated passion. Shock rooted her to the spot, her hand knocking over a candle with a loud clang. Korra and Opal’s heads snapped towards her, eyes wide with surprise and horror.

“Asami?” Korra’s voice was filled with dismay as she tried to cover both herself and Opal.

Asami abruptly turned away, her face burning. “I’m sorry! I did not mean... I was only—I’m sorry!” she stammered. Overwhelmed, she fled, the image of Korra and Opal searing itself into her mind, more vivid and painful than any memory.

Before she knew it, she was back in her room. She was about to rush to the privy to vomit but paused when she noticed someone was already there.

“Master Kya? What are you doing here?”

The master healer looked startled. “Your Grace, I was only leaving you your moon tea. I heard Chief Kova was looking for you, and I gathered you might need it.”

“Oh. R-right.”

Silence enveloped them.

Asami’s gaze lingered on the older omega, noting how Master Kya moved with such grace and ease, free and seemingly unburdened by the heavy responsibilities that weighed Asami down. Kya appeared content, without a trace of another's scent lingering on her. Surely, at her age, she should have a mate? The realization struck Asami like a cold splash of water—Master Kya was free… unbound. Why? How?

In that moment, envy gnawed at her heart. How did Master Kya navigate the same world with such apparent freedom and serenity? The air grew thick with unspoken words and unasked questions, as Asami stood there, her mind a tumultuous sea of thoughts and emotions.

A rush of anger surged through Asami, hot and fierce. Life had been so unfair to her. She began pacing her chambers, her emotions boiling over like a pot left too long on the fire. The rich scent of wood polish and the faint aroma of lavender from her linens did nothing to soothe her turmoil.

“It’s not fair!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “I did my duty! I have been a dutiful omega, a dutiful lady. But here I am, stuck in this never-ending nightmare! Why is it so unfair? I don’t want this anymore! I can’t do this anymore! Take that moon tea out of my chambers! I will not drink it anymore! The only thing that will give me power over them is if I bear an heir!”

Her breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaming down her face, each drop a testament to her anguish. More resigned and defeated, she continued, “The only way I have worth is if I bear an heir.”

Asami fell to the ground, her body shaking with sobs, her cries muffled by the plush rug beneath her. The room, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a cage, its walls closing in on her.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped Asami’s arms, pulling her up with a firm yet gentle strength. She looked up, her tear-blurred vision clearing to reveal Master Kya’s fiery blue eyes staring into hers. “Do you hear what you are saying?”

Asami was taken aback, her breath hitching. “Yes. I—I give up. This life... My suffering. It’s not worth it anymore.”

Kya’s expression softened, her eyes reflecting deep concern and compassion. “Please, Your Grace. I implore you, do not be reckless. Do not give up on hope. Remember what we told you about the old ways? There is still hope. We are here not without a fight. Trust me, Asami.”

Asami looked at Kya as if she were mad, but the sincerity in the older omega’s eyes gave her pause. She remembered the teachings about the old ways of the Southern Water Tribe— the resilience and strength of her people. And most of all, the tribe’s equality. There was still hope, a flicker of light in the darkness. She would cling to it, even without Korra by her side.

Master Kya’s grip on Asami’s arms was firm, her eyes filled with concern. “Now, Your Grace, if it please you, can you tell me what happened to make you react so?”

Asami took a shuddering breath, struggling to find the words. The room felt stifling, the heavy curtains and rich tapestries closing in on her. She recounted what she had seen in Korra's room, her voice breaking with each painful detail. “I saw Korra… with Opal. In the tub. She was not supposed to… But she’s so happy now,” she choked out, her heart breaking anew.

Master Kya held her throughout, her embrace warm and steady, but her eyes were filled with pity. Asami hated it. She didn’t want pity; she wanted understanding, relief, something that could ease the ache in her soul.

“I’m sorry to hear it, Your Grace,” Kya said softly. “Who else knew about your feelings?”

“Just the Dowager,” Asami replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Kya nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. No one should know about this, Your Grace. Or it will be a different conversation.” A pause. “I’ll brew more suppressants. Your heat is coming, am I right to assume?”

“Yes.” At this, Asami was reminded of yet another cruel twist of fate. She would have to endure another painful heat alone, the memory of Korra in the tent flashing vividly in her mind. Korra’s cock, huge and girthy and hard… If it felt so good inside her mouth, what more if it was inside her? Asami shook her head, banishing the thought. She must not dream of having what she wanted anymore. She had to get used to being alone. “Very well, Master Kya. Brew me the strongest suppressants you can. I don’t want Kova to use my heat as an excuse to bed me even more.”

“If that is all, Your Grace. I shall take my leave. Will you be alright?”

“Yes. I’m grateful to you, Master Kya. I’d like to be left alone now, but please tell my husband that I would not like to be disturbed.”

Kya bowed respectfully. “As you wish. Your Grace.” She then turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Asami’s chamber was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the distant murmur of the keep settling for the night. The rich, earthy scent of the moon tea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of lavender from the cushions and the wood polish of the furniture. Asami sank onto her bed, her body trembling from the emotional turmoil.

The room, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. Every shadow seemed to whisper her failures, every flicker of the fire a reminder of the warmth she had lost. She stared at the ceiling, the weight of her grief pressing down on her.

Finally alone, Asami closed her eyes, willing herself to find some semblance of peace. The memory of Korra and Opal haunted her, their intertwined bodies a cruel testament to her loss. Her thoughts drifted once again to the coming days, to her inevitable heat that would bring its own kind of torment.

She would face it alone, fortified by the strongest suppressants Master Kya could provide. She would not let Kova use her heat against her, would not allow herself to be further diminished by the demands of duty and obligation.

Asami took a deep breath, the scent of the tea grounding her. She would endure. She would find a way to survive this, to find her own path, even if it meant walking it alone. For now, she needed to rest, to gather her strength for the battles yet to come.

 ***

Soft thuds echoed in the chamber as Korra paced back and forth, the sound of her feet a quiet, persistent rhythm against the stone floor. It was the hour of the wolf, but sleep still eluded her. The dim light from the hearth flickered, casting restless shadows on the walls.

After Asami had left so abruptly, a part of Korra had wanted to chase after her, to demand what the queen had wanted. But she couldn’t. Not with Opal still entwined with her. Instead of finishing their tryst, Opal had noticed her distraction and, with a gentle kiss, suggested they retire to their respective chambers. The sense of unease had lingered, gnawing at her thoughts.

Korra had tried to force herself to sleep, but her mind was a storm of questions. Should she go to Asami’s bedchamber and ask what she had wanted, or let the queen come to her? The unanswered questions hung heavy in the air, making it impossible for her to find rest.

Deep in thought, she didn’t notice the gradual lightening of the room as the sun rose. It wasn’t until the first rays of dawn slipped through the narrow window that she realized how long she had been pacing.

With a resigned sigh, she donned her tunic and breeches, the familiar fabric a small comfort against her skin. She made her way to the training yard, seeking solace in routine. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and snow.

In the yard, she put all her swirling thoughts into action. Swing left, swing right. The rhythmic thud of her strikes against the strawman dummy was a steady beat, grounding her. Each impact sent vibrations up her arms, the rough straw and leather giving way under her relentless assault. Her boots scraped against the ground, the sound mingling with her labored breaths.

The world narrowed down to the simple act of training, each swing a temporary escape from her turmoil. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows that shifted as she moved. Sweat trickled down her temples, mingling with the morning chill.

By the time she finished, the sun was high in the sky. She was panting, her muscles burning with exertion. Warriors stood around the edge of the yard, watching her with a mix of admiration and wariness.

“What are you watching for?” she barked, her voice rough. “Go do your training!”

The warriors scattered, and Korra trudged back to her room, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She was about to draw her bath when she noticed it was already prepared, steam rising from the water. A servant was just finishing, carefully placing towels, and scrubs nearby.

The servant bowed and was about to leave, but Korra stopped her. “Wait.”

The servant bowed again, her eyes downcast. “How might I be of service, Your Grace?”

“Have you seen Asa—the Queen this morning?”

“I did, Your Grace. However, she has been inside her bedchambers ever since last night and wished not to be disturbed. Is that all you require of me, Your Grace?”

“Yes. That is all. Thank you.”

The servant bowed once more and quietly exited the room. Korra sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. For now, she would let the matter rest. There would be time to seek answers, to confront whatever lay between her and Asami. But in this moment, she allowed herself a brief respite, the water carrying away the tension of the past hours.

As she stepped into the bath, the hot water enveloped her, soothing her sore muscles. The scent of eucalyptus filled the air, calming her senses. She sank deeper into the water, closing her eyes and letting the warmth seep into her bones.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the heavy drapes as Korra met Opal for breakfast in the grand dining hall. The scent of fresh bread and smoked fish mingled with the sweet aroma of honeyed pastries. Korra found comfort in Opal’s presence, grateful for her companionship. They spoke in hushed tones, their words a gentle murmur amidst the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of servants moving about.

After breakfast, they went to finalize the preparations for the feast. Korra remained attentive and affectionate towards Opal, expressing her gratitude with soft touches and tender glances. Despite the tension lingering from her encounter with Asami, she found solace in Opal’s steady presence. That night, as they retired to their own chambers, their goodnight kisses were chaste, a quiet intimacy that spoke of mutual respect and understanding.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the sky a crisp blue canvas. The air was filled with anticipation as the feast day began. Korra dressed simply for the event, donning a tunic, a blue doublet, and brown breeches that allowed her ease of movement. She then made her way to Opal’s room to escort her to the festivities.

When Opal emerged, Korra was stunned by her beauty. Opal wore a dress of deep green silk that shimmered in the morning light, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both modest and alluring. The dress was adorned with intricate silver embroidery, depicting scenes of nature and harmony. Her hair was braided elegantly, interwoven with delicate strands of silver thread that caught the light with every movement. Korra felt a rush of admiration and pride as she looked at Opal, her heart swelling with affection.

The feast began with a flurry of activity. The morning was filled with dancing and games for the people. Music played by skilled musicians filled the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. The tables were laden with an abundance of food: suckling pigs roasted to perfection, grilled seals with their savory aroma, hearty soups and stews simmering in large pots, and an array of fresh bread and fruits for all to enjoy. The scent of the feast was a rich tapestry of flavors, each one more enticing than the last.

As the day wore on, a wagon arrived carrying Kova, Senna, and Master Suntoq. Master Arrak followed on his own mount, a snow camel that drew curious glances from the gathered crowd.

Notably absent, however, was the queen herself. Senna approached Korra with a concerned expression. “Asami remains in her bedchamber, wishing to be alone,” she said softly.

It has been two full days since she secluded herself. This isn’t like her, not even when we were young, she thought. Korra’s worry deepened, but the merriment of the feast continued around them. Glancing toward her brother, Korra noticed that Kova did not seem concerned about his wife’s well-being. Surely, he had talked to Asami and asked how she was faring? She forced her concerns aside, focusing on her duty to her people. She moved through the crowd, greeting friends and allies, her heart heavy with unspoken fears.

The sky arched high above, a vast dome of blue as the feast carried on into the afternoon. Korra watched the dancing, listened to the music, and participated in the games, her senses keenly aware of the joy and laughter surrounding her.

As the evening approached and the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, Korra found a moment of quiet amidst the festivities. She looked out over the gathered crowd, her thoughts drifting back to Asami once more. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows, the sounds of the feast a distant murmur. She took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs, and resolved to speak with Asami as soon as the celebrations ended. For now, she would continue to fulfill her role, to be the leader her people needed.

The feast continued, a testament to the resilience and unity of the Southern Water Tribe. And through it all, Korra stood strong, her resolve unwavering, her heart holding on to the hope that tomorrow might bring answers and reconciliation.

The crowd clapped and murmured in wonder as an acting troupe strode onto the stage, pulling Korra out of her thoughts. Their colorful costumes shimmered in the light, and their movements were imbued with theatrical flair.

The lead actor stepped forward, addressing the crowd and the royal family. “This performance is dedicated to our noble princess, who delivered us from the clutches of pirates and spared us from the specter of hunger this past winter!” The crowd erupted in applause, cheers of “Princess Korra!” ringing through the air.

The play began, and Korra rolled her eyes at the exaggerated portrayal of her exploits in the eastern sea. The actors moved with dramatic exaggeration, each action larger than life. The depiction of her battling pirates was filled with wild, over-the-top sword fights and impossible feats of strength.

Opal giggled softly beside her, leaning in to whisper, “Perhaps they merely wished to embellish your heroics.”

Korra chuckled, shaking her head. “Perhaps,” she muttered.

The play continued, with scenes of Korra heroically steering a ship through a storm and single-handedly defeating an entire crew of pirates. The audience was captivated, laughing and gasping at every turn. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats and the sweet tang of mulled wine, the sounds of merriment blending with the actors’ voices.

But then the atmosphere shifted. A new actor entered the stage, sitting on a prop throne with an exaggeratedly indolent pose. He wore a crown that was slightly askew and held a goblet of wine, whining about its quality.

“Why must I drink this swill?” the actor lamented, his voice a nasally whine. “I am the Chief! I deserve the finest wine, not this peasant’s drink!”

The crowd laughed and hooted at the ridiculous portrayal, but Korra felt the air around her change. Her mother’s scent shifted to one of worry, a sharp, anxious note cutting through the festive atmosphere.

Beside her, Kova was seething. His face darkened, and his fists clenched on the armrests of his chair. Korra’s instincts screamed at her to intervene, to stop the play before things escalated. But before she could move, Kova stood abruptly, his voice a thunderous roar over the crowd’s laughter.

“Who made this play?” he demanded.

The laughter died instantly, the crowd falling silent and bowing their heads in shame and fear.

“I asked you a question! Who made this play?!”

Korra stood, positioning herself between Kova and the stage. “Brother, let us not—”

Kova shoved her aside, his strength and fury sending her backpedaling. “Bring me the man who wrote this mockery of the crown, or I will punish all of you!”

The tension was palpable, the festive atmosphere shattered. The smell of fear replaced the previous aromas, the crowd’s silence heavy and oppressive. Korra’s heart pounded, her mind racing for a way to defuse the situation. She could see the actors on stage, their faces pale with fear, and the crowd, their eyes averted, terrified of incurring Kova’s wrath.

“Please, everyone, remain calm,” Korra said, trying to keep her voice steady. She turned to her brother, her voice firm but pleading. “Kova, we can address this without causing harm.”

Kova’s eyes were wild, his chest heaving with anger. “I will not be mocked by my own people! This insult cannot go unpunished!” He turned to Master Arrak. “You! You’re my Hand. Find the one who did this and bring him to me back at the Keep! I will personally see to his punishment.”

Korra took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “Kova, please. This is a day of celebration. They were merely jesting. Do not mar it with anger. Let us discuss this matter in private.”

But Kova’s eyes were wild, his fists clenched at his sides. “Jesting?! No, sister! They must learn to respect the crown. To respect me!” He glared at the assembled crowd, his chest heaving with rage.

Korra’s mind raced, seeking a solution as she felt Opal’s hand on her arm. The crowd watched with bated breath, the festive atmosphere now fraught with peril.

“Enough,” Korra said, stepping in front of her brother, her voice cutting through the tension. “If someone must be punished, let it be me. I permitted this play, and I take full responsibility.”

Kova’s smile turned cruel. “Very well. As punishment for this mockery, you shall be... ah!” He snapped his fingers. “You shall be my cupbearer for the next moon’s turn.”

Korra froze, needing a moment to absorb the weight of Kova’s decree. Her pride smarted as she blinked rapidly, trying to quell the rising anger within her. She was an alpha, albeit the second born, and her instincts roared against this affront to her dignity. Her muscles tensed, the urge to retaliate simmering just beneath the surface.

Around her, the crowd gasped. The festive air had turned heavy with shock and dismay. Senna rushed forward, her expression fierce, ready to defend her daughter’s honor. “My son, please think about this decision. Heed your sister’s counsel; we should discuss this matter within the Keep.”

Kova sneered, his disdain evident. “See? This is what I’m talking about. Even my own mother does not agree with me.”

Korra caught sight of Master Arrak preparing to intervene, his posture tense. She swallowed her pride, forcing herself to step forward. “I accept your punishment, Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside her.

Kova’s smile was cold and triumphant. “Well, then. We should continue this celebration. Bring me more wine, my cupbearer.”

Korra bowed, her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that her knuckles turned white. “Yes, Your Grace.” She glanced at Opal, who looked back at her with worry. Korra managed a small, reassuring smile, shaking her head subtly.

She took up a flagon and approached Kova on the makeshift dais, the scent of rich wine mingling with the ambient aromas of roasted meat and sweet pastries. The murmur of the crowd was a low hum of anxiety. As Korra poured the wine into Kova’s cup, she felt the heat of her brother’s gaze, the triumph in his eyes as he watched her.

“Better,” Kova said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He turned to the people, raising his cup. “Continue the play! But skip to the end. I’m getting bored.”

The troupe resumed their performance, but the earlier energy was gone. Their movements were stiff, their voices strained. The crowd, too, had lost its spirit. The laughter and joy that had filled the square were replaced by a tense silence, broken only by the occasional forced chuckle. The smell of fear hung in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier aromas of the feast.

Korra stood by Kova’s side. She could feel the eyes of the people on her, a mix of sympathy and apprehension. The festive banners fluttered in the breeze, their bright colors mocking the somber mood that had settled over the gathering.

As the play dragged on, Korra’s mind raced. She kept her expression neutral, but inside, she was seething. The grip of the flagon felt like iron in her hand, each breath a struggle to maintain her composure. She would endure this humiliation to keep an innocent person out of trouble, but she would not forget it.

When the play finally ended, there was no applause, only a relieved murmur as the crowd began to disperse. Kova sat back, his expression smug. “Now that was entertaining,” he said, his voice loud in the uneasy silence.

Korra nodded stiffly. “Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil inside her.

—

After the festivities ended, the royal family and their entourage made their way back to the Keep. It was a small fortune that Korra had taken Naga, to carry her and Opal. Without Naga, she would have faced another torturously awkward ride in the wagon with her brother. Master Arrak rode beside them, attempting to fill the tense silence with small talk of hunting during his childhood. Korra, however, was in no mood for conversation. Her responses were curt nods, and eventually, the Hand of the Chief understood and fell silent, riding alongside them in the oppressive quiet.

The only comfort Korra had was Opal’s embrace. The omega’s calming scent enveloped her, and the soft purrs resonated through Korra’s tense frame, soothing her still-reeling emotions. Each purr seemed to gently unwind the tight coil of anger within her. They rode on, the rhythmic thumping of Naga’s paws a steady background to Opal’s comforting presence, until they reached the Keep.

Upon dismounting Naga, Korra was ready to tend to her loyal companion when Kova’s voice cut through the evening air, commanding her presence once more. She glanced at Opal, whose eyes met hers with an understanding and an underlying sorrow that wasn’t quite pity but close enough to it. The empathy in Opal’s gaze was a balm to Korra’s wounded pride.

In Kova’s chambers, Korra was immediately struck by the lingering scent of peach and mint in the air, a stark contrast to the usual musty stone and aged wood. Asami was here. The fragrance disturbed her more than it should have, unsettling her already frayed nerves. The chamber was lavish, with rich tapestries adorning the walls and plush rugs underfoot, the opulence a stark reminder of Kova’s unchecked power.

Kova sat down with a haughty flourish on a plush bench, not bothering to hide his arrogance. He pointed imperiously to a flagon of water on a nearby table. “Pour me a cup, sister.”

Korra obeyed, feeling his scrutinizing eyes following her every movement. Her senses were acutely aware of everything—the cool metal of the flagon against her hand, the gentle slosh of water, the weight of Kova’s gaze heavy on her back. She did everything in her power to suppress her inner alpha, to swallow her pride and submit. If she could help de-escalate things, then she would, even at the cost of her dignity. She poured the water carefully, each motion precise and controlled.

As she handed Kova the cup, her fingers brushed against his briefly. The contact sent a shiver down her spine, not of fear, but of anger barely held in check. Kova took the cup, his expression one of smug satisfaction, clearly enjoying the sight of his sister humbled before him. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the scents of peach and mint cloying and oppressive. Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of her resolve to endure.

Kova took a sip, his eyes never leaving her face. “Better,” he murmured, the single word dripping with condescension. Korra stood before him, a silent storm of emotions raging within her, each one tamped down by sheer will. The room was too warm, the luxurious surroundings closing in on her, but she held her ground, her face a mask of calm.

“If it please you, Your Grace, I shall take my leave,” Korra said, hoping he’d be merciful and let her go.

Alas, her luck had to run out sooner or later. And Mother luck chose now. “I command you to stay, sister,” Kova replied, his voice a sharp command.

Korra stood her ground, her face an impassive mask. The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Kova’s eyes bore into hers, and the weight of his scrutiny made her feel a creeping unease.

“My dear, dear magnificent sister... you know that I love you,” Kova began, his tone a twisted parody of affection. He drank deeply from his cup, the wine staining his lips a dark red. The scent of it mixed with the lingering fragrance of peach and mint, creating an almost nauseating sweetness in the air.

Korra’s heart thudded in her chest as she watched him, her mind racing. Kova’s voice, usually so measured, now carried the loose, reckless cadence of inebriation. “However, you have always been free to do whatever you pleased,” he continued, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Ever since we were little, you’ve had that liberty.”

Shock rippled through Korra. Free? The word rang hollow in her mind, and she was about to retort when Kova cut her off, his voice rising.

“Father said he loved me. But whenever we were together, all he spoke of was duty. Duty, duty, duty. Always teaching me how to be a leader, how to serve the people. But you know what, Korra? He never once showed me he loved me.” Kova took another drink, his eyes burning with a resentful fire. “While you... he never questioned where you had been. Mother indulged all your useless hobbies, like archery, or when you brought that mangy mutt into the Keep.”

Korra’s blood began to boil at his words, each one like a spark igniting her anger. The air in the chamber seemed to grow heavier, the scent of wine and bitterness thickening.

“They always favored you,” Kova continued, his voice growing louder, “even when you were only as useful as a broodmare! But now… Now you get to be an alpha!? Mother loves you even more now! How dare the gods bless you with this designation! I’m the firstborn! I’m the male line! I should be the alpha, not you!”

Korra’s temper snapped. “Do you think I was free? You know nothing of the constraints they placed on me! They thought I was playing when I trained with swords or practiced archery! They never took me seriously! I was only useful as a broodmare, as you said.”

Korra’s voice trembled with rage, her fists clenching at her sides. “The expectations they placed on me to be a good omega, a dutiful omega, nearly crushed me! Do you think Father loved me? He did not. Father never questioned where I was because he did not care! He always looked at you as his heir, while I was the spare he could sell to further his power, his influence!”

Kova’s face twisted in fury, but Korra pressed on, her emotions boiling over. “I hated you when you distanced yourself from me. But at night, when I saw you were alone, I wished to approach you and tell you, ‘I am here, brother. You are not alone.’ But you shunned me, too. I don’t know what happened, Kova. Remember when you played with me? When you comforted me whenever I had nightmares? When did you pull away? When did this rift between us begin?”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her voice breaking. The chamber seemed to close in around her, the luxurious surroundings a stark contrast to the raw, painful memories she was unearthing.

Suddenly, Kova’s hand lashed out, the slap resounding through the chamber. Korra stumbled, crashing against a table before falling to the ground. Pain radiated through her body, her cheek burning where he had struck her. She tasted blood, sharp and metallic.

Kova loomed over her, his eyes wild, a knife clutched in his hand. For a moment, it seemed he might strike again, but then he lowered his hand, his expression hardening. “That will be all, cupbearer. See to it that you are present at the Small Council meeting tomorrow.”

He adjusted his doublet with a dismissive flick and stalked off toward his privy, leaving Korra on the cold stone floor. She lay there for a moment, her body trembling with a mixture of fury and humiliation. The coolness of the stone seeped into her skin, grounding her as she fought to control her ragged breathing. The sweet scent of peach and mint clung to the air, a bitter reminder of the brother she had lost.

—

The next morning, Korra woke with a start, the dull ache in her cheek reminding her of Kova’s strike. Ignoring the lingering pain, she dressed swiftly, preparing herself for the Small Council meeting. The morning light filtered through her chamber, casting a soft glow on her determined face as she steeled herself for the day ahead.

In the council chamber, Master Suntoq, Master Arrak, and her mother, Senna, were already present. As Korra entered, their eyes widened in shock at the sight of her bruised cheek. Senna's concern was palpable, her lips parting to question her daughter, but the words died on her tongue as Kova strode into the room. His cape billowed behind him, his chiefly garb flaunted with arrogance, and a smirk played on his lips as he met Korra’s gaze.

They began with trivial matters, discussing the mundane issues of the tribe. But soon, the conversation shifted to more pressing concerns: border disputes and bandit attacks on smaller tribes.

“These border disputes grow more troublesome by the day,” Master Arrak intoned gravely. “We cannot ignore the pleas of our people.”

Kova waved a hand dismissively. “When Master Kuruk arrives, he’s to be the one facing these problems.”

Master Arrak leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “With all due respect, Your Grace, these matters require immediate attention. Waiting for Master Kuruk to arrive could prove disastrous. The safety of our people is of the utmost importance.”

Kova scoffed, rolling his eyes in blatant dismissal. “Very well. Send a messenger bird to Master Kuruk to deal with them,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain.

Korra stood behind Kova, dutifully pouring wine whenever he gestured. Her mother’s and the council members’ eyes bore into her, silently questioning, but she remained stoic, her expression unreadable. Despite her outward calm, she listened intently. It troubled her that Kova was delaying action on urgent matters. What was his true motive?

The meeting concluded, and they moved to the throne room for petitions. The chamber was filled with their tribesmen, the murmur of their conversations creating a low hum. At the forefront stood Opal, her face a mask of horror at the sight of Korra’s bruised cheek. Opal took a step forward, but Korra subtly shook her head, signaling her to stay put.

Kova settled onto the throne with an air of authority. “Begin the petitions!” he commanded.

The herald stepped forward and announced, “Lady Opal Beifong of the Air Nation.”

Opal walked to the center and curtsied gracefully, albeit amidst her trembling. “Chief Kova, it is with humble request that I seek help from the Southern—”

Her words were abruptly cut off by the sound of the herald announcing, “Make way! Make way!” All heads turned as the throne room’s oak doors opened.

Korra’s heart seemed to stop.

There, walking with regal grace, was Queen Asami Sato wearing a pitch-black gown.

Chapter Text

Korra’s heart seemed to stop the moment Queen Asami stepped into the throne room. The murmurs of the people around her hushed to silence, but Korra paid them no heed. Her eyes were riveted on Asami as she walked down the aisle with an air of unassailable authority. The queen moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her steps measured and confident. Her eyes remained fixed straight ahead, exuding an air of regality and purpose. Each step was a statement, the slight sway of her hips and the way her gown whispered against the floor commanding the room’s attention.

The princess took in the queen’s attire: a gown pitch black, like a sky without the moon or stars. The fabric flowed like liquid midnight, hugging her form and cascading in elegant waves to the floor. Intricate silver embroidery along the neckline and sleeves sparkled faintly, resembling constellations lost in the darkness. A delicate, sheer train trailed behind her, whispering against the stone floor with each step. Korra could not fathom why Asami had chosen to dress in black. It was not the color of her house, and it certainly was not the color of their tribe.

At last, Queen Asami stood before the throne, curtsying with practiced elegance. “My apologies for being late. I had matters to attend to,” she said sweetly. Korra turned to look at her brother and saw the hunger in his eyes as he gazed upon Asami. It twisted her stomach, and the princess did not understand why.

“You are forgiven, my Queen. Please, sit beside me,” Kova said, gesturing to the chair on his right. Once Asami was seated, he turned back to address Opal. “Lady Beifong, continue. What is it you ask of the crown?”

Opal was momentarily taken aback but quickly regained her composure. “Thank you, Chief Kova. As I was saying, it is with humble request that I seek aid from the Southern Water Tribe’s army to protect the Southern Air Temple waters from Earth Empire forces. The Air Nation is but a small nation. We are pacifists, and the Earth Empire took advantage of that. Day by day, they gain ground toward our territory, but with your help, we can prevent them from seizing our sacred temple.”

The throne room was tense, the silence punctuated only by the flicker of torches lining the walls. Korra forced herself to focus on Opal’s plea, the urgency in her lover’s voice echoing in the grand chamber, yet her gaze kept drifting back to Asami, who sat with the calm authority of a queen who knew she was above the fray.

“Very well,” Kova’s voice broke the silence. “And since I heard that Master Kuruk and my sister had already given their promise without consulting the crown, I give you my word that our army will protect you.”

“Thank you, Chief Kova. The Air Nomads of the Southern Air Temple are indebted to you. In return, we shall offer a quarter of our harvest each season, ensuring your people have a stable source of food. Additionally, I pledge that our people will impart their knowledge of cultivating the land to yours.” Though Opal spoke with courtesy, Korra detected the sharp edge beneath her words. Her lover had taken a slight for her, and for that, Korra was forever grateful to her omega.

Other petitioners came and went, but Korra could not focus on their pleas. Her attention was riveted on Asami’s behavior beside her brother. Asami was touchy, clingy, and overly sweet when addressing Kova. It was reminiscent of what she had seen before he had shipped her to the Bay of Seals. Korra shouldn’t have been surprised at their interaction, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Asami’s actions.

Before she could ponder it further, a new petitioner knelt before her brother.

“Your Grace,” a broad-faced beta man with a button nose greeted, his booming yet trembling voice echoing throughout the throne room. “I am Chief of the Camel Tribe, and I have come before you to seek aid in the dispute with the Bear Tribe over our border. It remains unresolved! The Bear Tribe claims more and more of our lands each day!”

Before any royal could respond, another man, this time an alpha, rushed forward and knelt swiftly before the throne, then stood to face Kova. “Your Grace, that is not true! It is the Camel Tribe who encroach upon our borders!”

The argument escalated quickly, each chief trying to outshout the other.

“Your Grace, the Camel Tribe’s deceit knows no bounds!” the alpha accused, his face reddening with anger.

“It is the Bear Tribe that continually trespasses upon our lands, Your Grace!” the beta retorted, his voice trembling with frustration.

Kova leaned back in his throne, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. He seemed to find amusement in watching the two men argue in front of the assembled court. The nobles and courtiers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to share in the Chief’s mirth or remain silent.

Suddenly, Korra’s voice rang out, clear and authoritative. “My Lords! You need not fight about this issue!”

The two bickering chiefs halted mid-sentence and turned to her, eyes wide with surprise. Korra was about to address them further, but Kova abruptly stood up, his face contorted with rage. “You don’t get to speak! You are my cupbearer!”

Korra stood her ground, bracing herself for the blow she anticipated. The room seemed to hold its breath. But before Kova could act, Master Arrak stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body. At the same time, Asami gripped Kova’s arm firmly with Senna standing behind them with worry in her eyes.

“She is the princess and a warrior! She had saved us from the pirates’ wrath!” Master Arrak declared, his voice firm and unwavering.

“And I am the Chief!” Kova roared back, his anger palpable.

Master Arrak met Kova’s glare with a calm, resolute gaze. “Any man who must say, ‘I am the Chief,’ is no true chief.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the tension crackling like static in the air. Korra worried for Master Arrak. To speak such words was to flirt with treason. The rage in Kova’s eyes was palpable, the word ‘treason’ almost escaping his lips, but Asami quickly intervened to diffuse the situation. “My love, yes, we know you are the Chief. No one questions your position. The princess and the Hand are merely aiding you in your duties. They understand the burdens you bear.” She cupped Kova’s face gently, turning it toward her, her fingers caressing his cheek with exaggerated tenderness. “Please, let us show our people the strength of your leadership. They look to you for guidance and resolution.”

Kova’s fury seemed to ebb under Asami’s touch, his posture relaxing slightly. Her overt affection and soothing words appeared to mollify him, the anger in his eyes dimming. He sank back onto his throne, still seething but no longer on the verge of violence.

Asami turned to the two chiefs, her demeanor shifting to one of regal authority. “My Lords,” she began, her voice steady, “this dispute over borders must not divide us. I propose that a delegation from both tribes be sent to the disputed lands, accompanied by neutral observers from the court. They will survey the territory and determine a fair and just boundary. Until then, both tribes shall cease all hostilities and respect the current borders.”

The two chiefs exchanged glances, the tension in the room easing. They bowed their heads in agreement. “Thank you, Your Grace,” the beta said, his tone respectful. “We shall abide by your wisdom.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Grace,” echoed the alpha, his voice grudgingly respectful.

The throne room settled into a calm once again, the crisis averted. Nobles and courtiers murmured amongst themselves, casting admiring glances at Asami for her diplomatic handling of the situation. However, Korra also overheard some irritated whispers among the courtiers. They were displeased with how Kova had handled the situation and grumbled about how he had let an omega undermine his power. The mixture of admiration and discontent created a complex web of intrigue and tension within the court.

Korra observed the entire exchange with a mix of emotions. She marveled at Asami’s ability to take charge, to diffuse Kova’s anger with such ease. Yet, there was a pang in her gut she could not identify, and confusion at the overt affection Asami showed Kova. It was clear Asami knew how to handle the situation, her touch and words carefully calculated to bring Kova back from the brink of rage. The princess couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Asami’s actions. But what, she couldn’t yet fully grasp.

Once the matter was settled, Kova motioned for Korra to pour him more wine. Korra stepped forward, the flagon in hand, but then Kova stopped her. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I’m getting bored of this game. Hmm. You shall be my wife’s servant until she says otherwise.”

Korra’s grip tightened on the flagon’s handle, the unexpected command sending a shock through her. She glanced quickly at Asami, seeing her former friend’s surprise, though it was quickly masked with a sweet smile towards Kova. The scent of Master Arrak’s rising anger filled the air, a sharp contrast to the court’s usual scents. To diffuse another potentially explosive situation, Korra bowed her head. “Of course, Your Grace. I am in service of the crown.”

“Good,” Kova said, smirking in amusement. He then addressed the crowd as Korra stepped aside. “Petitions are over! Warriors, please escort these people outside.”

The remaining petitioners expressed their disappointment openly, their voices rising in grumbles and irritated mutters. They shuffled out, their anger and frustration palpable. Korra watched them leave, wishing she could leave with them.

In the small council chamber, the atmosphere was tense. Only Kova, Asami, Master Arrak, Master Suntoq, Senna, the two chiefs of the Camel and Bear tribes, and Korra remained. Master Arrak’s scent of anger lingered, and Korra could see the tightness in his jaw. They gathered around the table, Kova at the head, Asami beside him, her presence both soothing and commanding.

“We need to decide who to send to the Camel and Bear tribes,” Kova began, his tone more serious now. His earlier amusement had faded, replaced by the weight of leadership.

Korra listened intently, her mind racing. She couldn’t help but glance at Asami, trying to read her former friend’s thoughts. Asami’s expression was inscrutable, her demeanor calm and composed as she caressed Kova’s hand with tender affection. The other members of the council began to discuss potential envoys, their voices a murmur of strategy and concern.

Master Arrak spoke first, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of tension. “We need someone neutral, someone respected by both tribes.”

Master Suntoq nodded in agreement. “Agreed. We cannot afford to exacerbate the tensions further.”

Senna added, albeit with her voice trembling, “We must choose wisely. The envoy must be diplomatic, yet firm.”

The chiefs of the Camel and Bear tribes remained silent, their expressions wary and guarded. Korra noted the subtle shifts in their posture, the way their eyes darted to Kova and then to each other.

Kova leaned back in his chair, considering the council’s words. “Master Arrak, you are well-respected by both tribes. Will you go?”

Master Arrak inclined his head, his eyes boring into him. “I will, Your Grace, if it is your wish.”

However, before Kova could dismiss the Hand, Asami’s voice cut through the room, calm and authoritative. “Master Arrak is an excellent choice, but may I suggest an alternative?” She turned to Kova, her touch light on his arm, her eyes full of adoration. “My love, why not send your sister instead?”

“Why her?”

“Think about it—she is a warrior and the princess. She’s most fit to oversee this dispute. Master Kuruk will be with her. And besides,” Asami’s voices turned sly, “ if she fails, you, my Chief, will have a chance to swoop in and save the day. It will only highlight your wisdom and strength.”

Kova’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he considered Asami’s words. A cruel smirk spread across his face. “Very well. My Queen had spoken. My sister shall go as our envoy and she shall leave three days from now to let Asami enjoy her personal servant.”

Korra’s anger flared, but she masked it, her face an impassive mask. She could not believe that Asami would say those words, that she would underestimate her. What had she done to warrant the ire of her former friend? Last she knew, Asami was the one who rejected her. Why was she doing this? As Korra’s thoughts spiraled, her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles turning white. She felt her nails bite into the palms of her hands, drawing blood.

Master Arrak’s gaze shifted to Asami, a mix of anger and betrayal in his eyes. Korra saw it clearly, the flicker of disbelief at Asami’s suggestion.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Korra said, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her. “I am in service of the crown.”

Kova’s smirk widened, pleased with the turn of events. “Good. Then it’s settled. Council dismissed. My wife and I shall retire for the day.”

As the small council continued their discussions, Korra’s mind raced. She would have to navigate this task carefully, her anger a fuel for the challenges ahead. She cast one more glance at Asami, trying to decipher the deeper strategy at play behind her former friend’s actions. The complex web of intrigue within the court had just grown more tangled, and Korra knew she would need all her wits to survive.

***

Asami did not understand herself. She had promised to move on, to find happiness without Korra. Wearing black was her own form of rebellion—it wasn’t the color of the Sato house, nor the color of her new heritage. Black, she decided, would be her own color.

Yet, as she stepped into the court, the first sight to greet her was Korra... and Lady Beifong. Rage, jealousy, and possessiveness surged within her like wildfire. Her inner omega snapped, feral and untamed.

She resolved to make Korra feel every ounce of her torment. Swallowing her pride, she lavished attention on Kova, seeking to draw his desire in front of Korra. Watching her former alpha squirm with discomfort was a small, bitter triumph.

But then Kova decreed that Korra would serve her as long as she wished. This twist had not been part of her plan, but she was a Sato—adaptation was in her blood. She sent Korra away with scathing words, a calculated move to further her own ends, even as she sensed Senna and Master Arrak’s disapproval. She would not stray from the path she chose.

Once the Small Council meeting concluded, Kova reached for her, and she forced herself to take his hand. They walked the familiar path towards his chambers, her heart sinking with each step. He would want to bed her again. She had no illusions otherwise.

Not a moment later, he proved her right. Before they even reached his bedchamber, he shoved her against the wall, trapping her between the cold stone and his heated body. His lips crashed against hers, kissing her with a rough, unbridled hunger. His beta scent, like rancid meat mixed with cheap perfume, invaded her senses. Asami pushed him away, catching the confusion and anger flickering across his face. But she would not let him assert dominance.

“My lord, it is unseemly to do this here, where many eyes might see. Consider my dignity.”

“But I am your lord husband! You should attend to my needs whenever I command!”

“Yes, and I shall. But it must be within the sanctity of your chambers. We shall do it later tonight. I still have important matters to attend to.”

“What matters? What is more important than my needs?”

“My lord, have you forgotten? You gave me your sister as my servant. I shall make use of her before she departs. Would you not relish the sight of a proud alpha kneeling before an omega?”

His interest piqued, a cruel smile curled his lips. “If there is one thing your treacherous father did right, it was marrying you to me.” He kissed her again before releasing her. “As you wish, my lady. I shall wait patiently for tonight.”

He left her against the wall, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. She exhaled a sigh of relief when he was out of sight, though his beta musk still clung to her, nauseating and persistent. Asami wiped her lips in disgust, trying to rid herself of his taste. She steadied herself, the cold stone grounding her amidst her turmoil.

Asami straightened, brushing invisible dust from her gown. She could still feel the ghost of Kova’s touch, a sensation that made her shudder with revulsion. The familiar tapestries and flickering torches of the Keep felt like the bars of a gilded cage closing in on her. She needed to regain control, to turn the pieces of this twisted game to her favor.

For now, she had to face Korra.

—

A knock on her door interrupted her needlework. “Enter,” she commanded. The door creaked open, and the familiar scent of her former alpha filled the room, stirring a tumultuous mix of excitement and anticipation within her.

“You summoned me, Your Grace,” came Korra’s voice from behind.

Asami turned, taking in the rigid stance of the princess. “Indeed.” She resumed her needlework, altering her mother’s gowns to fit her own form before dyeing them black. She could feel Korra’s stare, a palpable heat against her back.

“What do you want?” Korra’s voice was cold, bitter, and tinged with hurt.

Asami knew she must remain resolute. The path she had chosen demanded unwavering resolve, for her actions would ultimately serve Korra’s best interests as well. Drawing a steadying breath, she replied, “Is that how you address your queen?”

She saw the blaze of fury in Korra’s eyes, her jaw clenched tight. “My apologies, Your Grace. What do you require of me?”

“Better.” Asami rose and crossed to her wardrobe, opening it to reveal a collection of shoes. She pointed to her heels. “I want you to polish them all.”

Asami saw the hesitation flicker in Korra’s eyes, a brief moment of indignation, as if the task was beneath her station. Whether it was her status as an alpha or as a princess, Asami couldn’t tell. Yet, Korra obeyed, moving towards the wardrobe and gathering the shoes.

With a resigned grace, Korra knelt and began to polish each heel. Asami watched, her heart aching for her former alpha, but she steeled herself and returned to her needlework, her fingers deftly stitching the intricate patterns that once adorned her mother’s gowns. Maybe next time I’ll get the seamstress to make a gown for me.

Time seemed to stretch as the silence between them deepened. The rhythmic motion of Korra’s hands against the shoes echoed in the chamber, a stark contrast to the elegant, delicate movements of Asami’s needle.

The next two days were a relentless test of wills, each command from Asami serving to remind Korra of her place in this new dynamic, and it was also to spend more time with the alpha before her departure to the Camel and Bear tribes.

Asami ensured a warrior was stationed outside her bedchamber at all times, a precaution to prevent her good mother and the Hand from prying into her affairs, and to protect herself from Korra should the alpha’s patience snap. Only Master Kya was permitted to enter her chambers at night, bringing her moon tea and suppressants.

First, Asami directed Korra to scrub the floors of her chambers. The sight of the proud princess, hands raw and knees bruised from the rough stone, filled Asami with a bitter blend of sorrow and determination. She forced herself to remain impassive, focusing on her work as Korra labored in silence.

Next, Asami ordered Korra to wash her linens by hand, a task traditionally reserved for the lowest of servants. The cool water from the basin splashed over Korra’s arms as she scrubbed the delicate fabrics, her expression a mask of stoic endurance. Asami observed from a distance, her heart heavy but her resolve unyielding. She kept an eye on Korra’s muscles, watching them flex and strain under the weight of the task, and she longed to run her hands over them, to trace the lines of strength that had once brought her comfort and protection.

Lastly, Asami instructed Korra to clean the hearth. The once-proud alpha’s hands were blackened with soot as she meticulously cleared the ashes. The flickering firelight cast shadows across Korra’s face, highlighting the fatigue and frustration etched into her features. Asami’s eyes never left her, even as she continued her needlework, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her soul.

Through it all, Asami remained a silent sentinel, her own pain mirrored in the tasks she imposed on Korra. Each command was a step closer to the goal she had set, a necessary cruelty in the game of power and survival they were both ensnared in. The days passed in a tense, charged silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering glances.

Finally, Asami’s conscience could bear it no longer. Using the secret tunnels, she slipped out of her bedchamber. It was the hour of the eel. All was silent save for the distant hoot of an owl. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she walked through the yard toward the oasis. It had been a long time since she had visited, and she missed the place where Korra and she had confessed their feelings for each other, where they had promised each other eternity. It seemed so long ago now.

As she neared, a low growl greeted her at the entrance. Naga was already there, which meant Korra was inside. A flicker of doubt washed over her. Should she turn away, or should she proceed? Perhaps she could ask Korra’s forgiveness. Another pang shot through her. She still hadn’t sought forgiveness for so many things, and now she had only added to the pile of sins she had committed against Korra.

Before she could decide, Naga whined and walked up to her, pressing her large snout into Asami’s hand. It made her giggle despite herself. “Oh, Naga. I missed you, too. Look how you’ve grown!”

Naga, the massive polar bear dog, responded to Asami’s touch with a soft whine and nuzzled her hand, her tail thumping gently against the ground.

“Thank you for taking care of Korra. And I apologize for what I have done. Is Korra in there?” Asami asked softly. Naga licked her hand, then looked her in the eye. Her big brown eyes seemed to convey something, but Asami couldn’t decipher it. “I’m going inside now. Guard us, please.”

Naga gave a low, reassuring rumble as Asami stepped past her and into the oasis. The full moon illuminated the place with its silvery light, casting long shadows and highlighting the tranquil beauty of the surroundings. At first, the dim light made it difficult to see, and she found no sign of the alpha. But then her eyes fell upon a pile of clothes messily strewn on the ground beside the hot spring. A splash drew her attention, and she saw Korra’s head break the surface of the hot spring.

The princess turned around, her blue eyes widening in surprise as they locked onto Asami’s.

Then surprise turned to anger. “What do you want?” Korra demanded, her voice a growl as she emerged from the hotspring, water cascading off her muscular form. The flickering torchlight revealed her battle-scarred body, each mark telling a story of its own. The familiar scar from the walrus tusk marred her shoulder, but Asami’s eyes were drawn to a fresh scar on Korra’s stomach, still raw and angry. Asami’s gaze wandered lower, her breath catching at the sight of Korra’s cock. She gulped, quickly dragging her eyes back up to Korra’s furious face, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“Nothing,” Asami stammered.

“No, Asami. What do you want from me ? Why did you have to humiliate me? Why? Do you want to see me suffer?!” Korra advanced, her powerful presence looming over Asami. The scent of the hot springs mingled with the earthy aroma of Korra’s skin, the musk of exertion sharp in Asami’s nostrils. She had to tilt her head back to meet Korra’s eyes, the anger in them searing.

“No!”

“Then why?!”

Asami’s composure shattered. “Because you left! You abandoned me in the Keep! You left me to deal with these vipers alone!” Her voice was a mix of rage and desperation, echoing in the silent night.

“You chose Kova over me! Don’t you remember?! And do you think I wanted to leave? Your husband had me exiled!”

“I had no choice, Korra! My father sought to marry me off to him!”

“You could’ve taken my offer! Fled this wretched place with me! But no. You had to betray me. You broke your promise!” Korra’s hands clamped onto Asami’s arms near her shoulders, shaking her with a ferocity that made Asami’s teeth rattle. “Why?!”

“Because my father threatened to kill you! To make it look like an accident! I couldn’t bear that, Korra! I’d rather marry your brother than see you dead! I know my father. He’d do it without hesitation.”

Korra’s grip loosened, her rage-filled eyes softening. Both women were panting, tears mingling with the steam from the hot spring, creating a surreal mist around them. But Asami wasn’t finished. “I was waiting for you. After I heard of your victory, I waited eagerly for your return. I was going to ask you to take me away, like you had promised,” she said softly, then her voice hardened, “But then you came home with another omega as your intended?! How do you expect me to feel?!”

“You dare to blame me? How do you suppose I should feel seeing you madly in love with Kova before I left?! You told me nothing! I thought you had moved on, Asami! So I did! And Opal helped me!”

Asami scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “Did you?”

“What?”

The tension between them crackled like a storm about to break, their breaths mingling, heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

“Did you move on from me?” Asami stepped forward, forcing Korra to retreat. “I don’t think so. Because the way you reacted earlier made me think otherwise.” Another step, then she shoved Korra backward. “And your omega!” Shove. “How could you do that to her?” She shoved Korra a final time, driving the alpha’s back against an ancient tree. “You bedded her, yet you have not wedded her! How dare you defile her virtue, Korra!? I thought you were better than most alphas!”

“Don’t act like you know anything!”

“No, I don’t. But this I know.” Asami pushed Korra further into the tree and kissed her, the force of it bruising their lips. The kiss was a tempest of pent-up anger and longing, their mouths clashing with a desperate hunger. Asami’s body responded instantly, a familiar heat pooling between her legs, betraying her control. She expected Korra to push her away, but instead, Korra returned the kiss with equal fervor. This added fuel to the fire that raged within her, a fire she wanted to grow until it consumed her, turning her to ashes.

Her skin felt ablaze, and she realized with a start that her heat had come. How could that be? She was on suppressants. But it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the sensation of Korra’s lips and hands against her after so long. Her clothes were a hindrance, and they were soon shed, both women now equally naked, their bodies pressed together with raw need.

Asami pushed Korra harshly down onto the cold ground, straddling her. Her wet cunt slid easily over Korra’s hardening cock, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure. Korra grunted as Asami positioned her entrance over her erect cock, the anticipation palpable between them.

They both moaned as Asami slowly lowered herself, the sensation overwhelming. She moved with deliberate slowness, savoring the fullness, until she was seated entirely on Korra. She began to grind her hips, each movement eliciting shudders of pleasure. Korra’s eyes rolled back in her head, and a triumphant smirk formed on Asami’s lips.

“So, how does it feel, huh? Does my cunt feel better than your omega? Does my cunt feel tighter?” She grabbed Korra’s hair, forcing the alpha to look at her as she intensified her movements. “Tell me!”

Korra’s breath was ragged, her eyes glazed with lust and submission. “You—feel—” she panted, but the words were lost in the tide of their passion.

Asami’s movements became frenzied, each thrust and grind a release of years of pent-up emotions. The cold ground beneath them was a stark contrast to the heat of their entwined bodies, but neither noticed, too lost in the throes of their hate-filled desire. The oasis around them seemed to echo with their cries, the ancient tree bearing silent witness to their fiery reunion.

She shouldn’t have done that. She knew she should have stopped. She should know that sin begets sin, and hate begets hate. But she couldn’t stop. Not when Korra felt this good inside her. The boundary between pain and pleasure blurred, each touch and movement stoking the flames higher. Asami’s body responded with an intensity she hadn’t felt in years, the sensation of Korra inside her pushing her to the brink. She could feel Korra’s cock throbbing, each pulse matching the beat of her own heart.

However, Asami felt Korra’s cock falter upon the next thrust. She realized with a start that it was because Korra’s knot had formed. Determined, Asami adjusted herself, making the effort to slip it inside her as well. “See? You like me better,” she taunted, her voice edged with a mix of triumph and desperation. “Look at you knotting! Tell me, did you knot that little omega too? Tell me!” she demanded again, her voice a command as she rode Korra with relentless determination.

Korra’s eyes locked onto hers, the fire in them burning just as fiercely. “No! You’re—everything,” she yelled, the admission breaking through the haze of lust and anger.

Asami’s climax hit her like a storm as the knot finally slipped inside, her body convulsing with the force of it. She cried out, her nails digging into Korra’s skin, leaving marks that would join the others. She felt Korra’s release soon after, the warmth of her alpha’s seed filling her, binding them together in their shared release.

They lay there, panting, the aftermath of their passion leaving them trembling and spent. The oasis was silent again, the only sound their ragged breathing as they came down from the heights of their explosive reunion.

Once their passion and her heat ebbed, Asami felt tears she hadn’t known were there fall onto the back of her hand. “Forgive me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Forgive me for everything.” She collapsed onto Korra, her body trembling. “Forgive me for causing you pain. Forgive me for my cowardice, for not being brave enough to be with you. Forgive me for making you suffer. Forgive me for touching you when you were unconscious after the hunt.” She felt Korra stiffen beneath her. “Forgive me for bringing you naught but hurt and sorrow.” Her sobs wracked her body as she lay against Korra’s chest. Time lost all meaning as they remained there, entwined in the aftermath of their shared tumult.

Korra’s hands, rough yet tender, began to caress Asami’s back in a soothing rhythm. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Korra spoke. “No wonder it felt so real.”

Asami lifted herself abruptly, meeting Korra’s sorrowful gaze. “What do you mean?”

“That day,” Korra said quietly, “I thought I was dreaming that you were aiding me through my struggle. Now, I know it wasn’t a dream.”

Asami’s face heated as she crumpled. “I am sorry. I know it’s abhorrent. I violated you in your sleep.” She slumped back down, nuzzling her head into the crook of Korra’s neck.

Korra’s hand stilled on Asami’s back. “I... forgive you, Asami. Not just for what you did in my sleep, but for everything. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“What now?” Asami’s voice was small, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her.

“I don’t know.”

All they knew for now was the sin they had just committed.

Chapter Text

Korra was stunned as she felt Asami’s lips upon hers. In an instant, her hatred, anger, and torment washed away, replaced by a tempest of pent-up longing and fury. Their mouths clashed with desperate hunger, a fierce battle of wills. Korra’s body betrayed her, her cock stirring to life as Asami’s fervent kisses ignited a fire within her. Her mind screamed to push Asami away, yet her body refused to obey, and she returned the kiss with equal passion.

The next moment, Korra found herself on the cold ground, the roots of the ancient tree digging into her back as Asami straddled her. The slick heat of Asami’s wetness slid over Korra’s hardening cock, the friction sparking pleasure that seared through her. Korra grunted as Asami positioned herself, the anticipation between them a palpable force.

Their moans mingled in the night air as Asami slowly lowered herself onto Korra, the omega’s warmth enveloping her, driving coherent thoughts from her mind. Asami moved with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch until she was fully seated atop Korra. She began to grind her hips, each movement sending waves of ecstasy through them both.

Korra’s eyes rolled back in her head, any notion of stopping lost to the overwhelming pleasure. Asami’s movements were unhurried, each roll of her hips drawing them deeper into the intoxicating dance of flesh and desire.

“So, how does it feel, hmm? Does my cunt feel better than your omega? Does my cunt feel tighter?” Korra’s eyes snapped toward Asami. The omega gazed at her darkly, her bright green eyes now shadowed with lust and desire. Pain erupted in her skull as Asami grabbed her hair, forcing the alpha to look at her as she intensified her movements. “Tell me!”

Korra’s breath was ragged, her own eyes glazed with lust and submission. “You—feel—” she panted, but her words were lost in the tide of their passion. She wondered what it would feel like to suckle Asami’s bouncing breasts, but the omega kept her pinned, their bodies locked in a relentless, intoxicating dance.

Asami’s movements became frenzied, her cunt clenching tighter as she rode Korra’s shaft with wild abandon. The cold ground beneath them was a stark contrast to the heat of their entwined bodies, but neither noticed, too lost in the throes of their hate-filled desire. The oasis around them echoed with their cries, the ancient tree bearing silent witness to their fiery union.

Korra felt weak under Asami’s relentless fervor. After all these months, she thought she had moved past Asami’s hold on her, past her feelings of hurt and anger. But no. It seemed that part of her had never let go of Asami, and Korra didn’t know if she was fine with it or not. For now, her alpha demanded she take this omega.

Suddenly, Korra felt her knot swell, falling short on the next thrust. “Fuck!” Panic surged through her. She wanted to pull out, but her body wouldn’t obey, especially as Asami doubled her efforts to slip it inside her.

Asami’s voice was taunting, edged with triumph and desperation. “See? You like me better,” she hissed. “Look at you knotting! Tell me, did you knot that little omega too? Tell me!” Her voice was a command, riding Korra with relentless determination.

Korra’s eyes locked onto Asami’s, the fire in Asami’s eyes burning as fiercely as her own. “No! You’re—everything,” she yelled, the admission breaking through the haze of lust and anger, the thought of Opal vanishing from her mind.

Korra lost herself completely as Asami’s orgasm hit, her walls fluttering wildly, tightening even more around her cock. The omega’s nails dug into Korra’s skin, leaving marks that would soon join the others. Korra released soon after, her seed spilling in hot spurts inside the omega. The sensation was overwhelming, the culmination of their passionate struggle, and in that instant, it felt like the greatest triumph in the world.

Korra lay there, panting, the aftermath of their passion leaving her trembling and spent. The oasis was silent again, the only sound was their ragged breathing as they came down from the heights of their explosive reunion.

As the heat of their passion ebbed away, Korra saw Asami’s tears fall, collapsing onto her. Korra could feel Asami’s body trembling as she asked for forgiveness over and over for different reasons.

Korra stiffened beneath her, the weight of Asami’s confession hitting her hard. “Forgive me for bringing you naught but hurt and sorrow,” Asami continued, her sobs wracking her body as she lay against Korra’s chest. Time lost all meaning as they remained there, entwined in the aftermath of their shared tumult.

Korra’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions. She could feel Asami’s sorrow, her regret, and it cut through her anger and confusion like a knife. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their shared past and the pain that had driven them apart. She tightened her hold on Asami, trying to convey through her embrace what she couldn’t yet put into words. The cold ground beneath them, the ancient tree above, the silent night—it all faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own world of remorse and longing.

—

The moon crept slowly towards dawn, casting a silvery glow over the oasis. Korra’s knot had finally shrunk enough to slip out of Asami, and both women hissed as the cool air met their sensitive flesh. They dressed in silence, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words and lingering tension, yet it felt oddly familiar, reminiscent of years past.

Once they were fully clothed, Korra broke the silence. “How is your heat? Are you ready to return to the Keep?”

“Yes,” Asami replied, her voice meek and soft.

Korra wanted to reach out, to bridge the chasm between them, but uncertainty held her back. Before she could decide, Asami spoke again. “I don’t love him.”

Korra’s breath hitched. “Hmm?”

“Your brother. I never loved him, if that was what you have perceived. I... I did it to survive. I swallowed my pride and dignity, everything. Because I had no choice. I have no power here, remember? I’m an omega.” Asami hugged herself tightly, her slender frame trembling as if to ward off an invisible chill.

Korra’s heart ached at the sight of Asami’s vulnerability, the way her arms wrapped around herself as though trying to hold together the pieces of her shattered dignity. Korra’s hand itched to reach out, to offer comfort, but once more, she hesitated. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—anger, sorrow, longing. She could see the glistening of unshed tears in Asami’s eyes, the way her lips trembled with the effort to hold back more words.

Finally, Korra stepped closer, her voice a hushed whisper. “I understand, Asami.”

“Perhaps once, before you presented. Or have you forgotten those days? When you were like me, dreading the future we knew would come, when we would inevitably become omegas? That fear consumes me still, and I had to do whatever it took to avoid powerlessness. Your mother taught me that. But now, you’re an alpha. Everyone loves you. They admire you, desire you, wish to be you or be with you.”

They walked in silence back to the Keep, Naga shielding them with her massive form. The night air was cool and thick with the scents of the garden, a sharp contrast to the heat of their earlier encounter. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

Once they reached their respective doors, Korra took one last glance at Asami, only to find her already looking back. There was so much left unsaid, so much they needed to resolve, but Asami’s heat made it too dangerous to talk now. They needed clear minds if they were to reconcile fully. For now, a simple smile would have to suffice.

Korra entered her bedchamber, the familiar surroundings offering a semblance of comfort. She began to dress for sleep, her mind still lingering on the night’s events, when her door creaked open once more.

“Opal,” Korra acknowledged, her voice a mixture of surprise and dread.

A surge of panic welled up inside her, tightening her chest. Her heart pounded furiously, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. The scent of Asami still clung to her, mingling with the familiar fragrance of the room. The fear of being caught, of facing Opal’s judgment, was suffocating. She felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her cold despite the lingering heat of recent passions.

Opal stood in the doorway, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and resolve. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows, painting the room in shades of gold and amber, but Korra’s vision tunneled, focusing solely on Opal. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of guilt and desperation. How could she explain? How could she make Opal understand the storm of emotions that had led her to this moment?

Korra’s skin prickled with anxiety, the fine hairs on her arms standing on end. The cool night air seemed to wrap around her, a stark contrast to the warmth of Opal’s presence. She could feel the weight of her actions pressing down on her, a heavy cloak of regret and shame.

“Opal, I…” she repeated, her voice faltering. The taste of Asami’s kiss lingered on her lips, a bitter reminder of her betrayal. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as she stood there, exposed and vulnerable. Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe, and her hands trembled slightly as she fought to maintain her composure.

In that moment, Korra felt utterly helpless. The alpha within her roared to protect, to claim, but the weight of her actions rendered her mute.

The omega stepped forward, positioning herself directly in front of Korra. “I was looking for you. I wished to be with you tonight for I have missed you the last two days, but…” She scrunched up her nose slightly. “It seemed you were... indisposed.”

Korra froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Before she could utter a word, Opal raised her hand to stop her. “I can smell her on you.”

The weight of Opal’s words hit Korra like a blow. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around Opal, her head resting against Opal’s stomach. “Forgive me, Opal. I... I lost control. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Opal’s fingers threaded through Korra’s hair, a gesture both tender and heart-wrenching. “I should’ve known. Ever since we came here, you’ve been... distracted by her. Your eyes... they were always on the Queen. I should’ve known when you told me you two had history. I had hoped you had moved past your feelings, but it seems I was wrong.”

Korra’s tears fell freely, her voice breaking with each sob. She could not refute what Opal had said. Indeed, she still harbored feelings for Asami even after all the queen had done to her. “I’m sorry, Opal. I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Opal’s touch remained gentle, though her heart was breaking. “I forgive you, Korra. I know your heart was torn, and I don’t blame you for being drawn to her. She’s beautiful and kind. But you broke my trust. Trust, once broken, is hard to mend. I wish you had told me about it firsthand. I could’ve helped more. But it hurt. Even with an open mind, I’m still an omega. My inner omega cannot accept another omega being with my alpha. It hurts, but I have to choose to walk away.”

Korra clung to Opal, her sorrow overwhelming her. Opal was right. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but thank you. I understand.”

Opal sighed, her own tears now mingling with Korra’s. “I will stay at Wolf Cove, as I promised the Crown. The Air Nomads who are here will pass on our knowledge about agriculture to your people. But Korra, our paths must now diverge.” Opal pulled away, her hands lingering on Korra’s shoulders for a moment longer. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. “I will always cherish the time I had spent with you. The past two moons were the happiest of my life. I love you, Korra. I will always love you. I hope your heart will find what it was looking for even if it is not with me. Perhaps, by the time you return, we can be friends.”

Korra’s heart ached, wanting to say the words back, but she was grateful Opal placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. Opal’s eyes filled with tears, and without another word, she turned and left the room, her quiet sobs echoing down the corridor. Korra remained kneeling on the cold floor, the weight of her actions pressing down upon her. The night seemed to close in around her, the silence of the Keep a stark reminder of the love she had lost.

***

Asami finally released the breath she had been holding the moment she stepped into her chambers. Her breaths grew heavier, and she did her best not to let Korra notice how her enticing scent affected her. Her body trembled, screaming for the alpha to take her once again, but she endured. Once she locked the door, Asami rushed to her wardrobe where her heat suppressant tea was hidden. She seeped it, and drank it hurriedly, hoping it would take effect immediately.

Panting after drinking the tea, Asami wiped her lips with the back of her hand and slumped to the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of her reckless actions. When she felt her heat subside, she quickly dressed in a simple gown and cloak. Steeling herself, she opened the door to the secret tunnel and grabbed a torch. Asami navigated the dark passageway with practiced ease, her mind mapping each turn and corridor. She had mastered these hallways, each step a testament to her need for secrecy.

Reaching Master Kya’s chambers, Asami pushed the door open and saw the healer engrossed in reading scrolls. “Master Kya, I need your help.”

The master healer screamed at the sound of her voice. Asami quickly urged the master to keep quiet. Master Kya panted, wide-eyed. “Your Grace, what... how... Why are you here?”

“Master Kya, I... I made a mistake. Can you brew me some moon tea?”

“Why, Your Grace? The Chief bedded you tonight?”

“N-no,” Asami hesitated, swallowing a lump in her throat as the weight of her actions pressed down on her. She didn’t know if she could trust Master Kya with this information, but the healer had been nothing but kind to her. Her instincts told her Kya was trustworthy. “I fornicated with the princess.”

“Pardon?!”

“We fornicated and… I let her knot me. I wish I could say it was my heat driving me, but it was all me. Master Kya, please. I could not bear her child... a bastard child…”

“Asami... What have you done?” Master Kya asked, her voice a mix of shock and concern. Asami did not answer, the reality of her situation crashing down on her. She stared into the distance, her mind a storm of panic and dread.

Asami’s thoughts raced, a whirlwind of fear and regret. What if she were discovered? What if the court found out? The scandal would ruin her, ruin Korra. The consequences of her actions were too dire to contemplate. She had acted on impulse, driven by a mix of passion and desperation, and now she faced the possibility of bearing a child out of wedlock, a child who would be a living testament to her indiscretion.

Master Kya moved swiftly, gathering the ingredients to brew the moon tea. Asami watched, her hands trembling, her breath shallow. The healer’s movements were efficient, each step a practiced routine, but Asami could see the concern etched on her face.

Asami’s mind continued to spiral. She had always been careful, always guarded her heart and her actions. But Korra had a way of unraveling her, of making her forget reason and caution. The thought of carrying Korra’s child, of the scandal and the fallout, was too much to bear. She felt a wave of nausea, her stomach twisting with anxiety.

“Here,” Master Kya said softly, handing her the brewed tea. “Drink this. However, be warned… being knotted by an alpha during your heat increases the chance of bearing a child, Your Grace.” Asami turned pale at the revelation. “Let us pray to the gods that the princess’s seed will not take.”

Asami nodded, but her mind was already drifting into darker realms. What if the seed had taken, and she grew with child? Could she pass it off as Kova’s? Would they know?

Her thoughts twisted into a new, more positive direction. What if Korra ascended to the chieftaincy? Asami closed her eyes, envisioning a future where she reigned as queen and Korra as chief, their children laughing and playing in the sunlit courtyards. They were happy. Korra looked upon her with love and adoration, not guilt and remorse.

“That will never be. You are destined for sorrow,” a voice whispered in her mind, sounding hauntingly like her father’s. “Have you forgotten? Your alpha is already pledged to another.”

“Your Grace?”

Asami was jolted back to the present by the sound of Kya’s voice. Shaking her head, she took the cup with trembling hands, her eyes locking with Kya’s. There was no judgment there, only a well of understanding and compassion. She drank the tea, its bitter taste a stark reminder of her predicament.

As the warmth of the tea spread through her, Asami felt a fleeting sense of relief. Yet, the dread remained, a shadow cast over her heart. She had crossed a line, and there was no turning back. All she could do now was navigate the treacherous path ahead, fraught with danger and uncertainty.

“Thank you, Master Kya,” Asami whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt hollow, drained, the weight of her actions pressing down upon her.

“If I may, Your Grace… I wish to ask a question,” the master healer inquired.

“Please, go ahead.”

“What do you wish to accomplish with your plans?”

—

The sky was overcast above, casting a somber shadow over the Keep’s gate. The Chief stood there, his expression one of bored indifference, while Master Arrak maintained his usual inscrutability. The Queen Dowager’s eyes shone with a mix of pride and worry, her posture regal yet tense. Lady Beifong stood nearby; Asami dared not look at her, fearing her inner omega would awaken once more.

They were all gathered to bid farewell to Korra, who was saddling Naga in preparation for the long journey ahead. Asami’s heat had mercifully subsided enough for her to be present. She would not miss this moment, uncertain of how long Korra would be away to resolve the dispute between the two tribes.

Finally, Korra was ready. She turned to face them, and Asami’s breath caught in her throat. Korra always had this effect on her, but now there was something more. Around Korra’s neck hung the walrus tusk necklace Asami had given her for the journey east. The sight of it stunned Asami; Korra had not worn it once since returning from the Bay of Seals. Why now? What did it signify? Has Korra gone mad?

“May the gods bless your journey, my daughter,” Senna’s voice broke through Asami’s turmoil.

“Yes, mother. Thank you.”

Korra stood before Kova, but the Chief merely waved her off with a dismissive gesture. Undeterred, Korra turned to Asami. Asami’s heart pounded under the intensity of Korra’s blue eyes. With a single bow, Korra then turned to Opal, and Asami’s heart ached anew.

Lady Beifong took Korra’s hand with a tenderness that Asami could not ignore, no matter how much she wanted to. “Safe travels, Your Grace. And… Be cautious. The path you tread is treacherous.”

The way Lady Beifong enunciated the word ‘path’ sent a shiver down Asami’s spine, though she could not fathom why.

“Make way for the princess!” the herald announced as two warriors heaved open the gates.

“Forward, Naga!” Korra commanded, and her loyal polar bear dog charged ahead. She was followed by the chiefs of the Camel and Bear tribes, astride their snow camels, their banners fluttering in the cold wind.

Once the gates had closed, Lady Beifong turned to the Chief. “Chief Kova, I wish to fulfill my promise to the crown immediately. Where shall I begin teaching your people to cultivate the lands?”

Asami felt the tension crackle in the air as her lord husband regarded the lady with scrutinizing eyes. “Very well. I know not why an omega such as you is leading this endeavor. Master Arrak shall accompany you—”

“I shall go,” Asami interjected, surprising even herself. She had no idea what compelled her to interrupt Kova and volunteer to accompany Lady Beifong. Perhaps it was the guilt of fornicating with her intended, perhaps it was a desire to apologize… or perhaps a bit of both. Whatever the reason, Asami was resolute in her decision to understand this omega better.

Opal’s eyes widened at Asami’s unexpected declaration, but she quickly masked her shock with practiced grace. Kova frowned, his stern gaze piercing Asami. She forced a smile, a delicate maneuver to preempt his ire.

“My lord,” she began, her voice steady yet tinged with an undercurrent of determination, “this is an opportunity for me to truly know our people. I have been queen for nearly a year, yet I have not toured the entirety of our lands. Besides, there is no need to burden the Hand with this task. I am capable of managing it myself.”

Kova’s eyes narrowed, studying her intently before he relented with a curt nod. “Very well. Do as you wish.”

Opal curtsied with practiced elegance, her voice respectful. “Thank you, Your Graces. I shall prepare to depart immediately.”

As they turned to head inside and make ready, Senna caught Asami by the arm, pulling her aside where the others would not hear. Her breath was warm against Asami’s ear as she seethed, “What is your game, Asami?”

Asami could feel the heat of Senna’s anger radiating through her grip. She understood the older woman’s hostility. Yet, Asami stood her ground, meeting Senna’s fierce gaze with a calm she did not entirely feel.

“Your Grace,” Asami said softly, her voice a whisper in the tension-filled air. “I apologize for my actions toward your daughter. I know you have grievances against me, but I implore you... trust me.”

Senna’s eyes narrowed further, skepticism etched into every line of her face. “Trust you? After what you’ve done? How could I?”

Asami took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, the scent of the keep’s stone and earth mingling with the faint aroma of herbs from Kya’s nearby quarters. “As you once told me to trust you, so now I ask you to trust me, Senna. Trust me.”

Senna stared into Asami’s eyes as if searching her soul for some hidden truth. The moment stretched, taut with tension, until finally, Senna sighed, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Very well. I shall trust you, Asami. But step out of line again, and I shall be your enemy.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Asami replied, her voice unwavering.

—

Asami and Opal sat in the same carriage, the wooden interior swaying gently as it moved toward a nearby tribe where the soil and ground were rich. Outside, the Air Nomads and Water Tribe warriors rode their snow camels, laden with supplies, their breaths forming white clouds in the frosty air.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension between the two omegas. Neither dared to look at the other, and the silence was only broken by the creaking of the carriage wheels and the occasional distant cry of a bird. Asami fidgeted, her fingers picking at the skin around her nails, her anxiety palpable.

To distract herself, Asami took to observing Opal more closely, beyond her physical appearance. Yes, she was pretty, with delicate features and a ladylike demeanor, but there was something more beneath the surface. Asami could sense it, an inner strength that had captured Korra’s heart.

Opal’s scent filled the carriage, a subtle blend of wildflowers and fresh earth, mingling with the leather and wood of the carriage. Asami could hear the soft rustle of Opal’s dress with each movement, and the gentle sound was almost hypnotic. She could feel the warmth of Opal’s presence, an almost tangible force in the confined space.

Suddenly, Opal glanced her way, and Asami quickly turned her gaze to the window, not wanting to be caught staring. The landscape outside was a blur of white and gray and browns, snow-covered trees and distant mountains, but Asami’s thoughts remained inside the carriage.

She could feel her heart pounding, each beat resonating in her ears. The tension was almost suffocating, the silence heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Asami’s mind raced, thoughts of Korra and the future intertwining with the present moment.

The carriage rocked gently, and Asami forced herself to breathe deeply, inhaling the crisp, cold air that seeped through the cracks in the wood. She tried to steady her nerves, but the presence of the other omega was impossible to ignore. Every sound, every scent, every movement was magnified in the confined space.

“I know what transpired between you and Korra,” Opal’s sudden words startled Asami from her thoughts. Her heart raced at the implications. Panic surged through her. If Opal knew, then— “I can sense your worry, Your Grace, but rest assured, I have no intent of revealing your secret. I had promised Korra as much.”

Asami sighed in relief. However, there was still one matter to address. “Then, are you and Korra…”

Lady Beifong shook her head, her smile small and full of hurt. “I have broken off our relationship.”

Guilt. Guilt washed over the queen at the consequences of her actions. She did not know what to say to the woman before her. “Sorry” was insufficient for the hurt she had caused them. She knew how deeply Korra had cared for and looked at the omega, and the same could be said for Lady Beifong.

Before she could utter another word, Opal glanced her way, speaking once more. “I forgive you, Your Grace.”

Tears started to trickle down Asami’s face. She didn’t deserve this woman’s forgiveness, nor her kindness. Asami was nothing but a—

The carriage jolted, but Asami’s thoughts remained in turmoil. She had betrayed a bond, severed a love that could have been pure and enduring. The weight of her actions pressed heavily upon her, a burden she felt she would never be free of. 

“I could have held on to Korra, forced her to remain with me, but at the end of the day… the moment she saw you again, her heart was no longer in our relationship. Why would I cling to the hope that she would let go of you when it was clear Korra still loved you? And besides, I can sense you do not wish to be Korra’s paramour, and I have no desire to be her wife only in name.” Lady Beifong’s voice, though gentle, held a strength that Asami both admired and envied. “You need not carry this guilt alone, Your Grace. We all make choices, and we all bear their consequences.”

Asami looked at Opal, truly seeing her for the first time beyond the facade of composure. There was pain in her eyes, yes, but also a depth of understanding that spoke of countless trials endured and overcome.

“I am truly sorry,” Asami whispered, her voice trembling. “For everything.”

Opal’s smile was faint but sincere. “I know, Asami. And that is why I forgive you. Carry the lesson, not the guilt. Perhaps, in time, we might even become friends, once the hurt has subsided.”

Asami’s heart ached at the kindness extended to her. “Friends... I would like that.”

Opal’s expression turned serious. “But know this, Your Grace, where you two are treading is dangerous. And if you ever betray Korra again, I won’t hesitate to take action.”

Asami nodded, the tears still flowing freely. She felt a strange mix of sorrow and relief, a catharsis that began to cleanse her weary soul. The journey ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Asami felt the stirrings of hope.

Chapter Text

It was quiet. Too quiet for the Chief’s liking.

Three days had passed since his beloved wife and his wretched sister had departed on their own endeavors, leaving the castle feeling emptier than usual. Chief Kova walked along the halls of the Keep, his sworn sword, Aguta, trailing behind him. The tapestries of distant great chiefs blurred in the background for him, a testament to a lineage he felt increasingly disconnected from. But then he stopped at the last one: his father, the Great Chief Tonraq.

He stared up at those unmoving blue eyes—stern, blank, and judging. Judging him for his mistakes. Judging him for not living up to his expectations. The old man’s face, frozen in a facade of unyielding authority, seemed to mock him.

Kova’s lips curled into a sneer. “How fitting, Father,” he muttered under his breath, the bitterness seeping into his tone. “Even in death, you find a way to remind me of my failures.”

Aguta remained silent, a mere shadow behind him, ever loyal but wisely wordless in the face of Kova’s growing ire.

The truth gnawed at Kova’s insides like a relentless viper. Even though his sister had told him otherwise, Kova knew their father’s favoritism had always been clear. Korra, the prized child, the one who could do no wrong. She had been the “Southern Water Tribe’s delight.” And what was he? A bitter reminder of everything that could go awry.

The memory was etched into his mind, a constant reminder of his insignificance. He recalled the day he was ten, the day he knew he had lost his father to his sister’s traitorous paws.

“Father! Look! I made a—”

Kova’s voice trailed off as he glanced up, his heart swelling with pride. He had spent hours meticulously drawing a wolf, the sigil of their tribe, hoping to impress his father. But the smile that had been so ready to bloom on his face withered away when he saw the frown marring his father’s features.

Tonraq’s eyes, once a source of comfort, now bore into him with unrestrained disappointment. Kova felt himself shrink under that gaze, his body closing in on itself instinctively, knowing he had invoked his father’s ire.

“Kova,” Tonraq seethed, his voice low and dangerous. “Why won’t you listen to your lessons? You are to be the next chief after me. You should pay attention!”

He gestured sharply towards the end of the study chamber where Korra sat, her head bent over her lessons. “Look at your sister. She’s studying her lessons on how to be a proper princess!”

Kova’s brows knitted together without him realizing it, frustration bubbling to the surface. “No, she’s not. Just look at her! She’s clearly slumbering—”

“This discussion is over,” Tonraq cut him off with a wave of his hand, his tone brooking no argument. “Back to your maps!”

It was unfair. His father was always like this. Dismissing his passions for his lessons and praising Korra. That was the last straw. So, Kova decided that day, if Tonraq didn’t see his efforts in making him proud of him, then he’d make no effort at all.

Kova let out a laugh. “Well, who’s the incompetent person now? You’ve been betrayed by a stranger and ended up dead. And I’m the Chief. Goodbye, Father.” He turned away from the tapestry, his expression hardening. “Let’s move,” he barked at Aguta, who fell into step beside him. The empty halls echoed with their footsteps, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions roiling within him.

—

Giggles fell on his ears as he approached the throne room, making his steps falter. He gestured for Aguta to stop, then leaned into the wall to listen to the voices.

Two servant omegas were chattering as they wiped the floor of the small council chamber clean with their dirty rags and dirty hands. Their voices, tinged with admiration and excitement, grated on his nerves.

“The princess is so gallant! The way she mounted that polar bear dog of hers. I think I swooned. I would’ve willingly let her mount me, too! I wish I were a high-born lady; maybe I’d have a chance to vie for her hand!”

“Hush. Those are nothing but silly dreams.”

Kova’s face contorted with disgust and his gut twisted with jealousy. His wretched sister should have been an omega, someone below his status. She was a woman, after all, and should not be doing things like being a warrior or negotiating peace between tribes. Women were meant to bear children, manage households, and serve their men. Omegas should have been clamoring to serve him because he was the Chief, the leader of all the Southern Water Tribe!

If it weren’t for the love he bore his wife, he would certainly have his way with these omegas. Teach them of their place. He would have made them see that he was better than a female alpha. A woman’s place was beneath him, subservient and obedient, not gallivanting around on polar bear dogs and playing at diplomacy.

He steadied himself, calming his temper. His lady wife was right. These omegas were not worth his time.

As he walked the hall toward the throne room, the warriors he passed paused and bowed to him in reverence. As they should. These warriors were here to protect him from harm and do as he pleased. He smiled at them as they greeted him with a respectful “Good morrow.”

When he reached the doorway of the throne room, two people were already there, engaged in a hushed conversation. It was his mother and the Hand. Why are they here? Kova had no inkling, and so he glanced at them, observing their body language. Master Arrak’s brow was furrowed in thought, while his mother looked angry.

“She is out of line! I can no longer decipher her intentions,” his mother whispered fiercely.

“But she asked us to trust her. Perhaps what she said in the council meeting is part of her strategy. She is adept at deception. Even I was misled. For now, we should place our trust in her.”

His mother sighed in exasperation. “Very well. We shall not pursue anything for now.”

Kova’s confusion deepened. Who were they talking about? Korra? It seemed likely. If Tonraq favored his sister, then his mother doted on her even more.

He felt a pang of bitter resentment. Always Korra. Always the princess who could do no wrong. It was infuriating to see a woman held in such high regard when she should be in a position of subservience. She was lucky the gods had blessed her of being an alpha, or he would’ve wedded her to the poorest tribe there was. He clenched his fists, the urge to lash out suppressed by the cold, calculating side of his nature. He would bide his time, wait for the moment to prove his worth, and seize the power he rightfully deserved. He would show them all that a true leader—a true man—was far superior to any woman, regardless of her so-called designation.

—

That night, as Kova lay in his chambers, thoughts of his lady wife consumed him. In all his years, he had never imagined himself capable of love. Asami… Asami was the first light of dawn after a long winter’s night, an oasis in the endless tundra. She alone saw him for the great man he was, her unwavering support the very bedrock of his validation.

Asami was the epitome of the perfect omega. She understood her place, played her role with flawless precision, and elevated his status with every breath she took. Her devotion was unwavering, her obedience unerring, and her every action seemed crafted to underscore his superiority. Her praise, her gentle touch, her subservience—each a testament to his greatness. It was no wonder he loved her; she made him feel invincible.

A cruel smile crept across his lips at the thought of his cunt of a sister. She would never possess such a treasure. Korra, with her rebellious spirit and misguided notions of equality, was destined for disappointment. The very idea of Korra being revered and respected, while he fought ceaselessly to assert his dominance, was infuriating. But within that fury lay opportunity.

Kova’s mind churned with schemes. When Korra returned, he would ensure her betrothal to Lady Beifong was severed. That union reeked of power and strength—everything Korra falsely believed she embodied. Instead, he would summon omega ladies from the poorest tribes, women desperate for a better life, women who would seemingly submit to Korra’s authority—only to reveal their true place.

He savored the image of Korra, forced to court these omega ladies, each one a stark reminder of her true standing in the world. Humiliation would be her constant companion, brought low by the very ideals she championed. The thought filled him with dark satisfaction.

Kova’s cruel smile widened as he envisioned his plan taking shape. He would manipulate the council, spread whispers of discord, and ensure Lady Beifong herself called off the betrothal. Then, he would present the omega ladies as a magnanimous offer, a gesture to strengthen alliances with the poorer tribes. Korra would have no choice but to comply, her pride and position stripped away.

As he drifted off to sleep, Kova’s heart swelled with joy. His sister would finally be put in her place, and he would revel in her downfall. For in the end, it would be he who stood triumphant, the true leader of the Southern Water Tribe, with Asami by his side, the perfect omega who had helped him achieve his destiny.

—

The high Kova felt from his dream last night quickly faded as the day wore on. The chief had dreamt of a comely alpha son, born of his union with Asami, and in his dream, he taught the boy the ways of the tribe. Kova saw himself guiding the boy through the harsh tundra, showing him the ways of dominance and control, instilling in him the ironclad principles of strength and superiority. His son, a mirror of his greatness, would learn the art of ruling with an iron fist and smallfolk and nobles alike will bow to him.

The dream lingered in his mind, a tantalizing vision of the future, as he made his way to Master Kya’s apothecary. The air in the small, cluttered room was tense, filled with the acrid scent of herbs and the underlying current of unspoken words. Kova wrinkled his nose in disgust, his eyes scanning the disordered space. “The master sages before you never had this place reeking like a midden,” he commented with disdain, his tone dripping with contempt.

Kya, a woman of sharp eyes and sharper tongue, regarded him with a mixture of wariness and disdain. “Your Grace,” she greeted him, a forced politeness in her tone.

Kova wasted no time with pleasantries. “Tell me, Master Kya, is Asami’s womb ripe with a babe yet?” His voice dripped with eager anticipation.

Kya shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “No, Your Grace. The queen is not yet with child.”

Kova’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a furrowed brow and a creeping confusion. “I bed her almost every night. Why hasn’t her womb quickened?” His voice rose with a dangerous edge of anger.

Kya’s expression remained steady. “Because you are a beta, Your Grace, it will take much more time for the queen to grow with child.”

Kova’s fists clenched, his face contorting with fury. The words stung. He felt like it was a slight to his manliness, a blow to his pride. He fought the urge to lash out, his mind racing with bitter thoughts. How dare she speak to him this way? How dare his status as a beta impede his legacy?

“Your Grace,” Master Kya’s voice snapped him out of his spiral, “if I may suggest, I could examine you. I have already examined the queen and found nothing amiss.”

Kova glared at her, the indignity of the suggestion gnawing at him. But the desire for an heir, for a son to carry on his name and his rule, overrode his pride. After a long, tense moment, he gave a curt nod.

“Very well, Master Kya. Do what you must.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable, each word a venomous acceptance of a reality he could scarcely bear.

—

Kova paced in his room, the anxiety gnawing at him despite his attempts to quell it. He was certain of his ability to sire a child—he was the chief, the Blood of the Wolf. His father had drilled that into him, a mantra of his lineage’s unyielding strength. Yet, the rhythmic thud of his boots scraping against the floor was drowned out by the relentless pounding of his heart. The oppressive silence of the room seemed to close in around him, amplifying his unease.

The sudden announcement of Master Kya’s arrival by his sworn shield startled him. Kova whipped around, his pulse quickening even further. “How fares my vitality?” he demanded, the words escaping in a rush.

Master Kya stepped into the chamber, her expression a mixture of sadness and resignation. She looked at him with a heaviness that made his stomach churn. “Your Grace,” she began, her voice soft yet laden with the weight of unwelcome news. “This will not please you…”

“What is it? Spill it out!” Kova’s voice cracked with impatience, his chest tightening with dread.

In that moment, Kova regretted ever demanding the master healer examine him. The next words to come out of her mouth would be nothing short of blasphemy. As she spoke, it felt as though the ground beneath him gave way.

“Your Grace... you are impotent.”

Chapter Text

For days, Asami had immersed herself in observing the Air Nomads cultivate the earth. She marveled at their techniques—how they turned the soil with practiced ease, using advanced rakes and ingenious irrigation systems that maximized water distribution. Their craft was efficient and harmonious, blending seamlessly with the natural world. Her mind raced with curiosity about the tools they had built, envisioning the creation of even more advanced implements—a multi-tined rake to aerate the soil more thoroughly, or a mechanism to plant seeds with precision.

The scent of freshly tilled earth filled her senses, mingling with the crisp, cool air of the Southern Water Tribe. The rhythm of the Nomads’ work, the soft murmurs of their chants, and the gentle breeze rustling through the sparse trees were almost hypnotic. Asami’s thoughts were a whirlwind of ideas and possibilities, each more exciting than the last.

A gruff voice beside her shattered her reverie. “Never did I imagine the Chief would take part in such toil,” said Chief Samak of the Fox Tribe, a grizzled man with weathered skin, sharp eyes, and a perpetual scowl etched into his face.

Asami noted that Chief Samak never used honorifics to address her or other members of the royal family. Yet, she let the disrespect pass. “It was not his initiative. By the grace of the princess has this been made possible.”

“Oh, the lady alpha. Aye. I’ve heard great things about her. She’s better suited to lead than the shi—your lord husband. No offense, Your Grace .” The title was spoken with a sneer, dripping with disdain.

She would have taken offense had his words been directed at her or Korra. Instead, she smiled politely. “None taken, my lord.”

Chief Samak harrumphed. “Mark my words, the moment you depart, his warriors will descend upon me and take my head.”

Asami was appalled at his accusation—not at Kova having his head, but at the insinuation that she would betray him. “I swear it shall not come to pass, my lord.”

“And how am I to be assured? You are his wife and an outsider. Your true allegiance remains unknown to me. Know that I do not fear death.”

Asami turned to face the chief, her head held high. “Chief Samak, be assured that, though I hail from another land, the Southern Water Tribe is now my home and will be for the rest of my life. My loyalty is henceforth to this country and its people. So rest assured, my intentions are true.”

The chief’s laughter rang loudly around them, causing the Air Nomads and tribespeople to turn their heads. “Well said, Your Grace.” This time, the honorific was spoken with respect. “There is a fire in you that yearns to be unleashed. Embrace it. Our tribe follows the old ways, and you have that fierceness of the omegas of old. Not unlike those who young omegas who put themselves beneath an alpha or beta. Perhaps you can instill some sense into those pompous courtiers!” With that, he left her standing, his figure blending into the bustling activity around them.

Asami blinked, not entirely sure what had just transpired. The chief’s sudden shift from disdain to respect was unexpected. But she let it go for the moment, deciding instead to focus on the task at hand. She turned her attention back to the fields, her resolve strengthening. She would help the people—her people—farm and thrive.

—

Asami sighed heavily as she entered her bedchamber. The room, though far more modest than her grand quarters in the Ice Keep, held a certain rustic charm. Stone walls framed by heavy wooden beams gave it a fortress-like feel. A small hearth crackled in the corner, its flickering flames casting long shadows that danced across the rough-hewn floor. The bed, draped in furs and thick woolen blankets, looked invitingly warm. Simple wooden furniture, a washbasin, and a small writing desk completed the sparse but cozy arrangement.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her limbs, a fatigue she hadn’t felt in years, if ever. The day’s labor in the newly cultivated farm had taken its toll. She had never worked so hard in her life before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly removed her boots, wincing as she did. Her hands, full of dirt and grime, bore testament to her efforts. Sweat had slicked her skin, and she hissed softly as she noticed the blisters that had formed and burst during the day’s toil. Spots of blood marred her palms from wielding unfamiliar tools and laboring alongside the tribespeople.

Initially, they had protested her involvement, deeming it unfit for their queen to dirty her hands. But Asami had insisted, declaring it her duty and the least she could do in gratitude for their hospitality. Now, with the sun having set and the day’s work done, she sought solace in the simple comforts of her chamber.

Stripping off her dirt-streaked clothes, she approached the large wooden tub filled with steaming water, the scent of lavender and herbs rising from its depths. As she slipped into the warm embrace of the bath, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. The water caressed her sore, dirty body, easing the tension from her muscles. She scrubbed vigorously, the soap and herbs working to cleanse her skin. Each stroke of the cloth against her body felt like a purging of the day’s grime and weariness.

As she bathed, her thoughts wandered to the common folk she had toiled beside. Their endurance, their quiet strength, and their resilience humbled her. They faced such hardships daily, while those in the court lived in opulence, sheltered from the harsh realities of life. The experience had opened her eyes to the stark contrasts in their worlds. Yet, the common folk’s laughter echoed in her mind.

“Their lives,” she murmured to herself, “are a constant struggle, yet they find joy in the simplest of things. They should not have suffered like this.”

The flicker of the firelight, the gentle lap of water against the tub, the soothing scent of lavender, all combined to create a sensuous symphony that calmed her spirit. She leaned back, closing her eyes, and allowing herself to feel every sensation fully. The warmth enveloped her, the scent filled her lungs, and the sounds lulled her into a state of deep relaxation.

Emerging from the bath, she felt cleansed in more ways than one. The day’s labor had not only dirtied her body but had also cleansed her soul of any lingering illusions about the life of the commonfolk. She wrapped herself in a thick, fur-lined robe and stood before the hearth, watching the flames dance.

Before she could slip into bed, a knock startled her. “Enter,” she called, and an omega servant of the small keep stepped inside.

“Your Grace, a messenger bird has arrived for you,” she presented a letter to her. Asami took it and thanked the woman.

Once the servant had exited her borrowed chambers, Asami examined the letter. It bore no seal from any notable tribe nor the royal family. Only a simple blue wax sealed the parchment. With a sense of foreboding quickening her pulse, she took a knife and carefully slid it under the seal, breaking it open. She unfolded the letter and read the hastily scrawled words.

The seed has been planted within the court’s fertile soil. The whispers grow, and soon they shall blossom. The moon’s cycle nears its zenith; make haste in your return.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered. Why had Master Kya hastened the plan? What had transpired back in the Keep? Why had she not waited for Asami’s return?

Her thoughts raced as she quickly burned the letter, ensuring its secrets would not fall into the wrong hands. The flames consumed the parchment, leaving only ash behind.

Sleep eluded her that night. She tossed and turned on the bed, the day’s exhaustion doing little to quiet her restless mind. She debated with herself, torn between two paths. Should she return to the Keep and leave these people behind, or stay and trust Master Kya to handle Kova and their intricate plan?

The flickering firelight cast shadows on the walls, mirroring the turmoil within her. The choice was not easy, for both paths held great risk and uncertainty. Her duty to her people warred with her loyalty to the plan, and as the night wore on, Asami found no clear answer.

She stared at the ceiling, the furs warm against her skin, yet the chill of indecision kept her from finding peace. The dawn would bring a new day, but with it, the weight of her decision loomed large.

At first light, Asami was dressed and ready to return to the fields. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and dew. She had written to Master Kya before dawn, urging her to hold the fort for a few more days. Her duty here was not yet complete, but she would return to the Keep soon enough.

With determined steps, she made her way to the fields. The dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, casting a gentle glow over the landscape. The sounds of morning filled her ears—the chirping of birds, the soft rustle of leaves, and the distant murmur of the waking camp.

She found Opal amidst the workers, instructing a woman on a specific farming technique. The woman’s hands moved deftly, turning the soil in a manner that intrigued Asami. She approached, her presence noticed by Opal, who paused her instruction to acknowledge her.

“Good morrow, Opal,” Asami greeted, her voice steady. “Pray, what is this technique called?”

Opal glanced at her, the tension between them still present but no longer as sharp as it had been in the carriage. “Good morrow, Your Grace,” she replied, a hint of formality still clinging to her words. “This is known as double digging. It allows the soil to be aerated deeply, ensuring better growth for the roots.”

Asami watched the woman’s hands, her fingers deftly working the earth. “I would see these techniques recreated,” she said, a thoughtful tone to her voice. “When we return to the Keep, I shall endeavor to improve upon them.”

Opal raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Your Grace has a keen eye for such matters. I am certain any improvements you make will be most beneficial.”

Asami felt the lingering awkwardness between them, yet it was softened by their shared purpose. The cool morning air kissed her cheeks, and the scent of freshly turned earth filled her lungs. She was glad they could work together for the benefit of the people, setting aside past tensions for a greater cause.

Once the day’s labor was complete, Asami returned to her chambers, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily upon her. She settled at the small writing desk, the flickering candle casting long shadows on the stone walls. Taking a deep breath, she began to pen a list of tasks she must undertake upon her return to the Keep.

Her quill moved swiftly over the parchment:

Present the new farming techniques to the council

Recreate and enhance the observed tools

Ensure the plan advances smoothly

Upon finishing, she folded the list with care and placed it securely in her satchel. Methodically, she packed her belongings, each movement deliberate despite her weariness. Slipping into bed, she drew the furs tightly around her, the warmth a welcome comfort. Her thoughts drifted to the Keep, the duties awaiting her, and the comforting fantasy of strong, protective arms around her. Sleep soon claimed her, filled with dreams of strength and security.

—

At dawn’s first light, Asami sought out Opal before her departure. “I must apologize for leaving you here, Opal. Urgent matters demand my presence at court. I have asked Chief Samak to look out for you and your people and he has agreed,” she said earnestly.

Lady Beifong regarded her with a keen, curious gaze before nodding. “Of course, Your Grace. We shall complete our tasks here and return posthaste.”

Asami felt a deep gratitude for Lady Beifong’s understanding. Despite the lingering tensions between them, Opal’s unwavering support was a boon. “Thank you, Lady Beifong. Your dedication is invaluable.”

Opal offered a small, respectful smile. “It is my duty, Your Grace.”

With a final nod, Asami turned and made her way to her carriage, leaving the tribe in Lady Beifong’s capable hands.

—

After a three days ride, Asami finally returned to the Keep, its familiar walls looming ahead like the embrace of an old enemy. Her lungs felt constricted as the carriage entered the gates, a stark contrast to the liberating breath she had taken amongst the Fox Tribe, far from the prying eyes of the court and the oppressive presence of Kova. Here, in this grand fortress, the creeping dread of being caged once more settled over her like a shroud. Yet, she could not afford to falter now. Every step she took, every decision she made, was to shatter the shackles that bound her, to break the wheel of inequality that had plagued the Southern Water Tribe since the North descended upon them.

The warriors greeted her with a nervous energy, their movements stiff and rigid, more so than usual. As she descended from the carriage, their unease was palpable. A young warrior stepped forward to escort her inside the Keep, his expression one of wary respect. An unusual stillness greeted her within the stone halls, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Asami made her way towards her chambers, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floors. Once she was certain that the servants had placed all her belongings inside and left, she moved to the far corner of the room and opened the secret door concealed behind an ornate tapestry.

The hidden passageways were dark and musty, the familiar stench of waste and piss invading her senses. She navigated the labyrinthine tunnels with practiced ease, her fingertips brushing against the rough stone walls for guidance. The silence here was profound, broken only by the distant drip of water and the faint rustle of unseen creatures.

She emerged at last inside Master Kya’s chambers, her heart pounding with anticipation. As they had agreed, this clandestine meeting was crucial. She knocked softly, the sound barely audible, and the door creaked open to reveal Kya’s stern visage.

“Your Grace,” Kya greeted her, eyes sharp and discerning. “You’ve returned sooner than I expected.”

Asami stepped inside, the warmth of the chamber a stark contrast to the chill of the tunnels. “The situation demands urgency,” she said, her voice steady. “We have much to discuss.” She closed the door behind her and seated herself on one of the benches. “What has transpired in my absence, Master Kya?”

“The chief was insistent, Your Grace, that I examine him when he noticed you are not yet with child. And so, I did as I was commanded. I informed him of his impotence earlier than we had planned. I had no choice in the matter, Your Grace.”

If Kova had insisted, then Master Kya was right. She had no choice but to hasten the plan. They would have to navigate this with utmost caution. But Master Kya was not finished. “After informing the chief, he broke down, and threw my herbs and vials against the wall. It took several warriors, the Queen Dowager, and the Hand to calm him. Now, everyone in the Keep knows. And soon, the whole Tribe. Kova has secluded himself in his chambers since.”

Asami had expected such a reaction from Kova. This situation could be detrimental to his position if he could not sire an heir. This would weaken his claim and authority. The time to strike was now. “Very well. I shall address this matter at the next small council meeting. Thank you, Master Kya.”

“It is no matter, Your Grace. I shall lend my support to your endeavor.”

—

They gathered in the small council chambers, the weight of impending decisions heavy in the air. Asami stood at the head of the table, her gaze steady and resolute.

“I apologize for summoning all of you on such short notice,” she began.

“It is no matter, Your Grace,” Master Arrak replied, his tone respectful.

Senna sat nearby, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Master Suntoq, too, regarded Asami with a look of annoyance, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have received disturbing news regarding my lord husband’s... inability to sire an heir,” Asami said, choosing her words carefully. “I am saddened that we are not blessed by the gods the gift of life. Yet, it is imperative that we devise a solution to this dire situation.”

Master Suntoq was the first to speak, his voice dripping with skepticism. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but is it not the Chief’s duty to address this?”

“You are right to assume this, Master Suntoq. However, as you can see, he is currently indisposed. The word I have received is truthful, and I have confirmed it so. It is now up to us to decide how to proceed.” She did not give the castellan a chance to interrupt. “If he continues to be absent, I shall rule in his stead.”

Master Suntoq slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly, his face flushed with anger. “This is preposterous! The Chief is of sound mind and body!”

Asami remained composed, her voice steady. “Master Suntoq, if that is the case, then why has the Keep not seen him once since his examination? Why has the Chief forbade petitions? Why has he locked himself away, refusing all council?”

“Blasphemy!” Suntoq shouted, his fists clenched. “And I beg your pardon once more, Your Grace , but is it not your duty as the Chief’s omega wife to tend to him in his hour of need? And not to play chief with us?”

Asami met his furious gaze with a calm, resolute expression. “Master Suntoq, my duty to the Chief and my duty to this realm are one and the same. If the Chief is unable to perform his duties, it falls upon me to ensure the stability and future of our tribe. I will not allow personal grievances to endanger our people. We must think of the greater good.”

Master Arrak nodded in agreement, his hands folded calmly on the table. “Your Grace speaks wisely. The well-being of the tribe must come first.”

Senna, though still suspicious, remained silent, her eyes flickering with a mix of doubt and curiosity. The Hand and the Dowager exchanged glances, their faces impassive but their eyes revealing their silent consent.

“This council must act with unity and resolve,” Asami continued, her gaze sweeping across the room. “We cannot afford to falter. The time for action is now.”

Master Suntoq, though still visibly displeased, seemed to recognize the gravity of the situation. He grumbled but sank back into his chair, offering no further objections. The chamber fell into a tense silence, the weight of the decision hanging heavily over them all.

“We shall open the gates once more for our people,” Asami declared, her voice firm. “We shall hear their petitions again on the morrow. If there are no further matters to discuss?”

A murmur of agreement echoed through the chamber. Master Suntoq hurriedly exited, clearly eager to escape her presence. Good , Asami thought.

She turned her gaze to the Dowager and the Hand. “Senna, Master Arrak... a word? In my chambers?”

Once they were in private, Senna’s fury erupted. “What game are you playing, Asami? This was not part of our schemes.”

Asami stood her ground, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and weariness. “I am weary of living in constant anxiety, Senna. I know not whom to trust anymore, and you hold all the leverage against me. So, I took matters into my own hands.”

Senna retorted sharply, “So you think this will not disrupt all we have painstakingly established? Your recklessness could unravel everything! Remember that this is for you and Korra!”

At the mention of the alpha, Asami took a deep breath, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession. “I… have no choice but to hasten everything. I fornicated with Korra during my heat. She knotted me, and there is a significant chance I might be with child.”

Both Senna and Master Arrak gasped, their expressions a blend of shock and realization. Senna’s eyes softened, and she stepped closer to Asami, her voice low and urgent. “Asami, why had you not confided in us sooner?”

“I had panicked. I did not know what to do. But as this is what the gods gave to me, and I had to adapt. That was what you had taught me, had you not?”

Senna’s features softened as she looked at Asami and then to Master Arrak. “Very well. We shall make haste. You shall have our utmost trust. And if ever your tryst with Korra bore fruit… you shall have our protection.”

A sigh of relief escaped Asami’s lips. However, there was a nagging doubt in her mind. No, not doubt, but a question. It had always been in the back of her mind. And before Senna and Master Arrak could take a step, Asami asked, “Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why are you doing this?” Asami’s mind raced. “Why are you so supportive of me being with Korra? Why did you want Kova dethroned? You seem perfectly fine with Kova suffering, but when it comes to Korra, it’s a different matter. Why? Why do you want me with her?”

Senna hesitated, her eyes darting to Master Arrak before returning to Asami. They were communicating silently, a trick Asami had seen them employ countless times. She waited patiently, though her mind raced with thoughts and observations.

Memories flashed through her mind: the way Master Arrak had been the one to tend to Korra when she was struck by the walrus, the way he had nearly embraced her when she returned from the Bay of Seals, the pride that shone in his eyes whenever he looked upon the princess. No, it cannot be , Asami thought, scrutinizing Master Arrak’s features—the shape of his eyes, so much like Korra’s, his nose, his sharp jawline.

Now, she watched as Senna and Master Arrak exchanged glances, their eyes locked in a silent debate.

“Senna... tell me it isn’t true... Korra is—”

The Dowager interrupted, her voice firm. “Yes.” She looked at her paramour and nodded.

Master Arrak stepped forward, his gaze piercing as he looked Asami in the eye. “Yes, Korra is mine. And now, you— if it ever bore fruit— have repeated what we had done. Let us not waste time if you wish your pup to be born not as a bastard.”

***

The cold spring air lashed at Korra’s face as she rode upon Naga, bounding with relentless vigor. Her blue eyes narrowed against the biting chill, her breath escaping in frosty puffs in the brisk morning air. The landscape stretched before her, a canvas of stark white intermingled with patches of dark earth and the sparse greenery of early spring. On the distant horizon, the dwellings of the tribes emerged, their contrasting colors marking the territories of the Camel and Bear tribes.

For five days they had ridden, pausing only to eat and make camp for the night. Throughout this arduous journey, Korra had come to know her companions—the chiefs of the Camel and Bear tribes. Each conversation peeled back the layers of their centuries-old conflict over borders. The Camel tribe staked their claim to the fertile riverbanks, while the Bear tribe laid claim to the bountiful hunting grounds of the forest. Both chiefs admitted, with a mixture of frustration and resignation, that the true origins of their dispute had been lost to the mists of time, buried beneath layers of history and pride.

Yet, as Korra rode towards the tribes, her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, swirling with memories and emotions she could scarcely contain. Being with Asami, having her for a moment, haunted her, the memory of their fornication both a comfort and a source of torment. And then there was the bitter breakup with Opal. It would leave a wound in her heart that Korra was sure would nevel heal. She admonished herself, questioning why she had let herself get carried away. Why was she so weak for Asami? Why did she still have feelings for her? Korra felt as though she might explode, the need to unburden herself overwhelming. She craved someone to talk to, someone to share the weight of her sins and sorrows.

Her eyes suddenly stung from the tears welling up, but she blinked them away. Now wasn’t the time.

As they drew nearer to the tribes, Korra took in the distinct colors of their homes against the horizon. The Camel tribe’s dwellings, adorned in sea greens and blues, stood in stark contrast to the Bear tribe’s earthy browns and whites. Each house was a testament to their identity and culture, a vivid display of their heritage and the deep-seated animosities that had brought them to this point.

The tribes’ settlements loomed closer, their presence a reminder of the task that lay ahead. Korra hoped that solving this dispute would help her forget her personal sorrows, even if only for a short while.

Master Kuruk awaited her at the entrance, his tall figure unmistakable. Tribespeople paused their activities as Korra and her entourage approached, curious gazes fixed upon the riders. The absence of gates, reminiscent of the Bay of Seals, spoke of a community valuing openness and trust.

Naga stopped at the edge of the tribes, and Korra dismounted gracefully. Commonfolk stared at her in awe, their eyes wide with wonder. The crunch of her boots on the frozen ground mingled with children’s laughter and villagers’ chatter. The air was thick with the scents of spices, herbs, and raw meat being sold in the market.

Master Kuruk stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Welcome, Princess Korra,” he said with a small smile. “We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Korra inclined her head, acknowledging the greeting with a measured smile. “Master Kuruk,” she replied, “your patience is appreciated. The journey was arduous, but we shall press on with due haste.” Despite her eagerness to address the pressing issue, the chieftains insisted on tradition, reigniting their simmering rivalry.

“The princess shall dine first with the Bear Tribe!” declared Chief Taqqiq, his voice booming with unyielding authority.

“Absurd! Princess Korra shall honor the Camel Tribe with her presence at our table!” countered Chief Hakoda.

Korra found herself caught in the crossfire of their rivalry, each word like a tug on the fragile thread of peace she sought to weave. She glanced at Master Kuruk, but his steady gaze told her the decision was hers alone. Authority was hers, yes, but she longed for a solution born of wisdom.

“My lords,” she began, her voice calm and commanding, “in pursuit of unity, let us break bread here, at the boundary of your lands, so that we might share a meal as one people.”

The chieftains exchanged wary glances, the tension between them momentarily easing. They bowed their heads in reluctant respect.

“A sagacious proposal, Your Grace,” Chief Taqqiq spoke first, his tone softened. “The Bear Tribe shall prepare a feast worthy of this momentous occasion.”

Chief Hakoda nodded, albeit grudgingly. “The Camel Tribe shall match their efforts, Your Grace, and my people will see to your comfort.”

Korra raised her hand, halting their plans with a graceful gesture. “There is no need for grand feasts. A modest meal will suffice. Let our focus remain on our purpose here, rather than displays of opulence.”

The chiefs exchanged wary glances once more but ultimately nodded in agreement.

“As you command, Your Grace,” Taqqiq acquiesced.

Hakoda inclined his head. “A simple meal it shall be.”

Relief washed over Korra, a quiet confidence settling within her. She had deftly navigated the first of many trials with diplomacy and wisdom. As the chiefs began to organize their people, the air buzzed with a renewed sense of purpose and cautious anticipation.

An older omega approached her, his voice gentle but firm. “Where will you be staying, Your Grace?”

Korra glanced at Master Kuruk. “Where are you lodging, Master?”

He pointed to his left, directing her gaze to a two-story stone house with a weathered sign swaying gently in the breeze. The sign bore the name “The Weary Traveler’s Rest.”

“Then I shall stay there,” Korra decided, her voice resolute. The omega nodded, bowing slightly before scurrying off toward the inn to make the necessary arrangements.

Korra took hold of Naga’s reins, leading her loyal companion as she began to follow the omega. Master Kuruk stepped in beside her, his presence a steadying force.

“You have shown wisdom beyond your years, Princess,” he said, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

Korra smiled, the weight of the day’s decisions lightened by his praise. “Thank you, Master Kuruk. I only hope to continue on this path, as I have much to learn.”

The air was cool and still as they walked toward the inn, the scent of spices and raw meat lingering in the breeze. The sounds of the tribes organizing their simple meal filled the background, a reminder of the delicate balance Korra had just begun to master.

Inside the inn, Korra took in her surroundings. The common room stretched out, low and long, with soot-stained beams crisscrossing the ceiling and whitewashed walls giving a clean, bright contrast. A fire crackled in the hearth at the far end, filling the air with the comforting smell of wood smoke. Rough-hewn trestle tables and benches were scattered across the floor, where the innkeeper’s wife was busy setting bowls of stew before a group of hungry hunters.

Korra paused in the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A few heads turned to glance at her entrance, but most patrons remained focused on their meals. The innkeeper, a stout beta man with a balding head and a stained apron, bustled forward, wiping his hands on his apron as he approached.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” he greeted with a respectful nod. “We have been expecting you. My name is Pinga, if it pleases you, Your Grace.”

Korra waved her hand dismissively, but not unkindly. “No need for formalities, Pinga. I shall take my rest until Chiefs Hakoda and Taqqiq are ready.”

Pinga nodded, looking relieved. “Of course, Your Grace. We have a room prepared for you.”

Korra gave a slight nod and followed him through the common room. The low hum of conversation and the clatter of spoons on bowls created a comforting backdrop. Master Kuruk walked beside her, his presence a steady reassurance.

They reached a small, tidy room at the end of a narrow hallway. Pinga opened the door and stepped aside. “I hope you find everything to your satisfaction, Your Grace.”

Korra stepped inside, the simplicity of the room a welcome contrast to the weight of her duties. “Thank you, Pinga. This will do nicely.”

The innkeeper bobbed his head again and closed the door quietly behind her. Korra sighed, letting the silence envelop her. She crossed to the small window, looking out over the village. The day’s events played through her mind, each decision a step in the delicate dance of diplomacy.

Master Kuruk’s voice broke the silence. “Korra, come here.”

She turned to see Master Kuruk standing there, his face warm with a fatherly smile. With a glad cry, she rushed into his embrace. “It’s been only a moon’s turn, yet it feels like an age. I’ve missed you terribly.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Kuruk murmured, his voice rich with affection.

They parted reluctantly and settled into the chairs by the hearth. Master Kuruk’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing with concern. “You look troubled. How are you? And how fares Lady Beifong? I have heard of your declaration for her to be your intended.”

Korra’s face crumpled, and she let out a heavy sigh. Tears welled up in her eyes, the mask she wore in public slipping away. Here, with Kuruk, she didn’t have to be the strong princess; she could be vulnerable. “We broke up. I made a grievous mistake.” Her voice cracked, the weight of her guilt and sorrow causing her stomach to lurch.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as silence enveloped them again. She knew she had no choice but to confess. And so she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the truth she had to reveal. “Master Kuruk, there’s more. When I was with Asami... she was in heat, and I... I knotted her. I could not stop myself.” Her tears fell freely now, streaking her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t stop.

Master Kuruk’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he stood silent, the weight of her confession settling heavily upon him. Korra saw a flicker of anger in his eyes as he prepared to rebuke her, but she quickly raised a hand to stop him.

“Please, Master Kuruk, don’t tell anyone. I know it was reckless, but Asami’s heat, combined with my lingering feelings for her—it was a disaster waiting to happen.” Her voice trembled, and her heart ached with the enormity of her mistake.

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Master Kuruk’s expression softened slightly as he digested her words. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, the fire in his eyes replaced by a stern resolve.

“You are young, Korra, and bound to make mistakes. But with those mistakes come consequences. What you have done is dangerous. If this becomes known, it could destroy everything you have worked for. Are you prepared for the repercussions if the truth comes out?”

A chill ran down Korra’s spine at his words. The gravity of her actions settled heavily on her shoulders. She met Master Kuruk’s gaze, her voice trembling but determined. “I’ll face whatever comes, Master Kuruk. But I can’t let this ruin everything. I need to find a way to make it right without destroying Asami or myself.”

Master Kuruk sighed deeply, then reached out and embraced her. Korra buried her face in his shoulder, her tears soaking into his robe. “You have set yourself on a perilous path, Korra. Tread carefully, and remember that every action has its price. I will keep your secret for now, but you must be ready to face the consequences when they come.”

Korra nodded against his shoulder, feeling a weight lifted off from her shoulders. “Thank you, Master Kuruk. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

—

After breaking bread with the tribes, Korra wasted no time and asked the two chiefs where the disputed border was. Together, they escorted her toward their border, the area where the river meets the forest.

Korra observed the place with keen eyes, taking in every detail. The river flowed swiftly, its waters dark and cold, fed by melting snow from the mountains beyond. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Ancient trees, their branches heavy with green, loomed overhead, casting dappled shadows upon the ground. Moss clung to the stones at the river’s edge, and wildflowers dotted the grassy banks, their colors vivid against the muted greens and browns of the forest.

Korra noticed signs of recent skirmishes. The remains of a charred campfire, arrows embedded in tree trunks, and patches of trampled undergrowth told a tale of conflict. She saw a broken spear half-submerged in the mud, its shaft snapped in two, a grim reminder of the violence that had transpired.

She knelt by the river, dipping her fingers into the cool water. “This land is rich and fertile,” she remarked, her voice thoughtful. “No wonder both tribes covet it.”

Chief Taqqiq stepped forward. “Aye, Your Grace. This land feeds our people, and provides for our children. We cannot afford to lose it.”

Chief Hakoda nodded in agreement. “Our ancestors fought and died for this land. We cannot simply yield it.”

The chiefs began to argue again, each convinced of their rightful claim. Taqqiq raised his voice. “Our tribe has hunted and fished these lands for generations. The river is ours by right!”

Hakoda was quick to retort. “And my tribe has tended these forests, gathered its fruits, and called it home long before your ancestors set foot here!”

Korra felt a flicker of irritation as their voices grew louder, each chief growing more entrenched in their position. She raised her hands, trying to calm the rising storm. “Please, enough. We cannot resolve this here and now.”

But her words did little to quell the argument. The chiefs continued to feud, their voices carrying over the water. Frustration bubbled within Korra. She needed to find a way to make them see reason.

“Enough!” she finally snapped, her voice cutting through the noise. “We will not solve this by shouting at each other. Let us return to the village. We will discuss this further there, where cooler heads might prevail.”

The chiefs paused, taken aback by her sudden outburst. They exchanged wary glances but reluctantly nodded in agreement. With the tension still simmering, they turned and began the trek back to the village, the unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

—

They were gathered now in a makeshift tent, pitched on the neutral ground between the two tribal villages. The edges of the tent flapped softly in the evening breeze, and inside, a table had been set up with a detailed map spread across it. The map was illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns hanging from the tent poles. Around the table stood Korra, Master Kuruk, Chiefs Hakoda and Taqqiq, and a sage from the Ice Keep.

Chief Hakoda was speaking, his voice steady as he traced the lines on the map with his fingers. “Our lands extend from the river here,” he pointed to a twisting blue line on the map, “to the edge of the forest, and up to this ridge. We have used these lands for generations, planting and harvesting, living in harmony with the land.”

Chief Taqqiq leaned forward. “That may be, but our tribe has always hunted these forests,” he said, his finger stabbing at a different section of the map. “Our ancestors roamed these woods long before your people settled here. The river is vital to our survival as well.”

The two chiefs continued to argue once more, their voices rising as they each tried to assert their claims. Korra listened intently, her eyes following their hands as they moved across the map, each delineating their version of the borders.

Korra furrowed her brow, deep in thought. She understood the importance of the land to both tribes, but finding a solution that would satisfy everyone seemed increasingly difficult. Despite the passionate arguments and the compelling histories each chief presented, no clear resolution emerged.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun dipped lower in the sky, the tent grew warmer, and the tempers of those inside began to fray. Korra sighed, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on her. Finally, she raised her hand, calling for silence.

“We’ve made no progress today,” she said, her tone weary but firm. “We need to take a step back and reconsider our options. We’ll adjourn for now and reconvene tomorrow with fresh minds. Perhaps a night’s rest will bring new perspectives.”

The chiefs reluctantly nodded, and the tension in the tent eased slightly. They began to gather their things, still casting wary glances at each other. Korra watched them go, her mind already working on the problem that lay ahead. She knew the path to peace would not be easy, but she was determined to find a way.

As the tent emptied, Master Kuruk placed a reassuring hand on Korra’s shoulder. “You did well today, Princess. Rest now, and we’ll face tomorrow together.”

Once within the confines of her chamber, the weight of the day upon her shoulders, Korra moved to her writing desk. The need to set thoughts to parchment gnawed at her insides like a beast, but to whom could she confide? Asami? The risk of treasonous words was too great. Even so, she found herself seated, quill in hand, dipping the nib into the dark ink.

Her fingers danced over the rough parchment, addressing someone whose wisdom spanned the fields and farmlands. Opal. She prayed to the gods that the Air Nomads would heed her call as soon as they could. Korra wrote swiftly, the quill scratching as she detailed the border dispute and the desperate need for Opal’s expertise and resources, each word a plea and a promise entwined.

Two more days passed in a maelstrom of heated arguments and mounting enmity. Each session only served to deepen the chasm between the factions. Korra’s patience was frayed as she navigated the treacherous waters of their volatile debates, clinging desperately to the slender thread of hope while awaiting Opal’s reply.

On the third day, a messenger bird arrived, bearing Opal’s letter. Korra broke the seal with trembling hands, her heart pounding as she read the missive. Opal had agreed to send several Air Nomads adept in advanced farming techniques and offered meticulous advice on implementing more efficient agricultural practices.

Armed with Opal’s words, Korra summoned the chiefs, Master Kuruk, and the sage once more into the tent. With a steely determination, she unfurled the map and began to speak.

“I have sought the counsel of a trusted ally, Lady Beifong, whose wisdom in the ways of farming and land stewardship is unparalleled. Here is my proposal: We will enact a compensation and land redistribution plan. One tribe shall receive goods and resources equivalent to the value of the disputed land, allowing them to flourish without it. In return, the other tribe will gain exclusive rights to the land. This solution will end the immediate conflict and bring benefit to both tribes.”

Chief Taqqiq and Chief Hakoda listened intently, their expressions a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. Korra pressed on, “With the aid of the Air Nomads, who possess advanced knowledge of farming, we can make the land more bountiful than ever before. Their efficient farming techniques will ensure the land can sustain more people with fewer resources. The river will continue to yield its rich harvest of fish, and the forests will bear more fruit and game with proper management.”

Master Kuruk, standing beside Korra, spoke up, his voice calm yet authoritative. “Moreover, we should consider rotational farming practices to prevent soil exhaustion and maintain long-term fertility. This, combined with the Air Nomads’ techniques, will ensure the land remains productive for generations.”

He pointed to several key areas on the map. “We could also establish neutral zones for trade and resource exchange, fostering cooperation rather than conflict.”

Korra nodded, reinforcing his points. “This way, both tribes can benefit from shared resources and knowledge. Our goal is to turn this contested land into a symbol of unity and mutual prosperity.”

She paused, allowing her words to ripple through the room like stones cast into a still pond. “This solution not only resolves the dispute but enhances the prosperity of both tribes. You will no longer need to fight over the land because its productivity will be maximized, and its resources will be shared more equitably.”

The chiefs exchanged glances, the hard lines of animosity softening on their faces. The promise of a prosperous future for their people began to overshadow their entrenched claims.

Chief Hakoda was the first to speak. “If this plan can truly bring peace and prosperity, I am willing to consider it.”

Chief Taqqiq nodded slowly. “As am I. Let us see if this solution can indeed end our feud.”

Relief washed over Korra like a cool river. “Thank you. With cooperation and the guidance of the Air Nomads, I believe we can achieve this.”

The tribe chiefs looked at each other, satisfaction and hope mingling in their eyes. This was the resolution they had longed for, the wisdom they had hoped Chief Kova would display. But Kova had failed them, and whispers of discontent rippled through their ranks.

“Chief Kova would never have thought of such a plan,” sneered one of Hakoda’s advisors, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Always too busy with playing Chief,” agreed a member of Taqqiq’s tribe, the bitterness evident in his tone.

Chief Hakoda turned to Korra, his eyes alight with newfound respect. “Korra, you have shown the wisdom and leadership we need. To us, you are our chief at heart.”

Chief Taqqiq rose to his feet, his voice ringing out with conviction. “Chief Korra!” he declared, slamming his fist upon the table. The others followed suit, their voices rising in a chorus as they chanted, “Chief Korra!” The room echoed with the sound of their fists pounding the table and their feet stomping in unison.

Korra felt the blood rush to her cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest. She turned to Master Kuruk, seeking his guidance, and saw a proud smile on his face. This is treason , she thought, the weight of the moment pressing upon her. But no one from the court knew, and Kova would remain ignorant of this act of defiance. For now, Korra allowed herself to bask in her small victory, the warmth of their acclaim and the hope she had kindled in their hearts.

But her elation and victory were short-lived. The tent’s entrance flapped open, and a warrior stumbled in, panting, sweat glistening on his brow. He bent his knee, breath coming in ragged gasps. “Your Grace, urgent news from the capital.” He extended a sealed parchment, his hand trembling.

Korra took it, her heart pounding as she recognized the seal—a blue wolf, the mark of her tribe, the royal family. With a swift motion, she unsheathed her knife from her belt and cut the seal, unrolling the parchment. Her eyes scanned the words, and she froze, the blood draining from her face.

The world seemed to narrow around her, the voices and sounds fading to a dull murmur. She wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. But before she could spiral down a dark path, Master Kuruk’s rough hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

Korra turned to him, her eyes wide with shock and dread. “Master Kuruk... I am being summoned... for treason.”

Chapter Text

“Treason? On what grounds?” The words hung heavy in the air, a foreboding chill settling over the tent. Master Kuruk’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing with concern and anger.

Korra’s voice wavered as she read aloud, “By order of the council and the command of Chief Kova, Korra is to return to the capital to answer charges of treason against the tribe, conspiring to usurp the crown.”

The chiefs, who had so recently chanted her name, now fell silent, their faces pale and uncertain. Chief Hakoda stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “This cannot be. Korra has done nothing but work for peace and the good of all tribes.”

Chief Taqqiq nodded, his face set in a grim expression. “We will stand with you, Korra. We know the truth of your actions here.”

Korra swallowed hard, the weight of the parchment-like lead in her hands. “This is Kova’s doing. He sees me as a threat to his rule.”

Master Kuruk’s grip on her shoulder tightened, his voice a low growl. “You must go, Korra. But know this: you do not stand alone. We will gather our allies and come to your defense. The truth will prevail.”

The chiefs nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. The road ahead was fraught with peril, but Korra felt a glimmer of hope. She had allies, and together they would fight for justice.

With a final glance at her companions, Korra squared her shoulders, the parchment still clutched in her hand. She walked toward the stable where Naga awaited, but instead of seeing her loyal polar bear dog alone, two warriors stood beside her. Naga growled at them, restrained only by the stable door.

One of the warriors stepped forward. “Princess Korra, Chief Kova has sent us to escort you back to the Keep.”

“You are not needed. I shall ride back myself. I will not escape like a coward.” She moved to approach Naga, but the warriors blocked her path.

“Chief Kova specifically instructed us to escort you. Any resistance, and we are authorized to use force,” the warrior insisted.

Kova truly sees me as a threat , Korra thought, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. She was about to respond when one of the warriors pulled out a set of iron chains, holding them up for her to see.

“We will bind you on the journey back,” the warrior said coldly. “The chief’s orders.”

Korra’s eyes widened, and she took an involuntary step back. “You will not chain me like a common criminal,” she retorted.

The warrior’s gaze hardened. “Resist, and we’ll do more than bind you. We’ll raze this village to the ground. Is that what you want?”

Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, her fury rising at the threat. She glanced at the villagers, who had begun to gather, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty. She knew she couldn’t risk their lives, not for her pride. Slowly, she nodded, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “Very well. Let me calm Naga down first.”

Korra walked over to Naga and it seemed her oldest friend shared her turmoil. Naga paced back and forth, agitated and restless, her growls echoing through the stable. “Shh. It’s okay, Naga,” she cooed, gently touching her snout. “We’re going home, and we’ll prove our innocence against whatever Kova has planned.”

Naga gave a desperate whine, her eyes filled with worry. “I know, I know. I’m worried too. Not just for me, but for Asami and mother as well.” Korra’s mind spiraled into a storm of guilt and anxiety. Was Asami okay? Was her mother okay? What if Kova had thrown them into the black cells? The thought made Korra’s stomach churn with dread. This is all my fault, she thought, the weight of her actions pressing down on her. Did Kova learn about their tryst in the oasis? If so, how? They hadn’t told anyone. She had only confided in Master Kuruk, and Opal had promised not to tell anyone. The uncertainty gnawed at her, each possibility more terrifying than the last.

“Princess, what’s taking so long? We should hurry. The chief will not tolerate delays,” one of the warriors called out impatiently, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Naga growled low, a sound that mirrored Korra’s own seething anger. She would never forget the blatant disrespect these warriors showed her, even after she proved her innocence.

Korra swallowed her pride, knowing she had no choice. “Very well,” she said, her voice steady but cold. She extended her wrists, allowing the warrior to clamp the cold iron chains around them. Naga’s growls grew louder, a warning that did not go unnoticed by the guards.

Once she was bound, Korra mounted Naga, the warriors flanking her on either side. The path ahead was fraught with peril, but Korra’s resolve was unyielding. She would face Kova’s accusations and clear her name, no matter the cost.

***

A few days earlier, Asami sat upon the throne, resplendent in a black gown adorned with silver embroidery, her crown gleaming atop her head. She held court, listening to the petitions of the smallfolk, but her mind lingered on the troubling revelation she had recently learned. If Korra wasn’t truly Tonraq’s daughter, would she still have a claim to the crown? Would the people accept a bastard not born of royal blood? But what was royal blood, truly? Perhaps the tribesfolk who clung to the old ways would still follow Korra, even if she bore the stain of bastardy.

Yet, more than anything, she wondered how Korra would react if she ever learned the truth.

A cry of joy from one of the petitioners snapped her out of her reverie. Master Arrak stood at her right, his presence silent yet commanding, poised on the first step below the throne. His gaze remained fixed on the smallfolk, as if nothing had changed. Asami forced herself to set aside her worries, if only for the moment, and focused on the duty at hand.

One by one, the smallfolk stepped forward, their cries filling the grand hall. “Your Grace, our crops have withered, and our children go hungry,” one man lamented, his voice thick with despair.

Asami leaned forward. “We will send aid from the royal stores immediately,” she said, her voice carrying authority and warmth. “Master Arrak will ensure that your village receives the supplies it needs.”

The man’s eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Queen Asami. You are a blessing to us all. Not like Chief Kova, who does nothing! We had hoped he would at least be like Chief Tonraq, but he is nothing like him.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the hall. Asami, too, wanted to agree with them, but she kept her expression composed.

As the petitions concluded, Asami stood, her voice ringing out across the hall. “The effort to improve our farming is ongoing and, by the grace of Princess Korra, is progressing well,” she announced, the room falling silent as all eyes turned to her. “If our efforts are successful, food scarcity will become a distant memory. We are also working to improve the Air Nomads’ farming tools to better suit our soil. If there are skilled smiths and craftsmen in your villages, we would be honored to employ them.”

The smallfolk cheered, their spirits lifted by her words and promises. Asami felt a surge of pride, knowing she was making a tangible difference in their lives.

But the moment was shattered as the grand doors of the hall swung open with a resounding crash. Chief Kova strode in with his sworn shield by his side, his face a mask of barely concealed fury. The murmurs of the smallfolk died down, replaced by an uneasy silence.

Master Arrak was quick to step in front of the queen, his hand hovering over the pommel of his sword, ready to defend her, even from the man to whom he had publicly sworn fealty.

“Ah, so this is what my lady wife does behind my back…” Kova’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room as he ignored his Hand’s defiance. He gestured broadly at the gathered crowd, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “Openly usurping my throne!”

Asami’s heart pounded, but she met his gaze with unflinching resolve. She would not let Kova see her fear. “I am attending to the needs of our people, something you seem to have neglected,” she replied, her voice steady and strong.

“Lies!” Kova spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You sit on my throne, looking all queenly and poisoned the minds of these smallfolk. Perhaps you’re the one spreading those filthy rumors to the servants and peasants about my legitimacy.” He took a menacing step closer, his eyes flashing with accusation. “Ah, I see it now. You are your father’s daughter. His traitorous blood runs through your veins!” He pointed an accusing finger at her, his voice filled with bitter rage.

Asami felt a wave of sickness wash over her at the accusation, not least because there was truth in his words. She was indeed a traitor, but not just to him—also to her own father, all in the name of protecting herself. But Kova could never know the full extent of her betrayal. Determination surged through her, hardening her resolve. She wasn’t just protecting herself now; she was protecting all those who had been caught up in the web of lies she had spun.

She straightened her back, her eyes meeting Kova’s with an unwavering gaze. “You may question my loyalty, but know this—I act in the interest of our people. And I will not be cowed by your threats, Kova. I am queen, and I will do what is necessary to ensure the realm prospers.”

“You fucking cunt! You’re my omega wife! You must serve me!” Kova bellowed as he stomped toward Asami, his eyes blazing with fury. But before he could reach her, Master Arrak drew his sword with a swift, metallic hiss. Gasps filled the hall as the smallfolk recoiled in shock.

“Move one step closer, and I’ll cut your hand off!” Master Arrak roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Senna, who had been watching from the sidelines, quickly moved to Asami’s side, wrapping a protective arm around her as she faced her son. “What are you doing, my son? This isn’t becoming of you!” she implored.

Kova’s rage twisted his features as he sneered. “Why do you think, mothe—”

Suddenly, a splat echoed in the throne room, silencing Kova mid-sentence. A blot of red trailed down the chief’s face, the source a rotting tomato hurled by one of the smallfolk. The hall fell into a stunned silence as a peasant stepped forward, his face flushed with anger as he pointed a trembling finger at Kova.

“The queen’s better than you’ll ever be! The princess does the work while you just sit there and lord over us!” the man shouted, his voice rough with fury.

Before Kova could respond, another peasant, emboldened by the first, stepped forward. “Aye, even the princess is doing more for us than you! She should be chief! If you had any sense, you’d know the moment she presented herself as an alpha, the throne was hers by right, not yours!”

The accusation hung in the air, charged with the raw truth that cut through the tension like a blade. The smallfolk, emboldened by the bravery of these few, began to murmur in agreement, their voices rising in a chorus of discontent. Kova’s face twisted in fury and disbelief, his authority unraveling before his eyes.

“This treachery will not go unpunished! Korra will be brought back in chains, and all who conspired with her will face my wrath!” he snarled, his voice cracking under the weight of his fury.

He took a step forward. “There will be a trial, and justice will be served!” he declared, his voice echoing through the hall. “But until then, I command that all those who stand with her—including you, Mother, Arrak, and you, Asami—be thrown into the black cells!”

Kova’s gaze swept over the smallfolk, his eyes narrowing. “And these peasants who dare speak against me—they will share the same fate. Let them all rot in the darkness while we wait for my treacherous sister to return.”

The words fell like a hammer, sending shockwaves through the hall. The smallfolk, who had moments ago been emboldened by their defiance, now erupted in a mix of fear and fury. Cries of anger and desperation filled the air as some of them rushed toward the exits, only to find their way blocked by the warrior guards. Panic spread like wildfire, with a few brave souls attempting to fight their way out, but they were quickly and brutally subdued by the other warriors.

“Please, Kova, don’t do this!” Senna pleaded, her voice thick with desperation as she stepped forward, trying to reach her son through the madness. “This is not who you are! Listen to reason—these people are innocent!”

But Kova’s eyes were wild, his mind lost to rage. “Innocent? They dared to defy me! They will pay for their insolence!”

Asami’s eyes widened in fear, her breath quickening as the warriors closed in around them. The memory of the black cells, the cold, suffocating darkness, clawed at the edges of her mind, threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart pounded in her chest, the walls of the throne room seeming to close in around her. She could hear the echoes of her past confinement, the sound of iron doors slamming shut, the oppressive silence that had nearly driven her mad.

No, not again. I can’t go back there.

It was all my fault. Korra wasn’t part of this.

The smallfolk wasn’t part of this.

Her vision blurred, and her hands trembled as panic began to take hold. The world around her seemed to tilt, and she could barely hear Senna’s pleas over the roar of her own fear. But then, through the haze, she felt a gentle hand on her arm. Senna had rushed to her side, her eyes filled with concern as she spoke softly, trying to bring Asami back to the present.

“Asami, look at me. Breathe, my dear, breathe. You’re safe with me,” Senna whispered urgently, her hand squeezing Asami’s gently, grounding her in the here and now. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Asami’s breath hitched, but Senna’s words slowly pierced through the fog of terror. She clung to them, focusing on the warmth of Senna’s touch, trying to calm the storm within her.

Meanwhile, Master Arrak, refusing to stand idle, drew his sword in a flash and lunged at the approaching warriors. His movements were swift and fierce, a trained fighter determined to protect his queen. He managed to land a few blows, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision, but he wasn’t a trained warrior. He was a hunter and the sheer number of opponents quickly overwhelmed him. Within moments, the warriors had surrounded him, their swords and spears pressing against him from all sides. He fought valiantly, but the odds were against him, and soon he was subdued, forced to his knees, his weapon wrenched from his grasp.

The smallfolk’s cries grew louder, their fear palpable as they watched the scene unfold. Some screamed in terror, others cursed Kova’s name, but all knew that there was no escape. The warriors were merciless, dragging those who resisted toward the exits, binding their hands as they prepared to throw them into the cells alongside the queen.

Asami struggled to steady her breathing, the terror still gnawing at her insides. She felt trapped, not just by the physical presence of the guards but by the suffocating weight of her memories. Yet Senna’s presence, her unwavering support, gave her a sliver of hope. She couldn’t afford to lose herself now—not when so much was at stake.

Kova’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Take them all away!” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance. “Prepare the black cells. They will remain there until my sister’s return. Oh, and get me the Master Sage, I shall have my marriage to this filthy traitor annulled.”

As the warriors began to force them out, Asami’s legs felt like they might give way, but she gritted her teeth, leaning into Senna’s support. She could feel the old fear clawing at her, threatening to drag her down, but she wouldn’t let it consume her. Not now. Not when Korra needed her to be strong.

The smallfolk were herded together, their earlier defiance crushed beneath the weight of Kova’s madness. But beneath the fear, there was still a spark of resolve—a recognition that Kova’s reign of terror could not last forever.

***

The ride back was tense, the air thick with unspoken hostility. Naga kept growling at the two warriors flanking her sides, their hands clutching the chains that bound Korra’s wrists. The metal links clinked with every movement she and Naga made.

Korra’s body was as tense as the atmosphere, her mind a tumultuous storm of emotions. Rage, anger, sadness, and guilt swirled within her, each battling for dominance. Her hands gripped Naga’s reins so tightly that the leather bit into her flesh, her palms bloodied from the pressure. This was all her fault. She shouldn’t have let the tribesfolk chant her name out loud like that. She shouldn’t have let her feelings drive her actions. She should’ve been a better princess, a better leader. And now, both the tribe and Asami were caught up in her mistakes… her incompetence.

When they made camp the first night, the two warriors kept a vigilant eye on her every move, their swords brandished at Naga to keep her at bay. Korra leveled a fierce glare at them, silently daring them to harm her friend. Yet, she forced herself to calm Naga down, gently stroking her snout. The last thing she needed was more charges that Kova could use against her.

Three days passed in this strained silence, the journey feeling both interminable and fleeting. When they finally arrived at the Keep, it loomed before her like a dark, unwelcoming fortress. This was her home, the place she had once known as a sanctuary, but now it felt like a prison.

The heavy doors creaked open, and Korra was led inside, the warriors dragging her by the chains that chafed her wrists with every step. The iron bit into her flesh, leaving angry red marks, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt that awaited her within the throne room. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon her mother. Senna’s fine, pristine dress was now marred by dirt and stains, her proud posture diminished by the weight of her bonds. Master Arrak stood nearby, in a similar state of disarray, his once formidable presence reduced to that of a captive. Master Kya was there as well.

But the most devastating sight of all was Asami. The queen’s once elegant black dress was now in tatters, streaks of dirt and grime clinging to the fabric. Her beautiful face, once so full of life, was dirtied and hollow, her expression blank as she stared at nothing. Seeing Asami bound in chains the same as her, reduced to this broken state, was more than Korra could bear.

The rage that had simmered within her erupted into a blazing inferno. Her gaze snapped to the person sitting on the throne—Kova. He eyed her with a smug smirk, clearly reveling in her anguish.

“Welcome home, sister,” Kova sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Korra’s blood surged with fury, her hands curling into fists as she locked eyes with her brother, her gaze searing with a fiery intensity. “Kova! What madness has possessed you?!”

At the sound of her voice, Asami snapped out of her daze, turning sharply to look at Korra. “Korra!” The queen made to run to her, but Aguta yanked her back, causing her to stumble.

Korra lunged forward, rage propelling her, but the warriors at her side held her fast, dragging her back with brutal force. She saw her mother nearby, desperately trying and failing to comfort Asami. Highborn Chiefs and their wives lined the sides of the room, their expressions a mixture of shock and cruel delight. Korra’s fists itched to wipe the smug smiles from their faces, perhaps with steel rather than flesh. “Release them! They bear no guilt in this!”

Kova’s smile remained, cold and unyielding, as another figure stepped forward. Master Suntoq’s voice rang out across the hall, harsh and unforgiving. “Korra, princess of the Southern Water Tribe, you stand accused of treason against the crown, against your own blood, your brother, the Chief. Conspiring to usurp his throne. How do you plead?”

“I am innocent, and so are they!” Her words cut through the air, and the gathered lords and ladies turned their heads to her, their eyes heavy with judgment.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it was swiftly silenced by a gesture from Kova. Master Suntoq spoke again, his tone sharp as a blade. “The smallfolk chant your name. They call you the people’s Chief. You have sown the seeds of dissent, and now they turn against the crown at your word!”

Korra felt her anger blaze anew. “Then perhaps you should heed their cries! I did not sow seeds of doubt—they already doubted you the moment you failed them! Tell me, brother,” she spat the word with venom, “what are we to them? Are we not but servants to the people?”

Kova rose from the throne, his face twisted with wrath. “How dare you!” He turned to Aguta, his voice a command. “Take them back to the black cells. And you!” His finger stabbed the air, pointing to the warriors restraining Korra. “Take her to the deepest dungeon, and see that she suffers.”

xXx

The crack of the whip echoed in the deepest, darkest part of the dungeon, the sound sharp and relentless, slicing through the stillness like a blade. The only light came from a single torch flickering weakly on the side wall, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the cold stone floor.

Korra hung by heavy iron chains, her arms stretched above her head, the metal biting into her wrists. The weight of her own body pulled against the restraints, her muscles burning with the effort to stay upright. She didn’t know how long they had been flogging her—it could have been hours, or perhaps days. Time had lost all meaning in the suffocating darkness. But she knew it had been a while. Her back was on fire, each lash leaving a fresh line of agony seared into her flesh.

Despite the darkness, Korra could see her blood pooling beneath her, dark and viscous, mingling with her shadow on the ground. The crimson puddle seemed to grow with every lash, the only reminder that she was still alive, still bleeding. She gritted her teeth, biting back the screams that threatened to escape. She would not give them the satisfaction.

“Confess.”

The voice was a low, commanding hiss, and it came every time the leather whip made contact with her back. Master Suntoq stood somewhere in the shadows, his face a blur of darkness, but his presence was unmistakable. He had been the one to order the whipping, and he was the one demanding her submission now.

Another crack. Korra’s body jerked involuntarily as the pain tore through her. The taste of blood filled her mouth where she had bitten her tongue. But still, she refused to cry out. She refused to break.

“Confess,” Suntoq repeated, his voice devoid of emotion, as though this were a routine task, something mundane. The whip struck again, and Korra clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms so hard she thought they might draw blood.

What would she confess to? She had done nothing wrong—nothing that deserved this. All she had done was love a woman she could never have, and in doing so, she had broken another who deserved better. But that was a different crime. It was her heart that was guilty, and she had already paid the price for it a thousand times over in her own mind.

“Confess your crimes!”

The lash fell again, tearing through the tender skin of her back, but Korra’s resolve only hardened. They were trying to break her, trying to make her admit to crimes she hadn’t committed. But there was nothing to confess, nothing except the love she had buried deep inside her—a love that had become her curse.

So, no. She would not break.

xXx

Sometime later, Korra was jolted awake by the sudden splash of cold water against her skin. She gasped with a start, her body convulsing as the icy shock surged through her veins. She shivered uncontrollably as two warriors roughly thrust a bundle of clothes into her trembling hands. The garments were nothing more than filthy rags, barely resembling clothing, but she forced herself to put them on despite the searing pain that flared with every movement. Her hands shook violently as she fumbled with the fabric, each breath labored, each motion a battle against her own body.

Once she had managed to clothe herself, the warriors wasted no time in binding her wrists with chains once more. The metal bit into her raw, wounded flesh, the scabs tearing open to make way for fresh cuts. Korra gritted her teeth, a silent lament in her mind for the wounds that would now deepen, the pain that would persist. The chains were heavy, dragging her arms down, and as they pulled her from the darkness of the dungeon toward the throne room, her legs threatened to give out beneath her. But she would not fall. She would not falter. Rage fueled her, keeping her upright, pushing her forward with a determination that burned hotter than the agony that wracked her body.

They reached the throne room, and the great doors were thrown open, revealing the assembled nobles within. The Chiefs and their respective wives stood in grim silence, their faces masks of stern judgment. Senna, Master Arrak, Master Kya, and Asami were already there, still in chains, arrayed before the throne. The moment Korra stepped into the light, all eyes turned toward her, but it was her family’s reactions that struck her the hardest.

Senna gasped audibly, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the sight of her daughter, broken and bleeding. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she swayed on her feet, as though the weight of what she saw might cause her to collapse. “My child,” she whispered, the words barely audible, a mother’s grief etched into every syllable.

Korra was sure there was rage in Master Arrak’s eyes. His normally calm demeanor was shattered, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might rush forward, might defy the guards and take Korra into his arms. But he held back, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Kova with a hatred that could have burned the world down.

But it was Asami’s reaction that broke through the fog of pain that enveloped Korra. The moment their eyes met, Asami’s face blanched with horror, all the color draining from her cheeks. “Korra!” The queen’s voice trembled with shock and anguish, and in an instant, her horror turned to seething anger directed at Kova. She tore away from the others, striding toward Kova with murder in her eyes, but Aguta was there, yanking her back before she could reach him.

“You!” Asami’s voice was sharp, a whipcrack in the tense silence. Her green eyes blazed as she turned on Kova, her fury barely contained. “What did you do to her?!”

Kova laughed, a dark, cruel sound that echoed through the hall. “Nothing she doesn’t deserve,” he said, his voice cold as winter. He turned to Master Suntoq with a nod. “Proceed with the trial.”

Master Suntoq stepped forward, his expression calm, almost serene, as if he hadn’t been the one to order her torment. His voice was smooth, practiced, as he repeated the formal accusation. “Korra, princess of the Southern Water Tribe, you stand accused of treason against the crown, against your own blood, your brother, the Chief. Conspiring to usurp his throne. How do you plead?”

Korra’s body trembled with pain, her strength all but spent, yet she refused to bend. She lifted her head, her eyes locking onto Suntoq’s, and spoke with all the resolve she could muster. “I am… innocent…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it carried through the chamber, a defiant answer to the weight of her torment.

Kova’s lips curled into a smile that sent a shiver down her spine. “Then you leave us no choice,” he said, turning his gaze toward Asami. His next words were a dagger aimed at Korra’s heart. “Strip down the former queen’s dress.”

The command sent a bolt of fury through Korra’s veins, her blood boiling with a rage that eclipsed her pain. No one touches Asami! The thought roared through her mind, drowning out everything else. She wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t. Not now, not ever. Summoning the last of her strength, she spoke, her voice hard and unyielding. “They will not be harmed, and I will not be judged by a court that is bought and paid for by my brother. I demand trial by combat!”

Chapter Text

The cell was dark, damp, and suffocating. Somewhere in the gloom, water dripped in a slow, steady rhythm, the sound echoing off the cold stone walls. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and rot, mingling with the sharp tang of despair that seemed to cling to everything within these black cells. Asami lay curled up on the rough stone floor, shivering not only from the chill that seeped into her bones but from the dread that gnawed at her heart. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the faint drip, drip, drip of water—a relentless reminder of her predicament.

How had it come to this? Was this truly how her life would end, locked away in the bowels of the earth, forgotten and alone? Her thoughts spiraled in the darkness, a tangled web of regret and fear. Perhaps she had been a fool to think she could play this game, to believe she could navigate the treacherous waters of power and politics without being pulled under. She would have been miserable, but at least she would have been alone in her misery, not dragging others into peril along with her.

“Asami, are you faring well?” The voice was faint, cracking with the strain of despair. It was Senna, her good-mother, speaking from the cell across from hers. Asami couldn’t see her through the thick shadows, but she knew Senna was there, suffering the same fate.

Asami didn’t know how long they had been down here, how many hours or days had passed since they were cast into the darkness. Time had lost all meaning in this place. She was too cold, too weary, her body trembling as she lay huddled on the floor. How could it have come to this? The question circled in her mind like a vulture, picking at the remnants of her hope.

“Asami?” Senna’s voice cracked again, breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

This time, Asami remembered to answer, her voice weak and hollow. “I’m fine, Senna. How are you?” she lied.

“Worried,” Senna admitted, her voice a whisper of the strength it once held. “For you, for Arrak, and for Korra.” There was a tremor in her words, a vulnerability that Asami had never heard before. Senna had always been a figure of strength and cunning even as her faith in her faltered, a woman who taught Asami to fight, even as an omega in a world ruled by alphas. But now, she sounded small, afraid, a shadow of the formidable woman she had once been.

If Asami already felt the weight of fear pressing down on her, how much heavier must it be for Senna, whose entire family was being torn apart by her own son? The thought was unbearable, a dagger to the heart.

“I apologize, Asami,” Senna said softly.

“What for?” Asami’s voice was barely above a whisper, her throat tight with emotion.

“For bringing you into this world, for failing to raise Kova as someone good and just. For having my eyes only on Korra... I cannot help but think that if I had been a better mother, none of this would be happening.”

Asami remained silent for a long moment, the truth of Senna’s words hanging heavily between them. It was true, all of it. But how could she say so without deepening Senna’s guilt? Instead, she sought to offer comfort, even if it felt hollow in her own heart. “Contemplating what might have been will not help us now, Senna. We must focus on what is to come.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Asami knew that what Senna said was true. There was no denying the truth of it. But how could she say that out loud without adding to the burden of guilt that already weighed on Senna’s shoulders? Instead, she chose to offer what little comfort she could, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. “Once we’re on trial, we will have our chance to speak the truth. We must hold on until then.”

There was a rustling from Senna’s cell, the faint sound of her dress brushing against the stone. “Perhaps. We shall see,” Senna murmured, her voice distant, resigned. “Sleep now, Asami. We will need all our strength for what lies ahead, until my daughter returns.”

Asami listened as the last echoes of Senna’s voice faded into the darkness. She closed her eyes, but sleep did not come easily. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and fears, each one more unsettling than the last. But she held on to the hope that somewhere, beyond the reach of these cold, stone walls, Korra was still fighting. And as long as Korra fought, there was still a chance—a slim, desperate chance—that they might survive this ordeal.

—

The next thing Asami knew, she was in the courtroom, the walls closing in around her like the jaws of a beast. The air was thick with tension, and the sound of voices echoed in her ears, disjointed and distant, until one voice cut through the fog like a blade.

“Kova! What madness has possessed you?!”

The cry rang out, sharp and filled with fury. At the sound of that voice, Asami snapped out of her daze, her head whipping around to find its source. Korra. Her heart leaped into her throat. Korra was there, standing proud and defiant, even in chains. The sight of her love, an alpha so strong and gallant despite her bindings, sent a surge of emotion through Asami. “Korra!” she cried out, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and fear.

Driven by an instinctive need to be near her, Asami moved to run to Korra, but Aguta’s hand was like iron, yanking her back with brutal force. She stumbled, her legs buckling beneath her, and fell to the cold stone floor. Pain shot through her limbs as she struggled to rise, but her body betrayed her; her knees and legs were too weak from days of malnutrition and exhaustion. She could only listen as the courtroom erupted into chaos, Korra’s voice rising above the din as she fought against the warriors restraining her.

The trial began, a grim farce of justice, and Asami forced herself back to her feet, just in time to see Korra standing tall, her voice ringing out with a fierce denial of every charge Master Suntoq leveled against her. There was no fear in Korra’s eyes, only the fire of a warrior unbowed, and seeing her like this, a pillar of strength amidst the storm, kindled a spark of hope in Asami’s heart. Korra was like a ray of sunshine cutting through the darkness, a beacon that Asami could cling to in the depths of her despair.

A small, determined smile curled Asami’s lips. If Korra was fighting, then she would fight too. But the taste of that small victory turned bitter as Kova’s voice rang out, cold and merciless.

“Lock them back up in the black cells.”

The words were a death knell, and before Asami could react, the warriors were upon her, pushing her away from the light of the courtroom and back into the abyss. As they dragged her toward the shadows, she stole one last glance at Korra, her heart aching with the desperate hope that this would not be the last time she would see her love.

Korra fought against the chains that bound her, her strength undiminished even as the warriors forced her down. Asami held that image in her mind, clinging to it as they were led away, deeper into the dark. She could only pray that they would have the strength to survive what came next, and that somehow, they would find each other again.

And they did, the very next day. But as soon as Asami laid eyes on Korra, her face blanched with horror, all the color draining from her cheeks. Korra was a shadow of the warrior she once knew, her body bruised and bloodied, too weak even to stand on her own. She swayed as the guards dragged her into the room, barely conscious, her head hanging low as blood matted her once-proud hair. Asami’s heart clenched at the sight, a wave of nausea rolling through her as she tried to comprehend what could have caused such harm. Her love, her Korra, reduced to this—her blood boiled at the thought of what Kova must have done.

“Korra!” The queen’s voice trembled with shock and anguish, and in an instant, her horror turned to seething anger directed at Kova. She tore away from the others, striding toward him with murder in her eyes, but Aguta was there, intercepting her with a rough yank before she could reach him.

“You!” Asami’s voice was sharp, a whipcrack in the tense silence. Her green eyes blazed as she turned on Kova, her fury barely contained. “What did you do to her?!”

Kova only laughed, a dark, cruel sound that echoed through the hall. “Nothing she doesn’t deserve,” he said, his voice cold as winter. He turned to Master Suntoq with a nod. “Proceed with the trial.”

Asami could hear Senna’s voice, pleading with Kova to stop this farce, to show some semblance of mercy. But her words fell on deaf ears, her son’s heart long turned to stone. Beside Senna, Master Arrak stood tense, his presence radiating a menacing aura. Asami could feel the power of his anger, the scent of it thick in the air. She didn’t need to see his face to know the pain and hurt Korra’s parents were enduring. It was a shared torment, a helplessness that they could not protect their daughter from this cruelty.

Suddenly, her thoughts were cut off by a strong tug on her hands. Aguta was dragging her toward the center of the room, and a cold dread washed over her as Kova’s voice rang out, “Strip the former queen’s dress!”

Panic surged through Asami’s veins as she struggled to break free, to escape the humiliation that loomed before her. But the iron chains on her wrists were too strong, her strength too diminished. “No!” she cried, her voice breaking in desperation. Then silence fell over the room, a heavy, expectant silence.

At first, she hadn’t heard what had happened, her ears filled with the pounding of her heart. But then she saw Kova’s face twist into a sneer. He snarled, “What did you say?”

Korra, beaten but unbowed, stood as upright as her broken body allowed. Asami could see her trembling from the effort, every muscle straining to keep her standing. Then Asami understood why the court had gone silent. “I demand trial by combat! On the morrow, Kova. You and me, at noon. May the gods judge us fairly.”

Asami’s heart plummeted. Trial by combat? In that state? Panic gripped her as she stared at Korra, her mind racing. Korra was surely jesting. How could she possibly fight when she could barely stand? “Korra…” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation, trying to convey that she wasn’t worth this. If stripping in front of everyone, enduring that humiliation, was the price to pay to save Korra from more pain, then she would gladly do it.

But Kova was set on this new path. He laughed darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. “Very well. But I won’t dirty my hands on filth like you. Aguta will be my champion. You may choose another, but I know your alpha pride won’t let you. I wish you luck, sister.” He turned to the warriors holding Korra up. “Take her back.”

Then Kova turned his cold gaze to Asami and the rest of his family. “I think I shall show mercy. Lock them in their chambers tonight. And I want them dressed neatly for the morrow.”

The order was given, and the warriors moved to carry it out, but Asami’s thoughts were already spiraling into a dark abyss.

 —

Asami’s chambers were untouched, as immaculate as ever, as if the days she had spent in the dungeon had never passed. The fine silks, the polished wood, the delicate tapestries—all were in their places, undisturbed by the horrors she had endured. Before, these chambers had felt like a prison of their own, a gilded cage where she was trapped in a life she had never wanted. But now, after experiencing the true darkness of the dungeons, this room felt almost surreal. The familiar comforts were a stark contrast to the cold, damp stone and the biting chains that had held her captive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement—a servant emerging from the privy, startling her enough to make her gasp out loud. “Your Gr–, m-m’lady, your bath has been drawn. Shall we serve your dinner?”

M’lady . The word struck her like a hammer, a reminder of the shift in her status. It hadn’t escaped her notice; her marriage to Kova had been annulled, her title stripped away. But instead of sadness, Asami felt a weight lift from her shoulders. At last, she was free of him, free of his disgusting touch... but not fully. Not yet. Korra still needed to win. Only then could she truly escape the shadows that had clung to her for so long.

With a determined step, Asami stripped off the tattered dress that clung to her like a shroud and stepped into the warm bath. The heat seeped into her sore muscles, soothing the aches and pains that had settled deep within her. She scrubbed herself clean with a fierceness that matched the turmoil in her heart, washing away the grime of the dungeon, the blood, the fear. By the time she was finished, she felt reborn, her resolve hardened.

When she emerged from the tub, she noticed that food had been laid out on the table, the rich aromas filling the room. The servant stood nearby, ready to assist her with dressing, but Asami dismissed the omega with a wave of her hand. She didn’t need help—not for this.

Once the servant had left, she approached the table, but her appetite was scarce. She picked at the food, eating just enough to sustain herself, then pocketed the leftovers. A wry smile tugged at her lips as she considered the situation. Kova had stationed warriors outside her doors, thinking he had her trapped. But he was naive, foolishly confident in his control. He had forgotten—or perhaps never realized—the secret passages that wound through the walls of this old fortress. Asami thanked the gods for his ignorance.

Donning a cloak, she moved to the far wall, pressing her hand against a particular stone. The hidden door swung open with a soft creak, revealing the narrow tunnel that led through the heart of the keep. Asami stepped inside, the darkness closing around her, and carefully pulled the door shut behind her. She had timed her departure carefully, making sure to slip away at the hour of the owl, when midnight cast its deepest shadows and even the keenest ears grew dull with fatigue. The hour when secrets were safest.

The air in the secret passage was cool and musty, the walls pressing close around her. But Asami steeled herself, pushing her fear deep down where it could not touch her. She needed to get to Korra, no matter what. Her steps were careful, her heart pounding in her chest as she navigated the twists and turns of the hidden corridors. The thought of Korra, battered and bloodied, yet still standing tall, drove her forward. She would reach her. She had to.

***

“Korra, wake up.”

Korra must be dreaming. Or worse, she had finally succumbed to her wounds. A voice as soft and angelic as the one calling her could only belong to the heavens, couldn't it? She groaned, the simple act of shifting her head sending waves of pain through her broken body. She tried to move toward the sound, but her muscles refused to obey. Her eyes, heavy as stone, fluttered open for the briefest of moments before she was forced to close them again, the sudden light stabbing through her skull.

“Korra, please. You have to eat.”

The voice—still gentle, still full of worry—grew more familiar with each word. More and more like Asami. The realization stirred something deep within her, a flicker of life where there had only been cold and darkness. She forced her eyes open once more, blinking rapidly against the dim glow of a torch. Her vision swam for a moment, but then it began to clear, and the light resolved itself into a figure crouching beside her.

“Korra, thank the gods. Are you able to sit up?”

“Asa…mi?” she croaked, her throat raw and parched, every word scraping painfully against her dry lips.

She felt soft, warm hands caress her cheek, a gentle touch that sent warmth rushing through her cold limbs. “Yes. It’s me,” Asami’s voice whispered, filled with a tenderness that Korra hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

“H-how?” Korra rasped, her voice barely audible.

“There are... secret passages in the belly of the Keep,” Asami whispered. “I discovered them long ago, when my father dragged me here in secret, to punish me for defying the laws of men.”

Rage flared in Korra’s chest, hot and fierce, cutting through the fog of pain. “Hiroshi did what? When?” She tried to push herself up, her body trembling with the effort. Asami immediately moved to support her, slipping her arm around Korra’s shoulders, gently helping her sit upright. Korra leaned heavily against her, her muscles weak and quaking, but Asami’s touch was steady, grounding her in the storm of her fury and exhaustion.

“Easy now,” Asami whispered, her voice a soothing balm. “I’ve got you.”

Korra wanted to argue, to fight against the weight of her injuries, but her body betrayed her. Asami helped her sit upright, her arms steady and sure, guiding Korra into a more comfortable position despite the pain that coursed through her with every movement. The anger still burned, but it was buried beneath layers of exhaustion and hurt. She clenched her fists weakly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “He… hurt you?” Korra whispered, her voice thick with fury and regret. She hated herself for not being able to protect Asami, for being too weak.

Asami shook her head, though Korra could see the flash of pain in her eyes at the memory. “It was long ago. Nothing that should concern you right now,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “What matters is that you should eat. Fill up your strength, and… I’m here with you, and I will not leave you again.”

Korra closed her eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of it all, but there was a small comfort in Asami’s presence, in the warmth of her touch. “I… I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Asami’s hands stilled for a moment, and then shied away. “Hush,” she murmured. “You’re a fool if you think that. It is I who does not deserve you. Now eat. You’ll need your strength, and I’m not leaving your side until you’ve eaten and slept.”

Korra wanted to protest, to tell Asami that she didn’t need rest, that all she needed was her. But the gnawing hunger in her belly reminded her of her weakness, and she relented with a weary nod. From the folds of her cloak, Asami produced a small bundle of bread, fish, and a skin of water. She broke the bread into small pieces, careful and deliberate, and handed them to Korra one by one. Korra ate slowly, each bite a struggle, but she forced herself to finish every morsel. Asami was right—she needed her strength if she was to stand a chance against Aguta.

Her brother’s champion was no mere warrior. Aguta was a giant of a man, standing almost as tall as a mountain, his shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway. His arms were like tree trunks, thick with muscle, and his face was a mask of brutality, devoid of mercy. His armor gleamed darkly in the light of the torches, and his eyes—those cold, pitiless eyes—betrayed nothing. Worse still, Korra had never seen him fight. She knew nothing of his style, his strengths, or his weaknesses. But one thing was certain: she had to win. She had no other choice.

When the meal was finished, Korra was about to thank Asami, but she noticed the omega had grown quiet, her gaze fixed on the ground as if lost in some distant, unreachable place. The firelight flickered softly, casting shadows across Asami’s face, and Korra saw then what she hadn’t before—the former queen’s cheeks were gaunt, her once vibrant features dulled by hunger and exhaustion. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and unshed tears glistened in their depths, catching the faint light of the torch. The sight of her like this stirred something deep within Korra, a fierce need to protect her.

Korra’s heart ached with a longing she had kept buried for too long. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Asami, to feel the softness of her lips once more, to remind her that they were still here, still alive. There was a chance this would be the last time they would talk to each other, the last time she could feel Asami’s warmth beside her. The thought sent a pang of fear through her chest, and her resolve wavered.

Gingerly, Korra reached out, her fingers trembling as she caressed Asami’s cheek. Her touch was light, but it was enough to pull Asami from the depths of her thoughts. “What is on your mind?” Korra asked softly, her voice a whisper in the quiet of the dungeon.

Asami blinked, her eyes focusing as if she had only just realized where she was. “Korra…I…” Her voice faltered, and suddenly her breaths grew rapid and uneven, her chest rising and falling with each shallow intake.

Korra’s heart clenched at the sight of her distress. “Asami, hey,” she said gently, doing her best to turn her body toward her. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

She waited patiently as Asami struggled to calm herself, her breaths slowly evening out as she clung to Korra’s words. In that moment, they were all that anchored her. Korra watched her closely, offering nothing but quiet presence and reassurance, until the panic that had gripped Asami slowly began to fade.

“Thank you, Korra,” Asami said quietly, pulling herself together, though her voice still carried the weight of unspoken fears. After a pause, she added, “I was wondering…” Asami’s voice was soft, almost distant. “Is it too late for us to flee, as we once swore we would? To leave this place behind, far beyond its reach? I know these tunnels... there’s a high chance one of them will lead us outside the keep. We could slip away unnoticed, vanish into the night.”

Korra blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. The words stirred old memories, memories of a time when they were still young and full of hope, when they had whispered promises to each other in their secret place, vowing to leave it all behind. They had believed that if they ran far enough, they could escape the tangled webs of duty and expectation. But time had changed them both. They had grown, learned the harsh truths of their world, and in the end, they had chosen their duties over their hearts—breaking those hearts in the process.

And now, those words felt like a distant echo from another life, a dream too fragile to hold. Korra sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Asami, you speak of it as if it were some distant dream.” She shook her head gently. “It is futile to run now. I have a duty I cannot forsake, a burden I must bear. I shall fight my trial on the morrow, and I shall win. Only then can we be free from this pain. If we were to run, it would only make things worse for us both. We’d be hunted until there was nowhere left to hide.”

Asami lowered her gaze, her shoulders sagging as if weighed down by the inevitable truth. “I thought as much,” she replied, her voice tinged with quiet resignation. Yet, there was something in her eyes—something fierce, something desperate—that made her turn toward Korra again, her expression serious. “Then promise me, Korra. Promise me you’ll win.”

Korra held her gaze for a long moment, the gravity of Asami’s plea settling deep within her. She could see the fear behind those words, the fear of losing everything, of losing her. And Korra knew, in that moment, that she couldn’t make any promises—not in a world as cruel as this one. But she couldn’t bear to see the hope die in Asami’s eyes either.

She reached out, her fingers brushing Asami’s cheek with the gentleness of a whispered promise. “Asami…” she began, her voice low and rough with emotion.

Asami turned her gaze toward her, eyes full of the same quiet yearning, the same unspoken fear and hope. Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in. The moment hung between them, fragile and trembling, and then their lips met—soft, tentative at first, but then deeper, filled with all the emotions they could not speak aloud.

Korra poured everything she had into that kiss—her love, her fear, her regret, her hope. She kissed Asami as if it was the last time, as if she could capture every unspoken word, every moment of tenderness, and carry it with her into whatever fate awaited her. She felt Asami do the same, the omega’s lips trembling with unshed tears, her hands clutching at Korra’s tunic as though she never wanted to let go.

The kiss was slow and full of meaning, their breaths mingling in the cold, damp air, the world outside the warmth of their embrace forgotten. Korra savored the feel of Asami’s lips against hers, the softness of her skin, the way their hearts seemed to beat in time with one another. It was a kiss of desperation and love, of everything they had never been able to say.

When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, their breaths coming in soft, shared gasps. The air between them felt heavy with the weight of what had passed, but also with the unspoken promise that lingered in the aftermath.

And in two words, Korra whispered, her voice steady even as the weight of those words pressed heavily upon her. “I promise.”

—

On the morrow, Korra was brought a new set of clothes—a simple tunic and breeches, plain but clean. She donned them more quickly than the day before, her hands moving with steady purpose. She was grateful for the sustenance Asami had provided the night before; without it, she doubted she would have had the strength to even stand this day, let alone fight.

The warriors came for her soon after, escorting her through the winding halls of the keep and into the courtyard. The space had been transformed for the trial—its usual peaceful serenity replaced with something far more ominous. The snow crunched beneath her boots as she entered the arena, the ground half-frozen, the air biting with the chill of the southern winter. The courtyard had been ringed with crude wooden stands for the spectators, packed with nobles, chiefs, and their wives. The cold wind swept through the yard, making cloaks flutter and men shiver despite the firepits that dotted the edges.

Korra’s eyes swept the scene. To the right, her family stood dressed in better clothing than before, though chains still bound their wrists. Her mother, Senna, met her gaze with tear-brimmed eyes, while Master Arrak and Kya stood stoic but tense. To the left, familiar faces loomed. Opal was there, her face tight with worry, eyes flickering with desperation. Master Kuruk stood beside her, rigid as stone, his features carved with barely restrained rage. And near them, the chiefs of the Camel and Bear tribes stood watching, their expressions hard to read.

Ahead, Korra spotted Kova, lounging on a plush chair draped with furs, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he lazily picked at a bowl of winterberries. His eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction as he met her gaze, as though he were already savoring his victory.

Korra exhaled softly as she was ushered into a tent at the edge of the makeshift ampitheatre. The walls of the tent were lined with rows of weapons, displayed on rough wooden racks—maces, morning stars, swords, spears, and staves, all glinting coldly in the dim light. A warrior, his expression tight with something that could have been pity, gestured toward the array of weapons. “Princess,” he said, his voice low, “choose the weapon you will carry into combat.”

Korra stood before the weapons, her fingers hovering over them as she weighed her options. Her mind raced. The sword was her traditional choice for combat, its sharp edge deadly in close quarters, but it felt wrong for this fight. Aguta was a giant of a man and she knew she could not match him in raw strength. But speed, reach—that was her advantage.

She remembered what Opal had taught her back in the Bay of Seals, her voice ringing clear in her mind: “Staffs and spears are the best weapons against larger foes. The length evens the fight, keeping them at bay. The Air Nomads chose them for a reason—they're fast, light, and can pierce even the toughest armor if wielded with precision.” Korra recalled lying on her back in the snow, looking up at the end of Opal’s staff pinning her to the ground, the lesson painfully learned.

With a deep breath, Korra reached for the spear, its smooth wooden haft fitting comfortably in her grip. It felt right—balanced, swift, and deadly. She tightened her grip, feeling a surge of confidence course through her veins.

“May the gods bless you, Princess,” the warrior beside her whispered. His voice snapped her back to the present, and she turned to meet his gaze. His blue eyes gleamed with quiet hope, a silent plea for her to win. Korra nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She had more allies in this court than she had realized.

“May the gods give me strength,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

With the spear in hand, she stepped out of the tent and into the biting wind of the courtyard. Her breath misted in the cold air as her eyes fell upon Aguta, already standing in the center of the makeshift amphitheater. He was an imposing figure, taller than any man she had ever faced, his thick furs and armor only making him seem even larger. His face was a grim mask of determination, his hands resting easily on the hilt of a massive greatsword. He looked like something from a nightmare—an unstoppable force waiting to crush anything in its path.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, the tension thick in the air. Some of the chiefs beside Kova wore expressions of delight, their eyes gleaming with the promise of bloodshed. Others seemed more reserved, their gazes filled with worry as they watched Korra approach the center of the yard. Whispers rippled through the stands, but all fell silent when Master Suntoq rose to his feet.

“In the sight of gods and men,” the castellan intoned, his voice carrying over the assembled crowd, “we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this woman, Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, by the holy trial of combat.” His gaze swept across the crowd, his tone reverent and final. “The champions have been named. Aguta of the Crown stands for the Chief, and Princess Korra herself stands accused. Let the gods decide.”

***

The cold air bit at Asami’s skin, but her heart burned with an anxious fire as the two combatants stepped into the ring. The courtyard had grown unnaturally quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots. Aguta stood like a titan, towering over his opponent, his lips curled into a mocking grin, his cruel eyes gleaming with the promise of violence. Opposite him, Korra was smaller, yet no less fierce, her hands gripping the spear with white-knuckled intensity. Her face was set in a mask of grim determination, every muscle taut with the focus of a warrior. Asami could feel the tension radiating from the center of the courtyard, like a drawn bowstring ready to snap. She leaned forward in her seat, hardly daring to breathe.

But beneath the cold, beneath the tension of the fight to come, something else gnawed at her, something far more personal. Her thoughts drifted back to last night—when the world had fallen away, leaving only the warmth of Korra’s lips against hers. It had been everything Asami had ever wanted: sweet and passionate, a moment carved out of the madness surrounding them. The heat of Korra’s hands on her skin still lingered like a phantom touch, and for that brief span of time, they had been free. There had been no looming trial, no bloodthirsty Aguta, no scheming Kova—just the two of them.

But even then, beneath the sweetness, Asami had felt something unsettling. That kiss, as perfect as it had been, felt like goodbye. Korra had kissed her like she was sealing something away, giving Asami all the love she could muster before stepping into the darkness ahead. A part of Asami had wanted to say something, to tell Korra everything she had kept, to apologize for ever only giving her pain. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to burden Korra with her fears, not when Korra needed all her strength for what lay ahead.

So Asami had said nothing. She had left Korra in her cell and went back into captivity herself, her heart heavy with the unspoken words that clung to the air between them. Now, as she watched her love prepare for battle, Asami could only hope that she had done the right thing.

Beside her, Senna sat rigid, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her lips moving in silent prayer. The biting cold had reddened their cheeks, but neither woman seemed to notice. Every eye was fixed on the two figures standing beneath the pale winter sky.

Then, with a roar that shook the walls of the keep, Aguta lunged. His massive greatsword gleamed in the morning light as he swung it with terrifying speed toward Korra’s head. Asami’s breath caught in her throat as Korra barely ducked beneath the strike. Her movements were slower than usual, her body still weakened from her recent ordeal, and Asami could see the strain in every line of her frame. Korra’s steps were heavy, her breath labored, and Asami could do nothing but watch, her heart twisting in her chest, her whispered prayers mingling with Senna’s.

Aguta wasted no time, pressing the attack with brutal efficiency. His sword came crashing down again and again, each blow reverberating through the air like thunder. Korra moved with what little strength she had left, twirling her spear in tight arcs to parry the blows, but her movements lacked their usual fluid grace. She struck back when she could, aiming for the joints in Aguta’s armor, but the spearhead glanced off the thick metal with little effect.

And then Asami saw it—a dark stain blooming across the back of Korra’s tunic. Blood. Her blood. The wounds from her whipping had reopened, seeping through the fabric, and with every twist and lunge, Korra’s face contorted with pain she could not fully hide. Asami gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Korra struggle to stay on her feet.

From the other side of the courtyard, Kova’s cruel laughter echoed, sharp as a blade. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes alight with wicked delight as Aguta’s sword found Korra’s side, cutting through her tunic and drawing first blood. The snow beneath her feet turned crimson as the blood dripped down, staining the pure white ground.

Asami growled softly, her teeth clenched. Her omega instincts screamed to protect her mate. How could anyone, least of all Kova, take such joy in his own family’s suffering? But then, she remembered—Kova was no better than her father. Both men had reveled in cruelty, uncaring of the pain they inflicted. The crowd’s sudden roar pulled her attention back to the fight, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw what had caused their excitement.

Korra had struck back. Her spear had found purchase behind Aguta’s knee, where the armor was weakest. The giant stumbled, pain twisting his features, but he did not fall. Korra pressed the attack, her spear moving with desperation, each strike aimed at the gaps in his armor. But Asami could see her faltering. Korra’s strength was fading, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every blow she landed seemed to take more out of her than it did her opponent. Asami clenched the edge of her seat, willing Korra to stay strong, to keep fighting, but her heart sank with every step Korra took.

Aguta roared again, his sword a blur as it crashed down toward Korra. She deflected it with her spear, but the force of the blow sent her stumbling backward, her legs nearly buckling beneath her. Aguta advanced, his sword cutting through the air in wide arcs, but Korra dodged—barely. Each movement cost her, the blood flowing more freely now, her tunic soaked through. Asami could see her love’s exhaustion, the strain etched in every line of her face, and it tore at her heart.

Then, in a desperate move, Korra spun low to the ground, her spear sweeping out in a wide arc. The strike caught Aguta’s legs, and this time, the giant fell. The ground trembled as his massive frame hit the snow, his greatsword slipping from his grasp.

For a heartbeat, silence fell over the courtyard, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two fighters. And then Korra moved, quick as a snake. With a final surge of strength and a mighty roar, she drove her spear deep into Aguta’s throat. A strangled scream tore from his lips, but it was soon drowned in the gurgling of blood as it bubbled up from his mouth, spilling over the snow. His hands flailed weakly, but it was no use. The light in his eyes flickered and died, his body convulsing once before going still.

Asami could only stare, her breath caught in her throat. Korra stood over the fallen giant, bloodied and battered, but alive. She had won.

Chapter Text

At first, there was only silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that pressed down upon Korra like the weight of a thousand stones. The world had become a blur, her surroundings fading into nothingness as all she could hear was the sound of her own breath, ragged and uneven, each exhale a labor, each inhale a struggle for life. Her hands trembled around the spear, knuckles white against the dark wood, still slick with blood. She couldn’t believe it—against all odds, against the gods themselves, she had triumphed. Aguta, the mountain of a man, lay crumpled in the blood-soaked snow at her feet.

The crowd’s roar shattered the silence, their cheers erupting like a sudden storm. Korra blinked, the fog in her mind lifting just enough for her to see the twisted, lifeless body of Aguta lying before her, his throat torn open by the spear that still jutted from the wound. With a groan of effort, Korra yanked the spear free. The blood sprayed across the white snow as she pulled the weapon from his flesh, the sharp red streaks marring the pure, untouched ground. With trembling hands, she drove the spear into the earth beside her, its tip biting deep into the frozen soil.

Her legs, weak and spent, could no longer hold her. Korra collapsed to her knees with a thud, the cold of the snow biting through her breeches and into her skin, but she barely noticed. She leaned heavily on the spear, her breaths shallow and strained, her eyes fixed on the red-streaked snow as her own blood mingled with Aguta’s. Her vision wavered, darkness creeping at the edges, but she remained upright, if only by sheer force of will.

Then came the clatter of chains hitting the ground, and suddenly, Korra was enveloped in warmth. She knew the scent even before she felt the arms around her—Asami. The omega’s embrace was fierce, her body radiating heat that Korra clung to, pushing back the numbing cold that had seeped into her bones.

“Korra! You did it!” Asami’s voice trembled with emotion—relief, joy, and something else, something deeper that Korra couldn’t quite place. The words washed over her like a balm, soothing the ache that wracked her body.

Korra tried to smile, though her lips barely lifted. “I did,” she rasped, her voice raw and broken, the toll of the battle evident in every word.

Senna knelt beside her now, her face streaked with tears as she touched Korra’s cheek with trembling fingers. Master Arrak and Master Kuruk hovered close, their expressions tense with worry, but their eyes gleamed with pride. Even Opal, standing a few steps back, stared at Korra in wide-eyed awe, her disbelief plain on her face.

For a brief moment, Korra allowed herself to lean into their comfort, the weight of victory settling on her shoulders. But before the warmth could take hold, before she could fully grasp that she had survived, a shrill scream pierced the air.

“No! This can’t be!”

Korra’s head snapped up just in time to see Kova standing by the dais, his face twisted with fury and desperation. He seized Master Suntoq by the robe, shaking the frail man violently. “Do something!” Kova bellowed, his voice cracking with hysteria. His eyes were wild, his grip on the castellan’s robe tight enough to make the fabric tear.

“I—I can’t, Your Grace,” Suntoq stammered, his voice barely more than a frightened squeak. “The g-gods have judged the princess just, and they have given her the strength to—ack!” His words were cut off as Kova shoved him to the ground in a fit of rage.

“Fuck the gods,” Kova spat. He looked around wildly, then snatched a bow from a nearby guard. In one swift motion, he notched an arrow and drew back the string, his gaze locking onto Korra with deadly intent. His hands were steady, but his expression was anything but—it was the look of a man who had been cornered by fate itself.

Asami’s grip on Korra tightened, and without a second thought, she moved. Her body shifted in front of Korra’s, shielding her with her own. “No!” she whispered fiercely, her voice low but filled with resolve. She would not let Kova take Korra from her, not now, not after everything.

Korra’s heart lurched in her chest, panic rising in her throat as she struggled to move, to push Asami out of harm’s way, but her body was too weak. She could only watch, helpless, as Kova’s fingers twitched on the bowstring, ready to release.

But before Kova could loose the arrow, a sharp whistle cut through the air. A stone struck Kova’s wrist with a sickening crack, and his hand spasmed in pain, throwing the arrow’s trajectory wild. The bowstring snapped with a sharp twang, and the arrow veered off course, burying itself harmlessly in the snow. Kova let out a furious hiss, clutching his wrist, his face twisted in pain and disbelief.

All eyes turned toward the source of the throw, and there stood Master Kuruk, his expression as cold and unyielding as the winter winds. He moved forward with calm, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed firmly on Kova, who staggered back, cradling his injured wrist.

“You, who defy the will of the gods, dare to usurp their judgment?” Kuruk’s voice was low but carried the weight of a thousand storms, each word sharp and cutting as it echoed across the courtyard. “You are no leader. You are a coward.”

Kova’s face twisted with fury, his voice rising in a roar of defiance. “How dare you—”

His words were cut short by the dull thud of another stone crashing into his face. Blood sprayed from his nose as he staggered back, hands flying up to clutch his face in pain. The stone had come from Chief Hakoda, who stood resolute, his jaw clenched, another stone already in hand. The air hung thick with tension, the crackling energy of an impending storm.

“Enough of your treachery,” Hakoda growled, his voice as cold as the winter winds. His sharp gaze burned with the fire of righteous anger.

With a sudden motion, Master Arrak rose to his full height, the concern for Korra momentarily giving way to a burning fury. His voice rang out across the courtyard, cutting through the rising din like a blade. “As Hand of the Southern Water Tribe, I order Kova’s arrest! He sought to become a kinslayer before the eyes of the gods and men!”

A murmur rippled through the gathered chiefs, quickly swelling into a tide of agreement.

“Kinslayer!” one of the chiefs shouted, pounding his fist against the armrest of his chair.

“The gods have spoken!” another bellowed, rising to his feet.

“Arrest him! His reign ends today!”

The crowd surged forward, driven by fury and a sense of justice. Korra’s head spun, her vision swimming as she tried to focus. She looked around, and through the blur, she spotted the warrior who had escorted her into the tent earlier. He was already moving toward Kova, the heavy weight of chains clutched in his hands. His eyes gleamed with grim purpose as he made his way through the chaos, intent on binding the man who had defied the laws of gods and men.

Korra’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body swaying as she knelt in the snow. The world seemed to tilt around her, the voices growing distant, muffled like they were coming from beneath water. She watched through half-lidded eyes as the warrior closed in on her brother, who was now on his knees, pleading for his life, his once arrogant voice now filled with desperation.

“No! Please!” Kova begged, his bloodied hands raised in surrender.

But even as the world dimmed, Korra felt the heat of a presence beside her— Asami. Korra’s head drooped, her strength slipping away. Somewhere in the haze, she heard her name, faint at first, but growing clearer, filled with worry. “Korra!” Asami’s voice pierced the fog, trembling and desperate. “Korra, stay with me!”

But even Asami’s voice, usually so grounding, felt distant, like a faint echo from a world she was slowly leaving behind. Korra’s vision darkened further, the edges closing in as the courtyard seemed to melt away. The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was Kova, the proud chief of their people, brought low, his voice cracking as he pleaded for mercy in the snow-streaked courtyard. And then, there was only blackness.

***

“Korra!” Asami’s voice broke through the chaos, desperate and trembling, but it was futile. Korra had fully lost consciousness, her body limp in Asami’s arms. Asami’s heart plummeted as she took in the sight of Korra’s pale face, her skin almost ghostly, and her breathing—so faint, so shallow—it barely stirred the air. Panic surged through Asami, her mind a whirlwind of fear and helplessness as she felt Korra slipping away.

“Help! Master Kya, please help!” Asami’s scream pierced the cacophony of the tribesfolk, who were clamoring to reach Kova. The noise, the chaos, all of it faded into a dull roar as Asami focused solely on the woman she loved, on the life that was slipping through her fingers.

The crowd around them, as if sensing the urgency in Asami’s voice, parted to give way to the master healer. Master Kya pushed through the throng, her sharp eyes taking in the scene with practiced calm, but the worry that creased her brow betrayed her concern. She knelt beside Korra, her hands already moving to check for signs of life.

“Master Kuruk!” Kya’s voice was firm, commanding. “Help us take Korra to my chambers immediately. She’s lost too much blood; I need to treat her with haste.”

Without hesitation, Master Kuruk rushed forward, his face set in a grim mask. He scooped Korra up into his arms with the ease of a seasoned warrior, his movements swift and sure. Asami’s heart wrenched as she watched him lift Korra’s limp form; she wanted to be the one to carry her, to keep her safe, but the weight of the situation bore down on her, and she knew she hadn’t the strength. Instead, she watched helplessly as the general whisked Korra away, the urgency of the moment leaving no room for hesitation.

Asami turned to Senna, who had fallen to her knees in shock, her face pale with fear. Gently, Asami helped her to her feet, her own legs trembling beneath her, but she drew strength from the need to be there for Korra’s mother. Together, they began to follow the others, Asami’s arm wrapped protectively around Senna’s shoulders.

Opal walked beside them, her face etched with worry, her usually bright eyes dark with concern. She offered a steadying hand as they made their way out of the courtyard, the noise and commotion fading behind them. The walls of the Keep loomed ahead, promising safety and shelter, but the silence that awaited them inside was heavy with uncertainty.

As they crossed the threshold into the Keep, the weight of what had happened bore down on Asami like a shroud. The warmth of the interior was a stark contrast to the cold outside, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled in her heart. All she could do now was hope—hope that Master Kya’s skill could bring Korra back from the brink, hope that the gods would not take her love from her so soon.

—

Master Kya’s chambers were dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and salves. Shelves lined the stone walls, crowded with glass jars filled with dried plants, powders, and tinctures used for healing. The room resembled a battlefield infirmary, cluttered with poultices, bandages, and bloodied linens, scattered across tables and floors in disarray. The sound of hurried footsteps and murmured commands filled the space as Master Kya and her apprentices moved frantically around Korra, tending to the wounds that marred her body.

Korra lay still on the narrow bed, her skin pale and clammy, streaked with dirt and blood. Her back bore the raw scars of the lashings, reopened and bleeding from the exertion of the trial by combat. Fresh cuts from Aguta’s sword scored her arms and sides, deep and angry. Master Kya’s hands worked feverishly, cleaning the gashes, stitching the torn flesh with a steady hand despite the urgency in the air. Sweat beaded on her brow as she focused entirely on her task, her face tight with concentration.

Asami stood at the edge of the room, her heart clenched tight with helpless agony. She could do nothing but watch, the weight of despair settling in her chest like a cold stone sinking into the depths of a dark river. It felt all too familiar, this cruel helplessness, and she hated it with every fiber of her being. Her mind drifted back, unbidden, to another terrible day—when Korra had been felled by the tusk of that cursed walrus. She had stood on the sidelines then, too, powerless as blood soaked the snow, as Korra lay gasping for breath.

Back then, as now, Asami had felt the gods were mocking her, leaving her with nothing but trembling hands and whispered prayers to deities she was no longer certain would even hear her. Useless—always useless.

Tears welled up in Asami’s eyes and she could no longer hold them back. Her hands shook as they covered her mouth, her silent sobs escaping as she watched Kya work to save Korra’s life. Why was she always so helpless when Korra needed her most?

Senna sat by the bedside, her face ghostly pale, her eyes locked on her daughter, but there was an emptiness to her gaze as if the life had been drained from her as well. She stared at Korra’s broken form, but her eyes seemed far away, lost in some distant place of horror and disbelief. Her hands trembled in her lap, but she made no move to wipe the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Master Arrak wasn’t there, likely off ensuring that Kova was locked away in the deepest, darkest part of the dungeons. His rage had been palpable as he stormed out of the chambers, but here, only sorrow and fear remained.

Asami’s thoughts spiraled deeper into despair, her breath coming in sharp, painful bursts, when suddenly, a gentle hand touched her arm, pulling her out of the dark whirlpool of her mind. She inhaled sharply, her eyes snapping open, and when she turned to see who had offered her comfort, she was surprised.

Opal stood beside her, her face soft with concern, her touch gentle yet steady. Of all people, it was Korra’s former lover, the woman they had both wronged in their reckless entanglement, who had come to offer solace. Asami hadn’t expected it, yet there was something comforting in Opal’s presence, in the warmth of her touch.

“How do you fare, Lady Sato?” Opal’s voice was quiet, her tone careful as if she understood the storm raging in Asami’s heart.

Asami’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Worried... frightened, if I am honest,” she admitted, her eyes flicking back to Korra’s motionless body. “I’ve never felt so powerless. I can do nothing but wait and hope that she fights through this.”

Opal offered a small, reassuring smile, though her own eyes were clouded with worry. “You must have faith in her, Lady Sato. Korra is a fighter—she always has been. But now, I think she fights not only for her life but for both of yours.”

Asami blinked, taken aback by Opal’s words. “How can you say such a thing?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of Opal’s words settled over her like a heavy cloak.

Opal must have seen the confusion in her eyes, for she gave a knowing smile, one that was both sad and understanding. “I have seen the way she looks at you, Asami. Before the battle, her eyes sought yours. I know that look. She is not only fighting for herself; she is fighting for you, for your future together. She wants to give you both the chance to live, free from the shadow of this madness.”

Asami couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled down her cheeks once more. She felt the guilt surge inside her, but also gratitude—gratitude for the woman beside her who had suffered and yet found it in herself to be kind. “Opal,” Asami whispered, her voice trembling, “I apologize once more. For everything. For the hurt we caused you.”

Opal waved a hand dismissively, but there was no malice in the gesture. Her voice was gentle, even kind. “And I have told you, I forgive you both. What’s done is done, and I’ve made my peace with it. All I ask now is that you both promise me this—be true to yourselves. Don’t waste what you’ve been given.”

Asami managed a small, tearful smile. “I promise,” she whispered. “Thank you, Opal.”

Opal nodded, her smile warm and comforting. “Good. Then we wait.”

The frantic energy that had once filled the chamber slowly ebbed away, like the tides retreating after a storm. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the walls, and the feverish activity of the healers had dwindled to a quiet murmur. Master Kya, her face ashen with fatigue, finally slumped into a chair. Her hands, still stained with the coppery tang of Korra’s blood, trembled as she wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow. The scent of blood and herbs lingered in the air, thick and cloying.

Asami had not moved from her place beside the bed, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the mattress. Her emerald eyes, wide with a desperate kind of hope, sought answers from the healer’s face, though her lips dared not form the question.

Master Kya’s wearied smile did little to ease the tension that hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. “She’s stable,” the healer said softly, her voice a soothing balm against the gnawing terror that had gripped Asami's heart. “For now. But she will need rest, and so do we all. My apprentices will watch over her through the night.”

The words washed over Asami like a long-awaited breath of air after nearly drowning. She exhaled, a shuddering release that seemed to empty the weight of fear from her lungs. Beside her, Opal let out a small, trembling sigh of her own, her once rigid shoulders sagging under the strain of the long hours. Senna, lost in her own private anguish, blinked slowly as though waking from a daze. Her eyes, red-rimmed with tears yet unshed, found Master Kya’s and shone with gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a rasp. “Thank you, Master Kya.”

The apprentices moved quietly, their footsteps soft as a ghost’s whispers on the cold stone floor, leaving the chamber one by one. As silence fell like a thick blanket over the room, Asami hesitated. Her hand reached out, trembling, and she stepped closer to the healer. “May I stay?” she asked, her voice fragile as glass. “I want to care for her... to be here when she wakes.”

Senna and Opal echoed her sentiments with their eyes, though no words passed their lips. Yet Master Kya shook her head, firm and unyielding as the ancient trees that dotted the tundra. “No,” she said, not unkindly, but with a finality that brooked no protest. “You must rest. You can visit her on the morrow. Leave her in our care tonight.”

Reluctantly, Asami relented. She stole one last glance at Korra’s still form, pale against the furs, before turning to follow Senna and Opal from the room. The corridor outside felt unnaturally still, the echoes of their footsteps swallowed by the cold stone walls. Weariness weighed heavy on them, pulling at their limbs like unseen chains.

But before they could reach their chambers, two shadowed figures emerged from the gloom ahead—Master Arrak and Master Kuruk, their faces set in grim lines, the burdens they bore etched into every furrow and crease. Arrak’s eyes locked onto Senna’s, and with long, purposeful strides, he crossed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms without a word.

“How is she?” Arrak’s voice was rough, frayed at the edges by worry. His gaze searched Senna’s face, desperate for some sliver of hope.

“She is stable,” Senna whispered, though her voice quivered with the strain of holding herself together. She trembled in his embrace, clutching at him like a woman adrift in a storm. “Oh, Arrak, we nearly lost her. I thought—” Her words broke into a sob, and Arrak held her tighter, his hand smoothing over her hair as he whispered words of comfort meant only for her ears.

Asami watched them, her heart tightening in her chest. The pain of nearly losing Korra still coursed through her veins, a cold, relentless ache. She imagined what Senna must be feeling, the agony of a mother who had almost watched her child slip from this world. If she and Korra were to have a child of their own one day… the thought of that pain, that fear—it sent a shiver through her, sharpening her resolve to never leave Korra’s side again.

The moment was interrupted by a quiet cough. Master Kuruk stepped forward, his eyes as hard as the stone beneath their feet. “Kova has been locked away in the dungeons,” he reported, his voice steady, unyielding. “Master Suntoq is with him. The chiefs who sided with Kova are under house arrest. They will have a choice: surrender, or swear fealty to their rightful Chief.”

Arrak, still holding Senna close, nodded slowly. “As Hand, I have called for a great council. The chiefs will convene, and the future of our tribe will be decided. And not just the future,” he added, his voice lowering, like the soft scrape of steel being drawn. “The council will also pass judgment on Kova’s fate. He will stand trial before them, and justice will be done.”

Master Kuruk, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his eyes glinting with cold resolve. “But the council will not convene until Korra has recovered enough to attend.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument. “She will sit among them, as you are, my Lady. Let Kova see you two with his own eyes, and let the chiefs witness you. Only then will we decide his fate.”

Their words hung in the air, heavy as a sword waiting to fall. The path ahead was fraught with peril, and the shadows of treachery still lingered in every corner. Yet amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope, faint but unyielding. Korra had fought for her life, and in doing so, she had fought for the future of their people. It was now their duty to ensure that her struggle was not in vain.

—

At first light, Asami was already awake, the dawn casting soft, muted colors across the room. She rose from her bed and moved with purpose, her steps sure despite the weight of the exhaustion that clung to her limbs. After a quick bath to wash away the remnants of sleep and the tension of the previous night, she dressed and made her way to the infirmary, the corridors empty save for the occasional servant or guard who bowed respectfully as she passed.

Her heart quickened with each step, and by the time she reached the infirmary door, her chest felt tight, as if something were pressing down on her. She took a moment to steady herself before she pushed the door open, the old wood creaking slightly on its hinges.

Inside, the soft light of morning filtered through the narrow windows, casting long shadows on the stone floor. Asami’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on Korra’s still form, lying in the bed just as she had left her the night before. Though she had known—had been told—that Korra remained unconscious, the sight of her love lying so motionless was a fresh wound all the same. Her heart stuttered, clenching painfully in her chest, and for a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway, unable to breathe.

A soft rustle of cloth brought her back to herself. One of the healer’s apprentices, a young woman with wide, solemn eyes, bowed deeply when she saw Asami. Without a word, the apprentice gathered her things and slipped from the room, leaving Asami alone with Korra.

Slowly, Asami moved toward the bed, her feet feeling heavier than they had a moment before. She sank onto the stool beside Korra, her eyes sweeping over her. Korra lay on her stomach, her face turned to the side, strands of her dark hair tangled against the pillow. For a moment, it was easy to pretend that Korra was merely sleeping, that she would wake with a sleepy smile and a soft laugh that lit up the room.

But as Asami’s gaze traveled downward, the illusion shattered. The bandages wrapped around Korra’s body bore faint traces of blood. The sight of it made Asami’s stomach churn, a sharp reminder that beneath the stillness, Korra’s body was fighting a battle of its own. The wounds, though hidden from view, were there—deep, vicious reminders of the cruelty of those who had sought to destroy her.

Asami reached out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she brushed them gently over Korra’s cheek. Her skin was warm beneath her touch, and for a moment, Asami closed her eyes, drawing strength from the contact. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, though the words felt fragile in the stillness of the room.

The door creaked open again, and Master Kya entered, carrying a tray laden with fresh bandages and small jars of various concoctions. The healer’s face, though lined with exhaustion, brightened when she saw Asami. “Good morrow,” Kya greeted her softly. She set the tray down on a small table near the bed and looked at Korra with a practiced eye. “She’s still stable and faring better,” Kya said, offering Asami a small, reassuring smile. “Do you want to help me clean her wounds?”

Asami looked up at the healer, her chest tightening with a different sort of emotion this time—gratitude, perhaps, or relief at the chance to do something, anything, that might help. She managed a small smile of her own. “Yes,” she said quietly, “please.”

Master Kya nodded and handed Asami a small cloth, dipping her own into a bowl of warm water. They worked in silence, their movements slow and careful. Kya began to unwrap the bandages that encircled Korra’s back and sides, the dried blood making the task difficult. When the wounds were exposed, Asami’s breath caught again. The deep gashes and bruises, some still weeping blood and fluid, were stark against Korra’s tan skin, the edges red and angry with inflammation.

Asami dipped the cloth into the water and began to clean the wounds with delicate strokes, mindful not to press too hard. Her hands shook slightly, but she forced herself to remain steady, her focus solely on Korra. The water stained red as she wiped away the remnants of dried blood, the cloth warm against her fingers. Master Kya worked alongside her, her hands moving with practiced efficiency, though her eyes held a tenderness that spoke of her care for Korra as more than just a patient.

After what felt like an eternity, the wounds were clean, the jagged edges no longer obscured by blood or grime. Kya reached for a jar of salve and began to apply it to the worst of the gashes, her touch gentle but firm. Asami followed suit, carefully smoothing the ointment over Korra’s bruised skin. The salve had a strong, medicinal scent, thick and pungent, but it promised healing.

Finally, they began the process of wrapping Korra in fresh bandages. Asami held the strips of cloth as Kya guided her hands, ensuring the wounds were properly covered. The task was methodical, almost ritualistic, and by the time they were done, Korra’s body was once again swathed in white linen, the sight of her injuries hidden from view but not from memory.

Asami sat back, her hands now stained with the same salve and blood that had marked Korra’s body. She exhaled, the breath coming out shakier than she would have liked. But as she looked down at Korra, now resting in the quiet stillness of the infirmary, there was a small flicker of hope in her heart. Korra was still here, still fighting, and Asami would be there to help her every step of the way.

Kya placed a hand on Asami’s shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. “You did well,” she said softly. “Now, all we can do is wait.”

And Asami did wait. Day after day, night after sleepless night, she remained steadfast by Korra’s side. Her devotion was unwavering, her vigil unbroken, even as exhaustion gnawed at her bones and weariness clouded her mind. Senna and Opal, both of whom shared her concern, offered to take her place, to give her a moment’s respite. But Asami, with a soft smile and a shake of her head, refused. Korra needed her, and she would not leave.

But as the days wore on, guilt began to creep into her heart, a slow, insidious whisper that she could not ignore. Senna had as much right to care for Korra as she did—perhaps even more, as Korra’s mother. And so, reluctantly, Asami acquiesced. She allowed Senna to share in the vigil, to sit beside her daughter and offer the comfort only a mother could give.

It was on the fifth day since Korra had fallen that Asami felt the first stirrings of unease. She had been sitting with Senna in the quiet of the infirmary, both of them keeping watch over Korra’s still form, when a sudden wave of nausea rolled through her. It came without warning, a violent churning in her stomach that left her breathless. She barely had time to reach for a basin before she doubled over, retching, the sound harsh and jarring in the silence.

Senna was beside her in an instant, her hands cool and comforting on Asami’s back. “Asami,” she said gently, her voice laced with concern. “You need to rest. You’re making yourself sick with fatigue.”

But even as Senna spoke, Master Kya appeared, moving with the quiet grace of one who had spent a lifetime in the healer’s halls. In her hands was a cup of tea, the steam curling softly into the air. She waited patiently as Asami finished, her expression thoughtful, almost too calm. When Asami finally looked up, her stomach still churning but the worst of the nausea passed, she met Master Kya’s gaze.

There was something in the healer’s eyes—a strange, knowing look that made Asami’s breath catch in her throat. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sudden and undeniable.

Master Kya watched her closely, her eyes softening with understanding. “If you wish, I can examine you,” she offered gently. “To be certain of what is afflicting you.”

Asami hesitated, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, but then she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice stronger now. “Yes, please.”

***

She drifted in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, her mind a swirl of half-formed images and sensations that flickered like flames in the dark. She was aware of herself, yet not in the way she normally was. There was no flesh, no bone—only instinct, sharp and primal, guiding her through the strange, dreamlike haze.

She was running. No— hunting . Her paws thudded softly against the damp earth as she weaved through the trees, her breath coming in quick bursts, the scent of the forest rich and intoxicating. The wind rushed past her, carrying with it the sounds and smells of the world around her. She could hear every rustle in the underbrush, smell the dew clinging to the grass, felt the earth pulsing beneath her as if it were alive.

She was a wolf. A pure white wolf.

The realization came slowly, seeping into her mind like water through cracks in stone. She felt the weight of her fur brushing against her sides, the length of her muzzle as her lips curled into a snarl, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. She was powerful, sleek, a creature born of the wild, with strength coursing through her limbs.

But then, there was a voice—familiar and distant, like a whisper carried on the wind. She stopped, ears twitching as she strained to listen.

“Forgive me,” the voice said, and Korra turned, her gaze piercing the shadows. From the gloom stepped a huge brown wolf, his form looming large and familiar, though his presence seemed softer here, touched by something… different . He was not her father in this realm—she knew that somewhere deep in her heart—but she did not know why.

The brown wolf’s head bowed, his posture low and humble, a strange thing to see from such a dominant figure. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice rough with regret. “I am sorry for treating you as less… for believing you would never rise. I thought you were beneath me, I thought you were an omega. I see now I was wrong.”

Before she could ask anything, his expression shifted, the softness hardening into something stern, something urgent. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his eyes blazing. “You don’t belong here, Korra. Go back! You must go back!”

Korra? The command struck her like a physical blow. Instinct took over, and she turned, her legs moving before her mind could catch up. She ran—fast and hard, her breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. The trees blurred around her, the world narrowing to a tunnel of motion and sound and scents.

And there, cutting through the myriad of smells, was something familiar. Peach and mint. The scent was tantalizing, drawing her forward, pulling her through the forest with a fierce urgency. She didn’t know why, but she needed to find it, needed to reach the source of that scent. It called to her in a way that was both strange and comforting, as if it were a part of her, and she couldn’t resist.

Her legs moved faster, the ground blurring beneath her. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, pounding like a war drum. She was close—so close she could almost taste it. The trees thinned, the forest opening up to reveal a familiar place: the secret oasis hidden behind the Keep. The white wolf knew this place, though she couldn’t remember how or why. It was a sanctuary, a place that had always calmed her down. She wondered briefly why no one had ever found it, but in that moment, she was grateful to the gods for the secrecy.

She stepped inside the oasis, her paws silent against the soft grass, and was greeted by the warmth of the hot spring that bubbled gently in the center of the clearing. The air here was warm, almost stifling, but it was the sight beneath the ancient tree that took her breath away.

There, standing proudly beneath the great boughs, was another wolf. Its fur was as black as midnight, its eyes a vivid green that gleamed with intelligence and affection. The wolf radiated strength and serenity, but what captivated the white wolf most was the scent that surrounded it—peach and mint, strong and inviting. The black wolf saw her and smiled, its sharp teeth glinting in the light as it bounded toward her with a joyful yelp. When they met, the wolf nuzzled her affectionately, its fur brushing against hers, and the white wolf felt something she hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity— peace . She was home.

“Love,” the wolf said, its voice soft and familiar, a warm caress against her senses. “We need you.”

The white wolf blinked, pulling back slightly to look at the wolf. Its voice echoed with something beyond this dream, something real. “We?” she asked, her voice rough and strange in her own ears.

“Come back to us,” the black wolf said gently. “We need you.”

As the wolf spoke, Korra caught another scent—one that sent a thrill of excitement through her entire being. It was a scent she had never known but somehow recognized all the same. It was a mix of peach, mint, and… fresh snow . Her breath hitched as the realization dawned on her.

Her pup.

The white wolf yelped in joy, her heart swelling with the knowledge. She was going to be a sire. She could feel it now, deep in her bones. This pup was hers—hers and the black wolf’s. It was growing in her mate’s belly. How could she leave? How could she walk away from the family she had always dreamed of? She nuzzled the black wolf again, her mind flooded with love and excitement. She wanted to stay here forever, in this warm, peaceful place, with her mate and their pup.

But the black wolf was pulling away, nudging her to leave. “Love, please…” The wolf’s voice grew clearer, sharper, as if it were coming from somewhere else entirely.

The white wolf resisted, clinging to the warmth and peace of the oasis. “Why should I go?” she asked, her voice almost a whine. “This is where I belong.”

“Please,” the voice said again, and suddenly it wasn’t the wolf speaking anymore—it was a voice she knew, one she loved beyond measure.

“Asami?”

The sound of her love’s name echoed through her mind, breaking through the haze of the dream. And then, in a rush, the world shifted around her, the oasis fading into darkness, the wolf’s voice growing distant. She could feel herself rising from the dream, her senses returning to her body, the warmth of the infirmary replacing the heat of the oasis.

And just as her eyes fluttered open, she heard Master Kya’s voice telling someone, clear and certain: “You are with child.”

Chapter Text

“You are with child. The moon tea…” Kya’s voice was steady, devoid of any doubt. “It did not work. Korra’s seed has taken root.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, dense and heavy, as though the very walls of the infirmary had absorbed their weight. Fear surged through Asami, a cold, relentless wave that gripped her heart with icy fingers. She had known the risks, had taken the tea as a precaution against this very possibility, but now… now the future seemed a shadowed path, fraught with dangers she had never dared imagine. What would Korra say when she awoke? What would the tribe think of a child born out of such chaos, conceived in the shadow of treason and bloodshed?

Yet amidst the fear, something else flickered to life within her—a small, fragile ember of hope. The thought of a child, their child, brought with it a warmth that slowly thawed the chill in her veins. It was terrifying, yes, this new life growing within her, but there was also a sense of wonder, a spark of possibility. Korra was still fighting for her life, and now, within Asami, a new life was beginning.

Suddenly, there was a faint rustling, the sound of movement disturbing the stillness. Asami’s heart skipped a beat, and she turned toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat. All she saw was blue—deep, familiar blue, the same eyes she had loved and cherished for what felt like an eternity.

Korra was awake.

Asami’s body moved before her mind could catch up. She rushed to Korra’s bedside, her hands trembling as they reached out for the one she loved. “Korra! Thank the gods!” she breathed, her voice choked with emotion. She gripped Korra’s hands, the warmth of them a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped her moments before.

Senna and Master Kya were at her side in an instant, their faces a mix of relief and concern. But all Asami could see was Korra, her eyes locked onto those brilliant blue depths that had haunted her dreams.

“Asami…” Korra’s voice was weak, a rough whisper from disuse, but it was the most beautiful sound Asami had ever heard. Korra’s tan hand, still weak, reached out, and Asami met her halfway, her fingers intertwining with Korra’s as though she could anchor her to the world with that simple touch.

“You’re alive… I knew you’d come back to me,” Asami whispered, her voice trembling as tears streamed down her face, falling to caress Korra’s cheeks. Korra, despite the pain that was etched across her features, did her best to lean into the touch, her eyes never leaving Asami’s.

Master Kya cleared her throat softly, an apology in her eyes as she spoke. “Forgive me for intruding on your moment, but Korra needs to be made comfortable. We’ll have to move her, and I must prepare some medicinal tea for her.”

Asami forced herself to let go of Korra’s hand, though it took every ounce of willpower she had. She never took her eyes off Korra, pouring all the love and support she could muster into that gaze, hoping it would be enough to ease the pain of what was to come.

When Master Kya began to adjust Korra’s position, a groan of pain escaped Korra’s lips, the sound sharp enough to cut through Asami’s heart. “I need your help,” Kya said, her tone gentle but firm, as she looked at both Asami and Senna.

Without hesitation, they moved to assist, carefully lifting Korra and helping to shift her so she could lie on her back. Every movement was agonizingly slow, the fear of causing more pain weighing on each of them. But finally, Korra was settled, her breathing labored but steady.

Master Kya moved quickly, preparing the medicinal tea with the practiced hands of a seasoned healer. The scent of herbs filled the room, mingling with the underlying scent of blood and sweat. As the healer worked, Korra began to gulp in large breaths, her chest rising and falling with effort.

Asami was at her side in an instant, with Senna close behind. Korra’s hand reached out, and for a moment, Asami thought she was reaching for her hand. She extended her own, ready to offer comfort, but Korra’s hand bypassed hers entirely, going straight to her belly.

Asami’s breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest. She knows…

As if reading her thoughts, Korra’s lips moved, her voice barely more than a rasp. “A… pup… my… our pup.”

Senna gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Asami could only smile, sweet and tender, as her own tears flowed freely. “Yes, love,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Our pup.”

Seeing Korra’s face alight with pride and determination swept away the last of Asami’s fears. The sight of her love, alive and resolute, was more than enough to quiet the storm of doubt that had plagued her. Whatever the future held, they would face it together. The life growing within her no longer felt like a burden, but a blessing, a symbol of the strength they shared.

Master Kya, ever attentive, interrupted their moment with a soft cough. She carried a cup of steaming tea, its scent strong and medicinal. They gently propped Korra up on the bed, careful not to disturb her wounds, so she could drink. Asami held the cup to Korra’s lips, and Korra sipped slowly, her eyes never leaving Asami’s.

When the tea was finished, Korra leaned back against the pillows, her strength visibly returning with every passing moment. She looked around at the faces of those gathered—Asami, Senna, Master Kya—and then, with a steadying breath, she asked, “What happened?”

It was Senna who answered, her voice measured, though the weight of the news was heavy. “Master Arrak has called the chiefs of all the tribes to convene here, at the Keep. There will be a great council once you have recovered enough to preside, Korra. As regent, it is your duty to lead them. They will decide the fate of the tribe, and… they will decide Kova’s fate as well.”

Asami watched Korra’s expression darken, the pride and warmth fading into a grim resolve. The mention of her brother brought a shadow to Korra’s eyes, a look that spoke of duty, pain, and the weight of leadership. Korra nodded slowly, her voice low but firm. “I shall take my place on the throne as regent, but… Asami should also be there to decide Kova’s fate. She was as much a victim of his treachery as any of us.”

Senna nodded in agreement, her gaze shifting to Asami. “I agree. You have as much right as anyone to see justice done.”

In truth, Asami wanted nothing more to do with Kova. The thought of facing him again filled her with a mix of dread and anger. But she knew, deep down, that justice had to be served. Just as she had once stood against her own father, she would see this through. She looked at Korra, and with a quiet resolve, she said, “I shall be by Korra’s side. We will see this done together.”

Korra’s smile, warm and grateful, was all Asami needed. That smile made every sacrifice, every painful moment, worth enduring. If seeing Kova’s face one last time meant Korra would continue to smile at her like that, she would endure it a thousand times over.

The door to Master Kya’s chambers creaked open, and Opal entered, holding a small plant with white-tipped buds. She gasped, her eyes widening in delight as she saw the now awake alpha. Lady Beifong, who had followed close behind, rushed to Korra’s side with a wide smile. “I knew you were a fighter,” she said, her voice full of pride and affection.

Korra returned the smile, her expression soft and tender. Asami felt a pang of possessiveness, her inner omega stirring at the sight, but she quickly pushed it down. They were friends, nothing more, and Korra had been on the brink of death. It was only natural for those who cared for her to be overjoyed at her recovery.

Opal seemed to remember her original purpose then, and she turned to Master Kya, offering the plant she held. “This is a poppy plant,” she explained. “It helps relieve pain. It’s the same one I gave to you on the ship ride back to the Bay of Seal.”

Korra pulled a face, her nose wrinkling in mock disgust. “I recall it well… It tastes as though a snow camel had trod on it.”

A ripple of laughter filled the room, the sound light and easy. Even Korra managed a chuckle, despite the obvious discomfort it caused her. Asami’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, it seemed as though everything was going to be fine.

The days passed in a slow, steady rhythm. The infirmary became a place of quiet care and whispered conversations. They took turns tending to Korra, cleaning her wounds and coaxing her to eat what little she could. Her strength returned slowly, but each day she seemed a little more like herself. Master Kuruk visited frequently, along with Chiefs Hakoda and Taqqiq, updating her on the chiefs who had arrived for the great council. Among them was Chief Unna of the Seal Tribe, an omega, Asami learned. She filed that information away in her mind, knowing it might be of use later.

Master Arrak, too, had come to visit, often accompanied by Senna. Asami could see the yearning in his eyes, the way he lingered near Korra as if desperate to tell her the truth—that he was her father. But he held back, restrained by the delicate balance of power, by the uncertainty of Korra’s future and her precarious title. Now was not the time for such revelations, though the weight of them hung in the air whenever he was near.

And so, for a rare moment, Asami found herself alone with Korra. The firelight danced on the walls as she gently unwrapped the bandages from Korra’s back, revealing wounds that had begun to heal. The sight of the mending flesh brought a sense of relief that Asami had not felt in days. The specter of death had finally loosened its grip on Korra, and Asami could breathe again.

They spoke of mundane things as she worked, small talk that felt like a balm after the storm they had weathered. When she had finished cleaning the wounds, Asami reached for a clean cloth and a basin of warm water. She dipped the cloth in the water, squeezing out the excess before she began to gently wipe Korra’s face and body. The scent of mixed herbs and flowers filled the room, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

As Asami wiped Korra’s face, she couldn’t help but notice the way Korra’s eyes were studying her, intent and focused. The intensity of her alpha’s gaze sent a flush of warmth to Asami’s cheeks, and she felt her heartbeat quicken under the weight of that attention.

Suddenly, Korra reached out and took hold of her hand, halting her motions. “Korra?” Asami’s voice was soft, questioning.

“Asami…” Korra’s voice was rough, the words thick with emotion. “I beg your forgiveness.”

Asami’s breath caught, her heart fluttering at the unexpected sentiment. “Forgiveness? For what?” The closeness of Korra, the warmth of her hand, sent a thrill through Asami, a feeling she had long tried to bury.

“For causing you such distress, for dragging you into this turmoil between me and my brother.” Korra’s eyes held a depth of regret that made Asami’s chest tighten.

Asami shook her head, her heart aching with a mix of emotions. “You need not seek forgiveness from me. If anyone should beg pardon, it is I. My schemes, my desire to have a voice in the court… they brought us to this. It was my machinations to undermine Kova’s rule that ensnared you in this web of deceit.”

“What do you mean?” Korra’s brow furrowed, her gaze searching Asami’s face for answers.

A wave of nervousness washed over Asami, but she owed Korra the truth. With a slow, steadying breath, she began to speak. “My father… after my mother’s passing, he taught me nothing but how to be a proper omega—how to obey, how to submit to alphas, how to survive in a world ruled by strength and dominance. But when you were exiled to the Bay of Seals, it was Senna who showed me another path. She taught me how to wield power, even as an omega. We… we conspired, hoping to tilt the scales, to give me a voice, a say in the matters of the tribe. But we did not foresee the lengths Kova would go to. His wrath… it fell upon you.”

Korra was silent for a long moment, the weight of Asami’s words hanging between them like a heavy shroud. Asami’s heart pounded in her chest, fear rising that she had lost Korra’s trust once more, that this revelation would drive a wedge between them. She would accept whatever Korra decided, though a part of her silently begged for Korra to acknowledge their child, to not turn away from the life they had created.

But her fears were unfounded. Korra’s hand moved to cup Asami’s cheek, her touch warm and reassuring. She pressed her forehead against Asami’s, a gesture that spoke of understanding, of reconciliation. “Asami… we have both made mistakes, but I understand why you did what you did. You acted as you saw fit to survive, and I cannot fault you for that. I only regret that I was not there to stand by your side.”

“Korra,” Asami’s voice trembled, her heart aching with the weight of their shared pain. “You have no need to apologize for not being there. I… I chose to obey my father out of fear, and I know that it caused you hurt.”

Korra shook her head gently, the motion sending a ripple of warmth through Asami’s soul. “The past is behind us, Asami. We cannot change it. But if you will allow it, we can begin anew. For the sake of our child, let us face whatever comes together. No matter what the council decides, I will be by your side.”

Tears flowed freely down Asami’s face, a release of all the fear, the pain, and the love she had kept bottled up inside. She nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “That is all I have ever wished for.”

***

Korra’s world had shrunk to the slow, bitter grind of recovery. The pain was a constant companion, a whisper in her muscles that mocked every movement she made. It was the price of survival—each breath drawn in was a small defiance against the death she had narrowly escaped. Her legs trembled like reeds in the wind the first time she stood, the strength drained from her limbs as if by a leech. Two steps, and her knees betrayed her, sending her crashing to the cold stone floor. The sound of her fall echoed through the chamber, a grim reminder of her frailty.

Before she could rise again, Asami was at her side. Quick and steady, she knelt, her touch firm yet tender. “Easy now,” Asami whispered, her breath warm against Korra’s ear, her hands guiding her back to her feet with care. The days had blurred together since Korra first opened her eyes, but Asami had never left her side. She was the shadow that Korra could never lose, the constant presence that anchored her through the haze of pain and healing. Her mother watched from afar with silent concern, and Master Kya and Opal came and went, offering words of wisdom or simply their company. But it was Asami who remained closest—her gaze sharp, her touch steady, her love a balm against the endless ache.

Their moments together were quiet, filled with soft glances and unspoken thoughts. Korra found her eyes drawn to Asami more often than not, lingering on the curve of her lips, the gleam in her green eyes. Sometimes their eyes would meet, and Asami would smile, the kind of smile that made Korra feel like the whole world was shrinking until it was just the two of them in that room. Korra would smile back, her cheeks warm with the flush of feelings she didn’t quite have words for yet.

And then there was the child. Korra’s hand would often drift to Asami’s belly, where their child grew—small, unseen, but undeniable. Her fingers would trace the soft curve, and for a moment, the weight of the world would lift. They were having a child—a piece of both of them, forged in the midst of chaos and bloodshed and treachery. It was a thought that filled Korra with both awe and fear. At night, when sleep took her, she dreamed of a future far away from the dangers that stalked them. Nothing but love.

But dreams were just that—dreams. There were duties to attend to, and the day when the council would convene drew near. Word had come from Master Arrak that all the chiefs had gathered at the Keep, their lords and ladies in tow. It was the moment Korra had been groomed for her whole life. The sages had drilled their names into her head, their alliances, their grudges. But she had never imagined it would be Kova—her own brother—who would be standing in judgment.

She prepared herself quietly, fastening her tunic with hands that still trembled slightly. The white cloth was plain, unadorned, a contrast to the worn blue doublet she pulled over it. It was an old garment, one that reminded her of simpler days when she had not yet been weighed down by the burden of leadership. A reminder of who she was—a daughter of the Southern Water Tribe, a warrior, an alpha who defied fate.

The door creaked open, and Korra turned. Asami entered, moving with the grace of a shadow slipping into the room. Her gown was black, hugging her form in a way that made Korra’s breath catch. The color suited her—it made her seem like the night itself, dark and deep, with a strength that was both quiet and fierce.

Korra couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips. “Come to distract me, have you?” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in days.

Asami’s eyes gleamed with amusement. She stepped closer, her lips curving into a small smile that sent a shiver down Korra’s spine. “Is it working?” she asked, her voice low, like a soft murmur in the night.

Korra chuckled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of Asami’s hair behind her ear. The touch was brief, but it lingered between them like a whispered secret. “Always,” Korra murmured, her voice softer now. They stood there for a long moment, the rest of the world fading away until it was just the two of them, wrapped in silence.

Then, Asami reached behind her, pulling out a cloak of pure white. Korra recognized it immediately. The wolf sigil of her tribe had been carefully stitched into the fabric, a moon glowing bright above it. Asami draped it over Korra’s shoulders with deliberate care, her hands lingering at the clasp.

“There,” Asami whispered, her voice thick with something unsaid. “Now you’re ready.”

Korra’s fingers brushed over the cloak, feeling its weight settle against her, but more than that, she felt Asami’s belief in her, woven into every thread. She looked at Asami, her heart swelling with emotion. “I’m ready.”

—

The murmur of voices within the Great Hall ebbed and flowed like the tides beyond the keep. Chiefs and lords spoke in low tones, eyes glancing toward one another, while common folk whispered from the edges of the chamber. But as the heavy oak doors groaned open, all sound drained away, leaving only the echo of creaking iron hinges and the steady thud of boots against stone. The herald’s voice, sharp and clear, cut through the silence like a blade through flesh.

“Behold, Chief Regent Korra of the Southern Water Tribe!”

Korra strode forward, her eyes fixed ahead, indifferent to the sea of faces that turned toward her. She felt their stares—some wide with admiration, others narrowed in cold scrutiny. She knew there were those who whispered behind her back, weighing her strength, her loyalty. And yet, others dipped their heads low, bowing in deference, showing their respect—not for the titles she bore, but for the deeds that had earned her their trust and fear. She recognized the faces of those who knew her, their gazes lingering longer, their bows deeper.

Behind her walked Master Arrak while her mother followed with measured grace. Their presence at her back was a weight she bore with pride, a reminder of the blood that flowed in her veins and the ancient traditions that now rested on her shoulders.

Asami, no longer bound to the royal bloodline, stood at the forefront of the hall, where the nobles and warriors gathered beneath the dais. She was not a queen here, not by birthright or marriage—just an ordinary lady in the eyes of the court. And yet, Korra’s gaze found her, standing tall beside Opal and Master Kuruk. Asami’s head was high, her posture unyielding, and in her eyes, Korra saw a fierceness that no crown could ever give.

The love in Asami’s green eyes steadied Korra as she faced the gathered chiefs, lords, and ladies within the Keep. When she sat upon the stone seat, all eyes fixed on her. The hall grew silent as the nobles knelt in unison before rising again. The weight of their judgment was thick in the air.

Master Arrak stepped forward, his voice a commanding presence in the hall. “We are gathered today to decide the future of the Southern Water Tribe. Princess Korra will preside as Chief Regent. However, should any chief or lady have another course in mind, let them step forward and make their case. The tribe will listen and decide, as we have always done.”

Korra felt the scrutiny of the room, but inside, she was at peace. If the other chiefs deemed her unworthy, she would step down willingly. Her loyalty was to the tribe, not her own ambition. She waited, calm and resolved, as the chiefs deliberated in whispers and exchanged knowing glances. Finally, an elder chief with a beard streaked in gray spoke. “Let us hold a Chief’s Moot, as was done in the days of our ancestors. Each chief shall speak, and from them, the next ruler will be chosen.”

The room murmured in agreement. The Moot would take place in a few days, and Korra’s fate would be decided then. A strange calm settled over her. Whatever happened next would be the will of the people, and she would honor it.

But the present weighed heavier than the future. Kova, her brother, stood accused of treason. His fate demanded their immediate attention. As Korra commanded him to be brought forward, the atmosphere shifted. The hall grew tense, filled with the presence of alphas whose aggression hummed in the air like a distant storm. Korra could sense her mother, Master Arrak, and Asami all on edge, bracing themselves for what was to come.

Kova entered in chains, his expression fierce despite the weight of his restraints. His face was gaunt, lined with exhaustion, but his spirit had not dimmed. He stood tall, meeting Korra’s gaze with a defiance that struck her like a blade. There was no repentance in his eyes, only the fire of a man who believed in the righteousness of his cause.

“Brother,” Korra said, her voice steady but heavy with sorrow. “You stand before us to answer for your actions. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Kova’s lips curled into a smirk, a mocking glint in his tired eyes. “Protect myself, you mean. I did what I had to do, sister. There’s a real traitor in this hall, but it’s not me.” His gaze shifted, narrowing as it landed on Asami, standing by the throne. “Perhaps you should look closer to your own bed.”

Korra bristled at the accusation, anger flaring hot within her chest. How dare he. If this was the last time she would sit upon this throne, she would use every shred of power she had to protect Asami from this venom. She rose to her feet, the force of her presence commanding silence across the room.

“The only traitor here is you!” she shouted, her voice ringing through the hall like a hammer striking iron. “You neglected your duties to our people! What do you plead?”

Kova’s sneer only deepened. “Not guilty.”

Korra’s jaw clenched. “You leave me no choice. Bring forth the witnesses.”

One by one, they came forward. First, a humble peasant, his voice quavering as he spoke of food shortages left unresolved. “I came to him, begging for help. My children were starving. He did nothing.”

Chief Hakoda and Chief Taqqiq followed, standing tall and grim. “We brought our dispute to him,” Hakoda began, his voice steady with restrained anger. “Our lands were on the brink of war over boundaries, yet he delayed, leaving us to fight amongst ourselves.”

Chief Unna and Master Kuruk stepped forward next. Kuruk’s eyes were cold, his voice calm, but biting. “Pirates raided our waters. Princess Korra fought them off while Kova stood idle.”

Finally, Master Arrak, his expression darkened with fury. “I was there when he almost killed his own sister during her trial by combat,” Arrak growled. “He had no honor in him.”

And last, Asami herself. Her voice was quiet, but her words cut deep. “He harmed me, his wife at the time. I lived in fear under his hand.”

The hall was silent as the words of the witnesses sank in, their weight undeniable. Kova stood defiantly, but even he could not escape the judgment passed down. “Kova of the Southern Water Tribe,” Korra declared, her voice cold and resolute, “you are found guilty of treason, neglect of duty, and violence against your own kin. The sentence is death.”

As for Master Suntoq and the chiefs who had sided with Kova, Korra’s gaze swept over them. “Swear fealty to the crown now, or receive the same punishment.” Most of the northern chiefs—descendants of those who had once taken over the Southern Water Tribe centuries ago—scoffed at the idea of loyalty to what they still considered “southern savages.” They accepted their punishment without hesitation. But a few, their faces pale and fearful, knelt and swore loyalty to the crown.

Kova scoffed, his derision plain. “Cowards,” he muttered.

Korra stood tall, her sword gleaming at her side. She passed judgment with steady hands. “I will be the one to swing the sword.”

As the clamor of the hall rose around her, Korra’s heart remained heavy. The sentence was clear, and the hall echoed with the cheers of those who approved of justice being served. But before the end, Korra approached Kova one last time. “I’m sorry it has come to this, brother,” she said quietly. “If only things could’ve been different.”

Kova sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Don’t waste your breath on me. You were always the favored one, Korra. Always the perfect daughter, the warrior, the alpha. And I… I was nothing.”

Korra shook her head, sorrow filling her gaze. “You still misunderstand, brother. Goodbye. I will give you until the morrow to say your farewells to Mother.”

She turned to leave, her eyes instinctively seeking Asami’s. The omega stood near, her face tense with fear. Korra moved to embrace her, but Asami’s expression shifted to one of terror.

Korra spun around just in time to see Kova pull a small dagger from the folds of his clothes. She raised her hands to defend herself, but the next thing she knew, something warm and wet splattered across her face.

When she looked down, Asami was trembling, a dagger clutched in her hands, its blade buried deep in Kova’s torso. The omega shook with shock and adrenaline, snapping Korra out of her daze. Quickly, she grabbed Asami and pulled her away from Kova, who was now pressing a hand against his gushing wound.

Rage clouded Korra’s vision. Without hesitation, she drew her sword, her hands steady as she swung it in one swift motion. The blade cut clean through Kova’s neck, severing his head from his shoulders in a final, brutal act of mercy and justice.

Chapter Text

The world had narrowed to a single, deafening note in Korra’s ears, a high-pitched ringing that drowned out everything else. The cries and screams around her were muted, as if she were underwater. She blinked, and suddenly, reality crashed back in like a wave, overwhelming her senses. The noise, the chaos, the blood—it all rushed at her, too much, too fast.

Her gaze dropped, and she saw Kova’s head roll to her feet, leaving a thick trail of crimson in its wake. The sight was grotesque, the severed neck still oozing blood, the lifeless eyes staring blankly at nothing. Blood pooled on the cold stone floor, dark and slick, a testament to the finality of what she had just done.

For a brief moment, she was paralyzed. Korra had vowed to dispense justice with her own hands, yet this was not how it was meant to be. It should have been before her tribesfolk, out in the courtyard where the gods could bear witness. He should have been granted his last words, a final plea to the spirits. But instead… she had taken justice on her own terms. And even now, with the blood still warm on her hands, she knew she would not have done it differently. Not if it meant protecting Asami from him.

There was no time to linger on what had been done, no time to feel the weight of it. Her instincts took hold—cold and unyielding—and she pushed the rising tide of emotion aside. Asami—she had to find Asami.

Korra turned, her heart hammering as she saw the omega trembling, pale as death, eyes wide and unseeing. Asami was shaking so violently that Korra feared she might collapse where she stood. Without hesitation, Korra barked a command. “Master Arrak, take Asami to my mother, now!”

The Hand of the Southern Water Tribe moved swiftly, no questions asked. He scooped Asami up into his arms, and she offered no resistance, as limp as a ragdoll, as he carried her away. Korra watched until they were out of sight, then turned back to the chaos in the throne room. She had to take control, had to impose order.

“Master Kuruk,” she called out, her voice edged with urgency. “Calm the chiefs and ladies. Restore order in this hall.”

Master Kuruk nodded, his face grave as he moved to obey. The throne room was in disarray, the nobles and leaders murmuring in shock and fear. But Korra couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She looked to Chief Taqqiq and Chief Hakoda, her voice softer but no less commanding. “Help me with Kova’s body.”

Together, they approached what remained of her brother. Korra’s heart was leaden as they lifted his lifeless form, the blood still warm and sticky against her hands. They carried him out of the throne room, their steps heavy with the weight of what had transpired. The Silent Sisters, beta women dedicated to the dead, were waiting for them in a dim, shadowed chamber. They took Kova’s body from her hands, their faces expressionless, and began their solemn work.

Korra stepped back, watching as they prepared her brother for his final rest. Her gaze drifted to her own hands, still stained with Kova’s blood. The sight made her stomach twist. She had taken his life with these hands—hands meant to protect, to lead. What would they say of her now? Would she be branded a kinslayer? Would the chiefs and ladies turn against her? The Chief’s Moot—had she thrown away her chance? And yet, why did she feel as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders? Why did it feel like she had finally drawn a breath after drowning for so long?

A hand touched her shoulder, drawing her from the whirlpool of her thoughts. She turned to find Master Kuruk standing beside her, his expression heavy with concern. Without a word, she stepped into his arms, the man who had been more of a father to her than her own. In his embrace, the walls she had built around herself crumbled, and she broke, trembling with the force of her grief.

Master Kuruk said nothing, only held her close, his silence a balm more soothing than any words could be. For a moment, Korra allowed herself to be weak, to let go of the strength she had clung to for so long.

When she finally quieted, she pulled back, wiping the tears from her eyes. And then, like a knife to the gut, she remembered Asami’s terror—how she had trembled. Guilt surged through Korra, sharp and unforgiving. Why was she here, wallowing in her own pain, when Asami needed her?

She wiped her face clean of tears and stepped back from Master Kuruk. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw. “Please, take over for a moment. I need to see Asami.”

Master Kuruk nodded in understanding, and Korra turned on her heel, her heart heavy but her resolve unshaken. Asami needed her, and that was all that mattered now.

***

Asami sat in the dim light of her chambers, her gaze fixed on her trembling hands. They were fair and delicate—hands once meant for crafting, for building, for healing. But now, as she stared at them, she saw blood—dark, viscous, clinging to her skin like a ghost from her past. It wasn’t real; she knew that. Yet the sight of it sent a shudder down her spine. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she clenched her fists, desperate to banish the image from her mind.

The door creaked open behind her, the sound pulling her from the mire of her thoughts. She glanced toward it, her heart skipping a beat. When she looked back at her hands, the blood was gone. It had never been there, but the memory of it lingered, staining her mind as surely as if it were real. Her hands still trembled, the remnants of fear and shock coursing through her veins—a cold current she could not escape.

No matter how she willed it, the trembling would not stop.

Then she felt them—rough, warm, strong—Korra’s hands gently enveloping her own. The contrast between them, roughness and smoothness, strength and fragility, anchored her in the present. Korra’s eyes, filled with a tenderness that cut through the fog of Asami’s fear, searched her face. It was then that Asami noticed Korra was dressed only in a thin tunic and wool breeches. The simplicity of it, the way Korra had come to her without armor or pretense, made something inside Asami ache. She did not speak, but she didn’t need to. Korra’s presence alone was enough, grounding Asami in the here and now, a lifeline in the storm of her terror.

Asami leaned into Korra’s embrace, her body trembling with the aftershocks of what she had done. She had acted on pure instinct, driven by a desperate need to protect Korra. The moment she had seen Kova raise that dagger, something within her had snapped, and she had moved without thought, without hesitation. The blade had sunk into his flesh, and though it hadn’t been a killing blow, the fear that she had forced Korra’s hand gnawed at her. It was something she had never imagined herself capable of—striking another person, pushing Korra into an act she might not have intended just yet. The weight of it bore down on her, suffocating and relentless.

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Asami whispered, her voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t let him hurt you. But now… was it my fault?”

Korra’s arms tightened around her, pulling her close, as if she could shield Asami from the guilt that twisted in her gut. “You did what you had to do, Asami,” Korra whispered, her voice thick with tenderness. “You saved my life. You’re my hero. Kova made his choice, not you.”

Asami closed her eyes, letting Korra’s warmth envelop her, trying to draw strength from the woman she loved. The words were simple, yet they carried a weight that Asami desperately needed to feel. Still, the guilt and the fear that she had forced Korra’s hand clung to her like shadows that refused to fade, lingering just beyond the edge of the firelight.

Korra seemed to sense her turmoil, and after a long silence, she spoke again, her voice soft but laced with a depth of emotion that cut through the fog of Asami’s thoughts. “The first time I took someone’s life… it was Tagaka, the pirate queen.” Korra’s tone was measured, but there was a rawness in her words that made Asami look up, her eyes meeting Korra’s.

“I didn’t want to kill her. I was to bring her to justice before the gods, the commonfolk,” Korra continued, her gaze distant, as if she were watching the memory unfold before her. “But I had to. She was going to kill Master Kuruk, and there was no other choice. I remember the way it felt—like the world had gone cold. Her death haunted me for days, even in my dreams. I would wake up, seeing her face, feeling the weight of what I had done.”

Korra’s voice wavered, just for a moment, but then she took a deep breath, her eyes refocusing on Asami. “But as time passed, it got better. I’m not saying it ever fully goes away, but the people I protected, the support I received from them… it made it easier to bear. I realized that I wasn’t alone. What I did, I did out of necessity, just like you. And that’s why I’m here, Asami. You’re not alone in this. I’m here with you, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

Asami’s heart swelled with emotion at Korra’s words. The love she felt for Korra deepened, becoming something almost overwhelming in its intensity. In that moment, she understood just how much she needed Korra—not just wanted, but needed her, in a way that went beyond words. She longed to lose herself in Korra, to find solace in her embrace, to feel her presence against her. But for now, she settled for what she could have.

Without a word, Asami leaned up and pressed her lips to Korra’s in a soft, lingering kiss. It was filled with all the gratitude, love, and need that she couldn’t put into words. Korra returned the kiss, her hands cradling Asami’s face, as if she too understood that this moment was more than just a kiss—it was a promise, a vow of the bond they shared.

When they finally pulled apart, Asami rested her forehead against Korra’s, her breath shaky but steadying with each passing moment. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “For being here, for understanding… for everything.”

Korra smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Asami’s ear. “Always,” she murmured. “I’m with you, Asami. No matter what comes next.”

Korra was about to step away, but Asami tightened her grip on her hands. “Korra…” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Korra looked back at her, her expression softening. “What is it?”

“I… please stay… with me. Tonight.” Asami’s voice trembled, the vulnerability in her plea raw and unguarded.

Korra’s smile was tender, filled with a warmth that seemed to chase away the shadows lingering in the room. “I will,” she murmured, her voice a quiet promise.

—

Asami sat quietly on the dais, grateful that she was still afforded a place despite everything that had happened. Her father had been labeled a traitor, and now she had blood on her hands. She had thought that would strip her of any standing, yet here she was, seated among the leaders. When she had asked why, Master Arrak had simply told her, “When Hiroshi was put into a cell, you became the ambassador to the United Republic. It was your duty.”

Ambassador. The word echoed in her mind, hollow and strange. If she was indeed the ambassador, why had she not been the one handling diplomatic relations with the Republic? Right , she thought bitterly, because she was an omega. Perhaps it had been Master Suntoq who tended to matters of state with the Republic. She filed that knowledge away for later; it did no good to dwell on it now. The Chief’s Moot was about to begin, and that was what mattered.

The deep, rhythmic thrum of drums echoed through the hall as the chiefs took their places. The air was charged with anticipation, and Asami could feel the tension like a taut string, ready to snap at the slightest disturbance.

Master Arrak stood tall at the center of the dais, his voice ringing out with the authority of tradition. “We gather here today for the Chief’s Moot, to choose the leader who will guide us through the storms ahead and ensure the prosperity of our people.” The drumming ceased, leaving an almost unbearable silence as the chiefs began to rise, each taking their turn to address the Moot.

One by one, the chiefs of the newer tribes spoke, their words filled with promises of progress and innovation. They were younger, eager to make their mark on the tribe’s history, yet Asami noticed how their words seemed to drift into the air, almost weightless. They spoke of new ways to cultivate crops, of strengthening ties with distant allies, but there was a hollowness to their speeches, as if they were more focused on gaining power than on leading.

The former queen was not worried, however. Her alpha had already done all of them.

Asami listened, her gaze drifting occasionally to Korra. She could see the tension in Korra’s posture, though her face remained calm, almost unreadable—a mask of composure. Asami’s fingers twitched, a phantom reminder of the blood that had stained her hands. She wanted to reach out to Korra, to offer her reassurance, but she knew this was Korra’s moment. This was a test of her leadership, and she would face it alone.

Then, finally, Chiefs Hakoda, Taqqiq, Unna, and Samak rose together, their movements deliberate, as though they had planned this moment with care. The four chiefs stood before the assembly, their faces solemn but resolute, ready to sway the future of the Southern Water Tribe.

Chief Hakoda was the first to speak. “We have heard much today of promises for the future, but we would like to speak of what has already been achieved.” His voice rang out clear and strong, commanding the attention of the hall. “In just over a year, Princess Korra has accomplished more than many of us have in decades.”

Chief Unna stepped forward with conviction. “She defeated the pirates that plagued our waters,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of history. “For years, those pirates crippled our fishing and trade, leaving our shores vulnerable. But Her Grace faced them head-on, not only driving them out but restoring the lifeblood of our coastal tribes.”

Chief Samak took his turn, his gaze firm as he looked around the hall. “And her accomplishments do not end there. In my own tribe, the Air Nomads— led by Lady Beifong— brought new farming techniques that Her Grace herself sought out. These techniques have transformed our lands, ensuring that we have enough food to last through the harshest of winters. It is thanks to Korra’s foresight that our people will not starve when the snow falls.”

Chief Taqqiq stepped forward next, his eyes fierce with respect for Korra. “And it is not just the material needs of our tribe that she has seen to. She forged a vital alliance with the Air Nation, securing both their wisdom and their strength. Moreover, she brokered peace between the Bear Tribe and Camel Tribe, ending a millennia-long feud that threatened to tear us apart.” He paused, his gaze sweeping the assembly before returning to the princess. “And though the gods shun kinslayers, in Her Grace’s case, her actions in beheading the disgraced Chief Kova were just. It was for her protection.”

The murmurs of approval and agreement swelled through the hall. Then one chief from a tribe Asami did not recognize stepped forward. His presence commanded attention, and when he spoke, his voice was like thunder, booming across the chamber.

“If the Princess has won the hearts of three of the oldest, most unyielding tribes, then who among us can dispute her rightful claim to the throne?” His words echoed through the hall, and a hush fell over the assembly as all eyes turned to him.

The chief then knelt before Korra, his head bowed in respect. “I swear fealty to you, from this day until my last breath, Your Grace, no matter the outcome. The Tribe of the Owl is yours.”

As the hall erupted in cheers, Asami could feel the shift in the air. The common folk, seated in the upper galleries, began to cheer, their voices echoing through the Great Hall like the roar of a rising storm. Their support for Korra was unmistakable.

Korra, standing tall before the assembly, bowed her head humbly. “I thank you for your confidence, Chiefs,” she said. “It has been my honor to serve our people, and it would be my honor to continue that service.”

The time for voting had come. Master Arrak raised his hands, calling for silence. Each candidate had their own token—small, carved objects unique to each one. For Korra, the tokens were smooth, rounded stones, each etched with the symbol of a wolf. The sound of stone against stone as each token was placed in the ceremonial bowl sent ripples of tension through the hall.

The other candidates’ tokens varied in shape and material. One candidate had tokens carved from bone, shaped like small tusks—a symbol of their strength and connection to the land. Others were fashioned from ivory, etched with intricate designs representing their tribe’s ancient lineage. Each clink of a token being placed reverberated through Asami’s chest, a constant reminder of what was at stake. Though she had faith in Korra, the uncertainty gnawed at her. Would they see what she saw in Korra? Would they choose her to lead them?

Finally, the last token was placed. The hall fell silent as Master Arrak stepped forward to count them. Asami held her breath, the minutes stretching unbearably long. Her hands were clenched in her lap, the tension in her body coiled tight as she awaited the outcome.

At last, Master Arrak raised his head. “The votes are cast,” he declared, his voice resonant and strong. “And the choice is clear. Princess Korra is chosen as the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe!”

A roar of approval erupted from the common folk, their cheers filling the hall with deafening sound. Asami felt an overwhelming rush of pride and joy sweep over her. The tension released from her body in a wave of relief as she rose to her feet, her gaze immediately seeking Korra’s. Korra stood triumphant, the weight of her new title resting easily on her shoulders, and when their eyes met, Korra smiled.

Asami’s heart swelled with happiness and pride. This was the woman she loved, the woman who had fought for her people, who had earned their trust and their devotion. And now, she was their Chief—until her death.

Chapter Text

Korra stood tall as the cheers echoed through the Great Hall, but even as the elation of the moment washed over her, her mind was already turning to the responsibilities that lay ahead. She was Chief now, and her first order of business was clear.

“My people,” Korra began, her voice carrying through the hall, quieting the remaining murmurs. “As your new Chief, I will begin by honoring my fallen brother. Kova may have been on the path to becoming a tyrant, but he was still my brother. He deserves a funeral, small though it may be. Anyone who wishes to attend is welcome. I will bear no grudge against those who choose not to. Even if it is only my mother and me who stand by his pyre, he will receive his due.”

A murmur of assent rippled through the hall. Korra could see the mixed emotions in the eyes of those before her—some still held bitterness for Kova’s actions, others sympathy for Korra’s loss. But she would carry out this duty, as much for herself as for him.

“After that,” she continued, her voice steady, “there will be an execution of the traitor chiefs who conspired with him. Justice must be served, and it will be swift.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of what was to come.

Korra paused, letting the weight of her words settle before she spoke again. “There will also be a meeting with only the chiefs of the Southern Water Tribe. We must discuss how we will move forward as a united people.”

As she finished, Chief Hakoda stepped forward, his voice carrying a note of warmth. “Chief Korra, before we move to such matters, may I suggest that we have a banquet to celebrate this new era? A feast for all our people—nobles and common folk alike. Let them rejoice in this time of change and hope.”

A cheer rose from the gathered tribesfolk, their voices echoing their agreement. Korra saw the joy in their eyes and felt a pang of relief. Perhaps this celebration could help ease the tensions that had gripped the tribe for so long.

Master Arrak nodded, satisfied. “Then it shall be done. We will prepare a celebration for tonight.” At his signal, a bang of the drum resounded through the hall, signaling the end of the Chief’s Moot.

As the hall began to empty, Korra allowed herself a moment to breathe. She still couldn’t quite believe that so many of the chiefs had chosen her to lead them. She had been certain they would prefer someone untainted by the shadow of treachery. But there was no time to dwell on that now. She had a funeral to arrange and an execution to deliver.

Once the people inside the Great Hall had dispersed, Korra moved through the crowd, searching for her mother, Senna, to ask what she wanted to do about Kova’s funeral. But before she could find her, her eyes landed on Asami. A smile formed on Korra’s face, just as it always did whenever she saw Asami lately. In that moment, she remembered the most important thing in her world.

She would need to prepare her betrothal to Asami, but that would come after the funeral. They were having a child together, and Korra would not allow their pup to be branded a bastard. This was her next task, and it was one she would face with the same determination she had shown in everything else.

—

The funeral they had arranged for Kova was a simple one, befitting the circumstances. They built a modest pyre where Kova’s remains were placed. Unlike the honored dead, who were traditionally set out to sea, Kova’s body would burn on the tundra—a funeral without honor.

Korra stood before the pyre, her thoughts heavy. She had been right. Only she and her mother had come to pay their last respects. Asami had wanted to attend, to support Korra in this painful moment, but the early sickness of her pregnancy had kept her bedridden.

A sage, his voice low and steady, recited the last rites, his words lost in the cold wind that swept across the tundra. The ceremony was sparse, devoid of the grandeur that typically accompanied the death of a chief. When the sage finished, he gestured for Korra to light the pyre.

Korra glanced at her mother, who had been silent the entire time. Senna’s face was impassive, stoic, and unreadable—a mask that hid whatever emotions she might be feeling.

Taking a deep breath, Korra stepped forward and took the torch from the sage. She lit the kindling beneath the pyre, and the flames quickly caught, rising up in a blaze that illuminated the white and blue of the tundra with harsh reds, yellows, and oranges. The smell of fresh, crisp snow mingled with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh, a contrast that made Korra’s stomach churn.

“I hope you find your happiness in the afterlife, brother. Goodbye,” she whispered as she watched the flames consume what was left of Kova. She turned away from the pyre, her heart heavy, only to see her mother’s stoic facade finally break. Senna was crying, tears streaming down her face.

Without hesitation, Korra hurried to her side, wrapping her arms around her mother. The moment she touched her, Senna broke down completely, her sobs wracking her body as she clung to Korra. Korra held her close, feeling the weight of her mother’s grief as if it were her own. She did her best to offer comfort, whispering that it would be alright, that they would get through this together.

When Senna’s sobs finally subsided, she heaved a sigh, pulling back slightly to look at Korra with a sad, weary smile. “I’m sorry for putting you through this pain, my daughter.”

Korra was about to protest, but Senna shook her head, silencing her gently. “Let me apologize, please.” Korra nodded, listening as her mother continued.

“I had not paid enough attention to him,” Senna said, her voice trembling with regret. “I let Tonraq be the one to guide both of you, and I… I wasn’t there for you, Korra. We both thought you were going to present as an omega because female alphas are so rare. But… I should have raised you in the old ways, regardless of your designation. You should have been taught to be whatever you wanted to be. But I caved, succumbed to the new ways, and shunned my responsibilities. And now, we have come to this. So, I apologize, my child, for my errors. And from this day forward, I shall strive to be a better mother and…” she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper, “a better grandmother to your child.”

Korra felt her cheeks heat up despite the heaviness of their conversation. The warmth of her mother’s words, the promise of a better future, brought tears to her eyes. She nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “I forgive you, Mother.”

They stood there for a long moment, holding each other as the pyre burned behind them, the flames crackling in the silence of the tundra. In that moment, Korra felt a weight lift from her heart, replaced by the quiet strength that came from forgiveness and the resolve to move forward.

When Korra returned to the Keep, she moved straight to the execution grounds, where the chiefs and many common folk were already gathered. The traitors who had conspired with Kova were waiting, their hands bound, faces pale with fear and resignation. Korra stepped onto the platform, her heart heavy but her resolve firm.

“You stand here today as traitors to the Southern Water Tribe,” Korra announced, her voice clear and strong. “You conspired against your people, and there is only one punishment for such treachery.”

The crowd was silent, the tension palpable. The executioner handed Korra her father’s sword, its weight a reminder of her duty. One by one, the traitors were led to the block. Korra hesitated for only a moment before bringing the blade down, swift and precise. Each stroke was met with the same grim silence, the snow turning red around the platform.

When the last traitor was dead, Korra faced the crowd, her expression solemn. “Let this be a lesson to all,” she said, her voice carrying through the cold air. “The Southern Water Tribe will not tolerate betrayal. We stand together, united in our resolve.”

The crowd remained silent as Korra handed the bloodied sword back to the executioner. She descended from the platform, the weight of her actions heavy on her shoulders, but she knew it was necessary. Justice had been served, and now she could turn her attention to the future.

A new dawn awaited.

—

“Asami?” Korra called as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors to her omega’s chambers. The room was dimly lit, the flicker of firelight casting long shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of Asami lingered in the air, but the room appeared empty at first glance. Korra’s heart gave a small, unbidden lurch. Where was she?

She didn’t have to search long. The door to the privy creaked open, and Asami emerged. Korra’s breath caught in her throat. The omega wore a deep red gown that clung to her curves as if made for her alone. Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant bun, exposing the graceful line of her neck—a sight that made Korra’s mouth dry. The skin there was smooth, inviting, and Korra’s mind wandered to thoughts she had no business entertaining, not now.

Asami’s face was a vision, her lips painted a deep crimson that matched her gown, her eyes framed by long lashes that seemed to beckon Korra closer. Her hands, slender and delicate, were encased in fine gloves that ended just above her wrists. The sight of her, so composed and regal, stirred something primal within Korra—an urge she fought to keep buried. Her inner alpha wanted to claim her, to ravish her here and now, but she clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. Once more, this was not the time.

Korra stepped forward, reaching out a hand. Asami moved closer, her eyes never leaving Korra’s, and took the offered hand with a shy smile. The touch of Asami’s skin through the soft leather sent a jolt of electricity through Korra, but she maintained her composure. With a small, reverent bow, Korra brought Asami’s hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “My Lady,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with reverence.

Asami’s smile widened, her cheeks flushing slightly, and Korra knew in that instant that no matter what lay ahead, they would face it together. Their bond was unbreakable, and Korra would protect it with everything she had.

“Are you ready for the feast?” Korra asked softly as she released Asami’s hand. But no answer came. Korra looked up to find Asami staring at her, lip caught between her pearly white teeth, her gaze roaming slowly over Korra’s form. The intensity of Asami’s eyes made Korra self-conscious. She glanced at herself in the nearby looking glass, seeing the new blue doublet she wore, sprinkled with white embroidery that glistened like snowflakes. Her white breeches were crisp and clean, and a white cape trimmed with fur hung from her shoulders. There was nothing amiss, yet under Asami’s gaze, she felt almost inadequate.

“I’m ready,” Asami finally said, her voice soft but laced with something deeper, something that made Korra’s heart skip a beat.

Korra managed a smile, offering her elbow, and Asami took it eagerly, sliding her gloved hand into Korra’s, their fingers entwining. But just as they were about to step out, Korra’s thoughts turned to what had been weighing on her mind.

“Before we go, I have something to ask, My Lady.” Korra’s voice was more serious now, her eyes meeting Asami’s with an intensity that hadn’t been there moments before.

Asami tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her green eyes. “What is it, Your Grace?”

Korra hesitated, suddenly unsure of herself. She rubbed the back of her neck, a nervous habit she had never quite shaken, and glanced away. But then she gathered her courage, took a deep breath, and spoke. “If it pleases you, I would like to ask for your hand in marriage… wed you in front of everyone, in the sight of the gods.” The words tumbled out, and before she could stop herself, she began to ramble. “It’s for the pup! To protect them from being accused of being a bastard, and… well, I want you to be mine, officially, I mean. Not just because of the pup, but because—”

Asami silenced her with a sudden, searing kiss. Korra’s thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind as she melted into the embrace, all her worries swept away by the warmth of Asami’s lips against her own. When they finally parted, Asami’s eyes were bright, a soft smile on her lips.

“Yes,” Asami whispered, her voice breathless but certain. “I wish to be betrothed to you, Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe. I want to be your intended. Your wife, your mate.”

Korra saw the joy in Asami’s eyes, the happiness that replaced the intensity that had been there before. It made her heart swell, and for a moment, all was right in the world.

She leaned in and kissed Asami again, this time more gently, a promise in the gesture. When she pulled back, she smiled, “Shall we?” she asked warmly.

Asami’s eyes sparkled as she nodded, “We shall.”

***

To say Asami was giddy was an understatement. Korra had just asked for her hand in marriage, officially making her not only her wife but her mate. The thought filled her with a deep, overwhelming joy, the kind that had seemed almost impossible in the darkest moments of their struggle. After everything they had endured—all the pain and separation—they were finally here. It had been a long and treacherous road, but every sacrifice, every wound, every heartache had led to this moment. She could scarcely believe it—Korra would be hers, and she would be Korra’s. The thought of their wedding, of standing before the gods and sealing their bond, made her heart race with anticipation. This was all she had ever wanted, all she had ever fought for. And now, it was within her grasp.

As they approached the grand hall, Asami marveled at the transformation of the chamber. Where once it had been filled with the weight of judgment and the shadows of betrayal, now it was a place of life and celebration. The walls were adorned with snow flowers, their delicate white petals a stark contrast against the dark wood. Long tables stretched across the hall, laden with roasted meats, fresh fruits, and steaming bowls of broth. The scent of spiced wine and honeyed mead filled the air, and the sound of music—drums, strings, and flutes—echoed off the high ceilings. It was a feast worthy of the new era that had dawned with Korra’s ascension.

The people of the Southern Water Tribe were already feasting, their voices raised in laughter and conversation. As Korra and Asami walked down the aisle toward the dais, they were greeted with smiles and cheers, the warmth of the tribe’s approval washing over them. It was a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that had gripped them not long ago.

On the dais, Senna, Master Arrak, and Master Kuruk were already seated, waiting for them. Opal, a guest of honor, stood beside them, her face bright with excitement. Asami felt a deep sense of belonging as she took her seat beside Korra, the tension of the past few days easing into the comfort of good food and familiar company.

But the respite was short-lived. A few minutes later, Chief Taqqiq approached their table, his steps unsteady, his cheeks flushed with too much ale. He grinned broadly as he brought forth the young woman at his side. “Chief Korra!” he called out, his voice loud and boisterous. “Now that you are free from past burdens, you must choose a bride! May I introduce my daughter, Lady Ila of the Bear Tribe.”

A knot of unease tightened in Asami’s stomach as she recognized the woman. Lady Ila—the same omega who had ridden with her on that fateful hunt, the one whose blessed bosom had angered her. The memory of that day, and the way Ila had talked about Korra, made Asami’s teeth clench with a sudden, fierce possessiveness.

Before Korra could respond, Chief Hakoda stepped forward, introducing his own daughter. She was tall and willowy, her features sharp and cold, with eyes that glinted with calculated interest and lust. Asami’s disdain for the woman was immediate and profound. If only these women knew , she thought bitterly.

Korra opened her mouth to refuse, but before she could speak, Senna leaned in, her voice low but firm. “Do not offend the chiefs by turning them down immediately,” she advised. “You must entertain them for a time, and then you can decide whether to pursue one of them or not.”

Korra hesitated, clearly reluctant, but she nodded, casting an apologetic glance at Asami as the two omega ladies eagerly took her hands and led her to the dance floor. Asami’s heart clenched with jealousy, a hot, angry feeling that she couldn’t quite shake. She knew Korra was only doing her duty, knew that Korra had already promised herself to her. But it didn’t stop the sharp pang of possessiveness that curled in her chest as she watched Korra dance with them, their hands on her, their eyes filled with admiration.

Korra moved gracefully, her strength evident in every step, and Asami couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy. Those hands, those eyes—they should be focused solely on her. The thought gnawed at her, a bitter seed of jealousy taking root in her chest. Why should those omega women have Korra’s attention, even for a moment? She was the one Korra had chosen, the one Korra had asked to stand beside her as her mate.

But then, a realization struck her, swift and clear. Yes, Korra’s eyes should be on her. So why was she standing here, sulking like a spoiled child? It was unbecoming, unworthy of the woman Korra had chosen. She was Korra’s intended now, her betrothed, and it was time she acted like it. The alpha belonged to her, and she would not allow anyone to forget that.

With newfound determination, Asami strode forward, her steps purposeful and confident. The crowd parted for her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. She moved with the grace of a queen, her head held high, and when she reached the dance floor, she didn’t hesitate. She stepped between Korra and the omega women, her eyes flashing with a quiet command. Without a word, she took Korra’s hand, her grip firm, and led her away from the others.

Korra’s smile when she looked at Asami was one of pure affection, her eyes softening as she followed Asami’s lead. They moved together as if they had been dancing like this all their lives. The music swirled around them, but it was the steady rhythm of Korra’s heart that Asami focused on, the warmth of her alpha’s body pressed against hers.

As they danced, Asami rested her head on Korra’s shoulder, feeling the strong, reassuring presence beneath her cheek. She tucked her head into the crook of Korra’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent that had always brought her comfort. The urge to sink her teeth into Korra’s skin, to mark her as hers, was almost overwhelming. She could hardly believe this day had come, that after all the trials and pain, they were here, together, with the future stretching out before them like a promise.

Her thoughts wandered to the moment they would be bound, to the day she would finally claim Korra as hers in every sense. But she was snapped out of her reverie by Korra’s whisper, warm and soft against her ear. “Do you think now is a good time to announce our betrothal?”

Asami lifted her head slightly, meeting Korra’s gaze. She considered the question, her mind quickly assessing the situation. “What about those two omegas?” she replied, her voice low. “Their sires might take offense if you announce our betrothal without informing them first.”

Korra’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. “Oh. You are right, my Lady. What would I do without you?” she asked, her tone tinged with a playful warmth that made Asami’s heart flutter.

Asami chuckled softly, her earlier jealousy dissipating like mist in the morning sun. “You might be lost at sea,” she teased, her voice light but filled with affection.

Korra laughed quietly, a sound that Asami cherished. They continued to dance, lost in each other’s presence, the world around them fading into the background.

After their dance, Korra pressed a gentle kiss to Asami’s forehead before excusing herself. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, her voice low. “I need to speak with Chiefs Hakoda and Taqqiq about our betrothal.” Asami nodded, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She watched Korra stride confidently across the hall, her alpha’s presence commanding even in the midst of the festive crowd.

Asami returned to the dais, her mood considerably lighter than when she had left. The lingering tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a quiet joy. She found Senna and Master Arrak engaged in a lively conversation, their laughter a warm contrast to the serious discussions that usually filled the air in their company.

Before Asami could fully settle in, Opal appeared beside her, a cheeky grin playing on her lips. The sight of her made Asami blush, a mix of emotions stirring within her. It was still strange to be in the presence of Korra’s former intended, a woman she had once feared for she had once claimed Korra’s heart. Despite knowing that Lady Beifong had dismissed any notion of resentment, the guilt lingered in the back of Asami’s mind.

But before she could stammer out another apology, Opal spoke, her tone light and genuine. “You two looked happy,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“We are,” Asami replied, her voice betraying her nerves. “Are you… not angry?”

Opal’s smile softened. “I don’t hold any grudge, Lady Sato. I’m just happy Korra is finally happy.”

Asami found herself at a loss for words. The kindness in Opal’s voice was disarming, and all she could manage was a quiet, “Thank you.”

Opal leaned in slightly, her expression more serious. “I spoke with Korra before she came to you earlier. I wanted to make sure she knew she had my full support. She saved my life and the lives of my people. I could never forget that. I owe her, though Korra would never admit it.”

Asami nodded, understanding the weight of Opal’s words. “Korra has a huge heart. She’d do anything for those she cares about, even if she downplays it. Thank you, Lady Beifong.”

Opal chuckled softly. “Call me Opal. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Asami smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her. “Right. Then call me Asami.”

From that moment on, their conversation flowed easily, the tension of the past melting away. They spoke of their experiences, of the paths that had led them to this night, and most importantly, they shared stories of Korra—her triumphs, her blunders, and the little quirks that only those close to her would know. They laughed, finding common ground in their mutual affection for the woman who had brought them together.

Not long after, Korra returned, a wide grin on her face. She leaned close to Asami, her breath warm against Asami’s ear as she whispered, “It’s time.”

Asami’s heart skipped a beat, her earlier nervousness returning with a vengeance. She watched as Korra straightened, turning to address the hall. The conversations quieted, and all eyes turned to the new Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

Korra’s voice was strong, steady as she spoke. “My people, I stand before you tonight filled with gratitude. You have placed your trust in me, and for that, I thank you. But tonight, I ask for your understanding in something that is deeply personal. This is the only selfish request I will ever make of you.”

She paused, her eyes sweeping over the gathered tribesfolk, her gaze landing on Asami with a tenderness that made her heart swell. “I wish to announce my betrothal to the one who has captured my heart, the one I wish to stand beside for the rest of my days. Lady Asami Sato.”

The hall fell into a brief, stunned silence before it erupted into applause and cheers. Asami felt her cheeks flush as she stood, Korra’s hand reaching for hers. The love and pride in Korra’s eyes were unmistakable, and in that moment, Asami knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Chapter Text

Korra sat at her writing desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared at the empty parchment before her. The task should not have been this difficult, and yet, she found herself at a loss. She was supposed to be preparing a betrothal gift for Asami, something that would represent all that they had been through together. But the tradition of crafting a betrothal necklace was foreign to her. Her sire had never taught her the skill, nor had the sages, for she had always been presumed to present as an omega. And now... now she was lost.

Her fingers twitched restlessly as she picked up the quill, sketching a rough outline of a necklace. But it looked wrong, uninspired, like something meant for a stranger, not for Asami—the woman who had endured the intrigues of court, the whispers behind closed doors, and the weight of judgment all for her. Asami deserved more than this clumsy effort. She deserved something worthy of her strength, her grace.

Korra’s thoughts wandered as she contemplated what to do, her mind turning over ideas that seemed to fall short of what she wanted. She didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching her from behind until a voice broke the silence.

“Your Grace.”

Korra jumped, startled from her reverie, and instinctively reached for the sword at her side. In one fluid motion, she spun around, the blade gleaming as she pointed it at the intruder. But when her eyes focused, she saw the familiar face of Master Arrak standing before her, his expression calm but amused.

“Master Arrak?” Korra sighed, lowering the sword. “My apologies, Lord Hand. I seem to be startled easily these days.”

The older man chuckled softly, stepping forward with the ease of someone accustomed to disarming tensions. “Apology accepted, Your Grace.” His gaze fell to the parchment on the desk, where the rough sketch of a necklace was drawn. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a design for a betrothal necklace?”

Korra felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Yes,” she admitted. “Though I can’t seem to come up with anything that would suit Asami. Nothing feels... right.”

Master Arrak studied the drawing for a moment before glancing back at Korra. “If it pleases you, Your Grace...” He hesitated, as though weighing his next words carefully. “It would be most welcome if you were to wed Lady Sato in the old ways.”

Korra blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Master Arrak smiled, a patient, knowing smile. “A betrothal necklace is a tradition of the North. It is a symbol of possession, a sign that the omega is owned rather than seen as an equal. But you, Your Grace, you strive to be something more than that. You seek to be not just a leader, but a partner. You should know how to court an omega in the old ways—our ways. The ways of the South.”

Korra’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh,” she whispered, her gaze shifting back to the parchment in front of her. She looked at her designs with new eyes now, understanding the weight of what she had been attempting to create. The very idea of a betrothal necklace felt wrong, foreign. She had been trying to fit herself into traditions that did not reflect who she was or what she wanted with Asami. “Then what should I do?” she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty.

Master Arrak’s smile grew warmer, more genuine. “I shall teach you, Your Grace.”

—

For the next several days, Korra followed Master Arrak’s instructions with quiet determination. She began by gathering moonflowers, their delicate petals glowing faintly under the silver light of the moon, and arranging them into bouquets, just as he had taught her. The cold stung her cheeks as she worked, but she pressed on, her hands deft and steady. After the moonflowers came the carving of tokens—small, intricate shapes fashioned from driftwood and ivory. The ivory came from a walrus she had hunted over a year ago, its tusks polished and smooth under her blade. Each stroke of her knife brought the token closer to completion, each shape a reflection of her care for Asami.

As the days passed, Korra had the pleasure of seeing Asami’s cheeks flush whenever she presented her with a bouquet or token, her pale skin tinged with warmth. But it was the way Asami’s eyes darkened with desire that sent a thrill through her. That look—half-hidden behind a smile—made all the effort worth it. It reminded Korra that this was more than a ritual; it was a promise.

The hunt came next. On a cold, clear day, they ventured into the wilderness, Asami by her side, though only Korra participated. Asami wasn’t part of the tribe yet, and the responsibility of the hunt fell solely on Korra. She tracked a seal through the snow, her movements precise and swift, every step guided by years of training. When the kill was made, Korra cooked the meal herself, presenting it to Asami with the same reverence she had given the flowers and tokens. Asami’s eyes sparkled, her lips curving into a smile that made Korra’s heart race. She could feel their bond deepening with every tradition completed, every moment spent together.

And now, a fortnight later, Korra found herself riding through the tundra, the frozen landscape stretching out endlessly before her. Master Arrak rode beside her, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air. Today, he would teach her how to build an igloo—the final step in the Southern Water Tribe’s courting ritual. They rode in silence for a time, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath their mounts.

Eventually, Master Arrak broke the quiet. For the rest of their journey, he spoke to her about the movement of ice and snow, the dangers and bounties that lurked in the shadows. He told her all about the hunting seasons and quotas, the animals that could be could be eaten, and which must be used for other purposes. His enthusiasm was infectious, though Korra found herself puzzled by it. He was teaching her with such vigor, as if imparting something more than just knowledge. Perhaps, she thought, he was simply happy to be out hunting and building again. He had been cooped up in the Keep for a few moons, burdened by the duties of being the Hand.

They arrived at the perfect spot as the sun hovered just above the horizon, casting long shadows over the ice. The world was painted in hues of pink and orange, the air cold but still. Master Arrak dismounted and motioned for Korra to do the same.

“This is where we’ll build,” he said, his voice steady but soft. He began to instruct her, showing her how to cut the ice and shape it into bricks. His hands trembled as he worked, his voice shaking slightly with each direction he gave. Brick by brick, the igloo began to take form, the curved walls rising up around them. Korra worked quickly, her movements sure and strong, but she couldn’t help noticing the tremor in Master Arrak’s hands. It was subtle at first, but as they neared completion, it became impossible to ignore.

When the final ice brick was set in place, Korra wiped the sweat from her brow, her breath coming in short puffs in the cold air. “Amazing,” she said, stepping back to admire their work. But when she turned to Master Arrak, she saw him looking at her with something more than pride. His gaze was filled with emotion, a raw intensity she hadn’t seen before.

Concern flickered in her chest. “Are you faring well with the cold, Lord Hand?” she asked, her voice innocent. “Why are you trembling?”

She hadn’t expected the reaction that followed. Master Arrak’s face crumpled, and before Korra could react, he fell to his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs. His hands covered his face as he wept, his voice breaking as he spoke.

“Your Grace... Korra, forgive me... forgive us.”

Korra’s heart lurched. She stepped forward, her confusion mounting. “What are you saying?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

Master Arrak’s next words came through ragged breaths, his tears freezing against his cheeks. “For your mother and I... we kept this from you. All these years... we kept it hidden.”

Korra’s mind raced, trying to grasp what he was saying, but the pieces didn’t fit. What secret could he and her mother possibly share?

And then, the words fell from his lips like a stone dropping into still water.

“I am your true sire.”

***

Asami hummed a soft, wordless tune as she moved about her chambers, her fingers lightly trailing over the delicate fabric of her gown. The day had finally come—after a month of Korra courting her, after a month of restraining herself from jumping her alpha every time their eyes met, they were finally being wedded.

The ceremony would take place beneath the stars, under the gaze of a full moon, where the Goddess of the Moon, Yue, herself could witness their union. It was the way of the South, a custom that tied the couple to both the earth and the heavens, and Asami felt a deep sense of belonging knowing she would be part of it. There was something sacred about it, something that made her feel more connected to Korra and the tribe that had become her new family.

Asami couldn’t help but compare this to her union with Kova. Over a year ago, she had been bound to Korra’s brother, but that day had been a blur, a haze of fear and duty. The ceremony had meant little to her then, lost in the whirlwind of her confusion and despair. She had spent those moments trying to block out the reality of her situation, unwilling to let the truth of her binding sink in. But now… now she was different. Now, she would savor every detail. This wedding, her union with Korra, was something she would remember for the rest of her life. She would make sure of it.

A soft knock on the door pulled Asami from her thoughts. She turned, and there, framed in the doorway, was Senna. The older woman’s smile was warm, her eyes twinkling with affection. She was going to be Asami’s good-mother once again.

“I see you’re finally ready,” Senna said, stepping into the room with a sad look. She couldn’t quite know why.

But as Asami glanced down at her gown, a wave of shyness washed over her. The fabric was light but warm, designed for the cold of the tundra. It was more tribal than the formal gowns she had once worn, but there was a blend of elegance in the beading and embroidery. The soft blue color mirrored the ice and sea of the Southern Water Tribe, while the intricate stitching reminded her of the delicate patterns her old gowns had once displayed. The neckline was high, lined with fur, and the dress flared slightly at the waist, allowing her the freedom of movement she would need during the ceremony. Asami moved sideways, relieved to see that her belly was not noticeable beneath the layers she wore. The gown hid it well, wrapping her in warmth and dignity, though the secret it concealed stirred something tender in her heart.

“I am,” Asami said, her voice soft but certain.

Senna smiled, stepping closer to help with the final touches of Asami’s hair. With deft hands, she braided strands of Asami’s dark locks, weaving in beads and small ornaments made of bone and shell, symbols of her new life among the tribe. When she was finished, Asami looked like she belonged to the South, as if she had always been part of this land.

“My daughter is going to faint when she sees you, Asami,” Senna said with a teasing grin, the sad look was gone.

Asami giggled, a rare sound that escaped her lips. “I sure hope not. I need her awake for the ceremony.” Heat crept up her cheeks at the unspoken implication behind her words. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, hadn’t meant to hint at what she longed for once the ceremony was over—the thought of finally being with Korra as her mate.

Senna simply chuckled and waved it off. “We should go,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “They’re waiting.”

With a final glance in the mirror, Asami took a deep breath, her heart pounding with excitement. She followed Senna out of the chambers, ready to step into the night, where the stars, the moon, and Korra awaited her.

—

Asami stood at the entrance to the courtyard, her breath catching in her throat at the sight before her. The Keep’s servants had truly outdone themselves. Pillars of ice stood tall, gleaming under the soft glow of lanterns strung like fairy lights, casting a warm, ethereal light that danced across the frost. The lanterns swayed gently in the cold breeze, their soft flicker making the snow beneath her feet glisten like jewels scattered across the ground. Long, flowing banners of blue and white draped from the upper walls, fluttering like waves in the sea. The scent of the tundra, fresh and sharp, mingled with the warmth of the fires that lined the edges of the gathering, keeping the chill at bay.

In the center of it all stood the Sage, cloaked in ceremonial garb, his face half-hidden beneath a hood edged with fur. Behind him, the stars glittered against the deep black sky, and above them, the full moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the entire ceremony. It was as if the Yue herself had descended to bless their union.

Asami’s heart swelled at the sight, but as her eyes scanned the scene, her smile faltered. Korra wasn’t there. A pang of panic shot through her chest. Had something gone wrong? Had Korra decided—

Before the thought could fully form, Senna’s hand rested gently on her arm. “In the old ways,” Senna whispered, her voice calming, “the alpha walks on the other side, parallel to the aisle. You will not see her until the ceremony begins.”

Asami released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her panic easing. She nodded, grateful for Senna’s reassurance. She should have known Korra wouldn’t abandon her, not after everything they had been through.

The herald stepped forward, his voice carrying over the crowd. “Lady Asami Sato of the United Republic!” he called out.

At that moment, the drums began to beat—a slow, rhythmic thrum that seemed to pulse through the earth beneath her feet. As she began to walk down the aisle, Asami’s eyes scanned the crowd. Familiar faces greeted her, bringing warmth to her heart. Opal stood near the front, her cheeks flushed from the cold, a bright smile on her lips. The chiefs who had supported Korra—Chiefs Hakoda, Unna, and Samak—stood proudly, their approving gazes following her. Even Chief Taqqiq, who grumbled his displeasure that Korra did not choose his daughter, stood at attention, his presence a solemn acknowledgment of the importance of this night.

But then Asami’s eyes caught sight of Master Arrak, standing off to the side, watching the proceedings with a solemn look. She hesitated, confusion flickering in her chest. She had expected him to volunteer to be standing beside Korra, guiding her in the final moments before the ceremony.

Yet he wasn’t. Asami frowned slightly, her mind briefly wandering to the change she had seen in Korra since her return from the tundra. After learning to build an igloo, Korra had seemed distracted, distant even. She had become... dismissive of Master Arrak, a shift that Asami hadn’t given much thought to at the time, but now seemed all too clear. Why had she withdrawn from the man who was supposed to be closest to her?

Pushing those thoughts aside, Asami focused on the moment at hand. She continued her walk down the aisle, the rhythm of the drums guiding her steps.

And then, she smelled her—Korra’s scent, warm and familiar, laced with the fresh, crisp air of the tundra and something deeper, something that made Asami’s breath hitch. She didn’t need to see her to know Korra was there, walking on the other side, just as Senna had said.

When Asami finally allowed herself to glance over, her breath truly caught in her throat. Korra was magnificent. She wore the ceremonial garb of the Southern Water Tribe—dark blue and white, lined with thick fur to keep out the cold. The fabric was rich and heavy, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light of the lanterns, giving her the appearance of a warrior from legend. Her long, dark hair was tied back, but a few strands had escaped to frame her strong, chiseled face. A fur-lined cape draped over her shoulders, its edges decorated with the intricate patterns of the tribe, symbols of leadership and strength.

But it was Korra’s eyes that captured Asami’s attention most. They were focused, intense, glowing with a fierce determination, but there was something else there too—a softness, a tenderness that was meant only for her. Korra’s skin glowed under the moonlight, her jawline sharp, the scar over her eyebrow faint but ever-present, a reminder of the battles she had fought, the trials she had endured. She was everything Asami had ever wanted, and more than she had ever dared to dream.

Asami’s heart swelled with pride, with love, but then she froze in mid-step. Her breath caught for an entirely different reason. For a brief moment, as she watched Korra walk parallel to her, she saw him. Kova. His bloody form appeared behind Korra, his dark eyes staring at her, accusing. His blood-stained hands reached for her, his mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a smile.

Asami blinked, her breath coming in sharp and panicked. But when her eyes opened again, he was gone. No blood. No specter. However, it was Master Kuruk who walked behind her alpha.

“No,” she whispered to herself, her heart racing. “He would not ruin this night. Or any other night.” Her gaze steadied as she forced the thoughts from her mind. “He’s dead. I’m alive. And so is Korra.” She inhaled deeply, pushing the vision of Kova away. This was their night, hers and Korra’s, and nothing—not even the ghost of her past—would take that from her.

Korra’s eyes met hers, warm and full of promise, and in that moment, Asami knew the past would not haunt her any longer. She had survived. Korra had survived.

Asami’s heart swelled with pride, with love, with the certainty that this was right.

Finally, Asami reached the center of the courtyard, where the Sage stood waiting. She turned, and for the first time that evening, Korra was there in front of her, standing only a few feet away. The moment their eyes met, everything else seemed to melt away. The crowd, the cold, the flicker of lanterns, even the world itself faded into the background as if it was only the two of them, standing in the center of the universe.

Korra’s lips parted into a soft smile, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of love and awe. Asami felt her own face mirror that smile, her heart racing, but for once, the nerves were gone. She was home, here in Korra’s presence, where she was always meant to be. They stood there, simply looking at one another, as though communicating without words, each gaze a promise, each smile a vow. For that brief, eternal moment, nothing else mattered.

But then, the Sage’s voice broke the silence, soft but commanding. “We are gathered here beneath the gaze of the Moon Goddess, witness to the union of these two souls, bound by love and by blood.”

Asami blinked, the trance between her and Korra broken, but the warmth of the moment lingered. She glanced at the Sage, whose eyes were hidden beneath the heavy hood, yet his voice carried the weight of ancient tradition.

“Step forward,” the Sage beckoned.

Korra moved first, her posture strong and deliberate, but her gaze never left Asami. She held out her hand, palm open and inviting. Without hesitation, Asami placed her own hand in Korra’s, and together, they stepped toward the ceremonial stone where the Sage awaited them.

“The blood of the alpha and omega must mingle,” the Sage intoned, his voice low and steady. “In doing so, you seal this union, joining not just hearts, but your very souls.”

He produced a small ceremonial blade, its hilt wrapped in leather, the metal glinting in the moonlight. Korra took the blade first, her movements sure, though there was a moment where her gaze softened as she glanced at Asami, as if to silently ask if she was ready.

Asami nodded, her heart pounding, but she felt no fear. Only a deep, abiding trust. Korra lifted the blade to her lower lip, a quick, precise movement. The silver blade kissed her skin, and a thin line of blood appeared, stark against the cold of the night. She then passed the blade to Asami.

With hands that did not tremble, Asami repeated the action, feeling the cold bite of the metal before the warmth of her own blood mingled with the evening air. The cuts were small, precise, but symbolic—binding them together in a way that words alone could never capture.

“Now speak your vows,” the Sage instructed, his voice softer now.

Korra’s eyes bore into Asami’s, her voice low but carrying all the weight of her love. “Lady Sato, fate has a funny way of bringing two people together. We met in the shadow of tragedy, our paths crossed when everything seemed uncertain, and for a time, fate separated us. But even through that separation, I knew—deep down—that we were meant for more.”

She paused, her gaze never wavering from Asami’s. “Now, as I stand before the gods and men, I am grateful to be here, standing with you, my love, my mate. I vow to strive to be a better mate to you with every breath I take, to be the alpha you deserve. And know this—though I will protect you always, you shall stand equal to me. Together, through every trial, every storm, I will stand by your side.”

Korra smiled softly, her voice thick with love. “You are my strength, my light, and with this blood, I pledge myself to you—now and forever.”

Asami felt a lump in her throat as she prepared to speak, her heart full. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Korra’s. “Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, I am grateful to the gods—and to you—that after everything, after all the choices I made that led us apart, you are still here with me. Despite the difficulties, you have chosen to stand by my side, to be my mate, my love for life.”

Her voice grew stronger as she continued, “I vow to be forever faithful to you, to love and cherish you as your equal, just as you have cherished me. I will stand with you, not just in times of joy, but in times of hardship. I will strive to be worthy of the love and protection you have given me. You are my heart, my protector, and with this blood, I give myself to you—completely.”

The Sage nodded approvingly, stepping back to allow them space. Then, Korra took a step toward Asami, unclasping the heavy fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders. Standing beside her, Master Kuruk quietly stepped forward, holding the helm of the cloak with steady hands. Together, he and Korra lifted it, their movements deliberate. Korra’s eyes never left Asami’s as she gently draped the cloak over her shoulders, the weight of the garment settling with surprising warmth.

“This is my promise to you,” Korra said softly, her voice low enough that only Asami could hear. “That I will always protect you, always keep you safe. As long as I breathe, I am yours.”

Asami’s fingers curled into the thick fabric of the cloak, feeling the strength of the gesture, the warmth of Korra’s promise. Her heart swelled with emotion as she looked up into Korra’s eyes, seeing her own love reflected back in the depths of that fierce, unyielding gaze.

As the Sage pronounced their union complete, Korra cupped Asami’s face and leaned in, sealing their vows with a kiss. The taste of their mingled blood lingered on Asami’s lips—a sharp, metallic tang mixed with the warmth of Korra’s own. Beneath that, she could taste something deeper, the faint salt of the sea air clinging to Korra’s skin, and a hint of sweetness that was uniquely her.

For a moment, the world fell away. The cool night air brushed Asami’s skin, but the warmth of Korra’s touch grounded her. She felt as though she could finally breathe, the weight of uncertainty lifting from her chest. In Korra’s arms, she was safe, cherished—exactly where she was meant to be.

A cheer went up from the crowd when they parted, but for Asami and Korra, the world remained as small and intimate as it had been before, just the two of them—bound by blood, love, and a promise that transcended words.

—

The celebration passed in a blur. She recalled only fragments—the dance of firelight on the snow, the beat of drums, the laughter of the tribe as they sang, drank, and reveled. But none of it mattered. Her attention was fixed on Korra—her spouse. The word sent a thrill through her, over and over. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Korra, nor keep her hands from finding their way to her. Every touch, whether light or lingering, grounded her in the reality of their union.

Korra, she knew, felt the same. She could feel the alpha’s blue eyes on her constantly, could sense Korra’s rough hands grazing her skin at every opportunity, igniting sparks of desire. The brush of Korra’s fingers on her wrist, her waist, her neck—it all made Asami burn with a need that only grew stronger as the night wore on. The celebration couldn’t end fast enough.

But Asami wasn’t one to let the alpha have all the control. As her own quiet revenge, she let her hand drift lower, down to where Korra’s crotch was, and she didn’t hesitate. Korra gasped in surprise, but Asami kept going, her fingers moving with slow, deliberate strokes. She felt Korra stiffen under her touch, the alpha’s breath quickening, body responding despite the stoic front she maintained. Asami smirked, satisfied with the effect she had.

The night continued this way—Korra’s hands brushing against her, Asami’s fingers teasing and torturing in return. It was a game, a subtle dance of control and desire, one that Asami felt she was winning. Each time Korra greeted another guest, Asami’s hand slipped lower, her touch more daring, driving Korra to the edge of composure.

Finally, Master Kuruk, drunk and boisterous, slammed his cup down on the table. “People of the Southern Water Tribe!” he roared, his voice rising above the noise. “It is time! Let us escort the newlyweds to their chambers! The bedding ceremony awaits!”

The crowd cheered, chanting “Bedding! Bedding!” as the chant swelled. Asami caught Korra’s eye, her smirk full of victory. The night was far from over.

—

The sky stretched out above them, filled with the brightest stars Asami had ever seen, shimmering against the inky black of the tundra night. The cold air stung her cheeks, but she hardly noticed, too focused on the warmth of Korra’s body in front of her as they rode Naga across the vast expanse of snow. Asami’s arms were wrapped tightly around Korra’s waist, her cheek resting against the back of her spouse’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of Korra’s breath.

Naga’s saddle had been prepared with everything they would need—furs, supplies, and the tools Korra would use to build their shelter. The steady thud of Naga’s paws crunching through the snow-filled the silence as they traveled deeper into the tundra, the cold air and stars their only companions.

When Korra finally slowed Naga to a stop, she scanned the land with a practiced eye. “Here,” she murmured, her breath visible in the cold. “This spot is perfect.”

Asami straightened, lifting her head to look around. They were surrounded by nothing but endless snow and ice, yet Korra spoke with such certainty. The sky was vast and clear above them, the stars bright and unblinking. It felt like they were alone in the world, a sacred moment of solitude beneath the watchful eyes of the heavens. The only company they had were the distant calls of seals and walruses echoing across the tundra, and the rhythmic sound of the ocean crashing against the icy shore, as if the land itself was bearing witness to their union.

Korra dismounted first, her boots crunching into the snow as she turned to help Asami down. Asami’s hands lingered on Korra’s shoulders for a moment longer, reluctant to break the contact. Together, they began unpacking Naga’s saddle, pulling out the furs they would use as a makeshift bed and an oil lantern to light their way. Asami watched as Korra gathered snow and ice, her hands moving with practiced ease, stacking and shaping the blocks with steady precision.

Korra’s breath came in visible puffs as she worked, her movements deliberate and sure. Asami watched in awe, marveling at how quickly Korra worked, how the igloo took shape beneath her skilled hands. With each block of snow set into place, Asami’s heart swelled with admiration for Korra’s dedication.

Asami stepped back, marveling at the structure, impressed by how efficiently Korra was building their shelter.

Once the igloo was done, they carefully placed their belongings inside. The furs were spread out to create a soft, warm bed, and the oil lantern flickered gently, casting a warm glow over the small space. It was intimate, quiet, and perfect. Korra then turned to Naga, giving her a gentle pat. “Go, girl,” she whispered, sending Naga off to hunt as a reward for carrying them so far into the tundra.

When Korra stepped inside the igloo and closed the entrance behind her, sealing them both within its cozy warmth, Asami couldn’t hold back any longer. Asami surged forward, her lips crashing against Korra’s in a kiss filled with heat and longing. For a month, she had tasted the alpha’s lips, yet the sensation never failed to make her weak, her knees threatening to buckle under the intensity of it. Korra didn’t pull away. She kissed her back with equal fervor, until the need for air finally forced them apart, leaving them both breathless.

“You’re stunning,” Korra murmured, licking her swollen lips, her voice roughened with desire. “Absolutely perfect. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Because you’re you, Korra.” Asami’s voice came out soft, her breath shallow as she gazed at the woman before her. Then, without hesitation, she took Korra’s hand and placed it against the ties of her wedding dress. “Undress me.”

Korra’s breath hitched, her hands trembling slightly as she obeyed. Slowly, reverently, she untied the laces of Asami’s dress, each loosened string making her fingers shake more with anticipation. When the last tie was undone, Asami let the garment and all its layers slip down her body, her eyes never leaving Korra’s. The fabric pooled at her feet, and she stood there, exposed, vulnerable under Korra’s gaze.

The first time they had been together, Asami had been deep in her heat, jealousy and desperation driving them both into a frenzied union that was more haste than love, more anger than tenderness. But now, there was no rush, no lingering anger. Now she wanted Korra to see all of her—to bear her heart and soul to the one person she trusted with everything. The only one she had now, other than the life growing inside her.

Korra’s breath shuddered as her blue eyes roamed over Asami’s form, her gaze trailing with a hunger that made Asami’s skin burn. “Asami,” Korra whispered, her voice filled with awe as her hands came to rest on Asami’s swollen belly. She lingered there, her touch gentle, reverent. “If you weren’t already carrying my pup, I’d make sure to put one in you tonight.”

Asami moaned at the thought, her body tightening with desire. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. The idea of bearing Korra’s children filled her with a deep satisfaction, one that made her crave even more. Perhaps, after a few moons, once this pup was born, they’d do it again. The thought of it made her hand move instinctively, drifting down to the front of Korra’s breeches. She could feel the heat of the alpha’s cock, already hard and throbbing, straining against the fabric, ready for her.

“Then do it,” Asami breathed, her fingers teasing at the edges of Korra’s breeches. “Show me how a real alpha fucks their omega.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Korra growled, her voice thick with desire. In one swift movement, she lifted Asami by the thighs, holding her effortlessly as she walked them toward the furs. Asami’s lips found Korra’s again, fierce and unrelenting, refusing to let them part for more than a breath. Her heart raced, her body aflame, and each kiss felt like a promise that the night would hold more than she could endure.

The next thing Asami knew, her back crashed against the soft furs of the makeshift bed, the weight of the alpha pressing down, Korra hovering above her. They kissed again, this time with a hunger that bordered on desperation, the heat between them growing unbearable. Asami’s mind raced, but one thought cut through the haze of lust—Korra was still clothed, and that needed to change.

With trembling hands, Asami grabbed the hem of Korra’s breeches, fingers working quickly to unlace them. She tugged them down along with the undergarments, the rough fabric sliding off in one fluid motion. As Korra’s cock sprang free, Asami heard the sharp hiss of breath as the cool air met the heated flesh.

A wicked smile curled Asami’s lips as she wrapped her hand around Korra’s length, feeling the heat and hardness of it pulse beneath her fingers. She began to pump slowly, deliberately, each stroke measured, each movement designed to draw out the alpha’s pleasure. “So hard for me, alpha,” she moaned, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Korra’s head fell back, eyes squeezed shut as her face contorted in pure pleasure. “Oh, gods! Asami,” she gasped, her voice ragged. Asami’s inner omega swelled with pride. She was the one who had Korra like this, trembling, undone by her touch. She was the one to give Korra pleasure, the only one Korra would ever crave. The thought was intoxicating, and Asami’s strokes grew firmer, faster, each movement making Korra’s body tense and shudder.

But then, Korra’s lips were on her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. Asami’s hands faltered as the alpha moved lower, lower still, until Korra’s mouth was hovering above her wet, aching cunt.

A cry escaped Asami’s lips as she felt the first touch of Korra’s tongue against her folds, a lightning bolt of pleasure shooting through her body. Her back arched, hips lifting instinctively, desperate for more.

“But first,” Korra murmured against her skin, her voice low and guttural, “I’m going to have a feast.”

So Korra did. Asami could feel the alpha’s tongue, hot and slick, slipping in and out, curling and swirling as it moved up and down her wet, aching cunt. The omega writhed beneath Korra’s touch, her body trembling with every stroke of the tongue that teased her most sensitive places. “Korra… oh, gods, you feel so good,” Asami breathed, her voice broken with pleasure.

The intensity of it, the way Korra devoured her, sent her spiraling into a pleasure so overwhelming, she thought she might shatter. The world narrowed to this moment, to the heat of Korra’s mouth and the wet slide of her tongue. Asami’s body clenched, tightening as the pressure built, and then it all came crashing down. She cried out, her mind going blank as her climax hit, a wave of mind-numbing pleasure that left her breathless, her body shuddering with the force of it.

She had only ever felt like this with Korra—only Korra could make her come undone so completely.

When her vision cleared, Korra was above her, grinning like a wolf. “Don’t give up on me now,” she said, voice deep and teasing. “We’re not done yet.”

Asami let out a breathless laugh, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Not a chance, Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe,” she replied, grinning back.

But then Korra’s expression softened, the fire in her eyes dimming to something more tender. Asami frowned, her brow furrowing as she asked, “What’s the matter, love?”

Korra smiled, but it was soft and bittersweet. “I… I just can’t believe we get to do this properly now,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I thought I’d lost you forever. But now…” Her words trailed off as a single tear slid down her cheek.

Asami’s heart clenched, and she reached up, gently wiping the tear from Korra’s face. “And I’ll forever ask your forgiveness for choosing my duty over you,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet regret.

Korra shook her head, her lips curving into a sad smile. “You don’t need to. I already forgave you, Asami. You did what you had to back then.”

Asami felt a wave of relief wash over her. She smiled, nodding slowly. “Thank you, love.”

And then Korra’s eyes darkened again, the familiar hunger returning to her gaze. “Now, as promised.”

Asami gasped, her body arching as she felt the tip of Korra’s cock slide against her folds, brushing against the bundle of nerves that made her tremble with anticipation. The heat between them was unbearable, and the moment dragged on, thick with tension. “Yes… inside, Korra, please…”

The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt Korra push into her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that made her cry out. It was what she had been waiting for, what she had craved since the moment their lips met. It hurt, but it was good, so good it made her toes curl and her back arch. It was so unlike her first time that had left her feeling hollow. This time, Asami would savor every moment, every inch of their union. This time, she was with the one she loved.

***

As Korra pushed inside, she felt Asami’s cunt tighten around her cock, gripping her like a vice. It was as if Asami’s body was pulling her in, keeping her close, and with every thrust, Korra felt the walls of her mate hug her cock, enveloping her in heat. A low groan escaped Korra’s throat at the sensation, a deep satisfaction spreading through her. This—this was what it meant to feel complete. Even with all her past lovers, none had ever made her feel this whole. None had ever made her feel free.

With Asami, she was one. One body, one soul, one breath. All the burdens she carried—her duties, her responsibilities, even the weight of her strained relationship with Master Arrak and her mother—fell away. None of it mattered in this moment. This was theirs. This was hers and Asami’s alone.

Korra moved slowly at first, each thrust measured, letting Asami adjust to her. She kissed her omega, her wife, as she pushed and pulled, savoring the way Asami’s body responded to her. Korra’s lips traced over Asami’s neck and collarbone, every movement of her hips accompanied by a soft gasp or moan from her mate. She wanted more—more of those sounds, more of Asami coming undone beneath her. And Korra knew exactly how to give her that.

As they moved together, Korra’s mind drifted to what was to come. Soon, they would bite the juncture of each other’s necks, right where their scent glands lay. The thought made Korra’s mouth water. A mating mark, binding them for life. It was their bond, their forever. She silently thanked the gods that her brother was a beta, that Asami had never needed to bear his mark. This—this would be hers alone.

Korra began to pick up the pace, her hips rolling harder and faster, her cock driving deeper into Asami’s warmth. Asami mewled beneath her, a sound Korra had never heard before, one that sent a surge of possessive heat through her veins. She wanted to hear it again. She needed to hear it again.

So she angled her hips, thrusting harder, hitting that spot inside her omega that made Asami’s voice pitch higher, her body tightening with every thrust. “You like that, omega?” Korra growled, her lips brushing against Asami’s ear.

“Yes!” Asami cried out, her nails digging into Korra’s back, marking her flesh with new wounds—wounds Korra welcomed. They weren’t born of pain or suffering but of passion, of their shared heat. The sting of Asami’s nails only fueled her more, and Korra relished the burn.

She could feel Asami’s walls tightening again, desperate to keep her inside, to hold her close, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through the alpha. It wasn’t long before Korra felt the familiar pressure building within her. Even without Asami’s heat, her knot began to form, stretching her cock until it could no longer reach Asami’s womb. A primal growl escaped her throat.

“Do you want my knot, omega?” Korra asked, her voice rough as she buried her face in the crook of Asami’s neck, her mouth hovering above the soft skin. Her teeth ached to bite, to seal the bond once and for all.

“Yes, alpha,” Asami breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Give me your knot! Your seed! Mark me!”

Korra didn’t need to be told twice. With a final thrust, she pushed deep, her knot slipping inside with a pop, locking them together. Asami’s body seized, a cry ripping from her throat as her release took her. The tightening of her walls around Korra’s cock sent the alpha over the edge. Her cock throbbed as she spilled her seed deep inside Asami, filling her completely.

But just when Korra thought she was spent, Asami’s teeth sank into her neck, right at her scent gland. A sharp gasp escaped Korra’s lips, and in response, her cock twitched, spilling even more seed into Asami’s already full womb. The act of being marked by her mate sent a shock through Korra, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Growling low in her throat, Korra bit back, her teeth sinking into Asami’s neck, completing the bond. They were one now, truly and completely. Mates for life, bound together as long as they shall live.

Chapter Text

“Oh gods! Korra!” Asami’s voice was muffled as she buried her face in the pillow, her body trembling beneath the relentless rhythm of her mate. The sun had yet to rise, and their chambers were filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, the quiet before dawn broken only by the wet slap of skin and the sharp gasps of breath. Korra was behind her, plowing and pounding with a ferocity only an alpha could manage—just as Asami loved.

Each thrust drove Korra deeper, her cock pushing into Asami’s cunt, relentless in its purpose. Asami’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the furs beneath her, her body coiled tight with pleasure that built with every stroke. Her breath came in ragged bursts, her mind spinning as she teetered on the edge of release.

Korra’s pace never faltered, her hands firm on Asami’s hips, pulling her back with every thrust until finally, the pressure snapped. Asami cried out into the pillow, her body tightening around Korra as the waves of her climax overtook her, leaving her breathless and trembling.

“That’s a good omega,” Korra grunted from behind, her voice low and rough with satisfaction. She slowed her pace, letting Asami ride out the last tremors of her orgasm, her cock still buried deep inside her. Asami panted, her body spent, and as the final waves of pleasure washed through her, her knees buckled beneath her. She collapsed onto the bed, her limbs weak, letting out a soft, contented moan.

She heard Korra’s rich laughter from behind her as the bed dipped beneath the weight of her mate. A strong arm wrapped around Asami’s waist, pulling her close, and she couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, her body already aching for more. “I love you,” Asami whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Korra leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I love you, too. Now, shall we—”

But whatever Korra was about to say was cut off by a shriek from outside their chambers. A second later, the door flew open, and the rapid thud of small footsteps echoed toward them. Korra’s reflexes were swift, and she pulled the furs up over their naked bodies just in time as their eldest pup launched himself onto the bed with a giggle.

Korra caught their pup mid-air, lifting her with ease. “Whoa there, my child,” she chuckled, settling Yasuko gently on the bed.

Yasuko giggled, the sound like music that filled the room with warmth, and Asami’s heart softened at the sight. “Good morrow, sire! Good morrow, mother!” the little one said, her bright eyes twinkling with energy far too early for the hour.

Asami smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of Yasuko’s head. “Good morning, my little otter. What brings you here so early? It’s still the hour of the wolf.” It was true—Yasuko typically slept until the sun was high in the sky, but now she was here, bubbling with excitement.

Yasuko pointed back toward the door. “Because Hanta kept crying! But it’s alright now. Ahnah put him to sleep!”

Asami nodded in understanding. “Very well,” she replied. Ahnah had been their wet nurse, first to Yasuko and now to their youngest, Hanta, who was only six moons old. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Yasuko blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “Oh… I wanted to sleep here with you,” she admitted, her voice shy.

Asami and Korra exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Asami’s eyes flickered downward, noticing Korra’s still-hard cock beneath the furs. She cleared her throat, keeping her tone gentle. “Why don’t you go to the sitting room for a moment, my otter, while your sire and I get dressed?”

Yasuko nodded eagerly, sliding off the bed and darting toward the sitting room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Korra chuckled softly, her lips curving into a grin. Asami’s gaze followed Korra’s, and her smile turned teasing as she pointed to Korra’s still-evident arousal. “Sorry about that, love.”

Korra shook her head, a low chuckle rumbling from her throat. “It’s no matter. We can continue this another time,” she said, leaning in to give Asami a quick, playful kiss before rising to dress.

Once they were clothed and decent, Korra called out, “Yasuko, you may come in now.” Their daughter returned eagerly, and they tucked her in between them. Asami felt Yasuko nestle into the warmth of the furs, her small body relaxing between her parents. It wasn’t long before she was fast asleep, her breathing soft and steady.

Just as Asami and Korra were about to settle into their own rest, a sharp knock echoed from the door. Korra growled softly, irritation flickering across her face as she slipped from the bed.

Asami couldn’t see who it was, but the shift in Korra’s scent told her enough. Someone important was waiting.

Moments later, Korra returned to the chamber, her expression darkened with a scowl. “What is it?” Asami asked, concern flickering in her voice.

Korra sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Master Arrak delivered a message. The Chief of the Northern Water Tribe is coming for a visit. An abrupt one.” Her voice tightened, a flash of guilt crossing her features. “I’m sorry, Asami, but I must get ready. There’s an emergency council meeting to discuss what’s to be done.”

Asami’s smile was soft, her voice steady as she replied, “Do not worry, love. Do your duty. We’ll be here.”

Korra nodded, quickly dressing in appropriate attire for the council meeting. Before she left, she bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of Asami’s head. “Enjoy your work in the workshop today. Tell Yasuko I love her. I’ll stop by Hanta’s chambers before I go.”

Before Korra could pull away, Asami wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck, drawing her in for a slow, tender kiss. “I will,” she whispered, her voice filled with affection.

Asami sighed softly once Korra was gone, the echo of her mate’s footsteps fading down the corridor. She glanced at Yasuko, nestled in the furs beside her, small and peaceful in sleep. It seemed impossible how fast time had passed. She remembered holding Yasuko in her arms for the first time, the tiny pup grasping her finger with delicate hands, her eyes barely open to the world. And now, here she was, five years old, full of life and laughter.

Careful not to disturb her sleeping pup, Asami laid back on the bed, her body sinking into the warmth of the furs. Six years. It had been six years since she and Korra had wed, and in all that time, Asami had never been happier. Their life was full—full of love, of purpose, of a shared vision that had reshaped the Southern Water Tribe.

She let her thoughts drift, reminiscing about the changes they had brought. They had done good, she thought. No, they had done great in providing for their pups and building a future. Korra, alongside the other chiefs—now members of the council—had brought the tribe back to the old ways. No longer would one bloodline hold the throne. The chiefs had agreed upon a new way: whenever the life of the current chief ended, or if they could no longer fulfill their duties, a Chief’s Moot would be held to select the next leader. It was a return to the traditions of their ancestors, and it had brought stability to the tribe.

As for Asami, her title as queen had changed in meaning over the years. Now, it wasn’t simply that of the chief’s wife; it was an equal standing beside the chief. She and Korra shared the weight of leadership, their bond extending beyond the personal into the governance of their people. Asami had played her part well, standing at Korra’s side not just as her mate but as a leader in her own right.

Her thoughts turned to the success of the farming initiative. Korra and Opal, along with her Air Nomads, had worked tirelessly to ensure no one went hungry. For six winters now, there had been no reports of starvation across the tribe. Those lands too frozen for crops had formed agreements with tribes who could grow food—the former would provide meat in exchange for crops. It was a delicate balance, but one that had sustained them all.

Asami smiled, thinking of her own role in all of it. She had been fascinated by the tools the Air Nomads used and spent years studying and upgrading them. She adapted the designs to better suit the soil of the Southern Water Tribe and had built herself a workshop where she could work on these innovations. Her mind had never stopped searching for ways to improve the lives of her people, and Korra had always supported her endeavors.

Her thoughts turned again to Korra, remembering the days when her mate had tried to teach her the way of the sword. But the blade had never suited Asami. Instead, she found her strength in the bow and arrow, mastering the skill with Opal’s guidance. She had also taken to hand-to-hand combat and learned the staff. These skills had served her well, and she took pride in being able to defend herself.

All in all, the past six years had been kind to them… except for the strained relationship between Korra, Master Arrak, and Senna. Asami suspected the reason—at some point, Korra had learned that Master Arrak was her true sire. Korra had never spoken of it directly, but Asami saw the weight it carried on her. She also bore her own burden of guilt, for she had known the truth but kept it hidden, feeling it wasn’t her secret to tell.

Her mind drifted to the visit to Hiroshi in the dungeons, a memory that still sat uneasily in her chest. She had been due to give birth soon, yet her father had remained as cruel and venomous as ever. Korra, enraged, had nearly killed him on the spot, but Asami had intervened, insisting on a proper trial. When Hiroshi was found guilty and executed, it seemed the stress of that day had sent Asami into labor. Yasuko had been born two moons early, or so the others thought. In truth, no one knew that Asami had already been carrying their child for two moons before the wedding. Yasuko had arrived just when she was meant to.

Asami sighed again, her heart filled with gratitude. She thanked the gods for their blessings, for the family they had built, and as her eyes fluttered closed, she let sleep take her once more.

***

As Korra walked the long, cold corridor toward the council chambers, she felt a tension in the air, thick and heavy like the weight of an approaching storm. Master Arrak walked a few paces behind her, his presence a constant shadow. Korra could sense the unspoken words lingering between them, the way he wanted to reach out, as he had so many times over the past years. But just like before, Korra did not give him the satisfaction.

She pushed her thoughts away, focusing on what lay ahead. The tribe had prospered under her reign—this much she knew. The Southern Water Tribe had grown strong, its people fed and secure, and much of that success had come from the help of her beloved Asami and their closest allies. Korra allowed herself a small measure of pride in that. They had rebuilt something worthy, something lasting.

But if there was one regret that weighed heavily on her heart, it was the discovery that Master Arrak was her true sire. Her whole life, Korra had sought the approval of the man she thought was her father. She had thought Tonraq’s coldness toward her, his dismissal of her abilities, was because she was a girl in a world that revered strong sons. But now… now the truth gnawed at her like a wound that refused to heal. It wasn’t that she was a girl. It was that she wasn’t his daughter at all. Did Tonraq know at all?

She wished Master Arrak had never confessed the truth. Even after six long years, Korra didn’t know what to feel. The revelation had unsettled something deep within her, and no matter how much time passed, the wound remained raw. What did it mean for the life she had lived? For the bonds she had forged? The answers eluded her.

Ahead, the heavy door to the council chambers came into view, with two guards standing at their posts outside. Korra greeted them with a nod as they opened the door for her. “Your Grace,” one of them called out, announcing her arrival before stepping aside.

Inside, the council was already gathered, seated around the long, carved table. The familiar faces of those she trusted most in this world turned to her as she entered. Master Kuruk, still the Master of Ships and Castellan of the Ice Keep, sat tall and broad-shouldered, his weathered face marked by years at sea. Her mother, now the Master of Coin, wore her usual stern expression, though her eyes softened as they met Korra’s. She still had not spoken to her mother as much, but she was adept at the matters of the coppers, so it she had appointed Senna for the position. To her left, Chief Unna—Master of Trade—sat in quiet contemplation, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the room.

Korra took her seat at the head of the table, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she addressed them. “Good morrow, my council.”

“Good morrow, Your Grace,” they replied in unison, their voices respectful and steady.

As soon as Korra settled into her seat at the head of the table, she wasted no time in delving into the matter at hand. “My chiefs,” she began, her voice firm, “I have received word that the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe is paying us a visit. Do we know his intentions?”

Master Kuruk was the first to speak. “A messenger hawk arrived during the hour of the wolf, bearing news of his supposed intentions. He claims he wishes to join us for the Glacial Festival.” There was an edge to Kuruk’s voice, a sharpness that Korra did not miss. She, too, had a feeling that this visit was about more than the festival. Still, they were duty-bound to welcome their northern kin with open arms, no matter the reason.

“I see,” Korra said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered the news. “Well, see to it that they are housed, fed, and welcomed properly.” She turned her gaze to Senna. “Mother, how are our coffers? Can we afford a grand festival, or shall we offer them a more modest welcome?”

Senna’s eyes held a trace of longing, though her voice remained cool and professional. “As per my latest count, we have enough in the coffers to host a grand festival, but we must be mindful of our priorities. Our spending should serve the people.”

Korra nodded, appreciating her mother’s pragmatism. “Yes, of course. The tribe comes first. We shall make sure the people are cared for, and Chief Unalaq’s comfort will come second.”

With that settled, the discussion turned to preparations. They spoke of logistics, of food and shelter for the Northern delegation, and of ensuring the festival would be a spectacle worthy of their guests, even if done with restraint.

When all had been said and done, Korra dismissed the council, her thoughts still swirling with the tasks ahead. But as she stood from the table, she found herself too riled up to return to bed. The tension in her muscles begged for release, her mind still clouded with lingering frustrations and the weight of leadership.

She turned to Master Kuruk, a small smile tugging at her lips, ignoring Master Arrak’s stares. “Master Kuruk,” she said, her voice low. “Would you spar with me?”

Kuruk raised a brow but grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course, Your Grace. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you with a blade in hand.” He paused, his grin widening as he added with a chuckle, “Though I hear the only sword you wield now is your cock.”

Korra’s face flushed a deep shade of red, caught off guard by the jest. She opened her mouth to retort, but all that came out was an embarrassed huff as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to brush off the teasing. Kuruk’s booming laughter filled the chamber, the sound echoing against the stone walls.

“Gods, you should see your face!” Kuruk roared, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I haven’t seen you this flustered in years!”

Korra scowled, though the corners of her lips twitched, betraying her amusement. “You’re lucky you’re my Master of Ships,” she muttered, though the playful tone in her voice did little to hide her lingering embarrassment.

Kuruk laughed even harder, clapping her on the back. “Aye, and lucky I’m old enough to know better than to challenge you in earnest. Come then, Your Grace, let’s see if you still know how to fight.”

Korra shook her head, the embarrassment slowly fading as she let out a reluctant chuckle. It was exactly what she needed—laughter and a bit of blood pumping in her veins. She gripped her sword tighter, ready to feel the familiar weight of the blade once more.

—

After a spirited sparring session, Korra made her way back to her chambers, feeling lighter, her mind clearer. The thrill of combat still coursed through her veins, and she thought she might convince Asami to pick up where they had left off earlier. But the moment she stepped inside and saw her pups, that thought flew out the window. Korra’s smile grew wider as she took in the sight of her family.

Yasuko was the first to notice her. The little girl darted toward her with an eager grin. “Sire! What took you so long? And you’re full of sweat!” She gasped dramatically, her eyes wide with mock offense. “You practiced swordplay! Without me? But you promised!”

Korra winced, her heart sinking at her daughter’s disappointment. She looked over at Asami for help, but her mate simply shook her head in mock disapproval, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she nursed Hanta. She shrugged as if to say, You’re on your own .

Korra sighed internally. Guess I am. She crouched down to meet Yasuko’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my little otter. I shall take you practicing later,” she promised, her voice softening. “Sire is just going to discuss something with your mother, and then I will have the smith fashion a practice sword just for you.”

Yasuko’s frown vanished, replaced by a wide, toothy smile. “Thank you, sire!” she chirped, her earlier offense forgotten in an instant.

“Now, go on and play with your toys,” Korra urged, gesturing to the far corner of the room. Yasuko nodded eagerly and ran off, heading straight for her collection of tools and gadgets—more creations from Asami’s workshop than actual toys.

Korra rose and walked to Asami’s side, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her wife’s lips. She sat beside her on the bed, her hand resting gently on Asami’s arm as she explained the council meeting. “The Northern Tribe is sending a delegation. They claim it’s for the Glacial Festival,” Korra said quietly.

Asami glanced at her, her brow furrowed. “It sounded serious when you told me earlier,” she replied, though her tone seemed somewhat relieved.

Korra nodded. “It is. I still think we shouldn’t let our guard down. I once heard my—” she paused, correcting herself, “Chief Tonraq say that the North hadn’t visited since their occupation of the South. Something doesn’t sit right with this sudden interest.”

Asami hummed in thought, her eyes drifting as she considered Korra’s words. But before she could respond, Hanta stirred in her arms, his tiny face scrunching as he began to cry. Korra moved instinctively, reaching out to take the boy from Asami’s arms. She cradled him close, her strong hands gentle as she rocked him softly. She released calming pheromones, a soothing hum rising from her throat as she purred quietly. Almost immediately, Hanta fell quiet, his cries fading into a contented sigh as he drifted back to sleep.

Korra smiled, watching her son’s peaceful face. There was something deeply satisfying in these moments, the quiet, simple joys of family life.

—

For the next few days, Korra divided her time carefully between her many duties—playing with Yasuko, attending council meetings, overseeing the preparations for the Glacial Festival, and assisting Asami with the farming endeavors. Her time with her family was a rare reprieve from the weight of leadership, and she cherished every moment of it. One afternoon, she found herself standing beside Asami as they worked together to install a sturdier wheel design for the wagons that transported crops between tribes.

Korra watched as Asami adjusted the bolts and tested the new design, her face set in a look of focused concentration. It was a simple innovation, yet the efficiency it promised could transform how they managed their harvests. Seeing her wife so deeply immersed in her work made Korra’s chest swell with pride. This was what Asami was capable of when allowed the freedom to be herself, to create, to lead. Korra smiled, knowing that she could not have asked for a better partner—not just in ruling, but in life.

A fortnight passed in a flurry of preparations, and soon enough, they stood at the docks of Wolf Cove, watching as the Northern Water Tribe’s ship appeared on the horizon. The vessel grew larger as it approached, its dark silhouette cutting through the icy waters like a shadow of what was to come. Korra’s heart thudded heavily in her chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation settling in her stomach. This was her first time receiving guests as the Chief, let alone a guest of such stature as the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe.

She stood flanked by her closest companions—Asami at her side, holding her hand with a quiet strength that steadied Korra’s nerves. Master Kuruk stood tall and vigilant to her left, his stern gaze fixed on the approaching ship. Behind them were Master Arrak and her mother. They were her support, her council, and with them, Korra felt a semblance of calm, even as the ship’s sails billowed and the vessel slowed to a crawl.

Finally, the Northern flagship docked, its hull scraping against the ice-carved pier as ropes were thrown to secure it in place. The crew moved with the efficiency of men who had made this journey countless times, but it was the figure standing at the head of the vessel that drew all eyes. Tall and imposing, the man’s very presence demanded attention. His posture was that of a typical alpha—broad-shouldered, head held high, every movement radiating authority. He surveyed the gathered Southerners with a look that seemed to pierce through them, his gaze lingering just long enough to make each one feel the weight of his scrutiny.

Korra’s jaw tightened as she watched him. There was something about the way he looked at people, as if they were beneath him, insignificant. It made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. But she pushed the thought aside, stepping forward as the gangplank was lowered and Unalaq descended, his boots crunching against the snow-covered pier.

“Welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Chief Unalaq.”

Chapter Text

The Northern Chief’s eyes, dark and sharp as a hawk’s, settled on her, though the faint curl of his lips carried no more warmth than the frost on the peaks of the Northern fjords. His smile—if one could call it that—barely reached the corners of his mouth. It was an expression of disdain, a smirk more fitting for a conqueror than a guest. He inclined his head in a shallow dip—not a bow—the barest hint of a nod that was more insult than acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Chief Korra,” he murmured, voice smooth and cutting, a blade sheathed in silk. Yet there was no gratitude in his tone, no respect. To speak so in the heart of Wolf Cove, before her people… it was the kind of slight that demanded a response.

Beside Korra, Asami stiffened, her fingers tightening around Korra’s hand. Her dark green eyes, as vibrant as spring leaves, narrowed as she assessed the Northern Chief’s disdain. As Queen and wife to the Southern Chief, Asami’s role was to support, but her fury was palpable, her scent spiking with a tang of bitter citrus that only Korra could smell. Unalaq’s gaze drifted over her, lingering a moment too long—a deliberate show of disrespect to the woman who stood as Korra’s equal.

Behind them, the gathered chiefs stirred, murmurs of discontent like the low growl of a wolf pack readying for a fight. Master Kuruk’s face hardened, jaw clenched tight, while Senna’s hands twitched at her sides, fingers curling as if itching to grasp a spear. Even Master Arrak, ever the iron pillar of control, shifted. His knuckles whitened around the shaft of his staff, a movement so slight it would have gone unnoticed by any save Korra.

But Korra, daughter of the South, Alpha of Wolf Cove, took a slow, deep breath. The tension simmered around her, a tinderbox ready to ignite, but she held fast. Beneath the biting wind of the docks, the tang of brine and salt lingering in the air, she exhaled—a silent wave of calm. Her pheromones shifted, wrapping her companions in a veil of quiet strength. She felt Asami’s grip loosen, the knotted muscles along Master Arrak’s shoulders easing. The anger that crackled along the line of her people’s ranks softened, like banked coals of a fire—still dangerous, but under control.

“I trust your journey was uneventful?” she asked, voice as smooth as the icy sea, the tone of a leader offering the hand of peace. “I hope the seas were kind to you on your voyage.”

Unalaq’s gaze drifted across the pier, over the clustered ships rocking gently in the cove, over the stone docks lined with warriors clad in the South’s colors of deep blue and silver. “The seas were as they always are,” he replied, words as cold and clipped as the wind that howled across the tundra. “And the journey… long.” He glanced back at her, then down at Asami, the corner of his mouth twitching, as though something about the sight amused him. “I trust you have prepared a suitable welcome?”

The air thickened, humming with the unspoken threat of steel. Korra felt Asami tense beside her again and saw the flicker of fury in her eyes, a spark of anger that belied the queen’s composed exterior. The insult was plain enough. He was testing them, flaunting his indifference in the heart of their home. An alpha’s challenge wrapped in the veneer of courtesy, meant to diminish them before their own.

“Shall we head to the Keep, then?” Korra asked, smiling, but it was the kind of smile that showed too much teeth—a wolf’s smile. She did not let go of Asami’s hand, did not lower her gaze. The docks were crowded with the South’s warriors, the chiefs and advisors, the very heart of her strength. She felt their eyes upon her, the weight of their loyalty and trust.

Unalaq’s brow arched, and that smirk of his widened a fraction—mocking. “Ah, it is telling that you are still so young, despite the praise the other nations heap upon you, Chief Korra,” he murmured, his voice carrying easily in the cold air. He turned his gaze back to the ships, the waves breaking gently against the hulls. “Hospitality should be the first gift a host offers her guests. Yet, here we are—only now, you think to offer me shelter.”

Asami drew in a sharp breath, and Korra caught the flash of crimson bloom on her cheeks. For all her control, Asami’s anger was as quick as a lightning strike, hot and sudden. “You dare—” she began, voice low, each word like the snap of a bowstring. Even now, here before their enemy, Asami’s pride and protectiveness flared bright.

But Korra squeezed her hand gently, calming her. She took a step forward, closing the space between herself and Unalaq until only a hair’s breadth separated them. The icy wind off the sea whipped at her cloak, dark hair tousled in the breeze. She could feel the eyes of the gathered chiefs, of the warriors arrayed behind her, of Master Arrak, Senna, and Kuruk, all waiting for her response.

“My apologies, Chief Unalaq,” she said softly, though her voice carried across the docks, clear and steady. There was no anger in her tone, but beneath the words, there was something harder, colder—a blade’s edge waiting to be unsheathed. “But hospitality must be earned. You will find warmth and shelter when you show respect for those who offer it.”

A murmur swept through the gathered Southerners, a tide of approval and pride. Unalaq’s smile tightened, the façade of indifference cracking for but a heartbeat. They stood, eyes locked, and it was Korra who held her ground, unflinching. Her land, her people, and beside her, her queen. She would not bend, not here, not to this Northern wolf who thought to bare his fangs in the South.

At last, Unalaq inclined his head again, a bare, grudging nod. “Then lead on, Chief Korra,” he said, his voice a cold whisper. “Show me what the South’s hospitality is worth.”

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the gathered Southerners, a murmur of approval sweeping across the crowd like the whisper of a cold breeze through a forest. Warriors and elders exchanged glances, shoulders easing from the tautness of battle-readiness, though the glint of steel eyes still lingered on the Northern Chief. Even the youngest among them sensed the tension’s ebb and flow, small hands clutching their mothers’ skirts as the confrontation ended without bloodshed. But the unease remained, a shadow that stretched long in the winter sun.

“Allow me to introduce my kin,” Unalaq announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade of ice through still water. He stepped aside, and from behind him emerged two figures—twin shadows wrapped in dark Northern furs. A boy and a girl, their faces so similar they seemed reflections of each other. Hair as black as midnight, eyes as blue and cold as the winter sea. The boy’s gaze was inscrutable, a mask of quiet reserve, while the girl’s was a storm cloud, brooding and dark. They stood shoulder to shoulder, two specters cut from the same ice.

“My children, Eska and Desna,” Unalaq intoned, a father’s pride wrapped in steel. The twins offered no bows, no smiles. They merely stood, silent and still, their presence oppressive in its coldness.

Behind them, a knot of Northern warriors and lesser chiefs followed—men and women clad in dark leathers and thick furs, their faces hardened by the endless night of the Northern winters. Each one dipped their heads respectfully, but there was no mistaking the stiffness in their movements, the glint of challenge in their eyes. It was a delegation fit for war, not peace.

“Chief Tarrlok of the White Plains, Chief Galuk of the Stone Fjords, and Chief Varuk of the Icy Reaches,” Unalaq continued, naming each with a casual wave of his hand. “All here to honor your festival, Chief Korra.”

Korra inclined her head, expression carefully blank. Honor? The word tasted bitter on her tongue. She felt Asami’s hand tighten in hers, a subtle reassurance. One by one, she greeted them, each name a thread in a delicate web of alliances and rivalries. When the introductions ended, Korra gestured for the procession to begin.

The journey back to the Keep was a quiet one, the wind biting and cold as it whistled through the streets of Wolf Cove. Unalaq rode in a carriage with Senna and Master Arrak, the small cabin cramped with three, but no one complained. Korra watched them from atop Naga’s broad back, the great beast’s paws crunching over the snow with the steady rhythm of a drumbeat. Asami sat before her, tucked close under Korra’s arm, her presence a small, warm comfort against the chill.

Master Kuruk rode at the head of the procession, the long blade at his hip flashing under the pale light. He did not glance back, but Korra knew the old wolf’s ears were sharp, listening for any hint of discord. Behind them, warriors on horseback and on foot marched, banners of the Southern Water Tribe fluttering in the wind, deep blue against the snow’s white purity.

The Ice Keep loomed ahead, its towers rising like fangs above the sea. As they crossed through the gates, the herald’s voice rang out across the courtyard, clear and strong.

“Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe and Queen Asami Sato! Chief Unalaq of the North, and his delegation!”

The great iron doors swung open, and they stepped inside, the warmth of the Keep washing over them like a welcome embrace. The main hall was ablaze with light and life—fires roared in the hearths, long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats and fresh-baked bread. Musicians played, their flutes and drums filling the air with the sounds of merriment. Tribesfolk great and small mingled, laughter and song weaving together in a tapestry of joy that brightened the cold stones.

The feast had begun without them, but as Korra entered, all eyes turned. The hall stilled, a wave of expectation rippling through the crowd. She felt the weight of those gazes, of the loyalty and love in the eyes of her people. This was her realm, her hall, her people—and they had been waiting.

“Let the festival continue!” Korra declared, voice strong and clear. A cheer erupted, and the music swelled. Dancers spun and twirled, their feet a blur as they moved in time to the beat, and the long hall rang with applause and laughter. Korra glanced at Unalaq, standing amidst his delegation, his face shadowed in the flickering light of the torches. But his expression was unreadable, a mask of cool indifference that betrayed nothing.

Korra squeezed Asami’s hand gently, leading her toward the dais at the far end of the hall. A carved wolf’s head snarled above the high seat, its eyes gleaming in the firelight, and at its feet sat a small figure, waiting. Yasuko, perched on the edge of the throne, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like a raven’s wing. The moment she saw them, her face lit up, and she sprang from the seat, racing forward on quick little feet.

“Mother!” she cried, flinging herself into Asami’s arms, her small body warm and solid. Asami’s laughter rang out, a clear, joyous sound that cut through the hall like a bell. Korra’s heart swelled as she watched, a smile tugging at her lips. But then Yasuko froze, eyes wide, as she caught sight of Unalaq and the dark-clad Northerners behind them.

She recoiled, small hands clutching at Asami’s skirts as she tried to hide herself, peering up at them with a child’s stark fear.

“Mother,” she whispered, voice trembling, her eyes darting to Unalaq’s cold, impassive face. “I don’t like him.”

Korra’s smile faded, and she felt the warmth drain from the moment like blood from a wound. She glanced back at Unalaq, who was watching the exchange with the faintest hint of amusement, the barest twitch of his lips.

“Neither do I, little pup,” Asami murmured softly, bending to press a kiss to Yasuko’s brow. Her gaze flicked up to Korra’s, green eyes dark and intent. “But do not worry. Mother and Sire will not let him hurt you.”

Korra knelt before her daughter, lowering herself until their eyes were level. Yasuko’s wide, dark gaze searched her face, a flicker of fear still shadowing her small features. Korra placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her voice a low murmur meant only for her pup.

“Your mother has the right of it, my pup,” she whispered, her breath warm against the shell of Yasuko’s ear. “I shall keep him away from you during his stay. You need not fear. Go with your mother.”

“Yes, Sire,” Yasuko whispered. Korra’s heart clenched at the sound. She swore to protect her family even more.

She bent and pressed a kiss to the crown of her daughter’s head, inhaling the comforting scent of saltwater and pine, the scent of home. When she rose, she turned her gaze to Asami, who watched them both with that fierce, unwavering protectiveness that always seemed to burn just beneath the surface.

“I shall entertain our guests, love,” Korra murmured, reaching for Asami’s hand and squeezing it gently. “Please take care of our pup.”

Asami’s lips curved in a soft smile, though her eyes were still troubled. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss against Korra’s lips, feather-light but lingering. “Be careful,” she whispered.

“I shall.” Korra’s smile was warm, though she could feel the weight of Unalaq’s gaze on her back like a chill wind. She turned, squaring her shoulders, and faced the Northern Chief, who was engaged in low conversation with Master Arrak, his cold eyes flickering to her and then back again, assessing.

“Chief Unalaq,” Korra called, voice firm but polite, cutting through the murmur of the hall. “As our honored guest, you and your children shall be seated at the dais by my side.”

Unalaq’s gaze shifted to her, and for a moment, the air seemed to freeze between them. His lips twitched—a shadow of a smile, though it never reached his eyes. “Very well,” he said smoothly, a courtier’s graciousness masking whatever thoughts churned beneath.

Korra inclined her head and gestured to the long table at the head of the hall. Unalaq and his delegation followed her lead, his twins, Eska and Desna, gliding silently in his wake like wraiths bound to his will. They took their seats beside Korra’s high chair, their expressions unreadable, their presence as cold and heavy as a snowstorm.

The feast resumed around them, the hall filling once more with the sound of music and laughter. Korra’s gaze swept over the gathered tribesfolk—warriors and artisans, elders and children, all mingling in celebration. Cups clinked, and platters of roasted meats and sweet berries were passed from hand to hand. The air was thick with the scent of spice and smoke, the tang of the sea, and the warm, heady aroma of mulled wine. Faces lit with joy, bodies swayed to the rhythm of the drums, and for a moment, it was as if the Northern Chief and his shadowed entourage did not exist.

Yet even as she watched, Korra could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface, the wary glances thrown toward the Northern delegation, the way conversations seemed to falter whenever Unalaq’s gaze passed over them. There was an anger there, coiled and silent, a deep-seated resentment that whispered through the hall like the bitter wind of a long winter. Korra could see it in the tightness of shoulders, in the averted eyes, and in the way her people kept a respectful distance from the Northerners, as if afraid to draw too near. She knew why.

“Is this your Tribe’s version of the Glacial Festival?” Unalaq’s nasal voice cut through her thoughts.

“Yes,” Korra replied, keeping her tone even. “This is how we thank the gods for a fruitful year, for the bounty of the land and sea. Why do you ask?”

Unalaq’s lip curled, the faintest hint of a sneer twisting his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was low, a growl that only she could hear. “I think you are not understanding what the festival is meant to be.”

The words sent a ripple of cold through her, and Korra straightened, eyes narrowing. “I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean, Chief Unalaq.” Her voice was edged with the first hint of frost, the kind that warns of a coming blizzard.

“This blasphemous revelry,” Unalaq spat, his gaze hardening as it swept over the hall again, “is an insult to the spirits. The festival is meant to be a time of solemnity, a time for reflection and meditation. To connect with the gods spiritually, to honor them with silence and prayer.” His voice grew harsher, a low snarl of disapproval. “Not this… vulgar display of excess.”

Korra’s spine stiffened, her jaw clenched. Anger flared, hot and sudden, but she forced herself to breathe, to remain calm. “We honor the gods as we always have,” she replied, voice quiet but firm. “With joy and song, with feasting and fellowship. It is how we have done it for generations.”

“Then your ancestors were as blind as you are,” Unalaq shot back, eyes flashing. “The spirits do not care for your dances, for your merrymaking. They care for piety, for obedience. This—” he waved a dismissive hand at the hall, at the dancers and the musicians and the gathered tribesfolk, “—is a mockery of what the festival is meant to be. The North has taught you everything when we came here before. Or as the centuries passed, your people had forgotten?”

Korra’s hands tightened into fists beneath the table. She could feel Asami’s gaze on her, the concern radiating from her wife like a beacon of warmth amidst the gathering storm. But she did not look away from Unalaq. The air seemed to still between them, the hall fading into the background as they faced each other, two wolves baring their fangs in the silence of the night.

“I see,” Korra said slowly, each word carefully measured. “But we are not the North, Chief Unalaq. We are the South. And this—” she gestured to the hall, to the laughter and the music and the bright, vibrant life all around them, “—is how we honor the gods. With love and with joy.”

For a long moment, Unalaq said nothing, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a thin, cold smile.

“We shall see,” he murmured, so softly only she could hear. “How long your joy lasts.”

And with that, he turned his gaze away, his expression unreadable once more.

Korra watched him, the anger simmering beneath her skin. The night stretched before her like a battlefield yet to be crossed, each hour a trial of restraint and patience. It was a long, bitter thing, and she longed for the dawn to break and be rid of it.

***

Asami’s eyes were sharp, her gaze unblinking as she studied Unalaq and his retinue. They wore their contempt as plainly as a banner flown on the battlefield, the disdain etched in the lines of their faces and the curl of their lips. They did not bother to hide it. The Queen of the Southern Water Tribe did not take kindly to the scorn for her people’s traditions, nor to the subtle sneers that marred the faces of the Northern delegation. Who did they think they were, stepping onto foreign soil only to sneer at their customs and cast judgment upon their ways?

She could feel the heat of her own anger simmering beneath her skin, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress to still their trembling. But worse than that was the scent drifting from her mate—the scent of agitation, of fury banked beneath layers of restraint. Korra’s brow was furrowed, her mouth a hard line, and Asami knew that simmering rage all too well. She took a breath, steadying herself, and turned her gaze back to the Northern Chief.

“Chief Unalaq,” Asami began, her voice cool and clear as ice over a frozen lake, “I wish you could keep an open mind to our customs.”

Unalaq’s gaze shifted to her, dark and unblinking. “Silence, omega,” he said softly, each word laced with cold disdain. “Know your place when alphas are conversing.”

A low murmur rippled through the hall, the Southern chiefs stiffening at the insult, but the only sound Asami truly heard was the scrape of Korra’s chair against the stone floor. Her mate was on her feet in an instant, anger radiating off her like the searing heat of a forge.

“You shall address my wife with respect,” Korra growled, each word a warning, a promise of wrath yet to come. The silence in the hall deepened, thick as a shroud.

Asami stepped forward, unflinching, her gaze locked with Unalaq’s. “Chief Unalaq,” she said, her tone unyielding as iron, “it would be wise if you refrained from making such comments.” She did not shout, did not raise her voice, but the weight of her words fell like a hammer, each one ringing with authority. An omega she might be, but she was no mere ornament to be dismissed and disregarded.

Unalaq’s eyes narrowed, and he looked around slowly, as if suddenly aware of the change that had swept through the hall. The music had stilled, the laughter had died away, and all that remained was the tense, coiled silence of a bowstring drawn tight. The Southern Water Tribe warriors stood ready, hands resting lightly on the hilts of their swords, their gazes fixed on him and his delegation, eyes gleaming with the promise of violence. This was no festival now—it was a battlefield.

The Northern delegation reacted in kind, their hands drifting to their weapons, eyes flashing as they shifted into defensive stances. For a moment, it seemed as if the hall itself were holding its breath, waiting for the first sword to be drawn, the first blow to be struck.

But then Unalaq raised his hand, the motion calm and deliberate, and his people stilled. Swords slid back into sheaths, though the tension did not fade from the air. He turned his gaze back to Korra, his face an icy mask.

“If you’ll excuse us, then,” he murmured, his voice as smooth and cold as polished stone. “We shall retire to our chambers for the rest of the festival. We shall not sully our minds and spirits with this… sinful revelry.”

Korra’s eyes burned with a fury that could have melted steel, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack. When she spoke, her voice was edged with venom. “Very well,” she bit out. “Master Arrak, take two of our warriors and please escort our guests to their chambers.”

Master Arrak stepped forward, his presence a towering shadow beside the Northern Chief. His gaze swept over the Northerners with the intensity of a wolf eyeing prey—dark and dangerous. “With pleasure, Your Grace,” he growled.

The Northern delegation hesitated, but Unalaq inclined his head, his lips curling in that thin, mocking smile. He turned on his heel, his children and chiefs trailing after him, their furs whispering softly over the stone floor. The hall watched them go, a dozen pairs of eyes narrowed and watchful, the threat of violence lingering in the air long after the last Northerner had vanished from sight.

It was only when the great doors of the hall closed behind them that the tension began to ease, shoulders loosening, breaths releasing as the threat passed.

But Asami’s gaze remained fixed on the door, her heart still pounding in her chest. Unalaq’s words rang in her ears, his dismissive tone still scraping against her pride. Silence, omega. Her hand tightened around Korra’s arm, and she felt her mate’s warmth seep through the layers of fur and cloth.

“We must be careful,” Asami murmured, so softly that only Korra could hear. “He wants to provoke us.”

Korra’s lips tightened, her gaze still burning with the remnants of anger. “Let him try,” she muttered. “He’ll find the South is not so easily broken.”

But Asami shook her head. “He wants to make us appear weak, reckless.” Her gaze shifted to the gathered chiefs, to the warriors still watching them, wary and uncertain. “If we react too strongly, it will only play into his hands.”

Korra’s eyes met hers, the fury in them dimming, replaced by something softer. “What would you have me do?”

“Be patient,” Asami whispered. “Endure, and wait. Let him think he has won.”

It was the hardest thing to ask of her mate, the one thing Korra had never been able to do easily. But as she looked into her wife’s eyes, Korra took a slow breath and nodded, the tension in her frame easing ever so slightly.

“For you,” Korra murmured, and leaned in, pressing a kiss to Asami’s brow, warm and fleeting. “But only for you.”

Asami smiled, though the unease still coiled in her chest like a serpent waiting to strike. Unalaq might have withdrawn for the night, but the battle was far from over. The festival would continue, the songs would be sung, and the wine poured, but in the shadows, a game of power and pride was unfolding.

And Asami would be damned if she let Unalaq play it unchecked.

Chapter Text

The festival carried on, the hall awash with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. Asami moved through the crowd with the practiced grace of a queen, her emerald dress flowing like water beneath the glow of lanterns strung high above. She noted with relief that not a single Northerner lingered among the revelers. Their absence was a balm to her frayed nerves, though she knew it was a reprieve rather than a resolution. For now, she allowed herself to breathe easier. One less thing to worry about.

The omegas of the various tribes had gathered near the long table laden with sweetmeats and cider, their chatter rising and falling like waves upon the sea. Asami joined them, slipping seamlessly into their circle. The talk was light, their voices lilting with gossip and playful wagers over the upcoming tourney. The tribes each had their champions, their chosen alphas, but when Asami confidently placed her bet on her wife, a ripple of laughter coursed through the group.

“Oh, Your Grace,” teased Lady Anarra of the Tundra Tribe, her pale fur-lined dress shimmering under the torchlight. “Always so sure of your Korra. Do you think Chief Taqqiq’s son will let her win out of mercy?”

The others chuckled, a few betas and alphas joining in, but Asami met Anarra’s gaze with a smirk. “Mercy is not in Korra’s nature, and it certainly wouldn’t be a gift from her opponents,” she replied, her tone light but edged with steel.

Anarra raised a brow, her lips curling in amusement. “It’s a wonder that mercy wasn’t needed when Chief Taqqiq sought to win her favor for his daughter.” She gestured with her goblet, the teasing lilt of her voice belying the seriousness of the memory. “Lady Ila still pouts whenever your name is mentioned, you know. And her father… well, you’d think he’d have gotten over it by now.”

Laughter bubbled around the table, the jest drawing smiles even from the more stoic betas. Asami tilted her head, her expression poised. “Perhaps,” she said, “but I suspect Chief Taqqiq should have known Korra’s heart was already spoken for long before he made his offer.”

The omegas laughed, and Anarra lifted her goblet in mock defeat. “A fair point, Your Grace. But tell me this—how does it feel knowing you’ll be the one wagering your pride if she loses?”

Asami smiled, unflinching. “I’ve yet to see Korra fail me, Lady Anarra. I would not begin doubting her now.”

Before another word could be exchanged, the sound of a child’s laughter rang out, clear and sweet as a bell. Asami turned just in time to catch sight of her daughter, Yasuko, darting through the crowd. The little girl ran to her with a force that nearly toppled her, clutching at Asami’s skirts with tiny, eager hands. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes as bright as the summer sky. Behind her trailed the wet nurse, cradling the younger prince, Hanta, whose placid demeanor contrasted sharply with his sister’s energy.

“Good morrow, my little otter pup,” Asami said, crouching to embrace her daughter.

“Good morrow, mother!” Yasuko replied, her voice bright and clear.

Asami straightened, reaching out to take Hanta from the wet nurse. The babe nestled into her arms without a fuss, his tiny fingers grasping at the edge of her bodice. Even amidst the revelry, he seemed at peace, a picture of serenity that brought a faint smile to her lips.

“Where’s your sire?” Asami asked, her voice soft as she brushed a kiss to the crown of her son’s head.

“Sire’s training with Master Kuruk!” Yasuko announced proudly, bouncing on her toes. “She says she needs to be ready for the… the tour… tournay!”

A chuckle rose from Asami’s throat, warm and unbidden. The child’s exuberance mirrored her sire’s in every way, from the sparkle in her eyes to the unshakable confidence in her voice. Around her, the gathered crowd laughed as well, delighting in the little girl’s earnestness.

Asami adjusted Hanta in her arms, his small weight a comforting presence. “Well then, my Ladies, my Lords,” she said, her voice carrying the poise of a queen yet laced with affection. “I shall take my leave. There is much to do to ensure the tourney runs smoothly.”

The omegas curtsied, the betas bowed, and Asami turned with her children to retreat from the gathering. Duty called, as it always did, but she moved with purpose, the laughter of her daughter and the warmth of her son grounding her amidst the storm of politics and pride.

The tourney would come, and with it, the eyes of the tribes. For now, she would see to her tasks and place her trust in Korra’s strength. It was a gamble she had never regretted.

—

The air thrummed with excitement, the crowd a restless sea of voices rising and falling like waves upon the shore. Above, the afternoon sun hung hidden behind a veil of clouds, casting a soft light over the tourney grounds. It was a perfect day, the sort that seemed to have been crafted by the gods themselves for such an occasion. The annual tourney had arrived, a three-day spectacle where warriors from every tribe came to test their mettle, display their strength, and win favor from those they sought to woo. Alphas, betas, and even omegas gathered to watch or fight, for here, on this sacred field, all were given a chance to prove their worth.

Asami sat high in the shaded gallery reserved for the chieftains and their families, the carved wood of her seat cool beneath her fingers. Hanta rested in her arms, his small form nestled against her, while Yasuko sat beside her, too full of energy to remain still. The little girl bounced in her seat, her bright eyes scanning the grounds as she peppered her mother with questions about the warriors and their weapons. Asami smiled indulgently, though her own gaze drifted across the crowd, searching for a single figure.

She had not seen Korra since the early morning, and her absence left a hollow ache. Master Arrak had assured her that the Chief was preparing for the tourney and intended to surprise her, but Asami could not help the flutter of anticipation that rose in her chest. What kind of surprise? Her eyes darted over the throng, the banners of the tribes fluttering in the breeze, the warriors astride their steeds, but Korra was nowhere to be seen.

A sharp blast from the herald’s trumpet drew her attention, silencing the crowd. The tourney was about to begin. The herald stepped forward, his voice carrying across the grounds. “Welcome, one and all, to the Great Tourney of the Southern Tribes! May the gods smile upon our warriors and grant them glory!”

The crowd roared in response, their cheers echoing like a thunderclap.

As the first combatant rode onto the field, the herald’s voice rang out again, announcing the day’s first champion—a warrior whose name sent a ripple of surprise through the crowd. It was an omega, the first to ever compete in the tourney. Asami’s lips curved into a smile as she joined the applause. This moment was a testament to the efforts she and Korra had championed for years: equality among alphas, betas, and omegas. No longer were omegas merely observers, bound by tradition. Here, they fought as equals, their place earned, not given.

The first round began, the field alive with the thunder of hooves and the clash of lances. Warrior after warrior tested their skill, unhorsing opponents and earning the cheers of the crowd. Yet, as the matches progressed, Asami’s anticipation grew, for she knew which name the herald had yet to call.

The final match of the day arrived, and at last, Korra emerged onto the field. A gasp swept through the stands, followed by a roar of approval, as she rode not upon a horse but astride Naga, her great white polar bear-dog. Naga’s massive paws churned the dirt, her presence as commanding as the Chief’s own.

Korra was a sight to behold. She wore armor forged from blackened steel and polished silver, the sigil of the Southern Water Tribe—a wolf howling beneath a crescent moon—emblazoned proudly on her chest plate. Her pauldrons gleamed under the winter sun, and her gauntlets were etched with swirling patterns reminiscent of the frozen waves of the tundra. Her hair was pulled back into a wolftail, a braid bound with thin strips of leather, giving her an air both regal and fierce.

Asami couldn’t take her eyes off her wife. Korra looked every bit the warrior Chief, her confidence radiating with every movement, her gaze sharp and unwavering. The way she sat astride Naga, tall and commanding, made Asami’s heart swell with pride—and something more. There was strength and grace in the way Korra carried herself, a reflection of the qualities Asami had fallen in love with.

From her seat in the gallery, Asami’s lips curved into a smile, her admiration clear. “She’s magnificent,” she murmured under her breath, the words meant for no one but herself. Her chest fluttered as Korra raised her lance, her focus shifting to the match ahead, yet her presence alone was enough to leave Asami breathless.

The Queen cheered as loudly as the rest, her voice rising above the din. Korra waved to the crowd, but when her eyes found Asami in the gallery, her smile widened, brilliant and warm. With a word to Naga, she turned the beast toward the stands, stopping before Asami.

“My Lady,” Korra said, bowing low from her saddle. Her voice carried a playful lilt, but her gaze was steady, filled with affection. She raised her lance, the polished wood gleaming in the light. “May I have your favor?”

Asami laughed, the sound light and unguarded, as if they were courting all over again. Reaching for the favor—a ribbon of deep red embroidered with silver—she tied it to Korra’s lance with deliberate care, her touch lingering. Then she blew her wife a kiss, her cheeks flushed with warmth.

Korra winked at her, the gesture bold and boyish, before turning her lance toward Yasuko. “And you, my little pup?”

Yasuko squealed with delight, clapping her hands as Asami handed her a smaller ribbon. Under her mother’s guidance, she tied it to the lance with a fierce determination that drew laughter from the crowd.

With her lance adorned, Korra turned Naga back toward the center of the field, her confidence radiating as she faced her opponent—a towering alpha from the Tundra Tribe clad in furs and steel. The alpha put on her helmet, ready to joust. Then the herald raised his trumpet, ready to announce the match, when a hush fell over the crowd.

A murmur rippled through the stands as heads turned toward the royal gallery. There, striding with the precision of a predator, was Unalaq. His children followed, their expressions as cold as the Northern fjords. Without invitation, they ascended the steps to the royal booth and took seats beside Asami. The air seemed to chill, the warmth of the afternoon dimmed by their presence.

Asami’s jaw tightened, her hold on Hanta instinctively tightening as she inclined her head in a gesture of forced politeness. Beside her, Yasuko stilled, her earlier laughter muted as the weight of the moment settled over her.

The herald hesitated, his eyes darting between the field and the royal booth, before his voice rang out once more. “Let the joust begin!”

The crowd erupted in cheers once more, though the tension from the royal gallery lingered like a shadow over the field. Asami’s gaze remained on Korra, her heart tightening as her wife turned Naga to face her opponent.

Beside her, Senna leaned forward, her hands clasped together, her excitement barely restrained. “She’ll show them,” she murmured, pride glinting in her eyes. Master Arrak, seated to Asami’s right, crossed his arms with a small, approving nod. “The Chief of the South doesn’t lose,” he said, his voice low but steady, like the rumble of distant thunder.

Behind Asami, the Tundra Tribe’s delegation sat, their sigil—a white wave cresting over a field of icy blue—emblazoned on their banners. Chief Taqqiq leaned over with a grin that was more of a challenge than pleasantry. “A fine mount, Your Grace,” he said, his eyes flicking toward Naga. “But a beast of the tundra won’t save her against my son.”

Asami tilted her head, her own smile polite but unyielding. “Your son has trained well, Chief Taqqiq,” she replied. “But Korra’s strength comes from more than training. She fights for her people.”

Beside him, Lady Ila, Taqqiq’s eldest daughter, let out a soft huff. “She fights for you, Your Grace,” she said, her tone teasing though her pride still carried a trace of longing. “And she does it far too well. Were she not already claimed, I might have been tempted to give her my favor.”

Laughter rippled between them, the banter friendly but edged with the weight of rivalry. “You’re welcome to try next year, Lady Ila,” Asami said, her tone light as a feather but carrying the authority of a queen.

Chief Taqqiq chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Your confidence does you credit, Your Grace. But let us see if it is justified.”

On the field, the Tundra warrior prepared his destrier, a hulking black beast that stomped at the earth, its breath rising in misty clouds. The warrior himself was no less imposing, his armor gleaming under the pale sunlight, adorned with the crest of the Tundra Tribe. Asami watched him mount his steed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Taqqiq’s son fights well,” Lady Anarra murmured beside her, her voice carrying the weight of years spent watching tourneys. “But if your wife’s aim is true, even he will fall.”

Asami glanced at the woman, her lips curving into a faint smile. “She will make us proud,” she replied simply.

The herald’s flag dropped, and the joust began.

The Tundra warrior spurred his horse forward, the sound of its thundering hooves shaking the ground. Korra and Naga charged as one, the polar bear-dog’s powerful strides closing the distance with terrifying speed. Korra’s lance lowered, steady and true, her focus unyielding.

The two warriors collided in an explosion of splinters and sound. The Tundra warrior’s lance glanced off Naga’s shoulder armor, sending a shower of shards into the air. Korra’s aim, however, was flawless. Her lance struck her opponent squarely on the chest, the force unseating him in a thunderous crash that left the crowd gasping.

Senna cheered loudly, her joy infectious as the crowd erupted in applause. Even Master Arrak’s stoic demeanor broke as he raised a fist in triumph. “Well done,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Asami clapped, her heart swelling with pride. Beside her, Yasuko bounced in her seat, shouting, “Sire won! Sire won!” loud enough to make Hanta stir in her arms.

Korra dismounted with ease, handing her lance to a squire before drawing her sword. Her gaze briefly swept the royal gallery, but she deliberately avoided looking at Senna and Master Arrak, her expression guarded. When her eyes landed on Unalaq, her jaw tightened, and she leveled him with a glare as sharp as her blade. The Northern Chief’s face remained impassive, but his children exchanged uneasy glances.

The Tundra warrior had regained his footing, and the ground battle began. He fought with the ferocity of his tribe, his strikes heavy and unrelenting, but Korra was faster. She sidestepped his attacks with a dancer’s grace, her sword moving like a living thing.

When his shield came crashing down, Korra ducked low and drove her blade into his shoulder armor, a precise strike that sent him stumbling. The crowd roared as she pressed her advantage, sweeping his legs out from under him in a move that left no room for recovery.

Korra stood over him, her blade poised at his throat. The Tundra warrior, his breath ragged, held up his hand in surrender. The field erupted into cheers, the herald announcing Korra as the victor.

Asami beamed, her eyes shining with pride as Korra mounted Naga once more. Her wife rode toward the royal gallery, the crowd parting for her like waves before a ship.

“My Lady,” Korra said as she bowed low in her saddle. Her voice carried over the noise, but her smile was for Asami alone. Reaching up, she gestured to Yasuko. “Did you see, my little pup?”

Yasuko squealed with delight, clapping her hands as she shouted, “Sire is the best!” loud enough to draw laughter from the nearby onlookers.

Korra straightened, saluting the crowd before turning Naga back to the field. The day’s victory was hers, but the tourney was far from over.

—

The fire in the hearth had dwindled to embers, casting flickering shadows that danced along the chamber walls. Asami sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingers through Yasuko’s dark hair as her little girl drifted into slumber. The child had fought valiantly against sleep, her boundless energy finally ebbing as the excitement of the day gave way to soft, steady breaths.

“She’s so much like Korra,” Senna said softly from where she stood nearby, her voice warm with fondness. “Fearless, full of life.”

Asami smiled, tucking the blanket snugly around her daughter. “And stubborn,” she murmured. “But that serves her well. Just like her sire.”

They shared a quiet laugh, the bond between mother and daughter-in-law momentarily easing the tensions that lingered in the shadows of the room.

Their conversation faltered at the sound of heavy footfalls beyond the door, and Asami turned her head just as the great oak doors swung open. Korra stepped inside, her broad shoulders illuminated by the firelight. Asami’s heart leaped at the sight of her wife, her lips parting in a smile as Korra’s gaze met hers.

But the warmth in Korra’s expression cooled the moment Senna stepped into view. The alpha’s face turned curt, her tone clipped and polite as she inclined her head. “Mother.”

Senna’s smile faltered, her posture deflating for the briefest moment before she masked her hurt. “I am so proud of you, my daughter,” she said softly. Her voice wavered, and she reached out, her hand hesitant as it hovered in the air between them.

Korra didn’t move, but she didn’t pull away either. Senna took the chance, closing the distance and wrapping her arms around her daughter. She kissed Korra’s cheek, her touch fleeting, then pulled back with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good night,” she murmured, and with that, she turned and slipped out of the room.

Korra followed her mother’s retreat with her gaze, her jaw tightening as the door closed behind her. Only when the latch clicked into place did she release a long, slow breath.

Asami rose from the bed, approaching her wife with a gentle smile. “I believe congratulations are in order?”

The alpha turned to her, the tension in her frame melting as a genuine smile spread across her face. “Not yet, my love. I still have two more rounds to go. When I win it all, then you can congratulate me.”

Before Asami could respond, Korra wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. The kiss deepened, playful yet passionate, and Asami let out a soft laugh as Korra dipped her low, their movements graceful as a courtly dance.

When they pulled apart, Asami’s hands lingered on Korra’s shoulders. A teasing smile curved her lips. “Very well,” she said, her voice laced with a purr. “I’ll be sure to congratulate you the ‘proper’ way.”

Korra swayed with her, turning the embrace into a slow dance to a music only they could hear. But as they moved, Asami’s expression turned thoughtful, and she spoke softly. “Korra, may I ask you something?”

“Hmm. Always, my love.”

“It’s been five years… will you tell me what transpired between you, Senna, and Master Arrak?”

Korra stiffened instantly, her muscles tensing as though struck by a sudden chill. She started to pull away, but Asami’s arms tightened around her, anchoring her in place. “My love,” Asami murmured, her voice gentle but firm, “please.”

Korra hesitated, her eyes clouded with guilt and uncertainty. Asami feared she might brush the question aside, but then her wife sighed, closing her eyes briefly as if summoning the courage to speak.

“They…” Korra began, her voice quiet, raw. “I… Master Arrak is my true sire.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Asami had known this truth long before Korra spoke it, yet hearing the confession from her wife’s lips brought a weight of its own. She fought to keep her expression composed, knowing that now was not the time to reveal her prior knowledge. The Northern delegation remained a pressing threat, and burdening Korra further could wait.

Korra looked away, her voice faltering as she continued. “My whole life, I believed Chief Tonraq was my father. I tried to make him proud, to earn his approval. But when he wouldn’t even look at me… I thought it was because I was born a girl. Now, I wonder if it’s because he knew. Or felt it.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll never know.”

Asami reached up, cupping Korra’s face and gently turning her gaze back. “You can know,” she said, her tone resolute.

Korra’s breath hitched. “H-how?”

“You can talk to your mother,” Asami said simply.

Korra’s brow furrowed, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. But as Asami held her close, she felt Korra’s breathing slow, her chest rising and falling against her own. Finally, Korra nodded. “You’re right. Maybe it’s time I let go of this grudge.”

Asami smiled, leaning back slightly to meet her wife’s gaze. “I’m always right,” she said lightly, drawing a soft laugh from Korra. “Now, come. Let’s sleep. You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow’s joust.”

Korra exhaled, her lips brushing Asami’s brow before they climbed into bed together, the fire casting its final, flickering light over them as they held each other close. Tomorrow’s battles would come soon enough, but for now, they found peace in each other’s arms.

***

The second day of the tourney unfolded much as the first, though the crowd was smaller, and the number of combatants had thinned. Korra faced a victor from the previous day in her match, a seasoned warrior whose strikes came swift and precise. Yet, she emerged triumphant, her lance steady and true, her blows as calculated as the waves of the sea. Her thoughts drifted often, to her wife’s words the night before, to the decision she had made to speak with her mother.

She had carried the weight of her grudge for too long. It was time to let it go—not for herself, but for her family’s sake. Her wife was right. Asami always was. Still, the Northern delegation’s presence hung over her like a storm cloud, and she resolved to wait until they were gone before she confronted the ghosts of her past.

The third day of the tourney dawned cold and clear, the winter sun casting its pale light over the frost-covered grounds. Korra stood by Naga, stroking the polar bear-dog’s thick fur, her breath misting in the morning air. Her final opponent awaited—a young omega warrior who had made history by entering the joust. Korra had watched her matches, seen her unhorse alphas twice her size, and wield her sword with surprising finesse. She was formidable, but Korra had more at stake than any opponent could know.

“Last round, Naga,” Korra murmured, her hand resting on Naga’s broad forehead. “Let’s do our best—for our family, for our honor.” Her hand drifted to the saddle, where the key to her surprise for Asami lay tucked beneath layers of leather. She felt a small measure of relief knowing it was safe. With a final pat, she turned to the field as the herald’s voice rang out, announcing the omega warrior.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the young woman rode forward, her mount a sleek white gelding draped in the sigils of her tribe—a spear crossed with a crescent moon. Korra waited, her heart steady, until her own name was called. She mounted Naga, who let out a low growl of anticipation, and urged her forward.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Korra waved, her gaze sweeping the stands. Her eyes found Asami and their children first, and her heart swelled at the sight of her wife’s radiant smile. Yasuko waved with both hands, bouncing in her seat, while Hanta dozed peacefully in Asami’s arms. Korra’s gaze shifted to her mother and Master Arrak. They were cheering too, and for a moment, she hesitated, unsure of how to feel. With a brief nod, she acknowledged them before refocusing on the task at hand.

The herald raised the flag, and the first round began.

Korra spurred Naga forward, her lance lowered, her focus sharp. Her opponent charged with equal determination, her gelding’s hooves pounding against the frozen earth. The two met in the center with a deafening crack, but both lances glanced off their armor, the strikes failing to unseat either rider.

The crowd roared its approval as they returned to their ends of the field. Korra adjusted her grip, her breaths steady as she whispered encouragement to Naga. The second pass was more intense. Korra aimed for the omega’s shield, but at the last moment, her opponent shifted, and Korra’s lance slid past her shoulder. The omega’s lance struck Korra’s side but deflected off her chest plate.

On the third and final pass, Korra spurred Naga forward with every ounce of strength and focus she possessed. The omega warrior’s lance came for her chest, but Korra twisted in her saddle at the last moment, the point scraping harmlessly past. Her own lance struck true, splintering against the omega’s shield and unseating her with a forceful blow. The crowd exploded into cheers as Korra turned Naga sharply, riding back to the center of the field to salute her fallen opponent.

The herald’s voice rang out, declaring Korra the victor of the match—and of the tourney.

Korra dismounted, her steps brisk as she made her way to the gallery. She leaped onto the edge with ease, and Asami was there to meet her, her smile bright as sunlight on snow. Korra pulled her wife into her arms, kissing her deeply as the crowd roared its approval. Yasuko darted forward, throwing her arms around both of them when they pulled apart, her laughter ringing clear and sweet.

Korra returned to the field to meet her opponent, who had risen to her feet and approached with a guarded expression. The omega’s disappointment was plain, but her respect for Korra shone through as she clasped the Chief’s forearm.

“You are a great warrior,” Korra said, her tone warm. “You almost unhorsed me. I was certain I would be defeated.”

The omega bowed her head. “Thank you, Your Grace. It is a great honor to have the chance to joust with you in this tourney.”

Korra nodded. “You have a long way to go, but I know you shall surpass me in a few years.”

The omega’s smile was faint but genuine, and with that, the two parted as the herald announced Korra as the champion of the Glacial Festival.

Korra returned to the gallery, extending a hand to Asami. “Come, my love,” she said, her voice carrying a note of excitement. Asami hesitated briefly, passing Hanta to Senna before taking Korra’s hand. Korra helped her onto Naga, turning to the crowd with a commanding shout.

“People of the Southern Water Tribe!” she called, her voice carrying over the roar of the crowd. “This victory is for all of you—for your sacrifices, your resilience, and your dreams. Now, let us witness another step forward for our people. Follow me!”

The crowd cheered, and Korra urged Naga into a trot, Asami holding on from behind. “Where are we going?” Asami whispered, her voice curious.

Korra glanced back, her smile soft. “You’ll see. It’s my surprise for you.”

They reached a grand building nestled by the edge of the frozen lake. Its stone walls gleamed under the pale sun, its structure sturdy yet elegant. Above the wide wooden doors hung a carved sigil: Asami’s crest, etched in intricate detail.

Korra dismounted, pulling the key from Naga’s saddle. Turning to Asami, she extended it to her wife. “This key is yours,” she said softly, pressing it into Asami’s hand. “You’ll open the doors, as it should be.”

Asami hesitated, her eyes wide with wonder, before stepping forward. She slid the key into the lock and turned it, the heavy doors creaking open to reveal a spacious hall within.

“This is the Asami Sato Academy,” Korra announced as the other chiefs and commonfolk gathered behind them. “The first of its kind—a place where alphas, betas, and omegas can learn together. Where farmers, builders, warriors, and thinkers alike can hone their skills and build a brighter future—for all of us.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a thunderous chorus of approval. “Chief Korra! Queen Asami!” they chanted, their boots stomping in unison.

Korra’s gaze swept over the crowd, but her triumph dimmed as her eyes met Unalaq’s. The Northern Chief stood apart, his expression dark, his glare like a blade poised to strike. Korra’s smile vanished, but Asami’s hand found hers, their fingers intertwining.

“This is beautiful,” Asami whispered, her voice pulling Korra back to the warmth of the present.

Korra smiled, her grip tightening. “For you,” she said softly, “and for our future.”

Chapter Text

The throne room was filled with the hum of voices as chiefs and commonfolk alike gathered, their murmurs of curiosity and unease echoing off the high stone walls. Torches cast flickering light across the banners of the Southern Water Tribe, their deep blues and silvers gleaming against the cold stone. At the far end of the room, Korra sat upon the chief’s seat, her posture commanding despite the tension thick in the air. Beside her sat Asami, regal and poised, her green eyes sharp as they scanned the gathered assembly.

At the foot of the throne, Chief Unalaq and his delegation stood. His expression was one of barely concealed contempt, his children and Hand flanking him with the same air of superiority. The weight of their presence pressed heavily on the room, a cold shadow creeping through the gathered crowd.

Korra leaned forward slightly, her voice clear and steady as it rang through the hall. “Chief Unalaq, you have called for this audience. State your grievance so we may address it.”

Unalaq inclined his head, his movements deliberate, his voice smooth but laced with disdain. “Chief Korra, I come before you not with a grievance, but with a plea—for the sake of tradition.” He turned, his cold gaze sweeping the room. “The Southern Water Tribe was once a land of order, a realm of respect for the old ways. Under this… rule”—his lip curled slightly—“those traditions have been cast aside.”

He turned his eyes back to Korra and Asami, his tone growing sharper. “You permit omegas to sit in council, to take to the field as warriors, and now you build a school where alphas, betas, and omegas are to mingle as equals. This is not the way of our people. It is heresy against the very foundation of our culture.”

A ripple of unease moved through the crowd, whispers rising like the tide.

Korra’s voice cut through the murmurs. “The ways you speak of, Chief Unalaq, are not the ways of the South,” she said, her tone steady but firm. “They are the ways the North forced upon us when they invaded our lands. The Southern Water Tribe has always valued equality. Alpha, beta, or omega—we have always stood together as one. That unity is our strength. What you call tradition is nothing more than chains your people placed upon us, chains we broke long ago.”

Unalaq’s face darkened, but before he could respond, he turned to the gathered crowd. His voice rose, sharp and triumphant. “And yet you speak of unity while sitting upon a throne that is not yours to claim.”

The room stilled, the weight of his words pressing down like a heavy snowfall.

Unalaq’s sneer deepened as he addressed the crowd. “This Chief you follow, this symbol of your so-called progress, is a fraud. Korra is a bastard. She is not Chief Tonraq’s daughter. Her blood is unclean, her rule illegitimate. She has no rightful claim to the throne!”

Gasps erupted through the hall, the gathered chiefs and commonfolk staring in shock. Senna’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with pain and disbelief. Master Arrak’s face darkened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

Unalaq’s smirk grew as he swept his gaze across the room. “This is your leader,” he said, his voice dripping with scorn. “A pretender, unworthy of the seat she claims.”

“Is that your great revelation, Unalaq?” she asked, her tone cutting through the stunned silence. “Your final weapon against me? It’s wasted. I already know.”

Unalaq’s smirk faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“And let me make this clear,” Korra continued, her voice rising with quiet authority. “My legitimacy does not come from blood. When the Southern Water Tribe held a Chief’s Moot, the people spoke. They chose me to lead them—not because of my lineage, but because of my actions. That is the way of our people. That is the Southern way. If this is the best you have to offer, then you’ve wasted everyone’s time.”

Unalaq’s Hand stepped forward, his face red with fury. “You dare speak of tradition while rejecting the wisdom of the North? Without us, you are nothing but savages. It is the North that raised you from obscurity and gave you the tools to survive.”

The crowd bristled, anger simmering in the air.

Korra’s gaze darkened, and the room seemed to shift as her alpha scent flared. The wave of authority swept through the chamber, silencing the murmurs and sending Unalaq’s Hand stumbling back into his seat.

“Enough,” she said, her voice cold as ice. She turned to Master Arrak. “Write this decree.”

Master Arrak bowed his head, quill already in hand. “At once, Your Grace.”

Korra’s words rang out, steady and unyielding. “As of this day, the Southern Water Tribe declares its sovereignty. We are no longer beholden to the North. The chains of conquest are broken, and our people will stand free.”

She turned to Master Kuruk. “Escort the Northern delegation to their ships. See that they leave without delay.”

Kuruk bowed, his expression grim. “With pleasure, Your Grace.”

Unalaq rose from his seat, his face twisted with fury. “You insolent child!” he spat. “Do you truly think your tribe can survive without the North? The storms will come, and when they do, you will fall.”

Korra’s voice was firm. “Leave, Unalaq. You are no longer welcome here.”

Unalaq sneered, adjusting his doublet. “Very well,” he said. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.” With a sharp gesture, he led his delegation out, their departure marked by the sound of heavy doors slamming shut.

But the silence that followed did not linger long. Questions erupted from the crowd, commonfolk and nobles alike pressing forward with voices raised. “Is it true?” “Who is her father?” “What does this mean for us?”

Was this the moment it would all unravel? The people had chosen her in the Chief’s Moot, but just as they had raised her up, they could take her position away. Their faith in her had been the cornerstone of her rule, and without it, she had nothing. Would they question her now, abandon her after everything she had done? She tightened her grip on the armrests of the throne, her mind racing.

The whispers returned, growing louder with every passing moment.

Before Korra could say more, Asami rose from her throne, her emerald gaze sweeping over the crowd. She raised a hand, and the hall fell silent.

“People of the Southern Water Tribe,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding as she stepped forward.

She turned to the crowd, her voice softening but retaining its strength. “Korra has done more for the Southern Water Tribe in five years than any Chief before her,” she said, her words filled with passion. “It is not her blood that makes her a leader—it is her actions. You chose her once before. Why question her now?”

Her green eyes scanned the room, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Look around you. Our lands are flourishing. Our people are stronger. That is because of her leadership. Do not let the bitter words of an outsider make you forget what she has done for us.”

The room was silent, the weight of her words settling over the crowd.

Then, a single farmer stepped forward from the assembly, his face lined with years of hard labor. He bent to one knee, lowering his head. “Chief Korra, my fealty is yours until the last of my breath,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

One by one, others followed—chiefs, warriors, commonfolk—all kneeling in respect and loyalty. The hall filled with the soft sound of knees hitting stone, and Korra felt her chest tighten with emotion.

—

The small council chamber was thick with silence, the tension in the air almost tangible. The flickering torchlight painted shifting shadows across the stone walls, and the faint creak of wood was the only sound as Korra took her place at the head of the table. She could feel their eyes on her—her mother’s gaze, a mix of concern and restraint, and Master Arrak’s, sharp and piercing.

Korra drew a deep breath, her hands resting on the carved arms of her chair. The weight of the throne room’s events still pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she pushed it aside. She had to. This was no time for weakness.

Before she could speak, Master Arrak cleared his throat, his gravelly voice breaking the oppressive quiet. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone even but laden with meaning. “If I may speak out.”

Korra’s chest tightened. Was this the moment she had dreaded? Now that her parentage was laid bare before the court and the people, would her Hand—or worse, her mother—demand she forgive them? Her throat felt dry as she inclined her head. “Yes, you may.”

Arrak leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped on the table, but his words were not the ones Korra had braced herself for.

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice calm but resolute, “now that we have declared our independence from the North, it is time to forge new alliances. Unalaq’s threats were not mere bluster. He will not let this insult stand. We must be prepared for the storm that will follow.”

Korra blinked, momentarily taken aback. Of course, he was right. She had known it the moment the decree was written, but hearing it now, spoken aloud, drove the reality deeper. She straightened in her seat, her gaze steady.

“You speak the truth, Master Arrak,” she said, her voice firm. “Very well. Write to the Fire Lord. Request an audience to discuss an alliance between our tribe and the Fire Nation. Include a report of Unalaq’s actions as well.”

Arrak nodded, already reaching for parchment and quill. “I shall, Your Grace.”

But then, as he turned back to his seat, he hesitated. His movements slowed, and when he looked at her again, his expression was different—softer, almost hesitant.

“Your Grace…” His voice faltered, a rare occurrence that caught Korra’s full attention. “K-Korra.”

The use of her name startled her, but it was Senna who stepped forward, standing beside him. Her mother’s hands were clasped tightly together, the knuckles white, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

“My daughter,” Senna began, her tone thick with emotion, “I… we owe you an apology.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Korra didn’t move. She forced herself to meet Senna’s gaze, the familiar blue of her mother’s eyes filled with an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“You have carried a burden that was not yours to bear,” Senna continued, her voice breaking slightly. “The truth of your birth, the shadow of it… it was never fair to you. And yet, you have risen beyond it. You have done more for our people than anyone could have hoped. You… you make me so proud.”

Korra’s throat tightened, and she struggled to keep her voice steady. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “Why keep it a secret, even when you knew it would come to this?”

Senna flinched but held her ground. “I wanted to protect you. I thought… I thought the truth would harm you more than silence ever could. I see now that I was wrong.”

Master Arrak stepped forward, his voice grave. “And I am equally to blame, Your Grace. I did not know you were mine. By the time I learned the truth, you were already grown. I thought my silence would spare you, but all it did was deepen the shadows around you.”

Korra looked between them, her heart pounding. The anger she had carried for so long threatened to surface, but beneath it was something else—something softer, though no less overwhelming.

“Did my fa—” Her voice caught, and she started again. “Did Chief Tonraq know?”

Senna’s shoulders tensed, and she glanced at the floor, her shame plain for all to see. “He did not,” she said softly. “I kept it a secret from him as well. He never knew the truth.”

The words struck Korra like a blow, the weight of them pressing heavily on her chest. For all his coldness, all the distance between them, Tonraq had not known. That wound had not been of her making.

“You kept this from me because you thought it was for the best,” she said, her voice low. “And yet, all it did was make me question myself. My worth. My place.”

“Korra,” Senna whispered, taking a step closer. Her voice was trembling. “I cannot undo what has been done, but please… please know that you are everything I could have hoped for in a daughter. And more.”

Master Arrak bowed his head. “And in a Chief,” he said quietly.

For a long moment, Korra said nothing. Her grip tightened on the armrests of her chair, her gaze fixed on the table as she wrestled with the maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. Then, slowly, she exhaled, lifting her head to meet their eyes.

“What’s done is done,” she said finally, her voice steady. “We can’t change the past. But the future… the future is ours to shape.”

Senna’s eyes glistened, and she gave a small, hesitant nod. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Arrak inclined his head, his expression unreadable but his voice firm. “You are stronger than any of us, Korra. And you will lead us through what’s to come.”

Korra leaned back in her chair, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Then let’s begin. Send the letter to Fire Lord Izumi. And prepare our warriors. If Unalaq comes, he will find the South ready for him.”

—

The weight of the day pressed heavily on Korra’s shoulders as she entered the chief’s chambers, the familiar scent of pinewood and sea salt doing little to ease her exhaustion. The fire crackled low in the hearth, its embers casting a dim, flickering light across the room. For the first time in what felt like ages, the space felt empty, the silence gnawing at her resolve.

After the council meeting, she had turned her attention to the academy. The first day of classes had brought a flurry of activity, and she had felt a pang of guilt as she walked the halls, seeing her wife surrounded by sages and commonfolk alike, all working together to teach and guide. The idea had been hers, yet she had sprung it upon Asami at the festival, presenting it as a surprise. They had spoken of such a dream before, but still, Korra wondered if her timing had been too abrupt.

And yet, watching Asami in her element, her sharp mind and steady hands guiding their people into a new era, Korra could not deny the swell of pride that filled her chest. Her mate’s dedication was unshakable, her resolve like the stone that held their walls against the fiercest storms.

But now, as Korra stepped further into the chamber, that pride was eclipsed by a quiet loneliness. The bedchamber was empty, the sheets untouched, and the absence of Asami’s presence weighed on her like a winter’s chill. It was a strange thing; she was often the last to return, slipping into bed beside her sleeping wife with whispered apologies for her lateness. Tonight, however, the roles were reversed, and she found herself wishing for her mate’s warmth and steady presence.

Korra sighed, running a hand through her hair. The day had been long, but her thoughts were heavier still. Her meeting with Master Arrak and her mother lingered in her mind, the weight of their confessions pressing against her chest. She wanted—no, needed—to confide in Asami. To tell her of their reconciliation. Asami had always been her anchor, the one who could untangle her thoughts and give her clarity.

But Asami wasn’t here.

Pushing the thought aside, Korra moved to the bathing chamber, drawing her own bath. The warm water soothed the aches of the day, but it did little for the restlessness in her heart. Afterward, she dressed in her nightclothes, tying her hair back with careless hands, and made her way to Yasuko and Hanta’s chamber.

The sound of tiny footsteps and muffled giggles greeted her as she opened the door. Yasuko was still awake, her dark hair a tousled mess as she bounded toward her sire. “Sire, look! Look what I learned today!” she exclaimed, holding an imaginary sword in her hands.

Korra knelt, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as her daughter launched into a fervent reenactment of her training. “Master Kuruk says I’m the fastest with the blade! Even faster than Niala!” Yasuko beamed, her amber eyes alight with pride.

Korra chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Faster than Niala? That’s impressive, my little wolf pup. I’m so proud of you.”

Her words earned an even brighter smile, and Yasuko babbled on about her lessons until, at last, her energy waned. Korra tucked her into bed, smoothing the furs around her small form as she drifted into sleep. Hanta, ever the quieter of the two, slumbered peacefully nearby, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

Korra lingered for a moment, watching them both with a faint smile. Her pups were her greatest joy, a reminder of all she fought to protect.

Returning to her own chambers, she found the space still empty. The fire had burned lower, casting long shadows across the walls. She sat on the edge of the bed, her thoughts heavy as she waited for Asami. She missed her mate—not just her presence, but the quiet moments they shared, the unspoken understanding between them.

Closing her eyes, Korra leaned back against the headboard. Her chest tightened as she thought of the words she wanted to say, the burden she hoped to share. But for now, she was alone. The ache in her heart lingered like a ghost, even as sleep began to pull at her.

—

The days bled into one another, the chill of winter mingling with the steady hum of duties that left little time for rest. Korra’s routine was a relentless rhythm—council meetings, overseeing the realm, and tending to the needs of her people. Asami, too, was consumed by her work, her time dominated by the academy. The sight of her wife surrounded by sages and eager students was a source of pride for Korra, but it also deepened the ache of distance between them.

Their moments together were fleeting, stolen glances and soft words exchanged in passing. The burdens of leadership weighed heavy on them both, yet Korra found a strange solace in the quiet mending of her relationship with her mother and Master Arrak. Each conversation brought a tentative step toward understanding, the scars of old wounds beginning to heal.

A fortnight passed in this way, until one morning, as the pale winter sun crept over the horizon, a sharp knock echoed through the council chamber. Master Arrak entered, his face composed but his steps brisk. In his hands, he carried a small scroll, the crimson wax seal gleaming in the torchlight.

“Your Grace, a letter from the Fire Nation,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with anticipation, “the Fire Lord has responded.”

Korra straightened in her seat, the weight of the words settling over her. “Very well,” she said, her tone calm but curious. “Read it aloud, Master Arrak.”

Arrak broke the seal with practiced ease, unrolling the parchment. His voice rang clear as he began.

“ ‘To Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe,

Word of your leadership has reached even the shores of the Fire Nation. It is said that under your rule, the South has flourished, its people standing strong and united. Such tales are not often whispered of the Water Tribes, but they have reached my ears nonetheless.

Your decision to break ties with the North is bold, and while boldness carries risk, it also commands respect. The Southern Water Tribe has chosen its own path, and it is one that intrigues me.

I am open to the prospect of an alliance between our nations. However, such matters cannot be resolved through letters and couriers alone. If we are to walk this path together, I must hear your terms directly. I invite you to the Fire Nation to discuss this matter in person.

May the flame of wisdom guide our words.

Fire Lord Izumi.’ ”

Arrak finished the letter and lowered the scroll, his expression unreadable. The room was silent save for the crackle of the hearth.

Korra leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowed in thought. An invitation. It was more than she had expected. Yet, it was a calculated move, one that demanded her presence not merely as a leader, but as a negotiator. She could not deny the wisdom of it.

“Very well,” she said, her voice resolute. “Write a response, Master Arrak. I shall personally go to the Fire Nation to hear her terms.”

Arrak paused, his hand hovering over the parchment. The quill in his grasp trembled slightly, a drop of ink falling to stain the page. “Your Grace…” he began, his tone hesitant.

Korra met his gaze, her eyes steady, her determination clear. “This is my duty as Chief,” she said, her voice firm. “It is not one I will send another to fulfill. The Fire Lord has asked for me, and so I will go.”

Arrak hesitated no longer. He dipped his quill into the inkwell, his movements swift and precise. “Understood, Your Grace,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of acceptance.

As the quill scratched across the parchment, Korra’s mind turned to the journey ahead. The Fire Nation was a land of flame and shadow, a place where power was won not by strength alone, but by cunning and will. She would need both in equal measure if she was to secure the alliance her people needed.

The room fell silent once more, save for the steady rhythm of Master Arrak’s quill and the crackle of the fire.

—

The soft glow of the hearth cast dancing shadows across the walls of the chief’s chambers, the fire’s crackle the only sound to break the stillness of the night. Korra sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes heavy but her heart restless. She had resolved to wait for Asami, though the weight of the day tugged insistently at her consciousness. The candle on the bedside table burned low, the wax pooling at its base as the hour stretched on.

A faint creak of the door stirred her from her half-slumber. Korra jolted awake, not realizing she had drifted off. Her heart quickened at the sight of her wife stepping through the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the corridor beyond.

“Asami,” Korra murmured, rising from the bed.

Her steps were swift as she crossed the room to greet her mate, her hands finding Asami’s waist as she leaned in to press a kiss to her lips.

Asami stiffened briefly in surprise, but then her arms wound around Korra’s neck, her kiss warm and eager. When they parted, her green eyes shimmered with exhaustion and affection. “I missed you, my love,” she said softly. “I apologize for coming home so late—”

Korra silenced her with another kiss, her lips brushing against Asami’s as she whispered, “It is no matter, my Lady. You are only doing your duty to the people. And I love you for it.”

A soft sigh escaped Asami as she tightened her embrace, pulling Korra closer. Their kisses deepened, the warmth of their connection chasing away the chill of the late hour. Korra’s hands roamed along Asami’s back, their touch gentle yet insistent, while Asami’s fingers tangled in Korra’s hair. The space between them disappeared as their breaths grew heavier, and the tension of the day melted away, replaced by the heat of their shared longing.

Furs shifted and fell as their bodies moved together, their love expressed not in words but in the unspoken language of touch and closeness. Time seemed to blur, the crackle of the fire a distant hum against the quiet gasps and murmurs that filled the room. For a moment, nothing else mattered—no duties, no burdens, only the solace they found in one another.

When at last they stilled, the room was bathed in the warm glow of the dying fire, their limbs tangled beneath the furs. Korra held Asami close, their hearts beating in tandem as they lay together, skin to skin, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. Korra felt a rare peace settle over her. Asami nestled against her, her head resting on Korra’s shoulder, the scent of her mate calming and sweet. For a time, the only sounds were their quiet breaths and the crackle of the fire.

But then Korra remembered. The thought pierced the fog of her contentment, and she turned her head slightly to press a kiss to Asami’s temple. “My Lady,” she began, her voice soft but serious. “The Fire Lord has responded.”

Asami stilled, her head lifting slightly from Korra’s shoulder. “And?”

“She has agreed to discuss an alliance,” Korra continued, her voice steady but laced with apprehension. “But she has requested that I come to the Fire Nation to present our terms in person.”

Asami sat up abruptly, the furs falling away as she shifted. A sudden wave of her omega scent filled the room, sharp and tinged with anger. “You are leaving?”

Korra’s heart sank. She sat up as well, her hands resting on her lap as she looked down, guilt gnawing at her. “It is my duty,” she said softly. “I apologize for not telling you sooner. I—”

The words died on her lips as Asami’s gaze bore into her. For a long moment, her wife said nothing, and Korra felt a cold fear creep into her chest. Had she offended her mate? Was this the cost of her duty—to strain the bond they had fought so hard to build?

But then, slowly, Asami’s expression softened. She let out a breath and lay back down, pulling Korra with her. “I know it is your duty,” she said, her voice quieter now, laced with a tenderness that made Korra’s chest ache. “And it was also my fault for being so wrapped up in the academy that I was not present with you. I should have seen the weight you were carrying. I understand.”

Relief flooded Korra, and she leaned in to kiss Asami’s brow. “Thank you, my love. I—”

But Asami cut her off, her hand coming to rest against Korra’s cheek as she met her gaze with unwavering resolve. “And I am coming with you.”

Korra blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Asami—” she began, but her voice faltered as she looked into her wife’s determined eyes.

“No,” Asami said firmly, her green eyes bright with emotion. “You will not go alone, Korra. I am your wife, your partner. If this is your duty, then it is mine as well.”

Korra took her hands gently, lowering them to rest between them. “Asami,” she said softly, her voice laced with both affection and apology. “I want you to come. But the tribe needs you here. The academy, the people… they depend on you as much as they depend on me. You’ve built something incredible, and I don’t want to see that work falter.”

Asami’s lips parted, her resolve wavering as she looked into Korra’s eyes.

“My mother and Master Arrak will be here to help,” Korra continued, her thumb brushing over Asami’s hand. “And the chiefs are loyal. They will ensure the tribe stands strong in my absence. But the academy, the vision you’ve brought to life—that is something only you can nurture. The South needs you, Asami. And so do I.”

Asami’s shoulders sagged, her hands trembling slightly in Korra’s grasp. “You always know how to disarm me,” she murmured, a faint smile playing at her lips.

Korra leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I only speak the truth,” she whispered against her skin.

A heavy silence hung between them for a moment before Asami sighed, her head bowing slightly. “Very well,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “I will stay. But that doesn’t mean I like it. I’ll miss you so much.”

Korra’s chest tightened as Asami lifted her gaze, her green eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. She pulled her wife into an embrace, holding her close. “And I’ll miss you,” Korra murmured into her hair, her arms tightening around her. “Every moment.”

They stayed like that for a time, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. When Asami finally pulled back, she brushed a hand along Korra’s cheek, her touch lingering.

“Promise me you’ll come back safe and sound,” Asami said, her voice trembling slightly.

Korra nodded, her expression earnest. “I promise.”

Asami smiled faintly, though the worry in her eyes remained. She leaned in, her lips brushing Korra’s in a soft, lingering kiss. “Then go, my love,” she whispered. “Do what you must. But know I’ll be waiting for you.”

The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the room as Korra held Asami once more, her heart aching with both love and the weight of duty.

Chapter Text

The sun hung heavy in the sky, a molten orb that scorched the air and ground alike. Korra stepped from the ship, her boots crunching on the Fire Nation’s golden sand, the heat radiating up through the soles. A sharp breeze carried the tang of saltwater, but it did little to soothe the oppressive warmth. Even stripped of her furs and clad in her lighter tunic, the heat was stifling, clinging to her like an unwanted cloak.

Beside her, Master Kuruk fared no better. The older man wiped his brow with the back of his arm, his face flushed and shining with sweat. Some of her warriors, though proud and stoic, shifted uncomfortably under the unrelenting glare of the sun. Their breaths were steady, but she could see their movements slow as the heat began to weigh on them.

Korra took a moment to take in her surroundings. The docks were alive with activity—traders and fishermen in red and gold tunics moved about, their voices intermingling in a chaotic melody. Stalls brimming with trinkets, spices, and wares lined the streets, their vendors shouting for attention. Brightly colored birds darted between the rooftops, their songs sharp and clear, cutting through the din below.

“Welcome, Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe,” a voice called out, drawing her attention.

A man in fine red robes stepped forward, bowing low, his right palm pressed over his left fist. His features were sharp, his bearing regal, though Korra could not help but wonder how he endured the heat beneath his layers of cloth.

“I am Minister Zoryu, adviser to the Fire Lord,” he said, his voice smooth and formal. “Her Grace is expecting you.”

Korra inclined her head in return, her voice steady and measured. “I am grateful for your hospitality, Minister.”

The man straightened with a practiced grace, his gaze briefly flicking to her warriors before returning to her. Behind him, a small cluster of men and women, similarly robed in deep reds and golds, stood with quiet dignity. Ministers, Korra guessed, though she noted none of them seemed to break a sweat despite their heavy attire.

Minister Zoryu gestured toward the road with an elegant sweep of his arm. “If you would follow me, Chief Korra.”

As they moved, Korra’s eyes swept over the bustling streets. People paused in their work to glance at her, their whispers a low murmur carried by the breeze. Some nodded in polite acknowledgment, while others stared openly, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness.

She took note of their features—their straight black hair, their sharp eyes, and their skin, fairer than her own and her people’s. It reminded her of Asami, whose skin held the same pale hue, like polished ivory. Korra’s thoughts wandered for a moment. Could she have Fire Nation blood? she wondered. The idea was fleeting but intriguing. Asami had never spoken of such a lineage, yet the resemblance to these people was unmistakable.

Korra pushed the thought aside as the crowd’s murmurs grew louder.

Ahead, Korra’s steps faltered as she caught sight of their destination: a large palanquin, its frame ornately carved and gilded, flanked by four alphas. The men stood straight and rigid, their hands gripping the wooden poles that would bear the weight of their passengers.

Her brow furrowed. No. They still have people carry this kind of burden? she thought, her eyes narrowing as she studied the alphas. Their gazes were fixed forward, their jaws tight. But what struck her most was the flicker of something behind their eyes. Was it fear?

One of the alphas stepped forward and opened the palanquin door. Minister Zoryu turned to her with a practiced smile. “Chief Korra, if it pleases you,” he said, gesturing toward the open door.

Korra’s frown deepened. “No,” she said, her voice firm. “It does not please me.”

A gasp rippled through the gathering. The ministers exchanged startled glances, their composure briefly faltering. The alphas stiffened, their expressions betraying a flicker of alarm. Korra’s eyes darted to them again, the fear she had sensed now unmistakable. What are they so afraid of?

Before she could say more, Master Kuruk stepped beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “My Lords,” he said, his voice measured and apologetic, “the Chief and I have come from a long and perilous journey—a moon’s turn, with storms battering us at every turn. Please forgive any grievances. We shall accept your offer.”

The ministers exhaled almost in unison, their relief palpable. Korra could feel the tension ease, but it was the alphas who seemed the most affected. Their shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, though their faces remained carefully neutral.

As Korra climbed into the palanquin, she caught the faintest tremble in the hands of the alpha who held the door. Settling onto the cushioned seat, she cast one last glance at the men who would carry her. Their fear lingered in her thoughts as the palanquin was lifted and began its slow, swaying journey toward the royal palace.

The Fire Nation had welcomed her, but beneath the gilded surface, Korra could sense an undercurrent of unease.

The palanquin swayed gently as it was lifted, the rhythmic steps of the alphas beneath it carrying them forward. Inside, the air was perfumed with the faint scent of sandalwood, mingling with the polish of the gilded interior. Gold filigree adorned the walls, the intricate designs catching the light that filtered through the silk-draped windows. Crimson cushions lined the seats, soft as a wolf’s fur, offering a comfort that felt almost excessive after the hard journey across the seas.

Korra shifted, her fingers brushing the edge of one cushion as her mind wandered. How much weight are they carrying? she wondered, her gaze falling to the floor of the palanquin as if she could see through it. Master Kuruk alone was no light man, his bulk a testament to years of a warrior’s life now softened with age. And Korra herself—though lean and strong—was no small burden. Four men carried them without complaint, but she could not ignore the strain this must place upon them.

“Korra,” came Master Kuruk’s voice, low and steady, breaking her thoughts.

She turned to him, her brow furrowing at the weight in his tone.

“I know you mean well by questioning this custom,” he began, his gaze thoughtful yet firm, “but we are on foreign soil. Their hospitality is not yours to refuse outright. Such an act could be seen as an insult, and you cannot risk such a slight, not here. If you must, bring the matter to the Fire Lord’s attention, but in private.”

Korra exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples as she leaned back against the cushion. “You are right, Master Kuruk. I was not thinking. I apologize.”

Her mentor nodded but said nothing more.

Korra stared blankly at the golden filigree again, her thoughts churning. She was the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe. Every action, every word she spoke carried the weight of her people. This journey was not for her but for them—for their future, their survival. And yet, she could not ignore the unease that crept into her thoughts. If she was to lead, she needed to balance wisdom with the strength she prided herself on. This was no place for blunders.

She sighed deeply, her gaze shifting to the silk-covered window. Beyond it, the Fire Nation passed by in a blur of vibrant reds and oranges, the countryside painted with tall, jagged mountains and lush, steaming forests. The scenery was striking, its beauty undeniable, but it was foreign—untamed in a way that was nothing like the icy shores and endless expanses of snow she called home.

Still, for all its splendor, it paled in comparison to the vision that haunted her heart.

Asami.

Korra’s chest tightened at the thought of her mate. It had been a moon’s turn since she had last seen her—longer than she had ever gone without the warmth of her presence. She thought of Asami’s sharp green eyes, the way her laughter could ease even the heaviest burdens, the soft strength of her touch. She thought of her pups, of Yasuko’s boundless energy and Hanta’s quiet, steady gaze.

She longed for them, a deep ache that no gilded palanquin or fine surroundings could soothe. For the first time in years, she felt untethered, as if a part of herself had been left behind on the icy shores of Wolf’s Cove. But she needed to steel herself. This was not the time for longing.

The journey ahead was not just for her but for them—for Asami, for Yasuko and Hanta, for the tribe that looked to her for guidance. Whatever doubts lingered in her heart, she buried them beneath the weight of duty.

The palanquin rocked gently as the road wound on, carrying her closer to the palace and the unknown that awaited her there.

—

Korra awoke with a start, the firm grip of Master Kuruk shaking her from a restless slumber.

“We are here, Your Grace,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a note of urgency.

She straightened herself, brushing stray strands of hair from her face as she composed her thoughts. The heat pressed against her like a weight, but she pushed it aside, adjusting her tunic before following Master Kuruk out of the palanquin.

As she stepped onto the cobblestones, her boots met the ground with a muted thud. She turned to the alphas who had borne the weight of their journey. They stood still, sweat glistening on their brows, their faces unreadable.

“Thank you,” Korra said, her voice firm but sincere. Their gazes lifted slightly, their weariness softened by her words. She nodded to them once more before gesturing for her warriors to follow.

The ministers were already waiting, their red and gold robes catching the sunlight as they beckoned her forward. The path ahead rose sharply into a grand set of steps—hundreds of them, it seemed—leading to the towering edifice of the Royal Fire Palace.

Korra’s breath caught as she took it in. The palace loomed before her, a testament to fire and power. Its walls of dark volcanic stone were adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and flames, their edges gilded with gold that gleamed in the sunlight. Towering spires of crimson and black rose high into the sky, their tips crowned with shimmering brass. Banners bearing the sigil of the Fire Nation—a stylized flame—hung proudly from the battlements, rippling in the breeze. The air itself seemed to shimmer with heat, as though the very stone of the palace exuded the Fire Nation’s indomitable will.

The ministers moved briskly, leading the party up the wide steps. Korra could feel the strain in her legs as they ascended, the climb relentless. Her warriors followed in disciplined silence, their expressions unreadable, though she sensed their unease.

By the time they reached the top, Korra’s heart was steady but her breaths were measured. She cast a glance behind her at the view—miles of crimson-roofed buildings and bustling streets stretched out below, the sea glittering on the horizon. It was beautiful, but the vastness of it was daunting.

At the grand doors of the palace, a herald stepped forward, his voice echoing as he announced their arrival. “Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe and her retinue!”

Korra stepped into the throne room, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light of its interior. The air was cooler here, though the space felt no less imposing. The walls were lined with towering pillars of black stone veined with red, each carved into the shape of a coiled dragon. The floors were polished obsidian, reflecting the light of countless lanterns that cast a warm, flickering glow.

Overhead, a vaulted ceiling depicted a grand mural of former Fire Lords through the ages, their deeds immortalized in brilliant gold leaf. One figure stood at the prow of a great ship, his hand raised as he guided his fleet across uncharted waters. Another sat atop a great throne of flames, a parchment unfurled before him, his face serene as he decreed the first Fire Nation charter. At the center, a mighty Fire Lord clad in armor wielded a great blade, his enemies scattering before him like ash in the wind.

Before her stood a gathering of finely dressed men and women. Their clothes were a riot of scarlet, gold, and black, silks and brocades adorned with intricate embroidery and precious stones. Korra recognized them for what they were—nobility. Their bearing spoke of pride, their eyes sharp and watchful as they appraised her.

At the far end of the hall, upon a dais of red lacquered wood, stood the throne. It was wrought of dark iron, its arms shaped like twisting flames, the back crowned with a stylized burst of fire. Seated upon it was a woman whose presence commanded the room.

She rose gracefully, her movements deliberate yet effortless. Her robes of deep crimson shimmered with threads of gold, the hem trailing behind her like a river of fire. Her hair was black as coal, swept back into an intricate knot adorned with pins of obsidian and ruby. Upon her brow rested a crown shaped like flames, the metal catching the light as though it burned with its own inner heat.

Her amber eyes, sharp but kind, met Korra’s as she descended the steps of the dais. When she smiled, the warmth in her expression contrasted with the fierce regality of her bearing.

“Welcome, Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, to the Fire Nation,” she said, her voice carrying across the hall with practiced authority. “I am Fire Lord Izumi.”

Korra bowed deeply, the weight of the Fire Lord’s presence pressing upon her. When she rose, her voice was steady. “Your Grace,” she said, her tone respectful but firm, “allow me to introduce my Master of Ships and trusted adviser, Master Kuruk.”

Kuruk bowed as well, his expression as stoic as ever.

“Thank you for accepting our proposal,” Korra continued.

Izumi inclined her head, her smile widening slightly. “You are most welcome, Chief Korra,” she said. “It is rare that I have the opportunity to host one of the Water Tribes’ leaders. I hope your journey was not too arduous.”

“The seas were rough, but we endured,” Korra replied, her gaze steady. “We are grateful for your hospitality.”

Izumi’s eyes flicked briefly to the ministers flanking Korra before returning to her. “Come,” she said, gesturing toward the dais. “Let us speak further. Much awaits us.”

As Korra followed the Fire Lord, she felt the weight of the room’s gaze upon her, each noble and minister a silent judge. The grandeur of the palace was undeniable, but beneath it, Korra sensed the delicate balance of power and the unspoken expectations that would shape the days to come.

—

The Royal Fire Palace’s small council chamber was modest by its grand standards, but its warmth was inviting. A long table of dark mahogany dominated the room, its surface laden with a feast of bread, roasted meats, and dishes spiced with aromas both enticing and unfamiliar. Jugs of mead and wine sat alongside steaming kettles of tea, their scents mingling in the air.

“Please, sit with me, Chief Korra, Master Kuruk,” Fire Lord Izumi said, her tone pleasant and welcoming. “We must fill our bellies before we discuss anything of importance. By sharing bread and drink under this roof, we are bound to peace, as is our custom.”

Korra inclined her head respectfully and took her place at the table, with Master Kuruk settling beside her. The weight of the journey lingered in her bones, and though her mind was focused on the alliance, she welcomed the brief respite.

The Fire Lord herself poured the first cups of mead, her movements deliberate yet unpretentious. Korra accepted her cup with a nod, her hands wrapping around the cool metal as she listened to Izumi speak.

“Our nation’s history is long and bloody,” Izumi began, her voice even but tinged with pride. “Once, we were a land of warring families, each vying for dominance. Blood feuds lasted generations, and the land was soaked with the cost of ambition. It was not until a single ruler rose among us—Fire Lord Sozin—that the flames were tamed and forged into unity.”

As Izumi spoke, Korra tore a piece of bread from the loaf before her, dipping it into a rich sauce that coated one of the meat dishes. She took a bite, her brow furrowing as the taste hit her tongue. The spices were unlike anything she had ever encountered—sharp and fiery, yet oddly sweet. Her throat burned as the heat spread, and she coughed suddenly, covering her mouth with a fist.

Master Kuruk chuckled beside her, his deep voice rumbling. Even the Fire Lord giggled softly, the sound light and almost teasing.

“I see our cuisine has taken you by surprise, Chief Korra,” Izumi said, her eyes glinting with humor. “It is said that our spices are not for the faint of heart.”

Korra cleared her throat, her cheeks warming as she forced a smile. “It seems I have much to learn about Fire Nation customs,” she replied, her voice steady despite her embarrassment. “Thank you for the education.”

Izumi’s smile widened, her amusement evident, but she returned to her story.

As the meal continued, Korra listened attentively, though she was cautious in her bites. The Fire Lord recounted tales of ambition and triumph, of the fiery legacy that shaped her people. Korra found herself impressed by Izumi’s knowledge and the passion with which she spoke, though the history felt distant, its grandeur a world apart from her own tribe’s struggles.

When the plates were emptied and the last of the mead poured, Izumi clapped her hands once, and servants appeared as if summoned by magic. They cleared the table with practiced efficiency, their movements swift and silent.

Korra wiped her hands on the cloth provided and inclined her head toward Izumi. “Thank you for the meal, Your Grace,” she said formally. “It was truly… enlightening. Shall we get straight to discussing the terms of our alliance?”

Izumi leaned back slightly, her sharp eyes fixed on Korra as she laced her fingers beneath her chin. “Very well, Chief Korra,” she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of command. “Since I sense you value directness, I shall not prolong the matter. My terms are simple: I propose an alliance through marriage.”

Korra blinked, her composure momentarily faltering. “Marriage,” she repeated slowly, as though the word itself were foreign.

Izumi’s lips curved faintly. “Yes, Your Grace. I have an omega daughter who is of age.”

Korra’s pulse quickened. She sat straighter, her mind racing to grasp the implications. “Your Grace,” she began carefully, “my children are but pups—one still a babe nursing at my wife’s breast.”

The Fire Lord’s smile did not waver. “You misunderstand me, Chief Korra,” she said, her voice as calm as a still flame. “I speak not of your children. I speak of you.”

***

A soft thud echoed in the dimly lit bedchamber as Asami collapsed onto the furs of the great bed she shared with Korra. The day had finally drawn to a close, and with it, the unrelenting demands of the crown and her family. Her body ached from the weight of her duties, her muscles heavy and weary. Yet as she turned her gaze to the right, to the empty space that should have been warmed by her mate, her heart ached far more.

A moon’s turn.

A moon’s turn had passed since Korra had left for the Fire Nation, and the ache in her chest still felt as sharp as it had the day her wife had sailed away. Asami closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, as if the breath might ease the emptiness that lingered. It did not.

Oh, how she missed her mate.

Asami rolled onto her side, her hand reaching out instinctively, brushing over the cool furs. In her mind’s eye, she imagined Korra lying beside her, her strong arms pulling her close, her voice low and soothing as she spoke of the future they were building together. The image was so vivid it nearly fooled her senses, but the emptiness beneath her hand was a cruel reminder of the truth.

She wished she could go back, to the days before Korra had left, when they still shared every night together. If she had known her wife’s departure would stretch on for so long, she would have stolen more time with her. She would have spent less time cooped up in the university, less time consumed by the endless demands of her station.

But what was done was done. Regret was as empty as the space beside her. All she could do now was long for her mate and wait for her return.

Asami’s eyes fluttered shut, but sleep would not come. Instead, her thoughts drifted to the day Korra had left. She could still feel the sting of the cold breeze that had swept across the docks, could see the mist that clung to the air, blurring the horizon. Korra had stood tall, her cloak billowing behind her, her expression calm but her eyes betraying the same reluctance that Asami had felt.

But what haunted Asami most was not Korra’s departure—it was the cries of their children.

Yasuko had clung to her sire’s leg with all the strength her small arms could muster, her face streaked with tears. “Don’t go, Sire!” she had wailed, her voice cracking with desperation. Korra, who had faced storms and enemies without flinching, crouched down to meet her daughter’s eyes. Her voice was soft, soothing, as she brushed Yasuko’s hair from her tear-streaked face.

“My little otter pup,” Korra had murmured, her hands steady as she held Yasuko’s shoulders. “You must be brave for me, for your mother and your brother. I will return before you know it.”

“But why do you have to go?” Yasuko sobbed, her hands clutching Korra’s cloak as if she could hold her in place.

“For our people,” Korra replied gently. “To keep you safe, to keep everyone safe. You understand that, don’t you?”

Yasuko nodded hesitantly, though her tears did not stop. Korra pulled her into a tight embrace, murmuring words of comfort until her cries softened to quiet sniffles.

Nearby, Hanta, usually so calm and quiet, had begun to cry as well, his small hands reaching out toward his sire. Asami had held him close, gently rocking him as she tried to soothe his distress. “Shh, my little one,” she whispered, though her own heart ached. “It’s all right. Sire will come back to us.”

The sound of her son’s cries had nearly undone her, but Korra stepped over and placed a hand on Hanta’s back, her voice steady. “I’ll miss you, too, my little moon,” she said softly. Somehow, her presence seemed to calm him, his cries fading into soft whimpers.

When the children were finally calm, Senna and Master Arrak stepped forward. They gently took Yasuko and Hanta into their arms, giving Korra and Asami a moment to say their goodbyes.

Korra turned to her mate, her blue eyes filled with emotions she rarely let others see. “I will return,” she had said, her voice steady but soft, meant only for Asami.

Asami had nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. “And I will wait,” she had replied, though every fiber of her being screamed to beg Korra to stay.

Now, lying in the quiet of their bedchamber, the memory felt like a wound reopened. Asami’s hand clenched around the furs, her nails digging into the fabric as if she could anchor herself to the present, to anything that might dull the ache of Korra’s absence.

She opened her eyes, staring into the shadows that stretched across the room. Beyond the windows, the moonlight cast its silvery glow over the snow-dusted rooftops of Wolf’s Cove. It was beautiful in its stillness, but to Asami, it felt unbearably lonely.

“I will wait,” she whispered into the silence, though no one was there to hear it.

—

The dim light of predawn filtered through the narrow windows of the Keep as Asami rose, the chill of the morning air clinging to her skin. She moved with practiced ease, bathing quickly before donning a gown of deep blue trimmed with silver—a quiet homage to her absent mate. Her hair was neatly braided, though she left a few strands loose to frame her face. Duty called to her as it always did, but her heart carried a weight that had not lifted since Korra’s departure.

Before the sun broke the horizon, she made her way to her children’s chambers. The faint creak of the door announced her presence as she stepped inside, her eyes softening at the sight before her. Yasuko lay curled beneath a thick fur, her small face scrunched in restless dreams. Asami’s chest tightened at the sight of her daughter’s furrowed brow. She must be dreaming of her sire, she thought. She misses her so.

Quietly, Asami knelt beside Yasuko’s bed, brushing a gentle hand over her daughter’s cheek. The touch smoothed the lines on the little girl’s face, and she murmured incoherently in her sleep. Asami leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “Be at peace, my little otter pup,” she whispered, her voice soft as snowfall.

Turning to Hanta’s cradle, she found her youngest still soundly asleep, his tiny fists curled against his chest. Asami’s heart ached anew as she bent down to kiss his brow. “Don’t worry, little one,” she murmured, her words trembling with quiet resolve. “Your sire will come home soon.” Whether she was speaking to Hanta or herself, she could not tell.

After lingering a moment longer, she left the room and descended to the kitchen. The servants stirred at her arrival, but none looked surprised. By now, it was no secret that their Queen preferred to prepare her children’s breakfast herself. She busied herself with the task, her hands moving with deft precision as she prepared Yasuko’s favorite meal: fresh wild berries dipped in cream, flatbread toasted to perfection, and a rich seal stew that filled the air with its savory aroma.

The servants assisted silently, knowing better than to interrupt her focus. When the meal was complete, Asami placed everything on a tray and carried it back to her children’s chambers. The aroma preceded her, and as she entered, Yasuko stirred, her nose twitching like a fox catching a scent in the wind.

“Mother!” Yasuko exclaimed, her sleepy face breaking into a wide grin. “Is that my favorite?!”

“Yes, my otter pup,” Asami replied, her voice warm as she set the tray down. “Let us eat.”

They sat together, Yasuko eagerly diving into the food while chattering about her sword practice. “When Sire comes back, I’ll show her how great I am now with the sword!” she said between bites, her voice brimming with excitement.

Asami chuckled, pride swelling in her chest. “You’ve been practicing hard, haven’t you?”

Yasuko nodded fervently, her small frame nearly bouncing with enthusiasm. “Mother, do you think Sire will be proud of me?”

Brushing a stray lock of hair from Yasuko’s face, Asami smiled. “Yes,” she said softly. “She is already proud of you, my brave little warrior.”

Yasuko beamed at the words, her cheeks glowing with happiness as she returned to her meal. “I miss Sire,” she said after a moment, her tone quieter now.

“I miss her, too,” Asami admitted, her voice tinged with a sadness she couldn’t hide. “But as we wait for her to come home, we must remain strong—for her and for our people.”

“Yes, Mother,” Yasuko said solemnly, though the resolve in her young eyes was clear.

The sound of a knock broke the moment, and Master Arrak’s voice carried through the door. “Your Grace, I have some news.”

Asami sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly. She had hoped to steal a bit more time with her children, but duty was a demanding master. “Give me a moment,” she called out.

Turning back to Yasuko, she found her daughter pouting adorably, her lower lip jutting out in protest. Asami leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, my love,” she said gently. “I must attend to my duties. But I will return by noon, and we shall play together.”

“Promise?” Yasuko asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“I promise,” Asami replied, her voice steady.

Yasuko’s face brightened at the assurance, and Asami lingered a moment longer before leaving. She closed the door softly behind her, her heart heavy but her steps resolute as she followed Master Arrak toward the small council chamber.

—

The small council chamber was dimly lit, the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows on the stone walls. Asami took her seat at the head of the table, her presence commanding despite the weariness she felt deep in her bones. She wasted no time, her tone sharp and businesslike as she addressed her Hand.

“Master Arrak,” she began, folding her hands atop the polished wood, “what is the news?”

Master Arrak’s expression darkened as he shook his head. “Your Grace, I apologize. We cannot seem to find the rat who whispered the Chief’s true parentage. But we might have a lead. A noble house, is what the servants had told me, but they did not see who.”

Asami sighed, her fingers tightening into a fist. The revelation of Korra’s parentage had been a blow, but the betrayal stung even deeper. They had scoured every corner of the Keep, questioned servants and guards alike, but the traitor eluded them.

“Someone from Kova’s allies must have overheard the confession,” Master Arrak said, his tone heavy with regret. “The timing is too convenient. The knowledge was supposed to be kept between Korra, you, myself, and Senna. Whoever has betrayed us, they are cunning—and dangerous.”

Asami met his eyes, her jaw tightening as she absorbed his words. She could see the tension in his weathered face, the guilt that lingered in the furrow of his brow. Master Arrak was a man of few words, but in those words, she could sense the weight he carried.

“We must find them, Master Arrak,” she said firmly. “I will not have a traitor lurking within these walls, feeding our enemies.”

He inclined his head, though the sorrow in his eyes did not fade. “I shall not stop looking, Your Grace. We will find the traitor, no matter how deep they burrow.”

“You have my thanks,” Asami said softly, her tone carrying both authority and compassion.

Before he could turn to leave, Asami placed a gentle hand on his arm. Master Arrak looked down at her hand, his gaze softening before meeting her eyes.

“I know,” Asami began, her voice low and steady, “that you and Korra have only been on good terms for a short time. And now, when you’ve finally begun to bridge that divide, you’re separated from each other by duty. For that, I am truly sorry.”

Master Arrak’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that barely reached his eyes but spoke volumes of his gratitude. “You are a good mate to her,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. “Better than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you, Asami, for being there for my daughter when I couldn’t.”

With a final glance, Asami dismissed him, watching as he left the chamber with a renewed determination in his stride.

The day stretched on in a flurry of duties. Asami moved seamlessly from answering petitions in the grand hall to teaching at the academy, her mind divided between her tasks and the gnawing unease that clung to her like a shadow. By the time evening fell, she was ready to collapse into bed, but a knock at her chamber door stirred her from her thoughts.

A servant entered, bowing low as they held out a letter sealed with white wax. “A missive for you, Your Grace.”

Asami’s heart leaped, expecting news from Korra, but her excitement dimmed when she saw the unfamiliar seal. Breaking it open, she unfolded the parchment and scanned the neat handwriting.

The letter was from Opal.

She smiled softly as she read, her old friend’s familiar words bringing a small measure of comfort. Opal would be leaving the Southern Air Temple and making her way to Wolf’s Cove. If the seas were kind, she would arrive within a fortnight. It had been far too long since they had last seen one another, and Asami wondered what news she would bring.

Still, the smile faded quickly as her thoughts turned once more to the looming uncertainties.

The next day unfolded much like the one before and by evening, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, Asami was ready to retire to her chambers, the weight of her duties pressing heavily upon her.

She was gathering her things from the small council chamber when the heavy doors suddenly burst open. A warrior stood in the doorway, his breath ragged, his face slick with sweat from urgency rather than exertion. He dropped to one knee, bowing low before her and the remaining councilors.

“M’lord, Your Grace,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “I come bearing news.”

“What is it?” Master Arrak demanded, his tone sharp and commanding.

The warrior lifted his head, his eyes wide. “Refugees from the Earth Kingdom have arrived at the harbor, seeking shelter. They claim they have fled great turmoil.”

Refugees. Asami’s brows furrowed as her mind raced. The Earth Kingdom had been in chaos for years, but she had thought its borders had finally stabilized after the abdication of its king.

“How many?” she asked, her voice calm but probing.

“Just one ship, Your Grace,” the warrior replied, his voice steadying as he continued. “It carries men and women of all designations. They claim to have fled great turmoil in the Earth Kingdom. Many are weary, some wounded, and they beg for safe harbor. Will you see them?”

Asami’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her first instinct was to provide aid, but the sudden arrival of refugees—when peace was supposed to have returned to the Earth Kingdom—sent an uneasy ripple through her.

“Very well,” she said after a moment, her voice steady. “I shall see them.”

Master Arrak’s gaze flicked to hers, his expression carefully guarded. She could sense his reservations, but he said nothing as she rose from her seat.

“Prepare an escort,” Asami commanded. “I will speak with them myself.”

The warrior bowed low, and as he departed, Asami felt the weight of responsibility settle heavier on her shoulders. Something about this did not sit right, but duty called. She could not afford to ignore it.

As she made her way toward the harbor, the chill of the night air bit at her skin, but it was the unease curling in her chest that truly chilled her.

—

The docks stretched before her, shrouded in the gray haze of early evening. Asami sat astride Naga, her sharp eyes scanning the scene ahead. The ship—if it could be called that—was no more than a battered vessel, its hull riddled with holes and its sails torn and weathered. It was a wonder it had stayed afloat long enough to reach Wolf’s Cove.

“More a raft than a ship,” she murmured under her breath. The sight was pitiful, and yet it carried a silent weight that pressed against her instincts.

Naga’s paws thudded softly against the wooden planks of the dock as they approached. The air was thick with salt and the murmur of gathered voices—curious commonfolk peering from behind crates and barrels, and her warriors standing watchful and grim. At the heart of the commotion were the refugees.

Asami slid down from Naga’s saddle with practiced ease, her boots crunching against the planks. She strode toward the crowd, her steps measured, her presence commanding. Near the edge of the dock, a small bonfire crackled, its flames casting flickering light over the huddled refugees. They clung to its warmth, their thin bodies wrapped in tattered clothes that did little to shield them from the biting cold.

Her warriors moved among them, their faces solemn as they handed out furs to those who shivered most. The refugees accepted them with trembling hands, murmuring soft words of gratitude. Even so, their faces bore the marks of exhaustion and desperation, their shoulders hunched as though the weight of their suffering was too great to bear.

Asami’s heart clenched at the sight. She could not ignore their plight, and yet a shadow of unease lingered in her mind.

A warrior stepped forward, bowing low before her and Master Arrak, who stood at her side. “Your Grace,” the warrior said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

“Are these the refugees?” Asami asked, her gaze flicking between the huddled figures.

“Yes, Your Grace. They claim to have come from the Earth Kingdom, seeking refuge in our lands.” The warrior turned and gestured to the group. “Come,” he said firmly, motioning for one of them to step forward.

From among the refugees, a woman stood. She moved slowly, as though every step cost her great effort. Her head was bowed as she approached, and when she stopped before Asami, she sank into a deep bow, her voice soft but clear.

“Your Grace, I am Kalyani,” the woman said. “We have come from Makapu Village. Our homes were burned, our families scattered. We seek only safety and a place to rebuild.”

Asami studied the woman closely. Her heart ached at the sight of her tattered clothing and the dirt smeared across her face, but something in her gut tightened. There was no obvious threat, and yet a shadow of unease lingered at the edges of her thoughts.

Still, compassion outweighed caution. Asami knew Korra would feel the same. “You shall have a home in our tribe,” she said, her voice steady. “And you shall be protected from harm as long as you are in our lands.” She inclined her head slightly. “Kalyani, rise.”

Kalyani lifted her head and stood. She was taller than Asami had first thought, her frame lean but strong. Her sharp features were striking, her black hair braided tightly down her back. Most striking of all, though, were her green eyes—bright and intense, filled with gratitude and something else that Asami couldn’t quite name. A mole beneath her right eye drew Asami’s attention, a detail that seemed out of place amidst her ragged appearance.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Kalyani said, her voice soft but steady. “You are most kind. We shall earn our keep here in exchange for your protection.”

“That would be most welcome,” Asami replied, her tone polite but firm. Yet as she met Kalyani’s gaze again, a chill ran down her spine. There was something unsettling in those eyes—something too sharp, too knowing.

She straightened, her expression neutral despite the unease twisting in her gut. She hoped, prayed, that she was making the right choice.

Chapter Text

Korra paced the length of her chamber, her boots scuffing against the polished stone floor. She had spent the past hour turning Fire Lord Izumi’s proposal over in her mind, yet no matter how many times she considered it, she reached the same conclusion. I cannot accept it. That much was clear. But what then? Did she come all this way for nothing?

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her loose hair. The Fire Lord had not demanded an answer immediately. When Korra had told her she needed time to consider, Izumi had simply inclined her head and allowed it. That, at least, had been a mercy.

Yet time did not change the inevitable.

Korra wished Asami were here. Her mate would know what to say, how to navigate this political game with the sharpness of a blade hidden beneath silk. But she is not here. She had stayed behind, as they had agreed, tending to their people, to their children. The ache of her absence had grown into something heavier now.

But at least Master Kuruk was here to lend an ear.

He had yet to give her his counsel, and perhaps now was the time to seek it. Korra grabbed her cloak from where it lay draped over the chair and fastened it over her shoulders before stepping out into the corridors.

The palace walls were nothing like the Ice Keep. Gilded in gold, their edges smooth and polished, they shimmered under the flickering glow of the torches. Murals of past Fire Lords lined the halls, their depictions grand and commanding—men and women standing atop burning battlefields, others overseeing the construction of cities, their hands extended over parchment and stone. It was a history of power, of conquest, of legacy.

A far cry from the halls of Wolf’s Cove, where the walls bore tapestries woven with the stories of her ancestors, where the stone was rough, cold, but familiar.

She arrived at Master Kuruk’s chambers and knocked twice, then thrice, as they had agreed for safety. The door opened promptly, and Master Kuruk ushered her inside.

“Korra,” he said, his expression calm. “I was waiting for you.”

Korra let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Am I that predictable?”

The older man smirked. “Yes, Your Grace.”

He gestured for her to sit, and she slumped into the chair across from him, rubbing her temples as an ache built in her skull.

“You did well today,” Kuruk said, leaning back in his own seat. “Not outright refusing her.”

Korra scoffed. “The Fire Lord had me backed into a corner. She knows I am a mated alpha, yet she still believes I would accept a marriage pact. Is this their custom here in the Fire Nation?” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “What should we do, Master Kuruk?”

The older man was silent for a moment, considering. “We can tell her that you have thought about it and your answer is no. Then, we propose a new offer for alliance.”

Korra straightened slightly. That was the only path forward now. “A trade alliance,” she said, thinking aloud. “The Fire Nation has resources we do not. Better metal for better weaponry. Their ports are larger than ours, their ships faster. We can offer them what they lack—furs, oils, food from the seas that cannot be found in their waters. We can trade knowledge, too. Their architects, their craftsmen, their shipwrights, can work with our own to improve both our lands.”

Kuruk nodded, stroking his chin. “A solid proposal. But will the Fire Lord accept it?”

“She will. She has to,” Korra said firmly. “She wants something from me—power, influence. If she cannot have me through blood, then she will settle for another form of advantage. The South has grown strong under my reign, and she knows it.”

Kuruk studied her carefully before nodding. “Then we shall present it to her. But be prepared, Korra—Fire Lord Izumi is not the type to accept terms without a counter of her own.”

Korra exhaled, knowing he was right. The Fire Nation did not extend a hand unless it was expecting something in return.

“Then I will be ready,” she said.

Because she had no choice but to be.

—

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the Fire Palace, its crimson banners swaying in the gentle breeze. Korra walked with measured steps, her posture composed, though the tension in her shoulders remained. Dressed in her finest tunic—deep blue embroidered with silver thread, the sigil of her tribe stitched proudly upon her chest—she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her even before she stepped into the throne room.

Master Kuruk’s words from the night before echoed in her mind. Be prepared, Korra .

She had spent the night preparing, crafting her counteroffer with careful precision, ready to stand firm in the negotiations. But all her plans unraveled the moment she entered the grand chamber.

Fire Lord Izumi greeted her with a smile, her sharp eyes glinting with something unreadable. But it was not her expression that unsettled Korra—it was the figure standing beside her.

The Fire Lord turned slightly, gesturing with one graceful hand. “Chief Korra, may I present to you my daughter, Fumiko.”

Korra felt the floor shift beneath her.

Princess Fumiko was draped in traditional Fire Nation robes, the crimson silk cascading over her frame like flowing embers. Her dark hair was intricately pinned, held in place by gold ornaments shaped like flames, and when she bowed, the motion was slow, practiced. Bashful, yet deliberate.

“I am most pleased to meet you, Chief Korra of the Southern Water Tribe,” the princess said, her voice soft and composed, yet carrying the unmistakable weight of expectation.

Korra forced herself to move, to return the bow with the same measured grace. “I am most pleased to meet you as well, Your Grace.”

The formalities felt like a thin veil over the unspoken tension in the room.

Fire Lord Izumi’s voice cut through the moment. “Chief Korra, my daughter has been looking forward to giving you a tour of the palace. It is only right that you are properly acquainted with our home.”

Korra hesitated. She had not come here for a tour—she had come for diplomacy, to put forth her own proposal. “Your Grace, if it please you, I would like to—”

Izumi lifted a hand, silencing her with a mere gesture. “Mayhaps after the tour.”

The words were polite, but the meaning was clear. Korra clenched her fists at her sides, a silent frustration boiling beneath her skin. She had been maneuvered before she even had the chance to play her own piece.

But she could not refuse, not without causing offense. So she swallowed her irritation and inclined her head. “As you wish, Fire Lord Izumi.”

Princess Fumiko descended the steps of the throne, her movements fluid, elegant. She stopped before Korra and smiled, reaching out and looping her arm around Korra’s without hesitation.

“Shall we?” she asked, her voice light, her fingers resting just a little too comfortably against Korra’s arm.

It took all of Korra’s strength not to pull away.

“We shall,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her gut.

As they walked, she felt the weight of many eyes upon her. The court watched with veiled curiosity, their whispers hushed but ever-present. Fire Lord Izumi had made her move, and now Korra had to decide how to play her own.

The tour continued through the palace halls, each corridor adorned with grand tapestries depicting the history of the Fire Nation. Scenes of battles won and treaties forged, of rulers standing proud atop black stone walls, their hands raised in declaration. Princess Fumiko walked beside her, gesturing toward each one as she spoke, her voice poised and rehearsed.

Korra listened in half-measure, her mind occupied with thoughts heavier than gold-threaded cloth. How do I tell her? She had hoped for a private moment, one where the princess might not feel bound by duty, but with every step they took, the opportunity slipped further from her grasp.

They moved out into the courtyard, the warmth of the sun stark against the cool shade of the palace interior. Korra’s boots crunched against the gravel path as they passed rows of delicate, curling flowers in shades of red, gold, and deep orange. They bloomed in elegant spirals, their petals unlike anything she had seen before.

“You admire them?” Princess Fumiko asked, noticing Korra’s lingering gaze.

“I have never seen such flowers,” Korra admitted. “They do not grow in my lands.”

“They are called fire blossoms,” Fumiko explained. “They bloom only in our warmest seasons, with their petals curling outward like flames. It is said that if a young maiden plucks one at dawn, it will bring her a prosperous marriage.”

Korra hummed, unsure how to respond to that. She had no need for such a blessing. The only thought that occurred to her was if it would survive the journey back home.

As they walked, the princess continued speaking of the garden’s history, of the Fire Lords who had once stood where they now stood. But Korra was barely listening. Her mind was too occupied, searching for a way to say what needed to be said.

“Your Grace?”

Korra blinked, startled out of her thoughts. She turned to see Fumiko watching her, amusement flickering in her amber eyes. She had been caught not listening.

“I apologize, Princess,” Korra said, sighing. “What was it you said? I must admit, I did not catch any of it.”

Fumiko giggled, the sound light and unguarded, free of the weight of politics. It was the first genuine reaction Korra had seen from her. “It matters not, Your Grace,” she said, her lips curled in a knowing smile. “Shall we continue?”

The princess took a step forward, but Korra did not move. Instead, she reached out, gently pulling Fumiko back by the arm. The moment was fleeting, but it was enough to make the princess pause, tilting her head in quiet curiosity.

“Princess, I have something to say to you,” Korra said, her voice even, yet firm. “And I do not wish to hurt you further.” She exhaled softly, then met the young woman’s gaze. “But I cannot accept your mother’s proposal.”

Fumiko did not flinch, nor did her expression betray any emotion. She only stood, waiting, listening.

“I am already mated and married,” Korra continued, her voice steady. “I have two pups waiting for me back home. I will never betray my family, my love, for a political alliance through marriage. And… I do not wish to incur the wrath of my wife. She is the only one for me, and I for her.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, but it was not filled with the tension Korra had expected.

Then, the princess sighed. “I expected as much, Chief Korra.”

Korra’s brow furrowed. “You did?”

Fumiko offered a small, tired smile. “However, I cannot disobey my mother,” she added. Korra opened her mouth to speak, but Fumiko shook her head before she could. “At least, in giving you this tour. That was her only command. That I take you out, show you the palace, in hopes that spending time with me might convince you to accept her proposal.” They began to walk again, their steps slower, more measured. “Which I tried. But now you can tell my mother that your mind is made up.”