Chapter Text
Unlike their previous duels, this one was supposed to be to the death, even though only three people were aware of that… with them being two of those three.
They stood in front of each other, silent, unmoving.
Asami was in her black-and-crimson duelling doublet, embroidered with gold thread. Her black hair was tied neatly behind her head. She always liked to fight with her flowing wild, just another way to show-off her skill, but she couldn’t afford *this* opponent any advantage, not even one so slight as her hair obscuring her view for a fraction of a second. Her emerald eyes watched for any opening, any weakness… even as her mind knew she’d find none.
Korra, on the other hand, was in her leathers, dyed blue but weathered and worn, a far cry from the vibrant blue of her keen eyes. Her hair, much shorter than Asami’s wasn’t such a hindrance, and fell free. While Asami’s face was impassive, there was just a hint of a smile on Korra’s lips. How did she put it?
Fighting and fucking, two things that make me feel alive.
Asami could relate.
They stood like that for seconds, minutes, maybe hours.
A fountain that Asami knew presented Kya pouring water from her outstretched hands murmured gently in the distance. Soft wind rustled the leaves – and Korra’s hair. The throng of people filling Roku’s Park and surrounding them was getting impatient and was shouting at them to stop stalling and start hurting each other, like a pack of scavengers, hungry for meat and blood.
Asami was aware of all these but pushed the sounds away. The world shrunk for her to four things: herself, her opponent and the rapiers the two of them were holding.
She knew Korra, always the more impatient, of them would want to strike first. She would let her do that. She always preferred counterstrikes to attacks but, of course, Korra knew that as well and that’s why she was stopping herself from attacking, as long as she could. Asami knew that for Korra it was a fight in itself – to refrain from lunging long enough to make Asami impatient and uneasy but not long enough that it distracts Korra herself.
Asami could wait. She could…
Korra struck, fast as lightning but Asami’s blade got in the way just in time to push the attack to the side. She went for a counterstrike and Korra, having predicted that, moved two steps back, allowing the tip of the rapier to cut the air just in front of her chest. Normally, Asami would now move back, putting distance between her and opponent, ready for another round, but this time she pushed forward, making three quick steps and striking fast, from her arm.
The blades collided once more.
* * *
A COUPLE OF DAYS EARLIER...
“I’m just saying it’s not a woman’s place to defend her honour with a rapier in her hand!” Baron Raiko’s voice echoed, rough and overconfident, slurred with the effects of too much wine. His broad, ruddy face was flushed, and he gestured wildly with his goblet, spilling dark red drops onto the polished ballroom floor.
“And why is that, my lord?” Asami asked with an air of innocent curiosity, lifting her delicate fan to her lips. The gesture wasn’t to conceal any expression — by now, she had perfected the art of smiling while delivering a cutting insult with her eyes alone. No, the fan was a weapon of its own, signaling to the gathered nobles that the exchange was not as innocent as it seemed.
Raiko leaned forward, emboldened by the gathered attention. “Raava and Vaatu created men and women different for a reason!” he proclaimed. “Men are meant to earn money, lead households, and fight for king and honour. Women will never be good at such things. They are—”
“To look pretty and be submissive?” Asami finished smoothly, her voice as sweet as honey.
“Exactly!” Raiko barked, his chest puffing out with satisfaction. “I’m glad you’ve finally seen reason!”
“Ah, so we’re all in agreement then…” Asami’s father interjected, his tone light but edged with nervousness, eager to steer the conversation away from the brewing conflict.
But Asami wasn’t about to let Raiko off so easily. Her smile sharpened, her voice cutting through the air like the blade she wielded so well. “Ah, but we’re not in agreement, Father.” She turned her gaze back to Raiko, her eyes hardening. “So, if I were to take offense at the fact that you, a married man with the manners of a boor, attempted to corner me alone to make an indecent proposal, and if I were to demand satisfaction for this insult… what then?”
The room fell silent. Every head turned toward Baron Raiko, who suddenly found himself the center of unwanted attention. His face, already flushed, turned a deeper shade of red as the murmurs spread like wildfire through the crowd. Asami could see her father’s concern etched in his brow, but it was the predatory gleam in duke Tarrlok’s eyes that caught her attention — his gaze was fixed on her like a hawk eyeing its prey.
“Baron Raiko!” Asami’s father roared. “Is what my daughter is telling true?!”
Raiko spluttered, his voice rising with indignation.
“Of course not! How dare you accuse me of such lies?” he snapped.
Asami’s smile didn’t falter.
“So you’re calling me a liar, as well? Now I’m truly offended.”
With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid one her elbow-length gloves off and, in one fluid movement, slapped the baron across the face with it before letting it fall to the floor. The sound of the leather striking his cheek echoed in the tense silence.
“You’ve insulted me, sir,” she declared, her voice as sharp as her blade. “I demand satisfaction. As the challenged party, you have the right to appoint a champion to fight on your behalf… but since you’re so confident that women are incapable of such things, I assume you’ll be facing me yourself?”
The room was deathly quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Raiko’s hand trembled as he slowly bent down to pick up the glove, his face a mix of anger, embarrassment, and something else - fear. His fingers closed around the glove, and he straightened up, glaring at her.
“And will you be fighting yourself,” he sneered, trying to regain his composure, “or will you hire the best champion that the wealth of House Sato can buy? Perhaps you’ll even bring in the so-called Avatar of Blades?”
Asami’s smile was icy, her eyes never leaving Raiko’s. “Ah yes, as a woman, I do have the right to appoint a champion, don’t I? Such a lovely and just world we live in, isn’t it?”
Raiko's lip curled in disdain. “Otherwise, young people, skilled at arms, could insult a woman or an older man like your father with impunity,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt as he tried to justify the archaic rules of their society.
Asami raised an eyebrow.
“And what of the poor?” she asked, her voice soft but cutting. “Those who lack the means to learn the blade or the wealth to hire a champion?”
“Such people are trash,” Raiko sneered. “And duelling is only for people of certain class. People with honour.”
A quiet rage burned behind Asami’s calm facade, but she kept her voice measured, almost conversational.
“Well, Baron, you needn’t worry. I’ve never allowed anyone to fight my battles for me. I’ll pick up the rapier myself.”
Raiko seemed to sag with relief, mistaking her words for capitulation. He handed the glove back to her, clearly eager for the encounter to end. “And so will I,” he muttered, his bravado returning now that he believed the confrontation was over.
Asami accepted the glove with a nod, slipping it back over her fingers with deliberate grace.
“I think I’ll need to catch some beauty sleep before our duel,” she said lightly, a glint of steel in her eyes. “After all, I want to look my best when I’m kicking your ass, Baron.”
With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving the crowd to buzz with speculation and Raiko to stew in his own humiliation.
* * *
“Must you always provoke?” Her father’s voice was a mix of exasperation and worry as he stood behind her later that evening, watching her in the mirror as she carefully removed her make-up.
“Raiko is a lecherous, disgusting bastard,” Asami replied without turning, her voice even as she swiped at the last traces of rouge.
“I assure you, his lineage is impeccable,” her father countered, but his voice wavered.
Asami sighed, setting down the make-up brush. “I was speaking figuratively, Father.”
Her father’s reflection in the mirror looked pained, torn between his duty as a noble and his concern as a father. “Listen, if he truly harassed you… you should have come to me. I would have had him thrown out of the estate or challenged him myself. We can still hire a champion — Tahno is the best right now but there is also this Mako I’ve been hearing about…”
“Tahno?” Asami scoffed, finally meeting her father’s eyes in the mirror. “I’ve seen him fight. He’s good, but if he’s the best, it says more about the quality of champions in Royal City than anything else. As for this Mako… I’ve yet to hear of him.”
Her father’s voice rose in frustration, but softened as he continued, “Why do you keep defying me? Why do you insist on putting yourself at risk?”
Asami’s expression softened. “Father, you earned your position without an inheritance or title. You taught me to stand on my own two feet. I can’t live in your shadow forever.”
“But why dueling?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.
“Once, I believed that if a mere woman bested enough self-important nobles, they might be shamed into seeing the injustice of a system where status and wealth determine everything,” Asami said quietly. “I’ve long since given up hope of that. Now, I simply enjoy teaching them a lesson.”
Her father shook his head, despairing. “You know King Tenzin is pushing to outlaw dueling. It’s only a matter of time before he convinces the Parliament.”
Asami’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile. “And when that happens, I’ll find another hobby. But until then… I have a duel tomorrow.”
Her father sighed deeply, stepping forward to wrap her in a tight embrace. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he whispered.
“Nothing will,” Asami reassured him, squeezing his hand gently.
As he finally let her go and turned to leave, she asked, her voice thoughtful, “You said Tahno and Mako are the best champions for hire, yes?”
He paused, hope flickering in his eyes as he turned back to her. “Yes. I could reach out to them—"
“What about the Avatar of Blades?” Asami asked, recalling Raiko’s jest, her voice laced with curiosity. “Isn’t she supposed to be the best?”
Her father’s expression darkened, and he let out a derisive snort. “The Avatar of Blades doesn’t exist,” he said curtly. “A myth created by the lower classes to frighten the nobility.”
“I suppose so,” Asami murmured, disappointed.
Oh yes… what an absurd thought that was… that somewhere out there was a woman master duellist, who looked after the poor and downtrodden. That when a nobleman would insult or challenge such an underprivileged person – not that it happened often as it would require the nobles to actually notice those beneath them – the wronged party could always get the Avatar of Blades to be their champion for nothing more than the price of simple meal.
What an absurd thought.
The world didn’t work like that.
Notes:
The setting is just decorations, so don’t worry too much about it. Tenzin is King, but there is also a Parliament and a House of Lords, Republic City is Royal City here, a ‘New World’ has been discovered and that’s all you need to know.
Also, in comparison to my other stories, this one is of much lesser scope and most characters other than Korra and Asami won’t be getting much screentime. This story is about these two girls mostly.
As for rules of the duelling, there aren’t many and some will be revealed in the next chapter but in short:
- the *challenged* party can *always* have someone fight in their place, a paid champion or just a friend, though probably if they’re a male in prime condition it could be seen as cowardice.
- the *challenger* has to fight on his own unless they’re a woman, an older man way past his prime or too wounded or infirm to fight on their own.Comments welcome!
Chapter 2: ...versus how it should be.
Notes:
And we’re in the second chapter! Parts of this have also been shown in the WIP ‘work’, but a part of it, an interesting part – I hope! – will be new.
So let’s just delve into it. This time we’re following Korra!
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“So, you actually showed up?” Varrick’s sneer stretched from his thin lips to the tips of his spindly fingers as he adjusted his lavish, deep-blue coat. His whole being radiated smugness, from his long legs to his small, meticulously groomed mustache, to the icy glint in his eyes.
“Y-yes,” Muni stammered, his voice quivering.
Muni was an older man, his back slightly stooped from years of hard work. His balding head glistened with sweat under the noon sun, and his thick eyeglasses magnified his anxious eyes. He had donned his best robes for this confrontation, but time had not been kind to them; what had once been rich, luxurious fabric was now frayed and threadbare, a stark contrast to Varrick’s extravagant attire.
“Zhu Li, did you do the thing?” Varrick asked, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.
“Yes, sir,” Zhu Li responded, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. The plain-looking woman, always at Varrick’s side, delivered the news with the dispassionate efficiency of someone used to unpleasant tasks. “Muni claims he has found a champion to fight for him.”
“A champion?” Varrick’s laugh was harsh and sharp, slicing through the tension like a blade. “And how, pray tell, does he plan to pay this champion? With his charming personality? Or perhaps his vast fortune?” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he gestured toward Muni’s worn robes. “It’s not like he has any friends left to call upon!”
“No!” Muni’s voice broke with the strain, but anger fueled his words this time. “I’ve no money and no friends left, thanks to you, Varrick!”
“Now, now!” Varrick’s grin widened, a predator toying with its prey. “Let’s not be too hasty with the accusations. It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print. Your own negligence, Muni!”
“You’re a crook, Varrick, and a—”
“Careful!” Varrick’s tone dropped to a dangerous whisper, his eyes narrowing with menace. “You’ve already challenged me once. That’s your right, of course. But any more of this slander, and I might feel compelled to challenge you in return. And we both know you wouldn’t fare well in such a contest. Now, did you actually manage to find a champion? I’d love to meet this poor soul.”
“I did!” Muni snapped, a glimmer of defiance sparking in his eyes.
“Good!” Varrick clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the square. “Because mine’s here as well! Tahno! Show yourself!”
A tall, lean man stepped forward from the shadows, his presence commanding immediate attention. His long, dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp features were set in a permanent smirk of disdain. He exuded arrogance, his every movement a study in calculated superiority.
“Varrick convinced me, the great Tahno, to defend his honour,” Tahno announced with a mocking drawl, as though the very notion of Varrick possessing honour amused him.
“This man has no honour!” Muni spat, his face flushing with indignation. “He ruined me, and—”
“Don’t waste your breath.” A new voice, low and filled with contempt, cut through the air.
All eyes turned to the newcomer who had materialized seemingly out of nowhere. A woman, far shorter than Tahno, stood there, her dark skin contrasting sharply with her worn, light blue leather outfit. Her black hair, cropped at the neck, framed a pair of piercing blue eyes that gleamed with cold fire.
“I, Korra, will fight for Muni’s honour,” she declared, her voice steady and strong.
The duel was to be between merchants – or their champions – not between noblemen, but Varrick was such a colourful persona that it still attracted a lot of audience, especially as Varrick has hired Tahno to be his champion. He didn’t have to of course, he could have easily beaten the old, almost infirm Muni… but hiring the most expensive sellsword in Royal City was a statement in itself.
“A woman?” Tahno scoffed, spitting disdainfully onto the ground. “Better than dueling an old man, I suppose. Though I was hoping for a challenge.”
“Are you going to fight,” Korra shot back, her voice dripping with disdain, “or just flap your gums?”
“Calm down, all of you!” Captain Lin Beifong’s voice cut through the chatter like a whip crack, silencing the crowd. Her presence was commanding, her gray uniform adorned with the marks of a seasoned soldier. Lin was a force of nature, a woman whose very name struck fear into even the most hardened criminals. No one dared cross her, not even Varrick.
Some said, not even the King.
“Everything will be conducted according to Kyoshi’s Duelling Code!” Lin barked, her eyes sweeping the crowd, daring anyone to object. No one did. Even Tahno wisely held his tongue.
Lin turned first to Muni. “Does the challenger wish to withdraw his challenge?”
“No!” Muni’s voice wavered with emotion but remained firm. “Varrick cheated me out of everything. I won’t back down.”
Lin nodded and turned to Varrick. “Does the challenged party admit to the accusation?”
“Absolutely not!” Varrick’s voice was smug, his confidence unshaken. “Let’s get on with it!”
“Have the seconds agreed on the weapons?” Lin asked, her tone strictly business.
Two women came forward, leading the crowd to murmur in apprehension. One was Zhu Li, Varrick’s assistant. The other… was a lithe young woman, with the eyes the colour of fresh grass. Despite her concealing her features with a shawl, some people recognized her and a name started making its way through the crowd.
A hushed whisper spread through the crowd as some began to recognize the woman. “Opal Beifong… It’s Opal Beifong!” the name rippled through the audience, causing a stir.
“We’ve agreed on these two rapiers,” Opal stated, her voice clear and steady as Zhu Li opened the case to reveal two identical blades.
“They’ve been checked,” Zhu Li confirmed, her tone devoid of emotion.
As Muni glanced at Opal, gratitude filled his eyes. Lin, meanwhile, took both rapiers in hand, testing their balance with a few expert swipes through the air. Satisfied, she offered one to Tahno and the other to Korra, both of whom gave the weapons a few experimental swings before taking their places in the center of Azulon’s Ring, one of the famed dueling arenas in Roku’s Park.
“She’ll do fine,” Opal whispered to Muni, her voice tinged with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.
Muni, however, leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “Is she really… the Avatar of Blades? How did you find her?”
Opal’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she avoided his gaze, giving him all the answer he needed.
Oh.
But before Muni could dwell on the revelation, Korra and Tahno took their stances, drawing his full attention back to the duel.
“As per Kyoshi’s Duelling Code, this contest will end at the first blood,” Lin announced, her voice carrying through the arena. “Anyone who strikes after I command disengagement will be arrested for attempted murder and for breaching the King’s peace. Understood?”
“Understood,” Korra and Tahno answered in unison, their voices tinged with anticipation.
“Are the duelists ready?” Lin asked, her gaze shifting between them.
Both champions saluted, bringing the hilts of their rapiers to their lips before tilting the blades toward each other. Tahno’s salute was flashy, almost mocking, the smirk on his face never wavering. Korra’s, by contrast, was simple and focused, her eyes locked on Tahno’s.
“Get ready!” Lin commanded and both duellists took positions.
Tahno’s was a classic fencing position, presenting his side, with one foot perpendicular to the other and his left hand to the side, open palm out. Korra was also half-turned, her side as well towards her opponent but she was lower on her legs.
“En garde!” Lin commanded.
The moment the word left her lips, Korra sprang forward with the speed of a striking serpent. Tahno’s eyes widened in surprise as her blade shot toward him, the tip aimed squarely at his hip. Only his superior reach saved him as he barely managed to parry, stepping back quickly to create distance. For a heartbeat, the two stood frozen, assessing each other with the intensity of predators in the wild.
Korra took a measured step forward, her eyes narrowing as she closed the gap. This time, Tahno was ready. His blade flashed out in a swift, calculated strike, aiming to catch Korra mid-step. The attack was so sudden, so precise, that it seemed inevitable that he would draw first blood.
This time there was no sound of metal against metal so he must have been successful.
“CEASE!” Lin shouted. “DISENGAGE!”
Korra halted immediately, lowering her blade and stepping back with a graceful, controlled movement, her left hand raised. Tahno attempted to mirror her actions, but the smug grin on his face faltered. His eyes widened in shock as his rapier slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His hand flew to his side, where a thin line of red had begun to spread across his immaculate tunic.
Tahno’s knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his wound in disbelief.
“Medic!” Lin barked, and two healers rushed into the ring, quickly attending to the fallen duelist.
Muni stared in awe as Korra approached, her expression calm, almost indifferent. “That was… incredible,” he stammered, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Told you she could do it,” Opal murmured, her face flushed with a mix of relief and something deeper as she glanced at Korra.
Korra looked at Tahno, now being tended to by the medics, and then back to Muni with a slight smirk. “You said he was the best champion for hire in Royal City?” She shook her head, disappointment evident in her voice. “That was barely worth the effort.”
Opal’s eyes widened as she noticed Lin striding toward them. “Watch out, Aunt Lin’s coming!” she whispered urgently.
“Opal,” Lin said, her tone both stern and familiar, as she addressed her niece. “Does your mother know the kind of company you’re keeping?”
“No,” Opal replied, meeting Lin’s gaze with a steady one of her own. “And I doubt you’ll be telling her about it.”
Lin’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Perhaps,” she conceded, turning her attention to Korra. “You fought well.”
“I know,” Korra replied, her blue eyes meeting Lin’s green in a silent, but intense battle of wills.
“Sellswords like you bring nothing but trouble,” Lin warned, her voice laced with a threat. “And I won’t tolerate that in my city. Do you understand?”
“Me, causing trouble? Perish the thought!” Korra’s grin was mischievous, but Lin could see the seriousness behind it.
Lin’s expression hardened, and she pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then directed them at Korra in a silent warning. Korra responded by mimicking the gesture in a mocking, exaggerated manner before crossing her arms and making a ridiculous face, then spinning on her heel and sauntering away, while Lin shrugged in a strangely exaggerated way.
“See you around, Op,” Korra said to the young Beifong before leaving.
“Thank you, Korra!” Muni shouted after her but she didn’t stop. Then he turned to Lin only to see her shrug and walk away as well.”
Feeling a new surge of confidence, Muni approached Varrick, who was still trying to process what had just happened. The crowd had begun to disperse, but enough onlookers remained to make Varrick wary of the exchange.
“So,” Muni said, his voice surprisingly firm, “shall we renegotiate the terms of our deal, or should I call you an honourless scoundrel in the middle of the Trade Chamber? I imagine I can persuade Korra to fight for me again, should you decide to challenge me this time.”
Varrick’s confident facade faltered for just a moment before he forced a grin back onto his face. “Now, now, Muni,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “no need for that. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
* * *
They said it was all in the wrist and fingers, but Korra believed that reading subtle signs, assuming the correct position and pushing in at the exact right moment also was important to score…
A small shift in position met with an immediate, subtle response. Gentle movements of the wrists, almost imperceptible but precise. The air was thick with the sounds of heavy breathing, the sharp inhales and exhales mixing with the heat of the moment. Fingers explored, finding the opening, seizing the opportunity with practiced expertise.
A moan of pleasure escaped as a result, raw and unguarded.
Mouth kissing skin, travelling lower and lower…
“Korra!” Opal gasped, her fingers digging into the other woman’s back, nails carving red lines into the canvas of old and new scars. “Oh yes, Korra, yes!”
Desperate to stifle the next moan, Opal bit down on her own hand, but it was already too late.
With a thunderous crash, the locked door to Opal’s room burst open, the force of the kick echoing through the room like a death knell. Standing in the doorway, bathed in the flickering light of the dying embers in the hearth, was a woman clad in gray steel and a green tabard. Her piercing green eyes, cold and unyielding, took in the scene with a single glance, fury simmering beneath her composed exterior.
“Kuvira!” Opal’s scream was a mixture of shock and fear.
Korra barely lifted her head, eyes narrowing as she met Kuvira’s gaze. “Hey! I’m not finished here!” she snapped, her voice defiant.
“Oh yes, you are!” Kuvira’s tone was icy, brooking no argument. “Seize her!”
Four guards rushed in behind Kuvira, their heavy boots pounding against the floor. Opal scrambled to cover herself with the blanket, her heart racing with panic, but her cries of protest went unheard. The guards had their orders, and they wouldn’t hesitate to carry them out.
Korra, just as exposed as Opal, was already on the move. She sprang from the bed, her body a blur of motion as she grabbed a chair and swung it at the nearest guard. The impact was solid, sending him crashing to the floor. She whirled around just in time to duck another guard’s grasp, driving her elbow into the third’s face with enough force to drop him where he stood. The remaining two guards hesitated, recognizing they weren’t dealing with an ordinary opponent. With a shared glance, they drew their short swords, steel flashing in the dim light.
“Come on, boys,” Korra taunted, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she winked at them.
The first guard lunged, his blade slicing through the air toward her. Korra blocked it with the chair, the wood splintering as the sword bit into it, but she didn’t waste a moment. She twisted, using the chair to trap the blade, then spun out of the way of the second guard’s strike, diving toward where her clothes were scattered across the floor.
Beneath the tangle of discarded garments lay her true prize — her rapier. Korra snatched up her shirt and hurled it at the first guard’s face, blinding him momentarily. With a swift, practiced motion, she drove the pommel of her rapier into his temple, sending him crumpling to the floor. The last guard managed to free his sword from the mangled chair and lunged at her, but Korra was faster. One deft twist of her wrist, and his sword flew from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. He backed away, hands raised in surrender, eyes wide with fear.
Korra wasn’t going to kill these poor fools just because they believed that stopping their lady’s daughter from getting some pleasure was in their job description.
It’s been long since Korra met a worthy opponent and this time her overconfidence almost was the doom of her. Kuvira’s attack was fast and deadly and Korra barely parried the woman’s blows.
“Damn, you’re good!” she complimented her opponent.
Kuvira didn’t respond, just lunging again.
High, high, low, high, low, low, high – Kuvira kept attacking with strikes that were aimed to kill, not disarm, while Korra was slowly backing away, blocking all the attacks. Only once she tried a counterstrike, trying to slow Kuvira down with a wound to her leg but the woman’s armour deflected the blow. She tried to disarm the advancing opponent and always got pinned to the wall for the effort.
It became clear that if Korra were to defeat Kuvira, she’d have to kill her. But killing wasn’t the only way to end a fight.
Korra suddenly ducked and slashed at the nearby curtains with her rapier, sending the heavy fabric tumbling down onto Kuvira’s blade, entangling it just long enough for Korra to kick the guardswoman’s leg out from under her. Kuvira hit the ground hard, but Korra didn’t wait to see if she would recover.
“I’ll be in touch!” Korra called over her shoulder to Opal, already moving toward the balcony. Without hesitation, she vaulted over the railing, catching the ledge with one hand and swinging herself down to the ground below.
As Korra bolted from the Beifong estate, the alarm was already raised. She could hear the shouts of guards and the frantic barking of dogs as they gave chase. Scaling the outer wall with the ease of long practice, Korra landed lightly on the other side and sprinted toward the small grove where her faithful horse, Naga, was tethered.
She leaped onto Naga’s back, wincing slightly as her bare skin met the rough leather of the saddle, and dug her heels into the horse’s flanks. Naga surged forward, the powerful mare quickly gaining speed as they raced away from the estate.
“Go, Naga, go!” Korra urged.
She wished she hadn’t left her hat in Opal’s bedroom as she wanted to have something to wave at the poor bastards, she was living behind.
And then she heard and saw five horses, all carrying riders, leave the gate as well, following her in a chase. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see Kuvira at the lead.
“Go, Naga, go!” she shouted again.
The cobblestone streets of Royal City echoed with the thunderous drumming of hooves as Korra spurred her mount. Her heart raced faster than the horse beneath her, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The cool night air whipped at her face, carrying with it the lingering scent of Opal's perfume – a bittersweet reminder of the passionate encounter she was now fleeing.
The narrow street bustled with late-night revelers and merchants closing up shop. She expertly weaved through the crowd, earning curses and startled cries as she passed. A cart of farmer’s produce toppled in her wake, spilling its cargo across the street. She heard the satisfying crash of pursuing horses stumbling over the impromptu obstacle.
“My cabbages!” she heard a scream behind her.
"My apologies, good sir!" Korra called back cheerfully to the enraged farmer. "Send the bill to the Beifong estate!"
"Surround her! Cut off the side streets!" Kuvira’s voice rang out again, closer now.
Korra’s mind raced as quickly as her mount. She knew these streets well – perhaps too well, given her penchant for hasty escapes. But Kuvira was no fool and quantity had a quality of its own.
As if to confirm her fears, two riders emerged from an alleyway ahead, swords drawn and gleaming in the moonlight. Korra didn't hesitate. She yanked hard on the reins, guiding her horse up onto the narrow sidewalk. Pedestrians scattered, pressing themselves against buildings to avoid being trampled.
"Pardon, ladies and gentlemen!" Korra called out, unable to resist playing to her impromptu audience. "Just another night in Royal City!"
She caught sight of her reflection in a shop window as she passed – disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, and eyes bright with excitement. This was living.
Fighting and fucking, fucking and fighting, even better than done one after another. Pity the fucking didn’t bring any satisfaction, though.
“Get here!” she head Kuvira’s voice, not that far behind her.
A quick glance over her shoulder told Korra that there were only three riders pursuing her left, but she had to decrease that number. As she rode under a clothesline, she slashed with her rapier, cutting it, various pieces of fabric falling down, following by a large bedsheet.
Korra heard a satisfied curse and a thud as one of the guards, wrapped in the bedsheet as if it was a net fell down onto the cobblestones.
The river, she had to get to the river!
Quickly she turned the horse towards one of the narrow alleys… too narrow to go through it in full gallop… but she didn’t slow down in the slightest, Naga being smart enough and trained well enough to navigate the narrow passage with ease. A scream behind her told her that at least one of the riders didn’t manage to repeat her maneuver and crashed into the wall of the building.
“Sorry!” she laughed, glancing behind.
Her laughter died as she heard the unmistakable twang of a crossbow. A bolt whistled past her ear, far too close for comfort. She risked a glance back to see Kuvira reloading in full gallop, her face a mask of determination.
“Come now, captain!" Korra shouted. "Isn't this a bit extreme? I didn’t force her!”
Kuvira’s response was another bolt, this one embedding itself in a wooden post inches from Korra’s head.
"I'll take that as a no," Korra muttered.
Soon they’ve both left the alley, coming onto the riverbank. There was no bridge in sight but… there was a small barge moving from one side of the river to the other. It was small, but it might have been just big enough…
“Go, Naga!” Korra shouted and her loyal steed obeyed running straight at the river… and then jumping.
The few people around gasps as it seemed the horse and the rider would fall into the water… but Naga’s hooves landed firmly on the barge.
“Wh-what?” the man sailing the barge muttered, his eyes wide as a naked woman with a rapier in her hand landed on a horse on his vessel.
“I’d like to buy a passage to the other side,” Korra said, smiling at him. “Sadly, as you can see I have nothing on me and so I can’t pay you. And please,” she waved her blade “don’t go about me paying you ‘in the flesh’. It’s not a cheap bodice ripper novel. Not that I’m wearing any bodice for you to rip.”
He kept staring at her.
“But! Think about it this way: you’ll be able to tell everyone, that you got to ferry the Avatar of Blades across the river.”
“The Avatar of Blades?” he gasped.
“Yup, that’s me!” she said, bowing on the saddle with a flourish…
…which saved her life as Kuvira’s bolt cut the air where her head had been a moment ago.
“Hey! I’m talking here!” she shouted at the guardswoman, who was still on her horse, on the riverbank, calmly reloading her weapon. “Did no one teach you it’s rude to interrupt?!”
Kuvira lifted the crossbow and Korra knew that her aim would be true. She sighed and tried to relax herself. On the small barge, she had nowhere to dodge or run.
Kuvira fired.
Korra slashed with her rapier, cutting the bolt in the air.
The ferryman fainted.
The barge reached the other side of the river and laughing out loud Korra rode away.
Notes:
First of all, I want to assure you that no horse was hurt in the course of writing this chapter. They were all highly paid and well-trained (unionized) horse actors. But don’t try it at home!
So we’re starting off with some Korpal, huh? Will Korra even look at Asami if she already is getting some from Opal? And damn you, Kuvira the Great Cockblocker! (is it still cockblocking if this is F/F? Asking for a friend.)
I’m really leaning into all of the swashbuckling tropes, am I not? With Korra running away from a lady’s bedchamber, getting onto a waiting horse and then having a mad chase through the streets of the city.
I wrote back when I thought it would be a light, fluffy, fun story. Why did I change it? Oh right, because I hate happiness… Btw. A recent talk with Always_Korrasami made me reflect on how surprisingly fun is writing fluffy stories when Korra and Asami don’t hurt each other. Because of that, just to make sure I don’t fall under the spell of fluffy writing, I need to break them some more.
Comments welcome!
Also, next week (unless the Young One gets sick), I’ll be on a trip with my dad, so no stories, though maybe I’ll tease another WIP. (Of course we still have CnC coming Friday/Saturday).
See you soon!
Chapter 3: Two ways of fighting
Notes:
And we're back! We've seen Korra fight so it is time for Asami to get in on the action.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Can we just get this over with?” Lin muttered under her breath, her voice laced with irritation. “Another damn duel. Do you all think I’ve got nothing better to do than preside over these petty squabbles?”
“Watch your tone, Captain, or I’ll—” Baron Raiko began, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Or you’ll what?” Lin snapped, her gaze locking onto him with a steely intensity that could have melted iron.
Raiko hesitated, his bravado faltering under her glare. “I’ve heard you and the King aren’t on the best of terms,” he sneered, trying to regain control. “If I were to whisper a word or two…”
“Please do,” Lin shot back, cutting him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “But right now, we’re here for a duel, not idle threats. So, what’s it going to be? Did you come here to talk or fight?”
Raiko’s mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, but no words came out. Lin didn’t wait for him to find his courage again. She turned to the seconds, her voice brisk and businesslike. “Have the weapons been chosen and checked?”
“Yes,” Hiroshi Sato replied, his voice betraying a tremor — one that always appeared when he was forced into these situations.
“Yes,” Duke Tarrlok answered, his expression impassive, but his eyes sharp, taking in every detail of the unfolding drama.
Asami stepped forward, a striking figure in a blood-red gown that seemed more suited for a grand ball than a dueling ring. Hiroshi’s heart tightened with worry as he took in her appearance. The dress was stunning, but it was also calculated — a bold statement. The color would mask any blood, whether Raiko’s or her own.
“Are you sure about this?” Hiroshi whispered, his voice thick with concern as he offered his hand to help her descend into Sozin’s Ring.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Asami replied with a confident smile, her eyes glinting with steely resolve. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”
That much was true, but Hiroshi couldn’t shake the gnawing fear in his gut. There was always a first time for everything, and the impracticality of her attire gnawed at him. The long crimson dress, the loose hair — it all seemed like a recipe for disaster in a fight. But Hiroshi knew this was all part of her strategy: to beat Raiko while dressed in the most traditionally feminine way possible, using the very things he disdained so much against him.
It was all part of the lesson she wanted him to teach.
“En garde!” Lin shouted.
For a moment, Asami and Raiko stood still, locked in a tense standoff. Then, Asami leaned in slightly and murmured something too quiet for Hiroshi to catch. Whatever she said, it had an immediate effect — Raiko’s face flushed with sudden anger, and he lunged at her, his rapier thrusting forward with reckless aggression.
Asami moved like water, sidestepping his attack with effortless grace. Raiko followed with a slash, but she blocked it easily, her blade ringing against his with a sharp clash of steel. Another slash came, and she dodged it with a simple, fluid motion, leaning back just enough to let the blade cut through empty air.
The dress didn’t hinder her in the slightest. She held the hem in her left hand, giving herself full range of motion. Her movements were deliberate, almost languid, but always perfectly timed. Raiko pressed his attack, but Asami’s blade was there at every turn, blocking and parrying with a calm precision that seemed to mock his growing frustration.
Suddenly, she shifted, wrapping part of her gown around Raiko’s blade and pulling him off balance. With a swift, controlled motion, she drove the basket hilt of her rapier into his temple. Raiko staggered, and before he could recover, Asami had moved back, well out of his reach.
Laughter rippled through the crowd, entertained by the spectacle. Asami’s duels had become legendary — who wouldn’t want to see the daughter of the powerful House Sato humiliate the city’s most arrogant noblemen? But Hiroshi watched with a heart full of dread, fists clenched tight.
Raiko, humiliated and enraged, charged at her again, his composure unraveling. But Asami was ready. She sidestepped his wild attack, pivoted smoothly, and brought the flat of her blade down on his ass with a loud smack.
The crowd erupted in laughter, their amusement only deepening Raiko’s fury.
Now, Asami went on the offensive. With a flick of her wrist, she disarmed Raiko, his rapier flying out of his hand and clattering to the ground. She advanced on him, the tip of her blade pressing against his chest, forcing him to retreat until his back was against the cold stone wall of the ring.
Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, Asami drew the tip of her rapier across his chest, cutting a shallow but unmistakable line into his flesh.
“CEASE! DISENGAGE!” Lin’s voice echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the duel.
Later, as they rode home in the quiet of their carriage, Hiroshi turned to his daughter, the weight of his worry pressing heavily on his chest.
“You need to be careful, Asami,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “Baron Raiko is a spiteful man.”
“I can take care of myself, Father,” Asami replied, her tone cool and distant.
“I know you keep saying that,” Hiroshi continued, his voice tight with emotion, “but… I wish there was someone else to look after you as well. Someone other than me.”
Asami’s eyes narrowed, her tone turning sharp. “Is this your way of asking me to reconsider Duke Tarrlok’s proposal? Because if it is, you already know my answer.”
Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable.
After a long pause, Hiroshi spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “What did you say to him, Asami? To provoke him like that?”
Asami turned her gaze to the window, watching the city blur by. “It’s better that you don’t know, Dad.”
“Asami…” Hiroshi’s voice was gentle, pleading.
Without turning to face him, Asami finally spoke, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. “I told him that if he defeated me, he could have me,” she said, her eyes distant. “And I might have implied that I know he prefers his women, admittedly Buttercup aside, after he’s beaten them a bit.”
The rest of the ride was spent in heavy, suffocating silence.
* * *
It wasn’t really a surprise that Baroness Buttercup, Raiko’s wife reached out to Asami. After the humiliating beating Raiko received from Asami, he had only two courses of action possible – vowing eternal enmity or trying to turn everything into a joke and show what a good friend of House Sato he is.
Some restitution for the slight, in the form of a lavish gift would probably be made. This was, after all, how such things usually went.
What did surprise Asami, as she and Buttercup were walking around Ursa’s Park one evening, holding umbrellas to protect their pale skins from the sun that has long set, was how long it took for Buttercup to get to the point.
Instead, there was just some useless, empty prattling coming from the Baronesses’ lips.
“Oh, isn’t it just the most divine evening, my dear?” Buttercup began, her voice laced with sugary sweetness. “The air is so fresh tonight, not at all like that dreadful heat we’ve been having. I was worried I might faint the other day, it was so unbearable! But tonight is simply perfect, don’t you think?”
Asami nodded politely, her expression carefully neutral.
“Yes, the weather is quite pleasant,” she agreed, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Buttercup’s words flowed like a slow, meandering river, smooth and without purpose.
“Ursa’s Park really is the jewel of the city,” Buttercup continued, gesturing vaguely with her free hand. “You can see why it’s named after the great Queen Ursa, can’t you? So serene, so graceful. Oh, look at that statue over there — such craftsmanship! The artist must have been blessed by the spirits themselves!”
“Yes, it’s quite beautiful,” Asami replied, her gaze briefly flicking to the statue, though she didn’t slow her pace. Her attention remained focused on Buttercup, searching for any hint of what the Baroness might be leading up to. But there was nothing in her tone or demeanor that suggested any tension. Just more meaningless chatter.
“And those flowers! Aren’t they just lovely?” Buttercup sighed dreamily, her eyes wandering over a bed of night-blooming roses. “Such a shame they only bloom in the evening, don’t you think? But then again, it makes them all the more special, knowing they save their beauty for when the sun has set. Much like some people, wouldn’t you agree?”
Asami’s jaw began to ache from how she was forcing herself to smile.
“Indeed. Some things are best appreciated in the quiet of night.”
Buttercup laughed lightly, a sound as fragile and hollow as the rest of her words. “Oh, Asami, you have such a way with words! I do admire that about you. It’s so rare to find someone who can speak with such grace and yet have such a sharp mind. And your fashion sense! This dress you’re wearing is simply to die for. Wherever did you get it?”
“A family tailor had it made for me,” Asami said smoothly, though she was beginning to feel a slight prickle of unease. Buttercup’s tone was too sweet, too syrupy. There was something almost oppressive about it, a sense of being lured into a trap that was slowly tightening around her. But Asami kept her expression serene, not giving anything away.
“Oh, how delightful! You must introduce me to this friend of yours sometime,” Buttercup cooed. “It’s so difficult to find a tailor who truly understands the elegance of simplicity, don’t you think? Everyone these days is so obsessed with frills and feathers. It’s exhausting!”
“Indeed,” Asami replied, though her thoughts were racing. They had been walking for quite some time now, winding their way through the park’s many paths, and yet Buttercup had still not brought up the reason for their meeting. No mention of Raiko, no apology or explanation. Just this ceaseless chatter that seemed designed to lull Asami into a false sense of security.
The oppressive atmosphere grew thicker with every step. The park, once serene and beautiful, now felt like a labyrinth, its tall hedges and winding paths closing in around them. The distant sounds of the city had faded, leaving only the soft crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle evening breeze.
Asami’s eyes flickered to the shadows that stretched out around them, the darkened corners of the park where the lanterns’ light didn’t quite reach. She was keenly aware of how isolated they had become, how the crowd of evening strollers had thinned until it seemed they were the only two left in this part of the park.
Buttercup’s voice continued to drone on, but Asami was no longer listening to the words. She was listening to the silences, to the spaces between sentences, where the truth might be hiding.
And then, as they rounded a corner, Asami noticed something — a subtle shift in Buttercup’s tone, a slight hesitation before she spoke again.
“You know, Asami,” Buttercup began, her voice dropping just a fraction, “I’ve always admired your strength. Your ability to handle yourself in any situation. It’s quite impressive. Not many women could do what you do.”
Asami’s grip tightened on the handle of her umbrella, her senses on high alert.
“Thank you,” she said carefully. “But I suspect you didn’t invite me here just to pay me compliments.”
“But of course, you’re still just a woman… and as such your strength often isn’t enough,” Buttercup continued as if Asami hadn’t spoken, her tone still light, almost dismissive. There was a condescension there, buried just beneath the surface.
Asami opened her mouth to retort, but something in the shadows caught her attention. A flicker of movement on the periphery of her vision, then another — subtle, but enough to set her instincts on edge. She could feel the oppressive atmosphere closing in around her, the sense that something was very, very wrong.
“We’re not alone here, are we?” Asami asked, her voice steady, though her pulse quickened. She turned her gaze to Buttercup’s carefully neutral face. “It’s a trap, isn’t it?”
Buttercup sighed, almost as if she were disappointed in Asami’s quick perception. “Oh, Asami,” she said, her tone softening into something almost apologetic. “All this silliness with you dueling… it’s not how we, women, work.” Then, in a display that was nothing short of theatrical, Buttercup let out a mock scream — not loud enough to draw real attention, but just enough to add to the charade. “Oooooh! Woe to us! Bandits have come to mug and ravish us!”
With that, she gathered the hem of her dress and began to flee — or rather, she tiptoed away at a pace that was deliberately slow, almost mocking in its lack of urgency. It didn’t matter, though. None of the five men who emerged from the shadows and the bushes along the path made no move to stop her, letting her pass without incident.
Asami didn’t bother running after Buttercup or searching for an escape route. She was alone and surrounded, the dense park offering no quick exit, especially not in her cumbersome gown. Instead, she calmly closed her umbrella, holding it like she would a rapier. She knew how to use it, too, should the need arise.
Notes:
And so the plot begins.
Was Asami naive thinking Buttercup wanted to be anything else than life-long enemies? Probably, but duels of honours are almost an entertainment in this society so that's how it's usually done. Perhaps Asami shouldn't have humiliated Raiko so... but it was fun to write. Just as I loved the image of Asami kicking ass in a long dress, which is why I had to put it here.
Comments welcome and see you back soon!
Chapter 4: Well met by moonlight
Notes:
Welcome back!
So in the last chapter Asami taught Raiko a lesson and then that bitchy bitch who bitches, Buttercup, led her into an ambush! We pick up straight from that scene.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Think very carefully about what you’re going to do,” Asami said coldly, to the men surrounding her, her voice cutting through the night air. “I’m Asami from House Sato. If you return me home unharmed, you will be lavishly compensated. But if you harm me, there is no place in Royal City where you will be able to hide.”
“Sorry, lady,” said one of the men, a tall figure dressed in what must have been a fashionable and expensive outfit among the city’s sellswords, complete with a truly ridiculous hat perched on his head. “But you heard the old bat. It’s all already decided.”
Asami’s eyes flicked to the man’s weapon — a rapier, she noted with grim amusement. The nobility of Royal City had adopted rapiers as the weapon of choice, turning them into symbols of honour and skill. But people often forgot that rapiers had started as weapons for the commoners, for thugs and adventurers who needed something quick and deadly.
She scanned the group, quickly assessing each threat. Apart from the man who spoke, there was a small, thin fellow with a mousy face, clutching a wicked-looking knife. Beside him stood a towering brute of a man, a maceman with a face that suggested more brawn than brains. Two more rapiers were in the hands of a bald, older man and a pox-marked teenager whose eyes gleamed with eager anticipation.
“Yup, decided,” the mousy one chimed in with a sinister grin.
“In the morning, ‘Asami Sato mugged’ will be the news on the lips of the whole Royal City,” the man with the hat said, his tone mocking.
“Mugged and ravished,” the teenager added, licking his lips. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Oh, we’re not forgetting that,” the mousy one said, his grin widening. “Definitely not.”
Asami’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the umbrella. She was outnumbered and outgunned, and she knew it. But she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Are you all done talking?” she snapped, her voice laced with impatience.
“Not yet,” the one in the hat — their apparent leader — said, his tone turning menacing. “So listen, bitch. This can go one of two ways — the easy way or the hard way. We’re here to teach you a lesson, make sure you’re a bit less proud and haughty. If you behave, you might actually survive this.”
Asami sighed, the sound weary but not with resignation — rather with a steely resolve. She knew her chances against them were slim. She was a master duelist, yes, but dueling was a civilized sport, one-on-one, with rules and honour. This… this was something else entirely. Five against one, with nothing but an umbrella to defend herself? The odds were grim.
She lowered her umbrella and looked down, her shoulders sagging.
“Just… just don’t… be too rough… please?” she asked in trembling voice.
“No worries about that, lady,” the leader grinned, his confidence growing.
“Now let’s cut these fancy clothes off,” the mousy one said, stepping forward with his dagger, eyes gleaming with malicious intent. The teenager followed suit, his eagerness palpable as he approached from the other side, his movements jerky and impatient.
Asami barely restrained a curse. She had hoped the leader would make the first move — he was the most dangerous of them and eliminating him quickly would have given her a slim chance. But she had to adapt, and fast.
With a sudden, precise thrust, she drove the pointed end of her umbrella into the teenager’s eye. He screamed, dropping to his knees as he clutched at his face, blood pouring between his fingers. Asami wasted no time. She snatched the rapier that fell from grasp, spinning on her heel to face the others. Her blade slashed out in a wide arc, catching the mousy one across the cheek and jaw, leaving a deep, bleeding gash. He shrieked, stumbling back in shock.
“You’ve made a big mistake, bitch,” the leader growled, drawing his weapon with a dangerous glint in his eye.
Asami’s eyes narrowed. For all the guy’s talk, she knew there was no chance of her getting out of it alive, even if she cooperated with the men – as revolting as the thought sounded. Whoever hired them – and come on, it was obviously Raiko or his wife – couldn’t let her remain alive, a witness to Buttercup leading her into an ambush.
“Someone shut him up!” the leader barked, pointing at the teenager, who was still screaming in pain. “And then get the bitch!”
The brute with the mace stepped forward without hesitation, bringing his weapon down on the teenager’s skull with a sickening crunch. The boy’s screams were cut short as his body slumped lifelessly to the ground. The others turned their full attention to Asami, murder in their eyes.
Asami took a deep breath, her mind clearing, her focus narrowing. Even with one attacker down and her having now a proper weapon, she knew the odds were against her. She was surrounded, and while she could take one of them out easily — maybe even two — attacking would expose her to strikes from behind.
Oh well. If she was going to die, they were going to bleed as well.
“Ummm, am I interrupting?” A new voice sliced through the tension of the night like a knife through silk, followed by deafening silence.
Asami blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sheer absurdity of what she was seeing. She was afraid, yes, but she didn’t think she had gone mad with fear. But how else could she explain this?
A dark-skinned woman had stepped onto the path, a rapier held confidently in her hand. Her eyes, the most piercing blue Asami had ever seen, gleamed with a mixture of amusement and danger. She was tall, with impressive muscles that spoke of power, control.. and hundreds of hours of training. And she could see those muscles clearly because — and that was the strangest, almost surreal thing about the whole situation — the woman was entirely, completely and unapologetically naked.
Asami’s quick glance at the four thugs confirmed that this wasn’t some hallucination conjured by her fear. The men stared at the newcomer with wide eyes and slack jaws, their confusion palpable.
“What. The. Fuck.” The oldest of the bandits finally snapped, breaking the stunned silence.
It was, Asami had to admit, a pretty good question.
“It’s raining bitches!” the brute with the mace grinned, as if unable to believe his luck.
“Hell yeah!” the mousy one agreed…
…but the leader only narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said, his voice low and threatening as he addressed the strange woman, “but this doesn’t concern you. Leave now, and nothing will happen to you.”
“So I am interrupting?” the woman responded with a small, amused smile. “Good. I love interrupting. I mean, I don’t like when people interrupt me. It just happened to me and was beyond annoying, but well, what’s life without a bit of hypocrisy, am I right?”
“What are you talking about, bitch?” the leader barked, confused.
Immediately the woman’s face changed, her smile fading and her eyes hardening, locking onto the thug’s with a predatory glint.
“You don’t know me, but I know of you, Viper,” she said, deathly calm. “And it seems tonight I’ll be able to do the whole Royal City a favor by getting rid of you.”
“No,” Asami interjected firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. “He is mine.”
The woman, who had been poised to strike, paused and turned to Asami, her expression shifting to one of mild curiosity. “I think you’d better stand behind me,” she suggested, her tone not unkind but firm. “In that dress, you’ll only be getting in the way.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Asami replied, matching her calm intensity. “Can you hold your own?”
The woman’s lips curled into a confident smirk. An attractive one.
“You could say that, yes. The name’s Korra, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Asami of House Sato.”
The naked woman – Korra – curtsied, a playful glint returning to her eyes even as she was still looking closely for any signs of an attack.
“Honoured to meet you, my lady,” she said.
“Thank you for your timely assistance,” Asami said with a nod, her grip tightening on her rapier. “But remember: this Viper is mine.”
The stranger bowed more, with a flourish, “Your wish is my command, milady!”
“Have you two finished?!” Viper barked, his patience wearing thin.
“Yeah, get a room!” the mousy one shouted, his earlier bravado returning.
“That’s actually not a bad idea,” the naked woman said and Asami found herself blushing. “But first, we’ll kick your asses.”
“Are you dumb or what?!” Viper snapped, anger creeping into his voice. “There are four of us against two of you!”
“There were five of you against me alone, and I was unarmed,” Asami shot back, her voice cool and cutting. “Two per one of us seems to be an improvement.”
Korra chuckled softly. “They do have a point, however. Can we stop talking and start fighting?” she asked with a hint of impatience. “You know, I’m kind of underdressed, and the evening is a bit chilly.”
Viper’s face twisted with rage. “Get them!” he shouted, the command like a gunshot.
He and the mousy one with the dagger charged at Asami while the other two moved against the newcomer… or at least tried to. Korra didn’t wait for them to close the distance. She lunged at the older man first, her rapier a blur as she deflected his blade with a deft parry before closing the gap, slamming her elbow into his ribs and then striking him across the temple with the pommel of her weapon. As he staggered, she danced out of the way of the brute’s mace, her movements agile and precise. The brute swung again and she dodged… but then she stumbled, falling to her knees.
The two men converged on her, sensing an opening, but it was all a ruse. She sprung back to her feet with cat-like grace, deflecting the rapier and tossing a fistful of dirt into the brute’s eyes. Before either could react, her rapier flicked out, just a whisper of a slash, but it was enough. The brute froze, a thin red line blossoming across his throat. He fell with a gurgle as blood gushed from the wound, soaking the earth beneath him.
Asami had no time to marvel at the stranger’s skill. Viper and the mousy one were upon her. Assessing Viper as the bigger threat, she focused on him, parrying his blows with practiced ease before retreating slightly, maneuvering the mousy one between them. As Viper tried to circle around his underling, Asami thrust her rapier from the elbow, the blade piercing the mousy man’s heart. He gasped, eyes wide with shock as she yanked her weapon free just in time to block Viper’s next strike.
“Cunt!” he snarled, attacking with renewed fury.
Holding the hem of her dress in one hand Asami was slowly withdrawing, blocking his attacks. In his left hand Viper held his hat, using it almost as one would use a buckler and when Asami went for a counterstrike he blocked the attack with the hat, trapping the blade in it and pushing it away, creating an opening, which he immediately seized… but Asami danced away gracefully, freeing her weapon and parrying a follow-up attack.
As he lunged at her, she leaned back, letting his blade pass just centimeters from her chest. At the same time, she twisted her wrist, driving her own rapier deep into his side, between his ribs.
Viper’s eyes widened in surprise as he collapsed to the ground, twitching once, twice… and then going still.
Only then did Asami realize her mistake. She whirled around, just in time to see the newcomer pushing the bald thug back, her blade poised for the kill.
“Stop! We need him…” Asami started to shout, but it was too late. The woman’s rapier thrust cleanly through the man’s heart, and he crumpled to the ground. “…alive,” Asami finished, the frustration clear in her voice.
The woman knelt beside the body, wiping her blade on the dead man’s clothes. “Oh?” she said, her tone almost casual. “I’m sure you were the first person to say that you needed him alive like ever. And I’m including his mother in this.”
“I needed witnesses who could testify in court about who hired them for this ambush,” Asami explained, trying to keep her anger in check. Not only she lost a vital witness but… she was still shaken after having killed these men – brutal thugs no doubt, but still – while the her saviour seemed so… flippant about the whole affair.
The other woman shrugged, straightening up. “Sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound particularly remorseful. “But believe me, Royal City is better off without them.”
Asami sighed, shivering slightly as the reality of what had nearly happened set in. “I suppose so,” she conceded, though the loss of a chance to bring Raiko and his wife to justice still stung. She glanced at the woman, who was casually inspecting her surroundings.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Asami said, her voice softening. “Not many people would’ve done so. But, I have to ask… what were you doing here, dressed… well… like that…” Asami looked away while she pointed at Korra.
“You mean undressed?” Korra chuckled, not missing a beat.
Asami nodded, still trying to reconcile the sight of this capable warrior with her unusual attire — or lack thereof.
Korra seemed to consider her answer for a moment, then grinned. “Funny story, actually. I was waiting for a woman just like you.”
Asami raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What for?”
Korra scratched the back of her head, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “Ummm… it’s kinda awkward, but… to aim my weapon at her and tell her to strip,” she admitted. “I kinda need some clothes, you know.”
Asami’s grip tightened on her rapier. “I hope you don’t intend on doing that now,” she warned, her voice icy. “Besides, my dress is already ruined.”
Korra raised her hands in mock surrender. “Yeah, figured that much. Besides, we fought together, and… well, maybe not bled together, but that’s because those dudes were fucking hopeless with their weapons. That makes us kinda buddies, right? Sisters-in-arms?”
Despite herself, Asami chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. “Well, why didn’t you find a different spot for such… ‘mugging’? Lower City, perhaps? Or the Metalworks District? It would have been safer.”
Immediately, she regretted her words as a flash of cold anger appeared in Korra’s blue eyes.
“Because people there often can’t afford to lose even one set of clothes,” Korra snapped, her voice suddenly sharp. “People like you can. Besides, I’m sure I could sell your dress later and buy something more sensible.”
“Well…” Asami began, but Korra cut her off, her tone softening slightly.
“Okay, it was nice talking to you, but I need to run before some guards appear,” she said. “You probably should scram, too. But first…”
Asami watched in a mix of astonishment and discomfort as Korra began rifling through the dead men’s pockets and purses with a casual efficiency. Her expression betrayed no hesitation or remorse as she pocketed whatever valuables she found, muttering to herself occasionally about the poor haul. Finally, she returned to the body of the mousy-looking fellow.
“What are you doing?” Asami asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and disapproval.
Korra looked up briefly, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I told you, I need clothes,” she said, as if that explained everything. Without a second thought, she began stripping the shirt off the mousy one’s lifeless body. The shirt, though now stained with blood, was intact enough to serve its purpose.
Asami averted her eyes as Korra pulled the shirt over her head, the blood-red stain a stark contrast against her dark skin. When she looked back, Korra was adjusting the fit, clearly unbothered by the morbid nature of her new attire.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Korra snapped, catching Asami’s gaze with a hint of irritation. “I need clothes, they don’t! Not anymore! Be happy I’m not making you take off your dress! Though, I think I’d have bought you dinner first. And maybe some wine?” She smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Sadly, I can’t really afford that, so…”
Asami found herself smiling despite the bizarre situation. “So let me send a message to my father’s estate that I’m alright, and then I’ll buy you dinner as a thank you for coming to my rescue,” she offered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “And after that, we can get you something more appropriate to wear.”
Korra was in the process of fastening a belt she’d taken from another of the fallen thugs when she paused, her eyes lighting up with that same mischievous glint. She shot Asami a cocky, lopsided smile that made her look even more attractive despite the bloodstained shirt. “I never say ‘no’ to pretty ladies,” she quipped. “It’s a date.”
Asami stammered, feeling the heat rise in her face. “No! It’s nothing like that!” she protested, but her flustered tone only made Korra’s grin widen.
Notes:
Yey for these two characters finally meeting! Damn, them meeting in their underwear in FoL, one of them naked in this... it's almost as if I'm thirsty or something.
As for the thugs:
Leader, Viper - self-explanatory
Older dude - Zhen from Turf Wars
Mousy with the dagger - Two-Toed Ping
Brute with the mace - Mushu (or Mushi? I keep mixing these two)
Teenage - no-name dude, I could've used Shady Shin here but I like him too much to kill him like that :PAny guesses about what happens in the next chapter? A bit too early for them to be duelling to the death... I think.
Comments welcome!
Either way, see you all in the new year! Unless you follow my other stories, than see you very soon. (Only today, I've got a special offer, just for you! If you follow all of my stories, you get +400% more angst and drama and +37% more impatience from me torturing you with slow burns! Limited time offer!)
Chapter 5: Never meet your heroes
Notes:
Welcome back!
So last time Korra, completely naked, came to Asami’s rescue! That can only mean some spicy Korrasami scene as we jump straight into the relationship, right?
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Ooooh, Korra brought a date!” Bolin laughed as they entered “Sokka’s Boomerang”.
Korra felt how Asami tensed next to her, but was too amused by the wide-open eyes of Mako and Bolin to react. She wasn’t surprised at their reaction at the stunning sight that was Asami Sato but it did feel nice.
“Date?” Mako finally narrowed his eyes before lifting only one eyebrow. “Hardly. She never brings her high-class friends here.”
“Can’t you see the dress she’s wearing?” Bolin asked.
Asami cleared her throat, a soft, controlled sound that drew their attention. Korra decided to roll with the situation, enjoying the rare moment of throwing her friends off balance.
“Hello, we’re here guys,” she said. “Asami, meet Mako and Bolin, two poor excuses for gentlemen. Mako and Bolin, this here is Asami and she is definitely high-class, though she insists it is not a date, even though she took me clothes shopping.”
“I did it as thanks for the rescue,” Asami said gently. “I was attacked by five thugs in the park and Korra came to my rescue like a knight in shining armour… except well, she wasn’t wearing any armour.”
“Yup,” Korra said with a lopsided grin and sat at a table. “I was stark naked!”
Mako pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Argh, don’t tell me, Korra, that once again you had to escape from some highborn lady’s bedchamber naked?”
Korra glanced at Asami who still stood in the entrance, carefully avoiding her gaze and looking everywhere but at Korra.
“Hey, Asami!” she called. “Sit down with us!”
As Asami hesitated, Bolin turned to Korra.
“But five thugs against you alone?” he said. “Aren’t you exaggerating a bit?”
“Nah, it wasn’t against me alone,” Korra said. “When I got there, Asami here already had removed one of them. With an umbrella! Then each of us took two.”
Mako’s gaze sharpened as he took another, more scrutinizing look at Asami. “You took on two thugs?” he asked, his tone a mix of skepticism and newfound respect.
“And you should’ve seen her fight!” Korra said, her grin widening as she gestured for Asami to join them. “She would’ve your kicked ass with one hand while applying her make-up with the other. Come on, Asami! Sit with us!”
This time Asami complied, but as she sat on the bench, something that she assumed was a rumpled piece of clothing, chirped and run onto the table.
“And this is Pabu,” Bolin introduced the fire ferret, who eyed Asami with curious, beady eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” Asami said, before looking at the older of the two brothers. “So you’re Mako? Apparently, you and Tahno are the best sellswords in Royal City.”
Mako snorted, the sound rough and dismissive. “Tahno? I could beat him with my eyes closed,” he muttered, clearly unimpressed.
“A bit of an exaggeration, but yeah, Mako would kick his ass,” Korra said. “But Tahno won’t be doing any duelling any time soon. Not after the one he had with me.”
Asami’s eyes widened a bit as they looked at her.
“Wait, you were the one who fought Varrick yesterday?” she asked.
“That was me!” Korra chuckled. “So how about you know treat me to this dinner that you’ve promised?” Then she looked at the two brothers. “She’s treating me, not you two, so you can run.”
“No, I’d gladly...” Asami began.
“Come bro,” Mako said, getting up. “Let Korra have some peace in the new company. Miss Sato, it was an honour.”
“It was a pleasure!” Bolin said. “Hope to see you again soon!”
Mako’s eyes, however, were more skeptical, as if he didn’t believe Asami would be sticking around. Well… fair enough. Korra had a… not totally unearned reputation of someone who partied hard, broke hearts and then, oops, forgot to send a message.
But, hey!, that was what these rich women wanted. An affair with someone new and exciting, who would disappear at dawn, wouldn’t leave them pregnant and wouldn’t cause any trouble when it came to discussing any potential marriages. Something to gossip about later, when they’re locked in the cages of their unfulfilling relationships.
Was this Asami like that too? Most likely, though at least they had one topic in common: duelling.
“So, did I hear correctly?” Asami asked, trying to stand on their common ground. “Were you the one who beat Tahno? I’ve always wondered how good was he really.”
“Not good enough, I’m telling you that,” Korra said, flashing her trademark lopsided grin, the kind that could light up a room — or start a bar fight.
At this point Ginger herself came over. Korra was a VIP client after all so she deserved special treatment by the establishment owner… that and Ginger had it enough with Korra seducing the serving girls. And while Korra wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with the flame-haired tavern owner, Ginger just seemed completely impervious to her charms… and Korra didn’t want to get thrown out of her favourite drinking spot.
“Could I ask for a list of dishes and wines, ma’am?” Asami asked, to which Ginger rolled her eyes and looked at Korra.
“Is she for real?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, Ginger,” Korra said. “Just give us two helpings of the usual.”
“The usual?” Asami asked when the redhaired woman disappeared.
“Yup. Ribs in the Fire Nation sauce plus Great Divide beer,” Korra said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied grin. “If you come here, you either come for those things, or you’re a tourist begging to get scammed.”
“A… curious place,” Asami said slowly, her eyes taking in the rough edges of the tavern, the faded walls and the low murmur of conversations all around.
“Yeah, my favorite in the city,” Korra nodded. “You should see the dueling ring they have in the back. I’m telling you, if — when — our lovely king finally forces his law forbidding dueling, this place will be the last holdout.”
“So… you fought Tahno..?” Asami steered back to the topic of their previous conversation. “He was fighting for Varrick, right?”
“Yeah, Varrick, the most crooked merchant in Royal City,” Korra said, stretching on the chair. “He ruined another merchant, Muni who needed someone to fight for his good name.”
“If he was bankrupt, how did he pay you?”
“He had enough money for a nice, hot tomato soup. What more does a girl need?”
“Fighting just for a good cause and a meal? How very Avatar of Blades of you!”
Korra chuckled, feeling somewhat embarrassed as she did whenever this monicker was brought up.
“Killer nickname, huh? I can’t take all the credit, though. Bolin created it!”
She laughed out loud when she saw Asami’s eyes widen at the realization.
“Wait… you’re joking, right? The Avatar of Blades is real and you’re him? Her?”
Korra jumped down from the chair and bowed with a flourish.
“In the flesh!” she said… but to her surprise instead of amazement, she saw Asami eye her with suspicion.
“You’re… not how I imagined the Avatar of Blades to be,” the noblewoman finally said.
“It’s the height, huh?” Korra asked, sitting back down. “People keep saying that they expect me to be taller.”
“No, it’s not that…”
“Come on, you saw me fight, didn’t you?” Korra said, feeling a slightly impatient, annoyed and… intrigued. People who saw her fight always believed her claim to be the Avatar, but Asami here was different. “I’m the best damn swordsman… well, swordswoman… well, swordsbadass in the city. Of course I’m the Avatar of Blades.”
“Second best,” Asami corrected her with a slight hint of a smile. “After me. Or maybe the third, if we count the Great Uniter.”
“Lady, you fought these two thugs well enough but you’re not my level!” Korra said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Really? A noblewoman, who only fought in sanctioned duels, daring to claim she was better? Korra was tempted to challenge Asami right then and there, but she held back. First of all, she was hungry. Second of all, she was thirsty — in more than one way. She hadn’t finished with Opal, and when she looked at Asami, with her aristocratic face, graceful silhouette, and strong, elegant hands… she wanted to exert herself with her in a different way.
Ginger’s return with their food and drink saved Korra from saying something she might regret. She watched as Asami took a cautious sip of the beer, trying not to grimace too much, before turning her attention to the ribs.
“Ummm… can I have a fork and a knife?” she turned towards Ginger, who just snickered and ignored her.
“You use your hands here,” Korra said, barely stopping herself from laughing. “But if you need a blade…” she pulled out a dagger she had taken earlier from Naga’s saddle and offered it, handle first to Asami.
“I… I don’t want to know where that one had been,” Asami muttered and, with just slight distaste on her hands, took the piece of meat in her dexterous fingers. Once she took a bite however, her face changed in a picture of pure ecstasy and she ate her meal with a decidedly unladylike fashion that had Korra barely managing to keep up.
“Wow, that was… wow!” Asami chuckled, before looking at Ginger. “You should be serving this to the King!”
“Thanks for the kind words, but I prefer my business not to get closed when someone tries to sneak poison in my ribs,” the redhaired woman responded.
“So… yes… well… as I’ve told you, you do fight really quite well,” Asami turned back to Korra who almost snorted at the ‘really quite well’ part. “Tell me, where did you learn?”
“I’m self-learned,” Korra replied quickly, too quickly. “A prodigy, you can say.”
The look in Asami’s eye told her that she wasn’t deceived by the lie, but she decided not to push it.
Sorry, lady, that’s not something I talk about, not even during pillow talk—and we haven’t spent the night together… yet.
“And where did you get trained?” Korra asked, passing the ball to Asami’s court. “I know you noblemen have some good fencing instructors, but most of those jerks wouldn’t train a woman.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Asami muttered.
“Hey, it’s good they don’t think we can be good fencers!” Korra said with a grin. “It’s more fun to beat them that way!”
Asami allowed herself to smile as well and fuuuuuck it was a nice smile!
“At one time my father was closing an important deal with House Beifong,” Asami said. “Back then, they had problems with their financial liquidity… I believe their ships from the New World haven’t returned just yet. Somehow, they knew I wanted to be taught fencing so they offered my father the services of their captain of the guards, Kuvira. She was a master swordswoman who once had to escape Ba Sing Se because of a conflict with viceroy Hou-Ting.”
“Fuck, you’re shitting me?” Korra asked. “Kuvira is the fucking Great Uniter?”
“Ah, so you’ve heard of her?”
“Yeah, putting aside what a dumb name for a duellist it is, every person who knows anything about fencing has heard about her! I just didn’t know it was Kuvira! Phew, perhaps the only person in this city if not in the world who could beat me! Guess, I got lucky today… even if I didn’t get lucky!”
“The only person who could beat you apart from me,” Asami corrected her, but then her face changed when she connected what Korra said with what Mako had mentioned earlier. “Back in the park, you were naked… because you escaped from some… lady’s bedchamber, right?” she asked. “And you said you got lucky with Kuvira… Korra, did you seduce Opal Beifong?”
Korra shrugged, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, if you put it like that… it’s more like she seduced me! Not that I was complaining, of course…”
Asami shook her head, her expression hardening. “Is that what this is supposed to be?” she asked, her tone sharp. “You want me to become another notch on your bedpost?”
“Hey, getting laid with the Avatar of Blades would definitely look good on your résumé,” Korra quipped, though the joke felt hollow. It felt as if the play wasn’t following the script that Korra knew by heart by now.
“And this is what you think Opal wanted?” Asami asked. “I met her a couple of times and she’s an innocent and a somewhat naïve and idealistic young woman, so sheltered that she still dreams of romantic, courtly love.”
“Well, she’s definitely not all innocent!” Korra said.
Asami shook her head.
“I’m sure she was intrigued by the attention of someone brave, who fights for the little guy… and you used that!”
“Used?” Korra snapped, getting annoyed. “I didn’t ‘use’ her. We both got what we wanted! Except, well, we didn’t because that fucking Kuvira barged in!”
Asami looked away and anger flared in Korra.
“So if you don’t want to fuck me, what do you want from me? Why the clothes, the nice conversations?” she asked.
“The clothes? I wanted to repay you for saving me!” Asami said getting up. “I thought we might talk a bit about fencing, compare techniques, discuss our…”
“Discuss our what? We have nothing to talk about! Apart from the fact we’re both hot and great with the blade, there is nothing we have in common.”
“That’s not true!” Asami protested, her voice wavering. “We’re both outliers in this system. We both hate how the powerful treat those beneath them…”
“Listen to yourself, lady!” Korra interrupted, her voice laced with venom. “You are one of those powerful people, and I’m one of those beneath you. You duel because you’re bored and need a thrill. I duel because it’s the only way I know to earn a living. You risk a scratch to prove a point; I risk my life to earn a fucking bowl of soup! So don’t tell me we’re anything alike!”
Asami sighed, her anger giving way to something that looked like resignation. “This… was a mistake,” she whispered, more to herself than to Korra. “I guess one should never meet their heroes, huh?”
She turned away, and for a fleeting moment, Korra felt the urge to call after her, to stop her from leaving. But she swallowed the impulse, letting it die on her lips.
Who did the bitch think she was?
And yet, for the rest of the evening, Korra couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to hit something. When she finally retired to her bed, seeking the release she thought would come from her own touch, the pleasure she chased remained elusive, leaving her frustrated and restless until sleep finally claimed her.
Notes:
Yeah, it just wouldn’t be me, if it would be smooth sailing and such a fast burn! And now I think you get, what I meant when I said that Korra would be the main source of drama in this story?
Well, so that’s it for a Korrasami in this story! I hope you’ll stay for 13 more chapters of our girls being miserable alone! (I’m joking… right?)
Comments welcome!
Chapter 6: The perils of losing your cool
Notes:
First of all (I'll be saying this a lot this week), I'm sorry for not posting anything last week. My son was sick, I was sick, life was sick. We're getting back to the stories though! Last time Asami and Korra had a fight and Asami left. Let's check how is she doing.
(Spoiler alert: not great).
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
For the past few days, Asami had been trying her best to treat her servants right, as she always did, but frustration had a way of seeping through the cracks in even the most carefully constructed facades. Once or twice, her temper had flared, leaving those around her stunned by the outburst, a thing so rare for her. Even her father had started asking what was wrong with her.
Who did that fucking Korra think she was?
Sure, she saved Asami’s life and for that she was grateful. She even looked awesome doing it – all naked, fighting two men at once. No, Asami could see herself becoming… receptive to more subtle advances.
But to think that Asami, the heir to the Sato legacy, would want to sleep with Korra just because she was the famous Avatar of Blades? Just to have a story to brag about? Korra was lucky Asami hadn’t challenged her to a duel right then and there. She would have loved to teach that hotheaded sellsword who the real master was.
It was this anger that caused her to make a mistake. When her father asked her if she would like to attend a lavish party in one of duke Tarrlok’s new estates – because apparently, he needed more than one in Royal City – he was sure she would decline.
Instead, she accepted, eager for anything to distract her from the infuriating memory of Korra. Why the hell was she even still thinking about her?
At first, the party went well enough. Asami, draped in a long black dress embroidered with gold and silver, the fabric sparkling like liquid fire as it clung to her form, gracefully navigated through a sea of compliments from men who would have gladly given up fortunes just for the faintest hope of her favor. She knew more than one would have eagerly showered her with gold if she agreed to disappear with him into one of the bedrooms and become his mistress, even if only for a night.
She was almost tempted to do it, just as a big “fuck you” to that insolent, presumptuous Korra. And why, dammit, was she thinking about her again?
Eventually, she excused herself from the throng of admirers, taking a glass of wine as she wandered the edges of the ballroom. The conversations around her followed the usual patterns:
“Did you hear that Viceroy Bumi agreed to support the king in his initiative to outlaw duelling?”
“No! He would never! I know for a fact that he used to be quite a duellist in his youth!”
“Oh yes, he did! And with the support of Viceroy’s Bumi, Kya and Zuko, the king needs only eleven more nobles to change their mind. I’m telling you, they can see how the wind is blowing and will soon be voting in favour of the law!”
“But duelling outlawed?! This is a sacred tradition reaching out to the Wizard Kings Sozin, Azulon, Ozai!”
“Better not say it out loud! You know that the king wants to distance our nation from those times!”
Asami listened to the idle chatter around her with only half an ear, her focus elsewhere as she scanned the room. The murmur of the ballroom was a constant hum of voices, the kind of meaningless pleasantries exchanged by those who had long ago mastered the art of saying everything and nothing all at once. Her eyes drifted over the glittering crowd, barely acknowledging the compliments and flattery directed her way. They were as predictable as the tides, the same rehearsed lines that had been whispered in the ears of the elite for centuries.
She caught sight of Opal Beifong, a familiar face in the sea of nobles and socialites. Normally, the young Beifong was a beacon of cheerfulness, her laughter as bright as her spirit. But tonight, something was different. Was it just Asami’s imagination, or did Opal seem subdued? The girl’s usual spark was missing, replaced by a quietness that didn’t suit her. For a moment, Asami considered crossing the room to speak to her, but what could she possibly say?
”I know that a duellist named Korra got chased out naked from your bedroom, but I want you to know she’s fine. Actually she saved me from some thugs and then got angry at me because I didn’t wanted to fuck her like you did?”
Yes, that conversation would go over well.
Before she could decide on a more diplomatic approach, she felt the unmistakable presence of someone she’d rather avoid. The air around her grew heavier, and she knew before she turned who was behind her.
“Duke Tarrlok,” she greeted politely as she turned to face him, her voice as smooth as the silk of her dress.
“Lady Asami,” he replied, his voice laced with the practiced charm of a seasoned politician. He glanced pointedly around the vast ballroom, filled with the city’s most influential. “Would you do me the honour of a dance?”
As much as she’d sooner kiss a venomous snake, Asami knew there was no polite way to decline without causing a scene. So, with a gracious smile, she extended her hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.
For all his faults — and there were many — Duke Tarrlok was an exquisite dancer. His movements were as calculated and precise as his political maneuvers, every step measured, every twirl controlled. They moved together effortlessly, a pair of practiced performers playing their roles to perfection. The crowd watched them, eyes following every graceful turn, every synchronized movement, admiration and envy mingling in the air.
Yet, despite the fluidity of their movements, Asami found herself hoping the music would change soon, give her an excuse to end the dance. But the musicians, undoubtedly following instructions left by Tarrlok himself, seemed determined to keep playing, the melody looping endlessly as they twirled around the polished floor.
“Do you like my new mansion?” Tarrlok asked smoothly, his voice cutting through the music.
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted, her tone carefully neutral.
“It could be yours,” he continued, his voice dropping to a more intimate pitch. “I know you have an independent streak, Lady Asami. You could decorate it however you wish.”
She feigned ignorance, a small smile playing on her lips. “But why, in Raava’s name, would I need two mansions? The one I live in now is perfectly sufficient for my needs.”
“Ah, but you will need to accept a marriage proposal sooner or later,” Tarrlok replied, his smile widening as if he was letting her in on a secret. “And when you do… wouldn’t you want to be living in the most expensive place in all of Royal City, rather than some dump other lords call their homes?”
“But must I accept a proposal?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her voice light with mock curiosity. “Can’t I remain alone, unwed?”
Tarrlok chuckled, the sound low and patronizing. “You know the answer better than me. Do you want the Sato line to end?”
And there it was. The inevitable return to the one argument that had always been the sharpest thorn in her side. She was the only child, the last of her line. Without cousins or distant relatives to carry on the Sato name, it would die with her unless she produced an heir. Her father, patient as he was, had made his wishes clear. He wanted the legacy he’d built from the ground up to be passed on, to continue for generations.
And this was Tarrlok. The richest, most handsome, and most powerful noble in the realm—possibly the most vile as well. On a different day, she might have been diplomatic, might have brushed off his advances with the grace she was known for. But the anger simmering inside her ever since her encounter with Korra was still hot, and for once in her life, she let the rage do the talking.
“Duke Tarrlok,” she said, summoning her most dazzling smile, the kind that could turn men into fools. “I’ll gladly marry you… when Hell freezes over. Or, to mention something even less probable, when I lose a duel. Now, if you’re offended by my words… feel free to challenge me right now and see if you can make me lose.”
She saw the flicker of consideration in his eyes, the brief moment where he weighed his options. But then, he exhaled slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders.
“It is not my intention to mar your immaculate skin with my blade,” Tarrlok said, his voice smooth, but lacking its usual confidence.
“As I thought,” Asami said, her voice laced with disdain. “A coward.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, waiting to see if he would rise to the challenge. But when he didn’t, she let go of his hand with deliberate indifference and turned away, leaving him standing in the middle of the ballroom like a man who had just been slapped.
For a moment, she considered calling him a coward again, louder this time, publicly shaming him into action. But her father had instilled too much sense of decorum in her to make such a scene. It was tempting, though — so very tempting.
But all her self-restraint, carefully maintained throughout the night, shattered the moment she saw Baron Raiko and his wife, Buttercup, enter the grand room. On the surface, there was no reason for them not to attend. With all five thugs dead, there was no one left who could place the blame on Raiko and his wife. And yet, the sheer audacity of them appearing at the same party after what they had tried to do to her—after they had tried to have her beaten and violated—was too much.
The anger she had been holding back surged to the surface, hot and fierce. Grabbing a spoon, she tapped it against her wine glass, the sharp sound slicing through the murmur of the crowd. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” she called out, her voice carrying over the heads of the assembled guests. “A big round of applause for Baron Raiko and his wife! It’s so nice of them to show their faces here. So good to know they don’t feel thoroughly embarrassed after I humiliated Raiko in our duel! You remember that, don’t you?”
There were faint chuckles from the audience, the kind that signaled both amusement and discomfort.
“But I think they did feel a bit embarrassed… judging by Buttercup here leading me into an ambush where five men were supposed to rape — no, sorry, not rape, ravish — and kill me,” she continued, her words like venom as a collective gasp rose from the crowd.
“Asami, why didn’t you tell me?” Hiroshi’s voice cut through the tension as he hurried to her side, concern etched on his face. He took her arm, his grip firm but gentle. “This is a very serious accusation! Do you have anything to prove it?”
“No, I don’t,” Asami said calmly, gently freeing her hand from his grasp. She stared Raiko down, her gaze unwavering. “And yet, I accuse them of it nonetheless. I accuse them of being honourless scum! And what will they do now?”
Raiko didn’t do anything, staring at her pale. Buttercup, however… Slowly, moving as if she was a fly trapped in amber, she took off one of her gloves and handed it to Raiko. Looking as if he was going to be walked out for his execution, the baron took the glove in his trembling hand and threw it at Asami’s feet.
“You’ve insulted my wife,” he said, trying to sound firm. “As her husband, I have the right to demand satisfaction. I challenge you to a duel.”
Asami summoned a thin, mirthless smile onto her lips and then slowly bent over and lifted the glove.
“I accept,” she said.
* * *
It didn’t take Asami long to realize that something was very wrong.
She arrived at Roku’s Park with her father, Hiroshi, a silent shadow behind her. As they approached Ozai’s fighting ring, a slight breeze swept through the park, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant chatter of spectators gathering for the duel. The evening sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the manicured lawns.
One of her family’s servants met them at the ring, offering Asami a cool glass of lemonade. She took it with a grateful nod, eager for something to soothe her parched throat. As she sipped the drink, she tried to ignore the pointed glare from Lin that sent a clear message.
“You duelling again?”
The sound of Lin’s voice, talking with seconds about the weapons, faded into the background, turning into a dull buzz as Asami’s head suddenly throbbed with pain. A sharp, piercing headache assaulted her temples, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as the world began to blur around the edges. Best moment for migraine ever.
“Asami, come here, please,” her father’s voice cut through the haze, tinged with more concern than she expected.
She started to walk toward him, but her legs felt like they were moving through water, sluggish and uncooperative. The ground seemed to sway beneath her feet, and she stumbled, catching herself just before she fell. The lemonade glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the cobblestones. Her vision blurred further, but she managed to lift her hand in front of her face, watching in dismay as it trembled uncontrollably.
“Asami?” her father asked. “Is everything alright?”
“The lemonade… servant… drug…” she whispered.
Panic flickered through her thoughts. Could Raiko have gotten to one of her servants? No, that didn’t seem likely. But then, her gaze fell on the figures near the ring — Raiko standing with that smug, insufferable expression, and next to him, duke Tarrlok, who looked particularly pleased with himself.
Her heart sank as realization dawned, moments before she could hear her father gasp.
“We have to cancel the duel!” he said.
“No!” she snapped.
Cancelling the duel was unthinkable. Even though drugging a contestant was against every rule in Kyoshi’s Duelling Code, withdrawing now would ruin her reputation. And how would she even prove she was drugged and not pretending? It would be the end of her. She was known as the only woman who always fought her own battles, who never backed away from a challenge. If she cancelled the duel, her name would be forever tarnished. She would never be respected again.
And respect was everything.
“Don’t worry,” she said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I can beat Raiko even in my sleep.”
“But that’s the problem!” Hiroshi’s voice was strained. “You won’t be fighting Baron Raiko! You’ll be fighting duke Tarrlok!”
Asami felt a cold fist of fear clench around her heart.
Duke Tarrlok?!
He was an infamously good duellist, perhaps one almost as good as she was. She was sure she could take him… but not when drugged! Taking great care not to fall, she approached him, Raiko and Lin.
“What’s that?!” she barked, trying not to slur words. “Baron Raiko is the challenger! He has to fight himself!”
“Baron Raiko is still wounded after your previous duel with him,” Lin said.
Asami grabbed the front of Raiko’s shirt and tore it in two in a very unladylike move, exposing the shallow cut she marked the baron with. She gasped as she saw the bandage red from blood.
“He made it himself!” she snapped. “My cut was so shallow that it would be all healed by now! And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t hamper him in any way!”
Lin shook her head.
“Kyoshi’s Duelling Code is clear,” she said. “Since baron is still bleeding, he can assign a champion to fight in his name.”
“And I decided to take on this honour,” duke Tarrlok said, a small, infuriating smile playing at the corners of his lips.
The world was spinning around Asami and for a moment she really thought about just dropping down, clearly unable to fight. But that would be running away and ever since Asami learned to wield a rapier, she never backed away from the consequences of her words and choices, always ready to back them up with steel.
And she wasn’t stupid. She knew her ‘offer’ to marry Tarrlok when she loses a duel wasn’t legally binding and even if it had been, no one else heard her say it. But she felt – she knew – that if she withdrew or lost to him… she would be handing him and advantage over her in all their following interactions.
And she knew if she would fight in the state that she was… she would lose.
There was only one way to get out of this situation with honour.
Lacing her words with utter disdain and contempt, trying not to slur words – or to sound desperate - she said:
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “You all know, I always fight my own battles, but come on, how many times can I humiliate baron Raiko? I already grew tired of it. Which is why I’ve already asked a champion, one of my closest allies, to fill for me as well, even before I learned you will be fighting, Duke Tarrlok. Such a pity, as I’d love to face you.”
Yes, she’d still be no longer the one who fights all her duels, but being sick of kicking Raiko’s ass was an excuse that let her get out with honour, unlike admitting she can’t let herself be beaten by Tarrlok. Her words were a calculated gamble, a desperate plea shouted into the crowd that had gathered around Ozai’s fighting ring. The meaning was clear: Play along and fight for me and you’ll have the gratitude and support of House Sato.
No one spoke. A look at Tarrlok’s face was enough for Asami to know he’d anticipated that move and planned for it, no doubt discreetly letting everyone know that the person duelling him will leave the ring with a much bigger wound that just a fashionable, harmless scar. Or won’t leave it at all. She had no doubt that he added that anyone standing for Asami, would earn his eternal enmity.
The awkward murmurs of the people surrounding her, the way they avoided her eyes, told her one thing.
She was all alone.
But then, just as the silence threatened to suffocate her, a voice rang out from the crowd — a voice she recognized instantly.
“Ooops, sorry for being late, so unprofessional of me,” Korra’s familiar, confident voice echoed brimming with strength. The crowd parted as she pushed through, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief, a lopsided grin on her face. “My name is Korra and I’ll be fighting for lady Asami.”
Notes:
Okay, so maybe Korra didn't completely disappear from the story. And there might still be hope for some Korrasami in this story. Maybe. Possibly.
Also, I really did Korra channel Bronn here with being Tyrion's champion.
Comments welcome and see you soon!
Chapter 7: From the sidelines
Notes:
Welcome back!
In the last chapter Korra offered to fight Tarrlok for Asami. Let's see how it goes!
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Asami’s world trembled as Korra approached the dueling ring, her vision swimming from the drug coursing through her veins. She barely registered the strong arm of her father steadying her, keeping her from collapsing. Everything felt distant and surreal, except for the sight of Korra — a beacon of defiance amidst the suffocating tension.
“Who are you?” Baron Raiko demanded, his voice cutting through the fog in Asami’s mind.
“And what are you doing here?” Duke Tarrlok added, echoing the very question burning on Asami’s tongue.
“Damn, you nobles really need to pay more attention to cleaning your ears. Or do you get servants to do it too? Gross, if you ask me,” Korra chuckled. “Didn’t you hear? My name is Korra and I’m lady Asami’s champion for this fight.”
A murmur of disbelief and shock rippled through the onlookers.
“But Asami Sato never uses champions!” Raiko protested, while Tarrlok just watched Korra through narrowed, suspicious eyes.
Korra, please play along, Asami whispered in her heart, hoping Korra had heard her previous words.
Korra seemed to hear her unspoken wish.
“As Lady Asami said, she didn’t know you were using a champion yourself,” Korra shot back at Raiko. “And since she’s already bored with kicking your sorry ass, she decided to let someone else enjoy the pleasure.”
“But you reek of a lowborn nobody!” Raiko sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Yup!” Korra’s lopsided smile became even brighter, as if the baron had just given her the highest possible praise. “And how awesome it would be, if this lowborn nobody made you bleed?”
Asami’s heart lurched at the casual confidence in Korra’s voice, the reckless bravado that made her so infuriatingly endearing.
Why, Korra? Why are you doing this?
“But you won’t be facing him,” Tarrlok interjected, his voice almost a whisper, though every word was laced with venom. “You’ll be facing me. I suggest you reconsider.”
Korra waved off the threat with a shrug. “Beating one baron or another, what’s the difference?”
“I’m a duke,” Tarrlok hissed, his patience thinning.
“That’s lower than a baron, right?” Korra asked with feigned ignorance, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You nobles! I can never get your hierarchy right.”
“Well, it’s your funeral,” he barked… and then his face changed as his eyes widened in shock. “You… no… it’s impossible! I… I recognize you! You were his whore!”
Korra’s eyes were blazing blue fire as she glared at him.
“I’ll make you swallow these words,” she said. “Together with my blade.”
“Just like you swallowed his-“
Lin cleared her throat.
“Listen you two!” she snapped. “I’m already sick of this duelling shit, but at least it’s supposed to have some class and decorum! Stop wasting my time and get into the ring or cancel this whole circus!”
Tarrlok, still looking as if he’d seen a ghost, turned around and walked towards the arena.
“A… moment… Korra… we need to… talk…” Asami whispered, gathering her strength and stumbling towards Korra.
Lin sighed and nodded, stepping aside but Asami barely made three steps when her legs gave away and she fell forward… and before she realized, Korra was next to her, catching her and saving from falling.
“Shh, don’t worry, I’m here,” she said and there was an ocean of meaning in these words.
“What… are you… doing-“
“What’s wrong, Asami?” Korra didn’t let her finish. “What happened to you?”
“Drug… in… drink…”
“The fucker!” Korra snapped. “Was it this Raiko? Or Tarrlok?”
“Tarrlok… I think…”
Korra’s vibrant blue eyes turned into icy crystals.
“I’ll teach the bastard a lesson,” she muttered. “Well, was already planning on doing that, but now even more.”
“Listen… listen Korra… he’s… he’s good…” Asami whizzed out. It was getting so difficult to talk, but she needed to warn Korra, she needed to make her realize in how much trouble she was “very good… perhaps… second best fencer… in the city… after me…”
“Nonsense,” Korra laughed in this strangely adorable, cocky way. “First of all, everyone knows I’m the best. Then it’s you or the Great Uniter, so he’s number four at best though I’m sure even Mako would kick his ass.”
“Are you going to fight or what?” Tarrlok demanded angrily from the duelling ring.
“Need to go, Asami,” Korra said. “I’d say ‘wish me luck’, but I don’t need any luck.”
As she turned to leave, Asami mustered all the strength she had left and grabbed Korra by the arm.
“Watch out,” she said “some people say Tarrlok is a master in Unalaq’s Northern Tribe Fencing School.”
She almost gasped as Korra’s face darkened visibly.
“Oh, I know that. But still thank you for telling me this,” she said with a grim smile. “It’s my lucky day, it seems. The excuses to kick his ass just keep on piling up.”
And with that, she left for the ring.
“Who is that woman?” her father demanded in an urgent whisper. “Where did you find her? How did you get her to come?”
“I… I don’t know,” Asami admitted, her thoughts spinning out of control. The drug, the fear, the uncertainty — all of it coiled tight in her chest, threatening to choke her.
“She’s doomed to fail,” her father muttered. “It’s Tarrlok… Oh well, I suppose we can survive a single loss in a duel.”
“I need to… sit down… and watch… the fight,” Asami gasped.
Yes, their family reputation would easily survive a single defeat in the duelling ring… but would Korra survive it? Kyoshi’s Duelling Code was clear that fights were to first blood… but it wasn’t impossible for the first blood to be shed when someone rapier was thrust into the opponent’s heart, throat or eye… and Asami knew that while Tarrlok usually just left his opponents without a finger or two as a lesson, he sometimes fought exactly like this, to kill his enemy.
And as frustrated and furiously as she had been at Korra for the last couple of days, right now Asami cared much more about the sellsword’s life than about the victory in the duel.
“Asami, we need to go and get you to a medic,” her father urged her.
She waved her hand dismissively… or rather tried to, even such small act requiring her to fight her weakened body.
“No… he wouldn’t… poison me… to death,” she said. “It will… pass… I’m… sure. I need… to… watch.”
Despite her weakness there must have been a hint of steel in her voice as her father nodded and led her to a bench overlooking Ozai’s fighting ring. One good aspect of good manners that the higher society was supposed to exemplify was that the three duelling enthusiasts sitting there promptly got up, freeing the seat for Asami, a woman.
Asami dropped onto the bench, her eyes locking onto Korra’s form as she took the rapier from Lin. Korra swung the blade a few times in the air, testing its weight, her movements fluid and precise. Then she faced Tarrlok, her stance low and ready, the tip of her weapon tracing small, deliberate circles in the air.
Tarrlok stood tall and proud, his posture exuding an air of intimidation, as if his mere presence could unnerve his opponent. But Korra was far from intimidated. She moved first, lunging with a quick thrust, aiming to exploit the rigidity in Tarrlok’s stance.
Even through the haze of the drug, Asami could see Tarrlok’s subtle wrist movement as he deflected Korra’s blade with a practiced ease, countering with a swift strike. Lesser fencers would have been caught off guard, their momentum driving them straight into the tip of Tarrlok’s blade. But Korra wasn’t fooled. Instead of retreating, she swerved left, twisting her body with a grace that belied the danger, launching a risky slash in return.
Tarrlok turned with her, blocking the attack effortlessly, and in the same motion, he struck out with a quick thrust, aiming for her side. Korra dodged again, her movements almost a dance as she avoided the deadly tip by mere inches.
For a long, tense moment, they stood facing each other, eyes locked, measuring each other after the first exchange. Asami’s breath hitched, her heart pounding as she watched, every fiber of her being willing Korra to prevail, to come out of this alive.
It was Korra who launched the next offensive. Asami’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the fluidity of Korra’s movements, every strike a calculated risk. The first two attacks were feints, clever distractions meant to lure Tarrlok into a trap. Asami’s trained eye focused on the third — a low, treacherous thrust aimed at Tarrlok’s midsection.
Perfect… he won’t see it coming, Asami thought, her pulse quickening.
But Tarrlok did see it coming. He anticipated Korra’s move, his rapier meeting hers in a defensive cross, the blade nearly perpendicular to the ground. With a swift, narrow arc, he countered with a slash aimed at Korra’s exposed side.
Lean back, catch his blade at the basket hilt, and thrust from the elbow, Asami’s mind raced, visualizing what she would have done.
Korra, however, took a different approach. She closed the distance between them, blocking Tarrlok’s arm with her forearm, then delivered a brutal headbutt that made the nobleman stumble. Asami’s heart pounded as she watched Korra seize the moment, her rapier flashing forward for a decisive strike. But Tarrlok’s reflexes were impeccable; instead of a scream of pain, the only sound was the sharp clang of steel meeting steel.
Tarrlok staggered back, wiping a thin line of blood from his nose. Asami’s chest tightened — Kyoshi’s Duelling Code was strict: for blood to count, it had to be drawn by the weapon, not a fist or a head. The duel wasn’t over. Tarrlok, now more cautious, waited for Korra to attack, his calculating eyes already marking her as impatient. He sidestepped her next thrust, shoving her blade aside while slashing at her midsection. Korra dodged left, her signature move, but this time Tarrlok anticipated it, following with a quick thrust…
No, Korra! Don’t! It’s a trap! Asami’s mind screamed.
But Korra was already in motion, twisting to the right instead of the left, catching Tarrlok off guard. She countered with a rapid series of strikes, her movements a blur of precision and fury.
The smug confidence vanished from Tarrlok’s face, replaced by a grim determination as he was forced to retreat under Korra’s relentless assault. The two combatants danced around the ring, their rapiers clashing in a flurry of sparks and ringing metal. Asami’s knuckles turned white, her hands clenching the edge of the bench so hard it hurt.
Finally, they disengaged, breathing heavily from exertion as they watched each other. Now that the sounds of rapiers striking one another went silent, Asami could hear the excited chattering from the crowd around her.
That was no surprise… it’s been months, years maybe since there had been such an exciting and balanced duel in one of the rings. A tiny, jealous part of her even was sorry that it wasn’t her who was there, exchanging blows. This dance of steel was the only type of dance with Tarrlok that would give her any pleasure and satisfaction. And Korra? To dance with Korra like that?
Korra was magnificent. There was no other word for that. Her skill was undeniable, her daring and panache unmatched by any duelist Asami had ever seen. Korra’s quick dodges, lightning-fast ripostes, and furious attacks made her not just a warrior, but a force of nature.
Asami glanced at her father and felt her chest tighten. For the first time she understood how terrible it must have been for him. To be sitting and watching someone he cared about risking their life in the ring. Unable to do anything to help. Wondering if this is the time when his daughter’s luck will finally run out… just as Asami was now worrying about Korra. She took her father’s hand in hers and squeezed it tight.
For a moment, the drug’s fog lifted, and Asami’s mind cleared, her focus sharpening as the duel resumed. This time, Tarrlok attacked, his movements a hair’s breadth ahead of Korra’s. He executed a double-feint, his blade sweeping wide in what seemed like a distraction… but then, in a breathtaking twist, he followed through, lunging at the last possible second.
Step to the side, use his momentum against him, and strike at his back… Asami mentally instructed, her heart pounding.
Korra, however, took a quick step back, allowing Tarrlok’s blade to miss its mark by inches. Then, with a deft slash, she knocked his rapier aside and countered with a quick blow from the wrist.
The crowd gasped as Tarrlok dropped his rapier… only to grab the hilt, despite the complex basket hilt protecting it, with his left hand and parry Korra’s attack so hard that for a moment she stumbled and lost her balance.
He seized the opportunity in an instant, going for a fast thrust…
No…Move, Korra! Her mind screamed in desperation. Tilt your head, let him miss, punish him for such a risky move…
But Korra didn’t dodge. Instead, she raised her blade to parry — a move Asami knew was impossible against Tarrlok’s precise thrust. The crowd fell silent, time stretching painfully as Asami’s heart clenched in her chest.
There was a sharp clang of metal, and suddenly, they were still — the tip of Tarrlok’s rapier hovering only a centimeter from Korra’s eye. They pushed against each other, muscles straining, until Korra, out of balance, was driven back and fell to the ground. Tarrlok’s triumphant cry echoed through the ring as he lunged to pin her down.
No! Don’t let him—
But Korra was faster. She curled her legs up, letting Tarrlok’s blade strike the sand, parried his follow-up, and in a desperate move, grabbed a fistful of sand and flung it at his face.
Tarrlok recoiled, the sand hitting his shoulder and cheek, but not his eyes. It was enough, though — Korra sprang to her feet and attacked, her blade slicing through the air.
Time seemed to slow for Asami as she watched Tarrlok block the strike. Then he shifted his stance in a way that made Asami’s blood run cold.
He’s doing it! Vaatu’s Thrust!
The technique was legendary, a rumored secret of the highest masters of Unalaq’s Northern Tribe Fencing School. It was said to be unblockable and lethal — a death sentence in a duel. Asami’s eyes strained to catch the subtle shifts in Tarrlok’s posture, the hidden cues that might give away his intent. But it was too fast, too precise. Even her sharp instincts faltered in the face of it.
Would she be able to counter it? Would Korra? Could anyone? Her heart pounded in her chest, her fists clenched so tightly they ached.
Tarrlok’s blade flashed toward Korra, too fast for Asami to follow. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body tense, as if she could will Korra to victory by sheer force of desire.
There was a scream and then the unmistakable sound of a rapier clattering to the ground.
And then… Korra stood tall, triumphant, her chest heaving, while Tarrlok was on his knees, clutching the left side of his face. Blood seeped through his fingers, bright and vivid even against his dark skin.
“CEASE! DISENGAGE!” Lin’s voice rang out, authoritative and final, marking the end of the fight.
As the medics rushed towards the fighting ring, Korra climbed out, leaving her rapier bloodied sticking from the ground.
“Korra!” Asami gathered all her strength and, ignoring her father’s protests, rushed towards her ‘champion’. She hesitated just for a moment… and then hugged Korra tight, who in turn froze completely. “Thank you,” Asami whispered.
“I… don’t think noblemen are supposed to hug lowlife scum like me,” Korra answered back. “People are staring.”
Asami, however, didn’t stop, surprised herself by her reaction. She was never a touchy-feely kind of a person, but the gratitude she was feeling at the thought of Tarrlok being so humiliated for his own attempt to triumph after her pushed her to keep holding Korra.
“Let them stare,” Asami whispered back, but let go of Korra as her father approached.
“That was… an exquisite show of swordsmanship!” he said to Korra. “I don’t know who you are, young lady, but we’re extremely grateful-“
“Dad, this is Korra, the woman who came to my rescue when Buttercup’s thugs attacked me,” Asami interrupted gently, looking at Korra who awkwardly looked away.
“Really? That’s… I can’t say how grateful I am and how happy I am to have met you!” he said. “Please, come with us to the estate. I want to hold an evening event in your name!”
Korra grinned… but Asami saw that something was off about her smile.
“Hey, I’m never one to say ‘no’ to a free meal!” she said. “Just let me grab Naga, my horse, and I’ll be right back with you.”
“Well, you have the most interesting acquaintances,” Asami’s father said.
Asami didn’t respond, watching her champion leave.
She wasn’t really that surprised when Korra didn’t return.
Notes:
You didn't *really* think it would be smooth sailing from now on, did you?
Comments welcome!
Chapter 8: One step forward, three steps back
Notes:
Last time we've seen our lovely ladies, Asami got drugged by Tarrlok before her duel and Korra jumped in to the rescue, however she didn't stay despite Asami and her father wanting to thank her.
Now we'll see how Asami took it.
I'd say 'enjoy' but...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Korra heard the footsteps approaching but didn’t lift her head. She knew who it was without needing to look up. The air seemed to thicken as the person came to a stop by her table, a presence she could feel as much as hear.
"Why didn’t you return?" Asami Sato’s voice was steady, but Korra could detect the underlying tension.
Korra’s companions, Mako and Bolin, exchanged glances before hastily gathering the cards scattered across the table. "Umm... we need to run," Mako said, his voice strained as he shoved the deck into his pocket.
"Yeah, we have to do... stuff," Bolin echoed, nodding with an exaggerated sense of urgency. "Nice to see you again, Asami!"
"Hey, I was winning," Korra muttered as they made their hurried escape, still avoiding looking up at Asami.
The tension thickened, wrapping around them like a tangible thing. Asami remained standing, her eyes fixed on Korra, waiting. After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again, her tone softer but no less insistent.
“Why didn’t you return?”
Finally, Korra looked up. Asami’s clothes – a dark red and black doublet with sensible, leater pants and shoes that went almost to her knees was a stark contrast from the dresses and gown’s Korra usually associated with the noblewoman, but was of no less quality. So was the rapier hanging at her side, as Korra’s cursory appraisal had told her.
But – and that was a first for her – she paid way more attention to Asami’s face rather than the weapon. She had expected to see anger — sharp, biting anger. But what she found in Asami’s emerald eyes was something else entirely. Sadness. Confusion. A vulnerability that caught Korra off guard, making her feel even more unsure of herself.
She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "What would I do there? I don’t belong in the palaces of nobles."
"My father wanted to reward you—"
"I don’t want your money," Korra interrupted, her voice harsher than she intended.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Asami’s lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "Right, your usual price is a bowl of tomato soup?"
Korra allowed herself to smile back, surprised by how easily it came. "I work on a sliding scale, lady. Based on the wealth of my clients," she said in a mock-serious tone. "From those at the very bottom, I might take a carrot or an egg. From those a bit richer, a bowl of chicken broth. From merchants, some tomato soup. But from someone like you?"
"A helping of ‘Sokka’s Boomerang’ special?" Asami asked just as Ginger arrived, placing two plates of ribs on the table.
"No one comes here for anything else," Korra replied, picking up a rib and tearing into it with a hunger that wasn’t just about food.
"I did," Asami said softly, her voice barely rising above the noise of the tavern. "I came here for you."
Korra didn’t respond, focusing instead on her meal, as though she could ignore the weight of Asami’s gaze by sheer force of will. But those eyes — those unrelenting, piercing eyes — dug into her, demanding acknowledgment, demanding answers.
"Why, Korra?" Asami asked again, more gently this time.
"I told you," Korra mumbled through a mouthful of food, her voice barely audible. "I don’t fit in your world. Oil and water."
"No, not that," Asami pressed, her tone steady. "Why did you offer to fight for me?"
Korra shrugged, still avoiding Asami’s eyes. "You looked like you needed help. And that’s what the Avatar of Blades does."
"And why were you even there?" Asami continued, not letting up.
"I..." Korra hesitated, the words sticking in her throat. She hadn’t expected this line of questioning. "I follow the most interesting duels," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, though she knew it wasn’t convincing. "And yours was supposed to be a big deal..."
"Was that really why you were there?" Asami’s voice was calm, but the persistence in her tone was unnerving.
Korra finally met Asami’s gaze, then quickly looked away, back at the food on her plate. "I wanted to find you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... acted like a total jerk the last time we talked."
"You did," Asami agreed, her tone flat and devoid of emotion. "And then you came to my rescue and defeated Tarrlok."
Korra couldn’t help but grin with pride. Yeah, that was something to be proud of! A fight that will look great on her resume!
“Yeah, I did!”
"And then you started acting like a jerk again by disappearing when we wanted to thank you," Asami continued, her voice cutting through Korra’s pride like a knife through silk. "What do you want, Korra? Why were you there? Did you want to apologize?"
Something inside Korra snapped. The idea of apologizing — of laying herself bare like that — made her blood boil.
"I don’t apologize! Ever!" she barked, her voice louder than she intended.
Asami raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And is that supposed to be a good thing?"
"Don’t you go judging me, lady!" Korra shot back, her anger flaring. "It’s you, nobles, who made the world where you don’t have to ever say you’re sorry if you’re good with your weapon. I’m just playing by the rules you set!"
“So what do you want, Korra?” Asami asked again.
"I don’t want anything!" Korra’s voice was a growl now, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "I never do! Easier that way. Less chance of being disappointed."
Asami said nothing, just continued to watch her with those unblinking, understanding eyes, as though she could see right through Korra’s defenses.
“What I want? I’ve told you once already! I want a hot meal and a hot body next to mine,” she said, judging by the looks some patrons of “Sokka’s Boomerang” shot her, louder than she anticipated.
How much did she drink? To be fair, after the news of her defeating duke Tarrlok spread, people almost started duelling for the right of buying her a drink, just to hear her talk.
“What are you looking at?” she snapped at them. “If you’ve got anything to say, say it, and I’ll gladly invite you to the duelling ring!”
Everyone suddenly found something extremely interesting in their plates and cups. Korra looked back at Asami, expecting to see whole spectrum of emotions, from distaste and disdain up to anger… but instead saw only concern.
"Don’t you fucking pity me," Korra spat, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Fighting and fucking — that’s all I’m good at. The only things that make me feel alive. And you know what? That’s all anyone ever wants from me! And, hey, I’m nothing if not giving!"
Still, Asami said nothing, her silence like a mirror held up to Korra’s face, reflecting all the things she didn’t want to see.
"You’ve already made it clear you don’t want to fuck me," Korra continued, her voice bitter. "And you’re such a good duelist you don’t need me to fight for you."
"I needed you to fight for me against Tarrlok," Asami said softly, almost a whisper. "And you did."
Korra shrugged, trying to brush off the weight of Asami’s words. "Well, that was a one-time thing. Tarrlok’s not going to be picking up a rapier anytime soon. So if you don’t need me for fucking and fighting, what by Raava’s non-existent tits do you want from me?"
“I wanted to get to know you better,” Asami said.
"Why?!" Korra’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising again. "We’ve been through this already! We’re both hot, and we both can fight. That’s the only thing we have in common!"
"So?" Asami’s response was calm, infuriatingly so.
"What do you mean, ‘so’?!"
"So what?" Asami repeated, her voice gentle, as if she was coaxing a wild animal to trust her.
"It’s like oil and water!" Korra’s voice was raw now, desperation creeping in. "People from our worlds don’t mix! And if they do, it’s only for a short tryst and—"
"My father could have offered you a job at our estate," Asami pointed out.
"I don’t want a stable job!" Korra snapped. "I don’t need a stable job! Tomorrow I could be rotting in the ground because I met someone better, or more likely because someone I defeated decided to poison me or shoot me in the back with a crossbow. That’s my life!"
"It doesn’t have to be," Asami said quietly.
Korra shook her head, exasperated. "Fuck, you really don’t understand a thing, do you?"
"I do pride myself on being quite clever," Asami replied, her voice calm. "So please, explain it to me."
"There’s nothing to explain! Oil and water!" Korra’s voice was growing hoarse from shouting, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Asami sighed, a sound so filled with quiet determination it made Korra’s skin prickle.
"Do you think you’re better than me, Korra? Not at fencing, but in general."
"What? Are you insane?"
"Because I don’t think I’m better than you," Asami continued, her voice even. "So, if I don’t think you’re better than me, and I don’t think I’m better than you, what’s the problem?"
"Don’t twist my words!"
"What’s wrong with me getting to know you?" Asami’s question hung in the air, a challenge Korra didn’t know how to answer.
“THERE IS NOTHING TO GET TO KNOW!” Korra shouted, the desperation in her voice cutting through the thick air of the tavern. Asami watched her with that infuriatingly calm expression, her face a mask of composure that only made Korra's anger flare hotter.
With the corner of her eye Korra saw multiple patrons trying to get up and discreetly leave the tavern but she couldn’t care less about it, focused only on the beautiful woman in front of her.
"What you see is what you get!" Korra continued, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "No hidden depths! So either you have some weird fetish that makes you want to fuck me or you just have some weird attraction to broken things and you want to make me your project… either way, just get the fuck out! Out of this tavern and out of my life!"
The words hung in the air, echoing in the stunned silence of "Sokka's Boomerang." The tavern, usually a rowdy haven of noise and laughter, had fallen deathly quiet. Every patron, whether still seated or on their way out, seemed to freeze, caught in the crossfire of Korra’s outburst. Even Ginger, who was known for her no-nonsense attitude, stood behind the bar with a rare look of uncertainty on her face.
Asami didn’t flinch. She didn’t recoil or lash out. She just stood there, her green eyes locked onto Korra's with a focus that made Korra’s skin crawl. The silence stretched, oppressive and heavy, until finally, Asami moved. Slowly, deliberately, she reached down, picked up the gloves she had removed when she first sat down, and put one of them on, her movements precise and measured. Korra’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild drumbeat that she couldn’t seem to control. With satisfaction so tinted with regret that it was basically unrecognizable, Korra thought that she had won and that Asami was going to leave.
Like everyone else did.
Asami adjusted the fit of her glove, smoothing the leather over her fingers with a practiced ease. Then she grabbed the second glove and, without warning, she swung her arm and slapped Korra hard across the face with it. The crack of leather against skin echoed through the tavern, freezing everyone in place. For a moment, Korra just stared, wide-eyed, her cheek stinging from the force of the blow, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.
And then Asami dropped the glove onto the table in front of Korra, her expression a mask of cool, controlled fury. "You’ve insulted me," she said, her voice steady, her words cutting through the thick silence like a blade. "I demand satisfaction."
Korra’s heart sank, her earlier bravado crumbling under the weight of what was happening. "Don’t do this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Asami wouldn’t be swayed. "You've insulted me," she repeated, her tone unyielding. "And I expect you to answer for it. I know you’re probably not at your best today, having drunk a bit, so I’ll send my second—"
The anger that had been simmering inside Korra suddenly boiled over. Who the fuck did this lady think she was? Did she really believe she could waltz into Korra’s world and dictate terms?
"We can fight right now if you want!" Korra snapped, pushing herself up from the table so fast her chair clattered to the floor. "I don’t need any seconds, but if you need someone to hold your hand—"
Asami’s face darkened, her eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity that made Korra’s pulse quicken. "Here and now?" she asked, her voice low, almost a growl.
"Here and now!" Korra shot back, her own anger matching Asami’s.
"Not here!" Ginger interjected, stepping between them with a glare that could cut steel. "You’ve scared away enough customers. You won’t be demolishing this room."
"Quit whining, Ginger," Korra muttered, her eyes never leaving Asami’s. "You know you’ll get a tidy profit from us."
Asami’s frown deepened. "What do you mean?" she asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her voice.
Korra grinned, a predatory smile that showed more teeth than warmth. "I told you there’s a dueling ring out back, right? Ginger sells tickets to people who want to watch the fights. You’re about to have an audience." She tilted her head, her grin widening. "Unless you want to rethink your challenge?"
Asami’s expression hardened, her green eyes narrowing as they locked onto Korra’s. "Lead the way," she said, her voice cold as ice, the words cold and controlled, though her furious eyes revealed the fire burning inside her.
Notes:
Originally the title of the chapter was going to be "Oil and water" but I decided that was too much on the nose. (For those not in the know - are there any such people on sapphic Ao3 ships? - it comes from a scene of Arcane and if you haven't seen that, do it right now).
So yeah, not much to add here. See you in two weeks for their duel! Oh, I know! I need to start collecting bets from my readers on who will win! Who do you put your money on? (Assuming, of course, there will be a duel and they don't fall into Korra's bed before we get to it.)
Comments very much welcome. I'm curious what you think about this one :)
Chapter 9: The interplay of blades and words
Notes:
So we're 50% into the fic and finally we get a Korra and Asami duel. From the comments it seems there were three votes for Asami to win (or predicting her victory) and one for Korra, with two people suggesting that after or instead of the duel they should resolve their differences in bed.
Let's see how it goes! And if it is the chapter where the stripping-with-a-sword comes into play.
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The duelling ring was nearly identical to the Sozin’s, Azulon’s and Ozai’s fighting rings in Roku’s Park. But while those rings were encircled by a few scattered benches, providing only enough seating for nobles who preferred to stand aloof, pretending only a passing interest in the duels, here the seating was more deliberate. The benches encircled the arena completely, forming a makeshift amphitheater where the crowd was tightly packed, leaning forward with bated breath.
And they weren’t empty. Even though ‘Sokka’s Boomerang’ wasn’t really full when Asami entered and plenty of patrons left during Korra’s angry outbursts, now almost all the places were taken. Apparently the news of theirs – or rather Korra’s – duel spread quickly through the district. And while the nobles coming to watch duels tried to maintain an illusion that they were just on a pleasant evening stroll, here things were exactly as they seemed – the chatter of voices told Asami that the audience knew what it wanted and wasn’t shy to say it out loud. More than that! Bets were already being exchanged in low, urgent murmurs, and from what Asami could hear, the odds heavily favored Korra.
Let them bet against her, she thought with a determined smirk. They’ll be poorer by the end of the night.
The chatter around the ring was a stark contrast to the quiet, stifled tension of noble duels. Here, there was no pretense of decorum, no feigned disinterest. The crowd was alive with anticipation, their voices a low hum of excitement, eagerly discussing the match they were about to witness. Asami’s gaze swept over the faces, catching sight of Ginger and her serving girls moving through the crowd, selling beer to eager onlookers. Mako and Bolin were there too, with Bolin giving Korra a thumbs up from his seat. And then, surprising her, she noticed Opal Beifong among the spectators. What was she doing there? She probably came looking for Korra.
For her lover.
No, Asami, stop thinking about this. You need to focus.
“Okay, girls,” Ginger said approaching them. “This is more for you, Asami, since it’s your first time here, but you, Korra, better listen carefully too. Just so we’re clear – it’s not one of the duelling rings in Roku’s Park but the rules are the same. We abide by the Kyoshi’s Duelling Code and if you want to duel, you agree that I’m the referee. Agreed?”
Korra nodded her head and Asami followed.
“You’ve both said, you don’t want seconds,” Ginger continued “so we can proceed. Fight is, as usual, to first blood. Understood?”
Two more nods.
Ginger looked at Asami.
“Does the challenger want to withdraw the challenge?” she asked.
“No,” Asami said, her eyes fixed on Korra. “We’re doing it.”
“Does the challenged party admit to the wrongdoing and wants to apologize?” Ginger continued.
“Over my dead body,” Korra muttered.
“None of that ‘dead body’ crap,” Ginger snapped. “First blood only, remember?”
“Fine, let’s get on with it,” Korra sighed.
“Are the duellists ready?”
Two more nods.
“Get ready… en guarde!” Ginger shouted and backed away from the arena.
For a moment neither of the two fighters moved.
“Ready when you are,” Korra’s teased. “Unless you want to withdraw. Don’t worry about what Ginger said. If you want to, there’s still time.”
Asami looked at Korra, her stance confident, almost casual, yet there was a palpable intensity in her eyes. The challenge was clear, and Asami couldn’t help but feel a thrill of adrenaline course through her veins.
“They might tear us apart if I do,” Asami replied with a chuckle, sweeping her rapier in a graceful arc, the steel gleaming under the flickering lanterns.
“If that’s the only thing stopping you, don’t worry,” Korra said, her voice steady, yet there was a softness to it that caught Asami off guard. “No one will hurt you on my watch.”
“Thanks, but I’m not withdrawing my challenge,” Asami answered, slipping into a fencing stance, her eyes narrowing as she focused on Korra. “As for hurting me… I’ll gladly see you try.”
Without another word, Korra lunged, her rapier a blur as it sliced through the air in a fast thrust aimed at Asami’s legs, only to change direction and go for her wrist. Asami moved instinctively, stepping back and deflecting the strike with her basket hilt, the sound of clashing steel ringing through the night. She pushed Korra’s blade aside and countered with a quick thrust of her own, which Korra parried easily.
“Not bad,” Korra said, flashing that lopsided grin that both infuriated and intrigued Asami.
“I know,” Asami replied, her voice steady, her expression composed as she moved forward with two fast thrusts. Korra blocked both with smooth precision.
They were circling each other, the sound of their footsteps blending with the murmurs of the crowd, the tension between them thickening with each passing second. Korra struck again, quick and sharp, but Asami, with her height advantage, merely stepped out of reach, her eyes never leaving Korra’s.
“Why so angry?” Asami asked, her voice calm, probing.
“What?” Korra shot back, her brow furrowing in confusion. Asami seized the moment, launching a low blow at Korra’s thigh, only to have it blocked. Instead of countering, Korra tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you so angry, Korra?” Asami pressed, marking her words with a feint, followed by a quick lunge aimed at Korra’s midsection. Perfectly executed and yet still blocked. “I believe I’ve done nothing but extend an offer of friendship to you.”
“I don’t want your friendship!” Korra snapped, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and something else — something deeper, more vulnerable. She launched a furious assault, her strikes faster and more aggressive than before.
Asami had anticipated this, but fending off Korra’s attacks was easier said than done. Korra’s technique, while perhaps less refined than Asami’s own, was impeccable, with raw strength Asami hadn’t encountered in any of her previous opponents. During one of her parries, Korra pushed so hard that Asami stumbled and barely blocked another slash as Korra seized the advantage.
Realizing she couldn’t maintain this pace for long, Asami feigned losing balance again. When Korra went for a particularly aggressive strike — in her frustration telegraphed well in advance — Asami sidestepped, allowing the blade to cut through empty air as she regained her composure and distance.
“Why, Korra?” Asami asked again, her voice cutting through the clamor of the crowd.
“Did you come here to talk or fight?” Korra spat, lunging once more.
“Yes,” Asami replied, her voice calm as she deflected the blow and moved out of Korra’s reach. “Both.”
Fencing was a battle of wits as much as one of steel, with plenty feints and deception being as deadly weapons as the rapiers themselves… and yet while a duellist would always mask their intentions in the fight in Asami’s experience, they – at least the good ones – focused on the battle so closely that they dropped their guards in all other areas.
It was just that usually people in the duelling ring didn’t talk to each other, maybe apart from exchanging some insults and verbal jabs. Asami, on the other hand, was going to get Korra to talk, to really talk, and it seemed that the duelling ring would be the best place to do so.
“Why do you assume I just want to use you?” she asked, marking a high strike before going in low… and then changing it into a lunge at Korra’s midsection.
“Because that’s what…” Korra turned her body to the side, blocking the strike before dealing her own blow, just from her wrist, straight at Asami’s neck. A couple of Asami’s raven-black hair fell slowly to the ground as the noblewoman barely managed to lean back to dodge the attack. “…people like you…” another slash, blocked “…want from…” a wide arc with the blade that Asami avoided by moving back “people like ME!”
Asami escaped the tip of Korra’s rapier before starting to push back, striking back with lightning-fast ripostes, at first managing to stop her opponent’s assault before slowly beginning to move to the offensive.
“Why do you think there is nothing in you worth getting to know?” Asami asked.
With the clatter of steel, there was no chance for anyone in the audience to overhear their conversation, but she still lowered her voice and spoke gently, softly… while at the same time launching an attack after an attack, probing Korra’s defenses from right and left, top and bottom, as merciless with her blade as she tried to be gentle with her words.
“Because fighting has always been… the only… only thing… I’ve ever been good at!” Korra’s voice broke as she went under Asami’s blade, her movements still fluid yet slowly getting frantic. She straightened up and slashed from the elbow, but Asami whirled away, Korra’s rapier cutting through the air where she had been a heartbeat earlier.
“Fighting and fucking,” Asami said, launching a powerful counterstrike that pushed Korra back a couple of steps. “Isn’t that what you’ve said? That’s nonsense! I’m sure there is so much more to you than that!”
She was almost tempted to ask ‘who had hurt you’ but a small voice in the back of her head told her that would be a step too far and Korra would treat it as patronizing at best, insulting at worst. With her mind too occupied with that, she barely managed to block Korra’s frenzied riposte.
“There is NOTHING MORE!” Korra snapped, redoubling her efforts to get to Asami. “That’s me! Take it or fucking leave it! That’s me, the fucking Avatar of the fucking Blades and you’ve got… to… fucking deal… with… IT!”
“No,” Asami said, the tip of Korra’s rapier cutting the air centimetres from Asami’s mouth. “No,” she repeated, blocking another thrust. “The real you is the person who protects the poor and the powerless because they have nothing!” Asami stumbled back as she parriedanother blow, way too close to her body for comfort. “The real you is rushing to the rescue of a woman from the nobility that you detest, just because you saw her attacked by a couple of thugs. The real you is coming to say sorry and immediately getting in the ring for me because you saw I was drugged. That’s the person I want to get to know!”
“You don’t know anything about me!” Korra barked, slashing way too wide, allowing Asami to easily dodge it.
“Then let me learn,” Asami went for a quick thrust that stopped Korra’s attack. “Drop this guard!”
“I’ll drop your guard and I’ll drop YOU!” Korra snapped, pushing Asami’s blade to the side and going for another strike.
The thrust was powerful but again telegraphed so much in advance that Asami had all the time in the world block or dodge it.
She didn’t. She just stood in place, her weapon lowered, not even trying to defend herself.
Korra’s blade stopped mid-thrust, the tip pressing against Asami’s left breast just hard enough to cut through the fabric of her doublet and press into the soft flesh beneath without drawing blood.
“Do it,” Asami whispered, her voice so soft it was barely audible over the gasps of the crowd. “’Drop me’ if that’s what you want.”
“You’re fucking nuts,” Korra said, the tip of her weapon still pressing against Asami’s flesh. “You rich nobles are all just crazy!”
Her hand shook, the tip of the rapier moving away from Asami’s for only a centimetre.
Seizing the moment, Asami struck. She intended to push Korra’s blade aside, but the grip of Korra’s trembling hand was so unsteady that the rapier flew from her hand, landing in the sand of the dueling ring. Korra didn’t move to retrieve it. She just stood there, frozen, as Asami stepped forward and touched the sharp tip of her own rapier to Korra’s shoulder. With a quick flick of her wrist, Asami made a tiny scratch, just enough to draw a thin line of blood.
“I win,” Asami said softly, her voice carrying only to Korra. She barely registered the shocked gasps from the audience. “I believe you’ll want a rematch soon, won’t you? Well, since apparently you don’t use seconds here, you’ll need to talk to me directly about that. How about we meet here tomorrow at the same time? I mean, not here in the ring, here in Sokka's Boomerang.”
Korra nodded, her movements slow, almost mechanical.
“See you then, Korra,” Asami said, her voice gentle as she turned and left the ring, leaving Korra standing alone in the circle of flickering lanterns.
Notes:
Soooo... what do you think?
Comments welcome! And see you soon!
Chapter 10: The true first step, unwanted but needed
Notes:
Me tired. Nothing clever to say.
Enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Asami didn’t know what to expect when she returned to ‘Sokka’s Boomerang’. The tavern was a world apart from the lavish parties she frequented, where everything was veiled in polite smiles and practiced elegance. Here, things were raw, unfiltered. And after the events of the previous night, Asami wasn't sure how the patrons would react to her.
Would they see her as the woman who defeated the Avatar of Blades? The woman who, by some miracle, bested Korra in a duel that had no right to end the way it did? Or would they see her as the woman Korra let win, the duelist who couldn’t close the deal when she had an opening handed to her on a silver platter? Or worse, would they see her as the woman who cost them money, the unexpected victor in a fight where everyone had bet on Korra?
The confused looks on their faces didn’t provide any clear answers. It seemed that the patrons didn’t know what to make of her either. But there was something different in their eyes now, a new kind of respect. Whether she had won fairly or not, it was clear to them that no one had ever given Korra such a fight before.
Fortunately, Asami was an avid reader, and her lectures on swashbuckling novels told her exactly what the correct course of action was.
“A round of beer for everyone, on me!” she called out, and the room erupted in cheers.
She scanned the room, looking for the one person she wanted to see. She couldn’t be sure if Korra would be here. Perhaps she had prior engagements? Perhaps she felt humiliated and didn’t want to meet with It was a simple gesture, but it served its purpose. The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a festive atmosphere as the patrons toasted to their unexpected benefactor. Asami scanned the room, searching for the one person she truly wanted to see. She couldn’t be sure if Korra would even be there. Perhaps she had other engagements. Perhaps she was too humiliated to meet with Asami. Or perhaps she had even left Royal City, as some duelists did when they were beaten — at least in the stories Asami had read.
But she was there.
She was sitting alone at a table, her expression unreadable as she nursed a drink. When Asami approached, Korra’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and the noblewoman was relieved to see that she wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
“Should I order the usual?” Asami asked as she neared the table.
Korra stood up abruptly, making Asami frown in confusion.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, trying to mask the disappointment that laced her voice.
“We’re leaving,” Korra corrected, her tone firm. “You want me to open up? Fine, but I’m not going to do it with an audience. I’ve got a bottle of wine in my room. A good one, I’m told.”
“Inviting me to your room already?” Asami teased, a soft smile playing on her lips.
Korra grinned back, but there was tension in her eyes, a tightness that made the smile feel forced.
“Hey, you wanted to get to know me better, didn’t you?” she asked.
“That I did,” Asami said. “Let me just pay for the round of drinks and I’m right back with you.”
* * *
“You weren’t lying,” Asami said, taking a sip of the wine once they were in Korra’s small, sparsely decorated room. “It is good. And I’m officially impressed: Mount Dermalle, 1371? That’s a fine vintage.”
Korra shrugged, her usual bravado tempered by something darker.
“Got it as a ‘thanks for the fucking, now fuck off’ gift from some rich lady,” she said, bitterness seeping into her voice.
For a second Asami was tempted to ask if that ‘rich lady’ was Opal Beifong, but she decided against it. She didn’t know if Korra said it to spark an argument and something about duellist’s attitude suggested to Asami that Korra herself didn’t know.
“Well, I must admit that the rich lady had good taste,” Asami said, locking her gaze with Korra’s. “In various areas.”
To Asami’s surprise, Korra actually blushed and looked away, muttering something about still preferring beer.
“That duel… that was something else, Korra,” Asami said, choosing her moment carefully, just before the silence could stretch into something uncomfortable. “I’ve never had a duel like that.”
The cheerful radiance returned to Korra’s eyes as she thought back to the fight.
“Yeah, it was! I mean, I saw you fight those thugs, but that… that was something else! The way you moved, the way you parried...!”
“You still would have won if you’d gone through with that last blow,” Asami pointed out gently.
Korra shook her head.
“Na-uh,” she said. “That’s not how it works. You beat me fair and square, even if by getting inside my head. By the way, judging by how you fought, wow, you don’t have to be worried about beating Tarrlok. You fought way better than he did!”
“Thanks,” Asami said, then allowed herself a small, confident smile. “But believe me, I wasn’t worried.”
“How’s he doing, by the way?” Korra asked, her voice a mix of indifference, morbid curiosity, and professional pride.
“The word is that his life is no longer at risk, but he won’t be fighting anytime soon,” Asami replied, sharing what she’d heard from the noble gossip mill. “Besides, I’ve heard fencing with only one eye sucks.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t actually trying to take his eye,” Korra admitted. "What I was trying to do was to cut through his throat, but he parried the strike to the side at the last second.”
Asami lifted her eyebrow.
“You were actually trying to kill him?” she asked.
“I usually don’t go for a killing blow,” Korra said. “But a) the bastard drugged you before your duel and b) he went for the Vaatu’s Thrust and in a way that was clearly designed to set up a killing blow.” Suddenly her voice became sharper, angrier. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him and that you wanted me to go easy on him?”
“Not at all,” Asami said. “Tarrlok was a bastard and if he tried to kill you, then I see no reason why you’d have to stop yourself.”
Korra blinked, surprised by Asami’s response, as if she’d expected a lecture about honour and fairness. Asami gently shook her head, wondering why Korra was surprised. True, Asami had only taken lives once before, but when the thugs had attacked her in the park, she hadn’t hesitated for a second. Those who wielded a blade with the intent to kill should expect to meet the same fate.
“Well… that’s good,” Korra muttered, as if she hadn’t expected such understanding.
“But yes… Vaatu’s Thrust?” Asami asked, steering the conversation back to the technical aspect of their duel. “I’ve heard it’s impossible to beat. How did you do it?”
Korra chuckled, a sound that was almost dismissive. “Impossible? Hell no!”
“Oh?”
“Listen, do you play chess?”
Asami frowned at the abrupt change in topic.
“Yes, in fact, I do. And I must say I’m quite good at it,” she said.
“Well, I absolutely suck at it, but I know the theory,” Korra responded.
“Okay, but what does it have to do with-”
“Would you say the Fool’s Mate is impossible to counter?” Korra asked.
“What? No, of course not. It’s trivial to counter. It’s much harder to actually set up a situation where it works!”
Korra nodded. “Exactly. The Fool’s Mate may seem unblockable to novices because it requires a very specific setup on the board. In any other position it’s shit, but in that specific situation, it works, right?”
“Right.”
“It’s the same with the Vaatu’s Thrust,” Korra explained. “It’s easy to defend against, except if you’re in one particular stance where it’s impossible to block. So, the whole Vaatu’s Thrust is basically a series of feints designed to put you in that position where you can’t defend yourself.”
“Okay…”
“So yeah, once you recognize what your opponent is doing, just refuse to play along. Instead of changing your stance, just try to pull back, put some distance between you and your opponent or simply go on the offensive.”
“Thanks for the tips, but that’s not what you did when Tarrlok went for the attack,” Asami pointed out, recalling the moment. Perhaps it was the drug weakening her or the sheer speed of the exchange, but she hadn’t even seen how Korra had protected herself.
“Ah, yes,” Korra grinned. “That’s because I know that going for Vaatu’s Thrust leaves you vulnerable from a certain side, so I seized the opportunity and struck through the opening.”
“How did you know that?” Asami asked, genuinely curious. “It’s said that only the best fencers from Unalaq’s Northern Tribe Fencing School are taught the secrets of Vaatu’s Thrust. Even the Great Uniter, Kuvira, didn’t know how to perform or even recognize this strike. I know, because I asked her.”
Korra’s expression darkened for a moment, her face adopting a carefully neutral mask. Asami could see the turmoil beneath the surface, and she didn’t push. The silence between them stretched as Korra lifted her glass of wine, as if to hide behind it. Finally, after emptying the glass, she set it back down. Without a word, Asami refilled it, watching as Korra lifted the glass again… only to put it down without taking a sip.
“It was me who created Vaatu’s Thrust,” Korra said finally.
There was no pride in her voice, no sense of accomplishment that one would expect from a duelist claiming to have devised one of the most legendary attacks. Instead, her voice carried a weight of something darker, a history she wasn’t eager to share.
Once, if faced with a fencer making such an absurd claim — especially since everyone knew it was Master Unalaq who created the Vaatu’s Thrust — Asami would have either laughed, walked away, or challenged the braggart to a duel. But there was something in Korra’s tone, a complete lack of pride, that made Asami believe every word.
“You don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable with,” Asami said softly, reaching out to take Korra’s hand.
But it seemed to be the wrong thing to do. Anger flared in Korra’s eyes as she pulled her hand away and stood up abruptly.
“You wanted to get to know me?” Korra snapped, her voice rising. “Fine! Let’s see if you can take it, or if you’ll drop me like a piece of smelly shit like everyone else!”
Notes:
So, next chapter is probably in the top 5 of the most difficult chapters I've ever written (and also source for most of the Warnings for this story) so, yeah, word of warning.
Then... well, then comes chapter 12 which is the only one I don't have completed as I'd need to be in a happy place to write it, but I hope to write it before it's time to post it.
Comments welcome!
Chapter 11: Long shadows and old scars
Notes:
As a word of warning - all the trigger warnings for this fic? It's this chapter.
I'm sorry.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Ha! Whoa! Haaa-yaaa! Take that! Ha! Take this! And this! And that!” Korra shouted as she killed her third dragon, piercing its black heart.
Then a shadow fell on the brave hero and she turned around slashing with her sword…
“Hey, calm down there, Korra!” her father laughed, lifting his hands. “I yield!”
“Oh, sorry dad,” Korra muttered dropping her wooden sword.
“Well, that was interesting to watch,” he said. “Some of these moves could actually be used in a real battle. How did you figure them out?”
“Ummm… I’m just a natural?”
“Or, a counter-theory, you’ve been sneaking out to see me training my huscarls,” he said, trying to look angry… and failing miserably.
“What can I say daaaad!” Korra said. “Ever since I saw you, I’ve been wanting to train fencing! If I were a boy I’d have got a first practice sword from you already!”
She could see that she got it right. He sighed and crouched next to her.
“Korra… listen… I know it looks fun and I’ve got no doubt you’d be great at that…”
“Yeah, I would!” Korra shouted, fistbumping the air, before frowning. “I sense a but incoming! No buts! And not butts!”
“But I don’t want you to be a soldier,” he said. “Things in the Water Tribes… aren’t good lately. I don’t wish you to be in the front line of a war.”
“But I can take care of myself!”
Her father sighed and… was there a tear in the corner of his eye? No, definitely not. Just a trick of the light.
“I have no doubt about that,” he said. “Which is why, with your mother we decided to send you for a year to your uncle.”
“Uncle Unalaq?” Korra frowned, confused. “I thought you didn’t like each other? Why don’t you like each other.”
“My brother took the sacred fencing techniques of our tribe and decided to start teaching them for money, starting a fencing school. I still don’t approve of what he did but he’s my brother and he’s a good man. If you want to learn how to fight, his fencing school will be much better suited for you than the army.”
“Thank you, daddy! Thank you!” Korra hugged him. “But wait… you and mum… you’re coming too, right?”
* * *
At first all was fine, Korra’s presence welcomed even if sometimes she felt the smiles given to her by Unalaq and his wife, Malina, didn’t reach their eyes. Her cousins, Eska and Desna never smiled to her… but neither did they smile at anything or anyone else.
The fencing classes were what truly mattered to Korra. It was there that she felt truly alive, moving through stances, blocks, parries, slashes, and thrusts with natural grace. The practice sword became an extension of her body.
Then came the fateful evening. Even later, Korra couldn't recall the exact words Unalaq and Malina used. There was talk of "clan warfare," "betrayal," "night raid," and plenty of "I'm sorry." There was mention of "loss."
But even without fully comprehending what was being said, Korra understood the horrifying truth: her parents were dead.
She couldn't pinpoint when things began to change. When did the smirks and japes from Eska and Desna turn cruel, or had they always been aimed to hurt? When did Malina start looking at her with barely hidden contempt? She remembered the moment Unalaq told her it would be better if she started living above the fencing school – "and since you're already there, you can always clean it before and after classes."
Korra didn't mind. The cruel jokes and looks barely pierced the shroud of grief surrounding her. Her mind focused solely on one thing – fencing. Staying at the school meant she could practice day and night, honing her skills relentlessly.
She couldn't say exactly when things started to improve. Perhaps it was simply her slowly overcoming her grief as the years passed, or maybe it was Unalaq who began to warm up to her. She thought it natural, given her exceptional progress in his classes. Korra quickly outpaced other students, even those from noble houses with far more experience... and eventually, even Eska and Desna.
"Good!"
"Just like that!"
"Perfect parry!"
"Everyone, look at Korra's stance!"
"You're a natural!"
These compliments from Unalaq became more frequent. Korra could see it caused other students – especially her cousins – to resent her, but she didn't care. She lived for fencing and for Unalaq's approval. He started staying longer with her, sometimes training until late in the evening.
She barely noticed when his compliments about her skills turned to comments about her body. At first, he praised how fit and strong she was for her age, how agile and graceful. Then came remarks about her legs, arms, hair, and eyes.
However, she could never forget the night everything changed.
* * *
Unalaq’s rapier clinked on the floor as Korra disarmed him. She frowned. Yes, she was winning Unalaq's rapier clattered to the floor as Korra disarmed him. She frowned, surprised. Yes, she had been winning against him more often lately, but to disarm him? She'd never managed that before and wasn't sure how she'd done it now.
"Very good, Korra," he said with an unsettling smile. "You're improving so much."
"Thank you, Uncle," she replied, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
Slowly, he approached her and took the weapon from her hand before tossing it aside.
"I'm so glad you came to us," he murmured, his hands sliding up her bare arms.
It was Unalaq who had insisted she wear less and less as their training progressed. Was it to "watch her muscles working"? Or so she "wouldn't sweat as much"? Or because she would "feel more free"?
Korra hadn't cared then, but now she felt exposed in just her short training shorts and taped breasts. So much bare skin for him to touch.
"I'm so happy you came to us," he repeated, pulling her towards him.
She tried to struggle, but he was still stronger as he held her against his body.
"Calm down, I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You don't want to be an ungrateful girl, do you?"
She froze.
Ungrateful?
To be tossed aside, pushed into a world she didn't know how to navigate? No, she didn't want that. She wasn't ready. And he was her only family. He knew what was best for her... didn't he?
"Come, let's go to your room," he said. "I've brought some wine to celebrate your progress as my student."
"I... I'm too young to drink," she protested, her voice trembling.
"Nonsense!" he scoffed. "You're practically an adult now. You can do all the fun adult stuff."
The wine was good, she had to admit, but it left her with a strange feeling in her head. A lightheadedness, as if every sensation was coming to her from underwater, muffled and blurred.
She could hear her uncle’s words you’re so beautiful you’ve got such great body I love touching you I’m so happy that you’re here you’re special you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine but didn’t really understand what they meant.
It all felt wrong but he was saying it wasn’t and she didn’t want to be an ungrateful girl.
When he kissed her on the lips she tensed but she didn’t protest when he pushed her onto the bed and started stripping her.
The whole time, the entire night she was thinking of parries and blocks and footwork and allowed herself to cry only when he’d left.
* * *
“Madic! Kellien! You two against Korra!” Unalaq ordered.
They came at her fast but they were noble-born morons, learning fencing for their structured duels of honour, not for real combat. Each one could fight, but they couldn’t work as a pair, as a team. Each one tried to score the first hit, to get the glory of being the one who beats her.
Korra was learning the same style as they were, but she… noticed things. She noticed when and where can she be more efficient, when and where she can break the conventions of duels and do something that would completely blindside her opponents. She moved away from Madic’s blade and, just as she expected, Kellien rushed forward, trying to be the one who takes her. She moved to her right, while parrying his attacks, putting him between her and Madic, getting in the way.
Madic circled Kellien, trying to get into a position to strike… just as Korra knew he would. He almost ran straight into the blunt tip of her training rapier. With him eliminated, taking Kellien down was trivially easy.
“Hmmpfff, good,” Unalaq said.
Korra noticed his behavior towards her had changed. In the nights, he was still sweet, complimenting her, professing his love before taking her to bed. But during training, he grew increasingly brutal, often pitting multiple students against her at once. When he stayed after the others left and Korra wanted to continue training, he became impatient, merely humoring her as if counting the seconds until they could retire to bed.
It wasn't a sudden revelation but a slow awakening.
She found herself wondering what her parents would think about the things she was doing with Unalaq... the things he was doing to her. She noticed his increasing brutality and impatience outside the bedroom. She heard the sneers and snickering of other students when they thought she wasn't listening. Words like "nice piece of ass" were used. Some said they'd "also let her play pretend duelist if they got to play with her." Unalaq insisted she treat his students kindly, so she endured it in silence, channeling her anger into beating them mercilessly when he sent them against her in class.
Korra did the only thing she could think of. She tried to be better. She listened to him more and obeyed him unquestioningly. When that didn't help, she started working on a new thrust, a new strike that would be her masterpiece.
That finally made her feel alive again.
It was almost comical. Everyone was so obsessed with fancy "unblockable thrusts," while in truth, she knew no such thing existed. There were just attacks that were more effective against certain stances than others.
So that's what she created – an attack that was useless unless the opponent was in a particular stance... and a long series of feints to set up such a situation.
Then she showed it to Unalaq.
From that day forward, whenever he looked at her, his eyes held nothing but pure hatred.
That, of course, didn't mean he stopped taking her to bed. It just meant his pretense of affection vanished, and he became brutal there as well. The things he demanded from her grew more and more degrading.
She endured it all.
And then she found a way of fighting of her own. All those students who mocked how they’d love to fuck her? Their fathers who started staring at her ever since she stopped being a child and became a woman? She approached them, offering or just said yes when they asked.
It was never about pleasure and she didn’t get much of it from these trysts. Each one made her feel more empty and hollow, but she didn’t stop. She also didn’t care that people whispered behind her back, calling her the ‘school slut’ or even recommended Unalaq’s school to their buddies, citing her as an ‘added perk’. The one she kept away was Duke Tarrlok, way too chummy with her uncle for her to risk it.
It was never about pleasure or them or even about her. It was about robbing Unalaq from giving away what he considered solely his property.
Unalaq must’ve learned at some point. He didn’t say anything, but he became even more brutal and degrading in bed… and yet she still couldn’t stand up to him. Couldn’t force herself to refuse him. And when once when she was on top of him and her eyes fell on a dagger lying on the nightstand… her first thought was to use it on herself not on him.
He also started selling her services in the ring. A paid champion for hire for the less-skilled nobles to make some dumb excuse why they can’t duel in person and have someone to fight it in their stead.
These were, unlike the ones at school, of course fights with sharp blades. Perhaps Unalaq set her up so that she got hurt or even killed but it didn’t matter – she didn’t lose even once. She dived into it, a perfect venue to unload her anger, her resentment. She was brutal, not caring what the duel was about, not caring who was right. She was drunk with the possibility of really hurting others. With power over them. Often, she left her opponents seriously wounded. Sometimes she left them dying or dead.
If during a duel she had used the Vaatu’s Thrust, which was already becoming famous, Unalaq’s touch was particularly brutal during the night.
The final straw wasn't anything he did to her in bed nor anything that happened in the ring.
It was his announcement of a new "unblockable thrust" – the Vaatu's Thrust – an attack he would teach only to the best fencers in his school. The first to learn it was Duke Tarrlok.
It was her thrust.
Something inside Korra shattered.
She confronted him during class, screaming accusations. Later, she couldn't even remember what she'd said. Did she only accuse him of stealing the thrust she'd created? Or did she also reveal the things he'd done to her in bed?
At some point, he drew his rapier – his sharp, combat rapier – and charged at her to silence her. She only had her dull training sword, but she saw red. When she was finally overwhelmed by the other students trying to drag her away, Unalaq lay bleeding, his fingers broken.
Korra managed to break free from the other students and fled, stealing a horse belonging to one of the noble students.
She lived on her own for a couple of months before Eska and Desna found her.
* * *
"What do you want?" Korra asked, draining the last of her beer. She'd bought it for a duel fought in... in... in someone's name. She couldn't remember anymore.
Her cousins stared at her with emotionless faces.
"Father is dead," Eska stated flatly.
"Oh? My condolences," Korra spat. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."
"He ate something that disagreed with him," Desna added.
"Mother was furious when rumors that he'd made you his whore started circulating."
"I was no one's whore!" Korra snapped. "And unless your mother was as dumb as she was blind, she knew damn well what he was doing to me!" She narrowed her eyes. "And I'm sure you did too."
"It wasn't our place to judge where he found his pleasure," Eska said coldly.
"And she tolerated it as long as he was discreet," Desna added.
"But when you caused the scandal, she had no choice," Eska finished.
"As far as we're concerned, you've murdered our father," Desna concluded.
"I'm just curious," Korra said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Can you hear yourselves? Do you realize how insane you sound?"
Without another word, Eska and Desna drew their rapiers. Korra stood, unsheathing her own blade.
"So this is how it's going to be?" she asked, moments before they attacked.
More than once, Unalaq had forced her to face multiple students at once, and she'd always emerged victorious. She knew she was better than either Eska or Desna individually, despite their father training them since they were old enough to hold a wooden sword.
But going against these two together?
This was one battle she could never win... and this time, she found herself quickly losing ground. She didn't even feel the first strike that hit her, a long, shallow cut along her right arm.
She certainly felt when Desna's blade pierced her back and emerged from her chest.
The next thing she remembered was leaping out of the tavern window, stumbling to the stables, mounting her horse – now named Naga – and riding hard and fast, her cousins in hot pursuit.
* * *
“I managed to escape,” Korra said, looking at Asami. “I was found by a couple of villagers who brought me to their village medicine woman. They cured me back to health and when I got stronger I paid them by getting rid of the bandits plaguing their lands and of their noble lord abusing them, one duel at a time. I couldn’t even avenge my parents for the clan that killed them got destroyed by another clan soon after their deaths in another stupid clan conflict. So I decided to leave the Water Tribe lands and disappear. And what better place to disappear in than Royal City?”
She smiled without much joy.
“But I never really could keep a low profile,” she said. “Fighting and fucking were the only skills I had… and hey, a girl has to earn a living somehow, huh? From the two I decided to try fighting first. Not that I said ‘no’ many times when an attractive guy or gal for whom I thought asked me. And believe me, suddenly everyone was asking. Those I fought for, those I fought against… they all wanted a piece of this new exotic little thing. And me? Finally, I could do it for my pleasure so…”
She went quiet and shrugged. Silence echoed in the room, until she spoke again, this time her voice cold, angry and bitter.
“You’ve heard the story,” she said. “Not what you’d expect from the ‘Avatar of Blades’, huh? You can now get your sweet, aristocratic ass out of my fucking life.”
* * *
The next day Korra stood at the Lampion Bridge, a small bridge built over a tiny stream in one of the rundown districts of the Royal City’s Lowtown. Despite the poverty around, people living here still put lampions on the bridge as signposts for the lost souls of the departed. She’d always loved this place.
She knew it was a popular place for those in love to take their partners to and in one of the days when she was in a stupidly romantic mood, she thought that if she ever found someone… someone special, she’d bring them here.
And yet, despite the many people she shared bed with, she’d always come here alone.
Just like she was alone right now.
Until she heard footsteps behind her.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Asami said, gasping for breath. “I’m usually not late, in fact I’m never late… but by Raava this place isn’t easy to find.”
“Sorry, I should’ve left more precise directions,” Korra said, smiling awkwardly.
She still couldn’t believe that after all that she’d said on the previous evening, Asami, instead of leaving, reached out and hugged her tight. They didn’t speak much that evening, just sitting next to one another in comfortable silence. It was Asami who’d suggested, diplomatically not noticing the tears in Korra’s eyes, that they meet on the next day to talk some more. It was Korra who, as a reflex, suggested the place.
“It’s a date,” Asami said, giving her a lovely smile, before she’d left.
And now, she was here, back with her.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
Notes:
Damn, that will teach me to try to write 'light and fluffy' fics when I'm depressed. On one level it was the hardest chapter I ever wrote, harder than CnC 62 (those who know, know). On the other hand, it wrote itself and when I recently opened it to make it less evil, I ended up making it even darker.
I need a shower - and I don't mean the cold shower that one needs after some tasty Korrasami moment.
I'm sorry.
But things can get only better from here... right?
Chapter 12: A hopeful glance at something new
Notes:
And we're back! The last chapter was probably the lowest point of this story so I'm sure there will be nothing sad or dark from now on... right?
This one, however, is supposed to be a bit of a breather from all the dark stuff. Imagine it as if it was a montage.
Big thanks to Just_Addie for some advice she gave me concerning this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Don’t get me wrong,” Korra said. “I love fencing. I’m half convinced I was born holding a mini-rapier. But sometimes? Ranged is the way to go. Three guys going at you? Throw a dagger well enough and you’ve got only two left.”
“I duel,” Asami pointed out. “I don’t fight armies.”
“Yeah, but sometimes life has different ideas, doesn’t it?”
To that Asami didn’t have a response. She still shuddered when she remembered the five thugs emerging from the bushes of the park. That was the first time she was really worried that she would be killed.
Korra must have noticed it and gave her a short, slightly awkward – but because of this endearing – hug.
“Sorry for bringing that up,” she said. “But you still kicked ass.”
“And it brought you into my life,” Asami said gently and saw Korra’s face melt.
She found herself leaned forward for a kiss. Korra parted her lips as well and-
“You throwing or what?” someone yelled behind them.
“Yeah, there’s a line, you know!”
“Gee, calm down you guys,” Korra muttered, pulling away from Asami and looking at the people gathered behind them in a way that cut off all protests. “I was just telling you this to explain how can I do… this.”
She turned around to the wooden target shield and, one by one, threw five daggers, embedding each one right in the centre of the target.
Whistles of approval came from the gathered people and even the stall owner looked more impressed than annoyed when handed Korra a unicorn plushie. Korra laughed and gave it to Asami, who looked at it for a moment… before lifting her gaze back at Korra, who was smiling at her with this cocky lopsided grin that was all Korra.
She took her by the arm, led her away from the stall and leaned in again for a kiss.
This time no one stopped them.
The laughter and music surrounded them, but Asami was barely aware of them. It was Korra who suggested this fair as the place for their first date but right now the place ceased to exist for Asami. Nothing existed anymore, only Korra’s lips, their taste an enticing mix of mulled wine and… well, Korra.
When they pulled away from each other, Asami saw Korra was blushing, her face flushed, eyes widened as if she just saw – or experienced – a glimpse of the divine.
Which was exactly how Asami was feeling.
“So what do you want to do now?”
* * *
Once Korra would’ve responded to such question with a cocky ‘you’, but suddenly she found herself flustered.
It was Asami.
They didn’t know each other long, but Korra already knew that Asami was not a typical noble. Her skill and bravery in the ring deserved Korra’s respect but there was more to it. Despite Korra being a total bitch to her, Asami didn’t run away. Gave her space but didn’t leave her.
And yes, there were some things that still annoyed Korra. Asami was better – Korra was sure of it – than all of the nobles in the nation but still had a blind spot concerning the privilege she was born with. But it seemed she was willing to change, to learn.
Korra realized that it – whatever it – was could be something good. And she didn’t want to destroy it.
She was sure she was going to destroy it.
“I… I don’t know,” she said. “I think we’ve seen all that there is to see here. So maybe now you pick a spot?”
Asami watched her for a moment and then a small smile appeared on her lips.
* * *
“Aren’t my clothes good enough?” Korra said, her voice slightly more defensive than she intended.
In her hands she was holding the blue dress brought to her by Asami. It wasn’t something Korra would’ve chosen and while definitely of better quality than the majority of Korra’s clothing, it wasn’t as extravagant as she feared.
“Of course they are,” Asami replied gently. “But you told me to choose our next spot. And we both need to be in dresses. Sadly, in this area, they still cling to very traditional understanding of what clothes women should were.”
“So why are we going there?” Korra asked. “Neither of us is a very… traditional woman.”
“Because the music alone is worth it,” Asami responded. “But if you don’t want, that’s not a problem.”
“No, it’s not that!” Korra said quickly, too quickly. “But… you know I don’t expect any gifts from you, right?”
That was how it usually went with the nobles, didn’t it? A nice, quick fuck then a farewell gift. Well, with Opal it had been different but… but Korra didn’t want to think about her right now… just as she didn’t want this… this thing she and Asami had to progress the same route as all her other flings had. True, they haven’t shared a bed yet and-
“Korra, don’t overthink it,” Asami said. “I thought you might like this place and I bought you this dress because you told me you don’t own one. I didn’t want you to make you uncomfortable and-“
“No, no, it’s good!” Korra said and started undressing.
She saw Asami’s eyes widen and the noblewoman turn around, giving Korra space.
Damn.
She was so tempted to tell Asami that she could watch if she wanted to but immediately doubts attacked her. She wanted Asami. She knew that. How could she not? Asami was beyond beautiful but there was also more to it. Although Korra wouldn’t exactly admit Asami beat her in a fair fight in their duel – not that Asami cheated, it was just that Korra wasn’t really herself that day – she was still in awe after watching the heiress moving in the ring. That alone to Korra was more attractive than anything and made her want to push through Asami’s defenses and make her come undone again and again and-
But she didn’t want to ruin this fledgling thing they had. She didn’t want it to progress as all her other flings did. And while she wanted more than anything in the world to make love to Asami – to give herself fully to her – she decided to try a different approach. One that, unlike her flings, didn’t begin – and often end – with sex.
The problem was… she didn’t really know how to do that. And that terrified that.
One day at a time.
As she was changing into the dress she glanced at Asami – radiant in her scarlet one – and, with some disappointment noticed that she wasn’t looking.
“So how do I look?” Korra asked. “As ridiculous as I feel?”
“No, not ridiculous at all,” Asami said, her voice low but the way her eyes first widened and then narrowed as she saw Korra was enough of an answer in itself.
And in truth… she didn’t really feel that bad in the dress. It allowed her enough movement that she was sure she would still be able to beat anyone if there was such a need. Speaking of which…
“But we’re taking rapiers, right?” she asked.
Asami hesitated for a moment and then smiled.
“Sure,” she said. “We can leave them at the entrance.”
The place Asami took Korra was in a small, unassuming building. Before they knocked and entered Asami took two masks out, put one on and offered other to Korra. Their faces hidden like that, the two women entered an underground… dancing hall. Musicians on a small stage were playing while various pairs whirled around the dance floor, the large mirrors on two walls making the whole room seem even bigger.
“That’s… not what I expected,” Korra asked. “You come here often?”
“Used to quite often, yes,” Asami said. “Now I’m more about duelling but I still like to come here. In some ways they’re quite traditional in others… well, let’s say they never mind if two women or two men want to dance with each other.”
“I… I don’t really know how to dance,” Korra said.
“Good thing, I’m an excellent teacher then,” Asami replied.
For a moment Korra considered protesting but Asami leaned forward, their lips meeting, and all thoughts were chased out of Korra’s head.
Surprisingly, she turned out to be a good dancer. It wasn’t that much different from fencing, really. Here too you needed to learn the other person’s rhythm and adapt to it. Except the rhythm came from an external source – the music played – and your goal wasn’t to disrupt your partners steps but to follow them.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t really like fencing but it required similar skills and soon Korra found herself reading Asami movements and adapting to them flawlessly. It probably helped that Asami was great at leading.
In fact… in fact it was such a relief to, for once, let herself be led, to trust in the way someone was guiding her.
They kept dancing for hours and at one point Korra felt that the way their bodies moved on the dance floor was more intimate for her than what she did in bed during a number of flings they had.
They left the dancing floor in comfortable silence, their bodies pleasantly tired.
Of course, it was there that they got attacked.
There were four thugs – only four - all rough and leering at them with hungry glares.
As soon as the first one started talking about their money and jewellery or their lives, before he could even chuckle lewdly, Asami and Korra drew their blades.
“Let me take it from here,” Korra said. “You’re going to say, sliding your eyes up and down our bodies in a rather insulting way, that we’re lucky you want only our money.”
“Because nothing is more in fashion than thinly-veiled sexual harassment,” Asami added. “Really, guys could you at least be creepy in a more subtle way?”
“Then perhaps you’ll say that you like ‘girls with spunk’, thinking this double-entendre as great humour,” Korra said.
“Or were you going to say how the fact that we’re together, means that neither of us had a real man before and you’ll offer to take that place?” Asami suggested.
“Nah, looking at them?” Korra shook her head. “I think they’ll just go with something about ‘fucking us straight’. You said it yourself, they’re not exactly sub-“ Suddenly she opened her eyes wide and turned towards Asami. “Wait, did you mean it? We’re… together? Like… together-together?”
“Of course we are, silly,” Asami said with a smile that almost made Korra’s heart melt… but that faltered moments later. “If you want to, that is.”
“I do! I do!” Korra said quickly. “Listen, I’m just not used to taking things slowly and I don’t want to ruin it and-“
“Korra, you’re not ruining anything. And you don’t need to be taking it slo-“
One of the thugs cleared his throat.
“Oh, come on!” Korra snapped. “Can’t you see we’re having a moment!”
“Fine, let’s deal with them and then talk about what we are,” Asami suggested.
“Yeah, fine,” Korra muttered before turning to the thugs. “Listen guys. Normally I’d love to just chase you off, but if we do that you’ll only hurt some other poor girl. Or a guy. Or a kid. Or a puppy. Or all of the above. So you’ve got a choice – you lay down your weapons and let us escort you to the nearest city guard post or… well… or we teach you a lesson.”
“Damn, I like them feisty,” one of the bandits chuckled.
“Yeah, I like bitches with spunk,” another one said and they all laughed.
Asami just rolled her eyes.
“No, that’s fine,” Korra said. “I’m glad they chose the hard way. I didn’t feel like making a detour to the guards anyway.”
“Good point,” Asami said, turning around so she and Korra stood back-to-back.
Moments later, in the middle of parrying and dealing blows, Korra chuckled.
“What?” Asami asked, blocking one strike, dodging another and hitting one of her opponents with her pommel.
“Brings back memories of our first meeting,” Korra said, disarming one and kicking him hard.
They both laughed.
* * *
It wasn’t their first kiss, but there was something different about it. It started tentative, more careful than their previous kisses had been. It quickly deepened, became testing, then hungrier. Asami didn’t want to push too much, too hard but damn was it difficult to control herself.
Especially when she was kissing Korra, tasting her lips and tongue, pulling her body too herself harder and harder, feeling it pressing against hers. Feeling Korra’s hands roaming over Asami’s back, pulling her harder again. One resting on what barely qualified as the small of Asami’s back and what anyone else would simply call Asami’s ass.
Imagining how those strong, skilled hands could feel if they-
No, better not go there.
Still, a moan of pleasure escaped Asami’s lips, swallowed by Korra’s kiss and neither of them failed to notice how Asami’s body shivered in pleasure, almost acting on its own seeking friction against Korra’s thigh.
Damn, Asami was wet.
She barely had the presence of mind to care.
They pulled away from each other, Korra’s eyes looking at her with an almost hungry look. Then, slowly, Korra undid the laces holding her dress and let it fall, pooling around her long, strong legs.
Asami’s heart skipped a bit as in a second she took in the beauty of Korra’s strong, toned body, the whole graceful silhouette. But Korra wasn’t done, undoing her bra and letting it fall, allowing her breasts to spring free and Asami stopped herself while her hands were already halfway towards them.
“You can touch, Asami,” Korra whispered. “I’m all yours. I want to be all yours.”
She leaned again for another kiss and Asami found herself respond. And oooh her body was responding too. Maybe it was just her lust and the fact it was Korra. Maybe it was the fact that there was still adrenaline in her veins from fighting off the thugs. Maybe it was the fact that – unlikely as it had been – they could have been hurt in the fight. But she was finding it more and more difficult to even remember why she wanted to wait.
But when they pulled away again and Asami’s gaze slid up and down Korra’s body, she noticed something else.
The scars.
The many, many scars, old and new.
And with that came a different realization. Korra carried the scars not only on her body but also on her soul. And just how her physical wounds got covered by scar tissue, the mental ones got covered too – with layers of not exactly healthy coping mechanisms.
“Korra… I don’t think I’m ready,” she said.
For a second, there was confusion on Korra’s face, a complete lack of understanding as if that – someone refusing her – had never happened before.
Perhaps it hadn’t.
Then this look turned into one of hurt, of rejection… and of fear.
Asami hugged Korra.
“I want you,” she whispered. “I want you a lot.”
“Then take me,” Korra replied.
“But, when it happens, I want it to be because we both want it for the right reasons,” Asami said. “I don’t want to be a notch on your bedpost-“ Korra opened her mouth wide, visibly hurt and Asami hugged her tighter, “and I don’t want you to be thinking I just came to use you like others.”
“But I want it, Asami,” Korra said, this time sounding almost annoyed. “I’m ready! I’m not… I’m not fragile! I’m not broken!”
Asami kissed her again. Korra tensed for a moment, but then her body slowly – very slowly – relaxed.
“I want this to be another step on a beautiful road together,” Asami said. “Not the end or something we would regret… or doubt. I want you Korra… but I want you for you. Not only for your body.”
Korra hesitated for a second… and then returned the kiss.
“And isn’t it something worth the wait?” Asami asked and once more Korra replied with a kiss.
* * *
There were other dates too.
Horse racing suggested by Asami and won by Korra – or rather by Naga who was not only a good girl but also a damn fast girl.
A violin concert suggested by Korra to show she too can fit in high society. She spent it all trying not to fall asleep and when she turned to Asami hoping to see admiration in her eyes, she found the heiress with her eyes closed, slightly snoring.
So later they decided to go to a different kind of a concert, one played by a band of colourful musicians on a river barge. They enjoyed it both immensely despite – or because of – the fact that later Asami lost her shirt playing dice.
And then there was the other date, the one that got serious.
“Are you sure?” Asami asked.
“Yes, I want to,” Korra said. “There’s no one else I’d rather show it to. I trust you fully.”
It was late in the evening and the duelling ring at “Sokka’s Boomerang” was empty. Some patrons wanted to sneak in but Korra told them all to get out. Besides, there was no show for them as Korra and Asami weren’t duelling, just standing in front of each other.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Asami said.
Korra shrugged.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I made this thrust as one giant, practical fencing joke. I didn’t even give it a name. It was Unalaq who called it Vaatu’s Thrust. And he taught it to people like Tarrlok. I created this thrust so I should choose who gets to learn it… and besides, knowing it and how to counter it, might prove useful one day.”
Asami nodded.
“Thank you, Korra. I mean… thank you.”
Korra just grinned and took a fencing stance.
“So watch carefully first…”
It didn’t take long. The way Korra taught her showed Asami how easy Vaatu’s Thrust really was. Indeed, just a series of feints used to set up the final blow. She saw also it’s glaring weaknesses, the moments when the fencer was defenseless from certain sides. Now she knew how Korra defeated Tarrlok and the fact that she decided to share the technique with Asami was a not small gift.
“Korra,” Asami said. “How tired are you?”
Korra hesitated for a second, then summoned her usual cocky smile.
“Full of strength for whatever you command me to do, my lady,” she said.
Asami slowly approached Korra.
“I think I’m ready,” she whispered into Korra’s ear. “Let’s do it.”
Korra’s smile got softer.
“Asami Sato, will you duel me again?”
Asami smiled back.
“Sounds perfect.”
Notes:
What, when Asami said she thought she was ready, you think she meant sex?! Naughty, naughty!
Oh, and with that we're officially 2/3 into the story, so we're getting slowly ready for the final act. See you!
Comments, as usually, very much welcome ;)
Chapter 13: Two duels
Notes:
And we're back! So, some people suggested that the fluffiness of the last chapter was the calm before the storm.
Well... here comes the storm!
Enjoy!
(I'm actually quite stressed about the reception of this chapter because... well, you're see!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The moment hung between them, charged with anticipation. Korra’s gaze flickered over Asami, hesitating just enough to make Asami’s heart quicken.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Korra asked again, her voice a low murmur, roughened with something that was not quite nervousness but close to it.
Asami’s lips brushed the edge of Korra’s ear, close enough that her breath sent a shiver down Korra’s spine. "I’ve told you already," she whispered, her voice smooth and inviting, "Yes, I do."
They drew back just enough to look at each other, a silent agreement passing between them, as if they knew that it was bound to happen. Korra’s face lit up with a grin, slightly mischievous as she said, "I’ll take care of the arrangements with Ginger. You know how to get to the duelling ring?"
"I’ll be waiting there," Asami replied, her voice softer.
* * *
“Ginger said no one will disturb us,” Korra said as she returned, taking off her coat.
“Perfect,” Asami said. “We’ve already given them one show. This time I want something more…” Intimate, she’d almost said but instead decided to go with: “Private.”
Korra’s lips curved, her grin lopsided but warm. "That’s what you’ll get." She held Asami’s gaze, that familiar spark of challenge igniting in her eyes.
“How did you convince Ginger to lose the sales from potential tickets for watching us fight?”
Korra flashed Asami a lopsided grin. “She owes me for all the guests I bring. You wouldn’t believe how many people want to drink with the ‘Avatar of Blades’!”
Asami’s lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Actually, I believe it," she said, her tone soft, and was rewarded with the sight of Korra blushing — a rare, endearing display of vulnerability.
Korra cleared her throat, still a little flustered. "So… um… are you ready?"
“Of course, I am,” Asami said. “I did beat you last time, so the question is… are you ready?”
“You know that didn’t count!” Korra pouted.
They both drew their rapiers in a single, fluid motion, the hiss of metal sending a thrill through Asami’s veins.
"May I have this duel, milady?" Korra murmured, her voice dropping to a teasingly formal tone.
“Of course, my lady,” Asami answered, bringing the handle of her weapon to her face and tilting the blade towards Korra in a salute.
Korra repeated this gesture and they both took fencing stance.
“Sooo… first blood?” Asami asked.
“Or until you surrender,” Korra said and then, less cocky, added: “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” Asami said feeling warmth spread through her body. “And who says ‘en garde’?”
Korra answered with action instead of words, lunging forward in a lightning-fast attack. Asami’s heart leapt as she barely caught the strike on her own blade, twisting her wrist to parry, the thrill of the clash resonating up her arm. She countered with a quick strike to Korra’s thigh, but Korra deflected it smoothly, returning with a swift riposte that left Asami breathless. Metal ringed against metal again as both exchanged a couple of blows before stepping away from each other.
“Not bad,” Asami muttered, watching Korra carefully, her eyes catching the position of Korra’s feet, hands and the movements of her eyes.
She meant it. She knew, of course, that Korra was a masterful fencer. Her duel with duke Tarrlok proved it beyond any doubt. But when they last fought in this ring Korra was different. Angry. Distracted – also by Asami talking to her, trying to make her confront her doubts.
Now, much more at peace – if not entirely, Asami realized – and more relaxed, Korra’s fighting was different. It was graceful, joyful, fun… but Asami had no doubts that if Korra only wanted it and if she was facing a less-skilled opponent, her technique would still be deadly.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Korra responded. “Maybe the last time really wasn’t a fluke?”
"Careful," Asami shot back, feinting with a quick lunge that nearly grazed Korra’s wrist. "Underestimating me might just be your downfall."
“How sneaky!” Korra laughed, a warm, rich sound that sent a thrill down Asami’s spine.
She blocked Asami’s blade, then surged forward with renewed energy, their movements quickening, blades flashing as they tested each other, pushed each other, fell into a rhythm only they could feel.
Asami pressed on the attack. She knew that Korra felt much more at ease when attacking than defending so she tried to use that, but quickly she realized that in Korra’s case ‘preferring offense’ didn’t mean ‘being terrible at defense’. Korra’s blade was everywhere just at the right moment and trying to push through her defenses felt like trying to move a giant iceberg.
Their breaths grew shorter, more intense, each clash of making the unspoken tension between them grow. Asami noticed the light sheen of sweat on Korra’s brow, the slight flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes gleamed with fierce concentration. She was entranced.
"Really… not… bad," Korra muttered as she pressed forward, each strike growing bolder, more insistent.
“I’m glad you approve,” Asami said, moving back, putting distance between her and her opponent, not letting Korra get into rhythm.
“Oh, I do,” Korra said. “A terrible duel is just as a bad as terrible sex.”
“Wha-?”
Asami faltered, her cheeks flushing hot as Korra’s words hung in the air, unexpected and thrilling. For a split second, her guard dropped, and Korra seized the moment, her rapier flashing forward to slice through the fabric of Asami’s doublet. The blade’s cold touch against her skin sent a shiver through her.
"Oh! I’m sorry!" Korra exclaimed, pulling back slightly. "Did I hurt you?"
Asami glanced down, relieved to find only her pride bruised. The edge of her doublet hung open, exposing a thin strip of bare skin. Untouched bare skin. She met Korra’s gaze, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Not a scratch," she replied, lifting her blade. "This duel is far from over."
She didn’t give Korra a second more to process and launched a powerful assault, alternating between slashes and thrusts, pushing Korra into defensive. But now, Korra’s moves were slowed down as if a part of her was still worried about almost having cut Asami.
Asami would have none of that. No matter how pure Korra’s intentions, no one was going easy on her!
She knocked Kora’s blade to the side, signaled a high thrust before going in for a slash at Korra’s hips, a light one, performed just with her wrist.
As Asami did before, Korra froze for a second, unsure if the blade cut flesh… and then her leather trousers, freed from the belt that Asami had just cut, fell down.
With Korra’s legs immobilized like that, Asami could’ve finished the duel then and there… but she didn’t want it to be over so easy. She was taking more pleasure from this one fight than she had from years of putting arrogant assholes in their places. Her breathing was faster and she could feel herself flushed… and with some satisfaction saw that Korra was reacting the same way as well.
And besides, even if Asami did want to finish the fight, she missed the opportunity by staring at Korra’s bare legs - very strong and toned bare legs - a bit too long, giving her opponent the chance to step out of the pants.
"Well, this just got interesting," Korra said, her eyes glinting with mirth as she kicked off her trousers, standing defiantly in her bare legs, the cold air barely registering against the warmth simmering between them.
Then, not letting her eyes drop from Asami, she removed her boots.
“Only just?” Asami asked as she followed suit… and almost gasped as her toes touched the cold sand of the fighting ring. Suddenly, the already intimate duel became so much more sensual.
“So what was it about duels and sex being similar?” Asami asked as they kept exchanging strikes.
“When the duel is bad, you just want to get over it quickly,” Korra said and then, in softer voice, added: “But when it’s great and with the right partner… you never want it to end.”
The way she said it made treacherously pleasant warmth settle low in Asami’s stomach. But Korra didn’t give her time to just enjoy this feeling, launching a series of blows, powerful and fast. After Asami stumbled during second parry, she realized that Korra was just too strong for her and that she’d need to rely more on dodging rather than blocking… but Korra didn’t give her a chance. A second cut to Asami’s doublet joined the first and the piece of clothing didn’t survive this one, sliding against Asami’s body down, leave her topless if not for a rather risqué lacy black bra, one she put on thinking that this date night with Korra might be topped with… a different type of exertion.
It definitely was working its magic, too, because Korra’s eyes went wide in amazement, her guard dropping completely. Asami seized the moment, striking with a quick thrust, going through the fabric but leaving skin untouched, piercing Korra’s top and pinning it to the wall of the duelling ring. Korra reacted immediately, sliding out of her shirt and freeing herself.
Asami’s eyes must’ve been looking like Korra’s did moments before as she saw for the first time all the muscles of Korra’s body, all the scars, all that strength and grace. And while Korra’s bra was much plainer than Asami’s, the sight alone made Asami feel so lightheaded that when Korra brought her blade down and started cutting off Asami’s trousers, she couldn’t even free her rapier, still stuck in the wall of the ring.
She did that and moved back, almost shaking from desire the moment she felt the cold air on her bare legs.
“You… wow…” Korra whispered, her eyes going up and down Asami’s body but the warmth in them made Asami feel good.
Admired, not objectified.
“Like what you see?” she asked.
“I…” Korra cleared her throat. “I’m just checking if I didn’t manage to nick you and score a point.”
“Not yet,” Asami said. “Seems the fight is still on.”
And she struck.
But this time there was no fire in her attack, it was slow and easily blocked. With their swords locked, Korra leaned forward.
“Maybe… maybe…” the thought that the lady-killer Avatar of Blades is suddenly so bashful almost made Asami laugh out loud. Except… it wasn’t the Avatar of Blades anymore. It was Korra. For weeks it had been Korra. “Maybe we could continue this duel… somewhere else? In… in my room for example?”
"Well," Asami replied with a mischievous smile, "trying to remove the rest of my clothes with a rapier might not be the best idea." Then, despite everything she was feeling, she forced herself to be serious. “Are you sure?”
Korra swallowed, her voice barely a whisper.
“I am,” she said. “More than anything. I trust you, Asami. I think I lo-… I want this. I want to be yours. I don’t need you to heal me. But I need you to trust me that I can make this decision for myself. For the right reasons. But what about you?”
Asami looked Korra in the eyes and smiled.
“I trust you,” she said. “And I think you know my answer.”
“Then you know mine,” Korra said. “It really isn’t... just a game to me, you know?”
“I know,” Asami answered. “And neither is it for me.”
Their lips met over the crossed blades.
* * *
It wasn’t as if Korra’s previous lovers – whatever was that brought them together – were rough with her. Well, some were, but only if she allowed them too (though now, a treacherous voice was whispering in her mind, asking her if she’d ever even considered saying ‘no’). Some were gentle or tender. Most were as focused on giving her pleasure as they were on receiving it.
But Asami was the first one – perhaps apart from Opal, but she did not want to think about Opal right now, not about her nor about the way she had treated her – who was actually sweet.
Whose every touch, every kiss, every whisper, every look and every question spoke volumes on how much she cared about her. About Korra.
She undressed her almost with reverence, but when it came to touching her, she hesitated.
“I’m not made of glass,” Korra whispered, taking Asami’s hand and putting on her right breast.
Asami immediately leaned forward, kissed Korra hard on the lips, while her thumb began rubbing her nipple which quickly got harder by result. Korra slowly lied down on the bed, took off her panties and slightly spread her legs, giving Asami a view of her already wet pussy.
She’d been naked with plenty of people, but for the first time she felt vulnerable. And, somewhat surprisingly, it was a good feeling.
Asami must have noticed something on her face, however, because she hesitated yet again.
“Are you-“ she began, but Korra didn’t let her finish.
“If you ask if I’m sure again, I’ll grab my rapier and spank your ass with the flat of the blade!”
The threat was so ridiculous that they both laughed, the tension for a moment disappearing.
“Kinky,” Asami muttered.
“You have no idea,” Korra replied, even as she felt her face go red and warm.
She leaned up quickly, grabbed Asami by her panties and pulled onto the bed… in the process tearing the lacy panties off.
“Oopsie,” she said, not regretting it one bit.
“I’ll send you the bill-“ Asami began but Korra silenced her with a kiss.
When they broke the kiss, Asami was looking at Korra with such intensity in her green eyes, that Korra’s breath hitched. Slowly, Asami removed her bra, gently pushed Korra onto the bed and laid down next to her.
For a moment, they didn’t do anything, just lying next to each other.
Lying and staring because Korra suddenly couldn’t get enough of Asami’s beautiful curves, of her sensuous body, of the smooth, pale skin. Slowly, she reached and brushed Asami’s cheek and then kissed her on the lips.
Slow. Tender.
Her lips travelled lower, to Asami’s neck and collarbone and she kissed and licked and sucked until Asami uttered a wordless moan, her hand sliding through Korra’s hair. Then Korra’s mouth travelled to Asami’s breasts, teasing with her lips, tongue and teeth, while her hand slid lower, between Asami’s legs.
She felt Asami shudder and spread her legs and Korra first gently brushed the insides of her thighs, then tenderly touched Asami’s entrance.
She stopped, breaking off the kisses to look into Asami’s eyes, asking without speaking.
“Korra… I want to make you feel good,” Asami whispered.
Korra couldn’t help but grin.
“Oh, I’ve got a feeling that you will,” she said, before growing serious. “But let me first. I mean if I can-“
“You can do whatever you want with me,” Asami replied.
Korra started rubbing Asami’s pussy, before slowly sliding one finger in. She felt a shiver go through the noblewoman’s body and she kissed her on the lips, capturing the moan. Asami was wet, warm and ready and just felt so good around Korra’s fingers as she begin to move it in and out, sometimes adding a circular motion, moving closer and closer to Asami’s core, while continuously kissing her, enjoying the sounds she was making into Korra’s lips as much as she was enjoying the way in which Asami’s body shivered in pleasure against Korra’s finger. Before long Asami was moving in the rhythm of Korra’s actions, humping her hips against Korra’s fingers.
And the sweet, throaty whispers, moaned and whimpers she was making while Korra was kissing her. The way she was kissing Korra back with all of herself. That alone made Korra clench her thighs, trying to stop herself from rubbing against Asami’s thigh.
Then she pulled her finger out and almost laughed at the ridiculously disappointed – almost betrayed – gasp that escaped Asami.
“Korra… please…” she whispered… but Korra was already trailing kisses down Asami’s body, before settling between her legs.
At first she run her tongue against Asami’s folds, making her gasp and her entire body shake. One of Asami’s hands grasped as the bedsheets, the other grabbed Korra’s hair… then released it quickly, as if ashamed by the gesture.
“You can do that,” Korra whispered and quickly returned to her task.
She used two fingers to spread Asami open as she began lapping a bit harder. Asami was breathing faster and harder now, her hips moving against Korra’s face.
“Yes… Korra… yes… please… please… your fingers… too… please…” she whimpered.
The thought that she’s making Asami unravel like that only spurred Korra to start licking harder, circling her tongue around Asami’s clit while pushing two fingers into Asami’s pussy, feeling the inner walls clench on her fingers.
Asami’s entire body was almost writhing now on the bed, her coming undone at Korra’s efforts. For a moment Korra’ glanced up, as Asami’s face, and saw those green eyes looking straight at her.
Only for a moment, because the moment their eyes met, Asami gave a loud scream and closed her eyes, as her entire body arched in pleasure. Korra kept licking, even as she curled her fingers a bit, extending Asami’s pleasure, helping her ride it out.
And finally – finally – Asami collapsed onto the bed.
“That was… that was…” she said… before leaning and kissing Korra on the lips. “Thank you. You’ve wrecked me.”
“Pleasure all mine,” Korra said, smiling at her.
“Not all, I assure you. In fact, you’ve wrecked me so thoroughly, that I think I need to go to sleep right now,” Asami slurred, lying on her side and closing her eyes.
For a moment Korra just stared at her stunned and dumbfounded… before Asami opened her eyes, kissed Korra again and pushed down onto the bed.
“Joking,” she whispered into Korra’s ear before tickling it with her tongue.
“You ass!” Korra laughed, but then she felt Asami’s warm breath on her bound… then lower… and soon she was too busy moaning and gasping to keep laughing.
Notes:
So... yeah, that was that. My second written (but first posted) smut scene in a fic! I hope it fit both of these characters as they are in this story. Writing it was... an experience, for sure.
Don't try sword-stripping at home! (Or do, who am I to be telling you how to live your lives?)
And, some other similar scenes that served as inspiration (but they're not F/F so not as good):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYDGR2C54ro
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-_8pMHiRnE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvoukUX9ass (can't find the full version which had him pinning her jacket to the wall and her slipping out of it, a move that inspired a part of the Korrasami duel).Big thanks to Just_Addie for consultations on this chapter.
Oh and I hope you enjoyed the fluffiness of the this and the last chapter... as these are the last unambiguously happy chapters in this story :(
See you soon and in the meantime comments REALLY welcome :)
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