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Between the shades of red, yellow and orange that color the trees of the Royal Caldera City, the Royal Palace fits naturally as if it had stood there since before people had first set foot on the islands of the archipelago. Its central spire towers over all the other buildings in the caldera, matched in height only by the rugged edges of the dormant volcano that encircle the city on all sides. The red roofs are vibrant against the clear, cerulean sky and the gold painted upturned eaves glitter in the sunlight.
Even the front gate is majestic, Korra thinks offhandedly as she and Asami wait before it, her eyes on the two red dragons on the doors that seem to curl around each other as they slither over the golden backdrop. Their heads almost meet at the top of the gate but are gradually separated as the doors are being opened from the inside.
Korra would’ve expected anyone but the person who waits for them on the other side. Fire Lord Izumi has her hands clasped behind her back, an easy smile on her face.
“Avatar Korra,” she greets, walking through the opening when the gate has been fully opened. The light robes and glasses give her an approachable air—if not for the golden five-pronged headpiece in her topknot, it would be hard to know that this is the Fire Lord. “And Asami Sato. It is my pleasure to welcome you to the palace.”
“Uh, hello,” Korra says, after which they both bow, “it’s good to be here.”
“Thank you for having us,” Asami adds.
“The pleasure is entirely mine. Please, follow me and we’ll get you settled.” With a wave of her hand, Izumi turns and motions for them to follow her.
The dark, scorched rock on which the palace sits offsets the pale, sand-colored tiles that lead further into the courtyard. It’s an empty space that just sits between the palace and the large wall encircling the estate, probably as a defensive perimeter, but the absence of opulence here as opposed to the gate and the palace is notable.
They’ve only just arrived in the Fire Nation and already, the feeling encroaches upon Korra that not everything here is as she expected it to be. Her knowledge of the Fire Nation consists solely of the grandiose stories from her bending teachers and Asami’s vague recollections of summers spent on Ember Island, years ago.
“I have to say,” Korra starts as they enter the palace, walking between high pillars and heavy, dark red curtains, “I hadn’t expected you to greet us in person. The late Earth Queen wouldn’t have been caught dead so close to her citizens.” She cringes a little as she says it, realizing that may not have been the most respectful way of putting it.
Izumi takes a turn, leading them further into the palace. “A good ruler is not defined by the distance they keep from the people. Authority necessitates closeness, to a certain extent—you need to show the people you care about them. My father taught me that.” She sighs, stopping at the end of the hallway. “In my personal opinion, Hou-Ting was never quite suited to rule for that reason.”
They’re shown the Avatar’s chambers, a large, incredibly vermilion room filled to the brim with antique furniture; bronze, porcelain, jade and lacquer wares, most of the walls covered with hanging scrolls depicting various landscapes and an array of mounted weaponry. Korra hesitantly picks a jian off its display and studies the engraving in the center of the blade.
“I trust you will be comfortable here,” Izumi says. “Someone will come by later to inform you of tonight’s procedures. It’ll only take a minute; after that, you’re most welcome to come down to the garden for the celebrations. Please do try to be there by sundown.”
Korra thanks her and, after the Fire Lord leaves them alone, puts back the sword and proceeds to fall down onto the giant bed in the middle of the room face-first, next to where Asami has taken a seat. The duvet smells like jasmine and is so soft that she feels herself sink fully into it. “I wonder what she meant by ‘procedures’. I hope it’s not a lecture on etiquette.”
Asami chuckles. “It probably will be.” Her hand strokes tenderly down Korra’s back, fingers following her spine, before coming to rest on her lower back. “Izumi may be progressive in how she governs, but there are some things about Fire Nation culture that even she cannot change.”
Korra groans before turning her head so she can meet Asami’s gaze. “That’s stupid,” she mumbles into the duvet. “I can mind my P’s and Q’s just fine.”
That statement is met with a suspicious silence. A smile plays along Asami’s lips as she eventually breaks it. “Well, you have improved significantly. But Fire Nationals take it several steps further than the Republic City elite.”
If not for Asami’s continuous ministrations as she elaborates on the rules of conversation and rank she learned as a child, Korra may have fled the palace right then and there. Shortly afterwards Izumi’s advisor comes by and reiterates what Asami had already said, adding more protocols concerning the amounts and order the foods are supposed to be enjoyed in, among other things—Korra quickly zones out and spends the lesson looking at the intricately decorated jians , daos and daggers that grace the walls of the Avatar’s chambers. She never considered herself a warrior that uses weapons, apart perhaps from her staff. Briefly, she wonders what it would be like to hold that jian from before in a battle.
All too soon, the sun paints over the sky in a brilliant, fiery glow that seems more fitting here, behind the crimson and gold of the Capital’s reaching buildings, than anywhere else in the world. All too soon, Korra is wearing the blue dress she only has for fancy occasions and walking onto the soft grass, her hand clasped in Asami’s.
The Szeto festival is named after Avatar Szeto, who ushered in an era of peace and stability half a millennium ago, having made the Fire Nation into a unified, bureaucratic state that was able to prosper during his lifetime. His life and achievements are celebrated every year at the end of the harvest season, a week after the equinox, in early autumn.
Most of the leaves on the trees in the royal gardens have turned but not many have fallen. There are multiple tables around the gardens where food is served: elaborate dishes of roast duck, fire cakes and sea slug tentacles, but also traditional festival snacks like fire gummies, flaming fire flakes, dumplings, fruit pies and cookies. Their accumulative scent mingles with the sweet air of a late summer evening. There is also an overabundance of stalknose mushrooms, which typically grow on overcrowded ears of grain and are offered to the palace’s esteemed guests in decorated bowls on every available surface as the symbol of the successful harvest.
Korra is hungry and itching to grab some as they pass another table, but she doesn’t get to eat any of it yet. As the Avatar, she is a guest of honor and as such, obliged to make conversation with Izumi’s courtiers for designated amounts of time based on their status at court. It’s all too confusing and she keeps messing up the timing of these conversations and the order to greet people in, but Asami remains a steady presence by her side, stopping her or pulling her along with the gentlest touch of cool fingers on her upper arm.
In accordance to the rules, Korra is moving to the crowd from one side of the space and Izumi is doing the same from the opposite side, so that they will eventually meet in the middle. The moment can’t come soon enough, Korra thinks, as she sees Izumi’s advisor look of horror when she accidentally accepts a gift offered to her—just as her hands close around the dark lacquer writing box, she remembers she’s supposed to refuse it at least a few times before accepting.
“Can you do something for me?” Korra whispers in Asami’s ear when they get a moment of relief from all the courtiers eager to interact with the Avatar.
“Anything,” Asami whispers back.
“Will you sneak out with me?” This earns her a raised eyebrow. “After we’ve gotten to Izumi, I mean,” Korra corrects herself. It should be soon; they’ve already reached the turtle duck pond in the center of the gardens, which is alight with the soft glow of floating lanterns. Izumi is nearly there, but appears to still be in deep conversation with one noble or vassal or another.
“You’re aware we are guests in what is probably the most well-guarded place in the world?” Asami says it airily, but there’s a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.
Korra exhales, leaning into her girlfriend. “Yeah.”
The response comes quick, a promise whispered into the night like a prayer. “Alright.”
Just then, Izumi reaches them.
***
Traversing the courtyard outside the palace wall in the black of night sends shivers down Korra’s spine. She feels like a child again, doing things she knows are not allowed. Memories surface, of silently leaving her parents’ sealskin tent and going out into a snowstorm in search of a pack of polar bear dogs, or sneaking onto the roof to catch a pro bending match on the radio, when she had been explicitly forbidden from doing both of those things. But she was younger then—as they scale the walls surrounding the palace, the stakes seem impossibly higher.
Asami is right behind her as they clamber down the tall walls, half climbing and half sliding down. Korra loses her grip just before she reaches the ground and stumbles as she lands, pulling a stifled chuckle from Asami’s lips.
“ Shh ,” Korra loudly whispers as Asami lands on her feet without making a sound. She quickly checks her dress for any tears—all good, so far.
“You ‘ shh,’ ” Asami whispers back, laying a hand on the small of her back and lightly pushing Korra forward. “We’re almost out of here.”
Then Korra’s stomach rumbles loudly—in their haste, they’d foregone the buffet and its associated set of customs—causing both of them to burst out in suppressed laughter as they quickly walk along the wall, until they come across a part of the courtyard that is fully engulfed in a dark shadow cast by the tall apartment complex across from it. Hand in hand, Korra pulls Asami through it, quickly forgetting about the guards on the palace wall and the rules inside those facades as they enter Caldera City.
Of course, they’d briefly talked with Izumi. They covered the important topics like the state of things in the United Provinces and the democratic project in the former Earth Kingdom but also how things were going between the two of them. That question had caught Korra off guard, especially in such a regulated environment. Subconsciously, she’d assumed a topic like the Avatar’s love life would’ve been off-limits—it wasn’t, and Izumi seemed genuinely interested when Asami had blushed and spoken a bit about their journey across the five nations of the world.
As soon as the Fire Lord had moved on, however, so had they.
The first few neighborhoods they walk through are deserted. The people here must either be attending the garden party at the palace or hold their own festivities inside their homes, leaving the streets to Asami and Korra. Without a care in the world, they saunter underneath the endless strings of lanterns that illuminate the roads.
Korra swings their joined hands back and forth with a grin, feeling positively elated with their newfound freedom. This is what she had wanted from the outset, since the day they left Republic City; to be alone with Asami, truly alone, and experience the wonders of the world.
She stops walking. Asami turns back to her, the light from the lanterns reflecting in the golden earrings that dangle from her ears. In the dim light, her green eyes look like the buffed jade of the small dragon guarding the nightstand in the Avatar’s room. Korra doesn’t hesitate and steps in close, tucking a strand of soft, dark hair behind Asami’s ear before tenderly pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Perhaps this festival isn’t so aggravating after all,” she murmurs as they break apart.
“No,” Asami hums. She snakes her arms a bit further around Korra’s waist, keeping her close in their embrace. “Then again, you could probably make even my quarterly board meetings exciting.”
“All you have to do is ask,” Korra grins, “although, fair warning that I may accidentally cause Future Industries to go under.” She chuckles as they separate, keeping a secure hold on Asami’s hand.
“I wonder if they’ll ever hold a celebration for me,” Korra wonders offhandedly as they walk, glancing up at the lanterns and dragon banners and thinking about Szeto, but also of Yangchen’s festival and Kyoshi day. Even Aang is revered annually in the United Republic.
“They would be stupid not to,” Asami tells her. “You’ve changed the world. Made it infinitely better for every one of us.”
Korra feels her cheeks heat up. As the Avatar, she has always acted out of her innate sense of duty; all the ways in which the world has changed as a result of her doing so somehow still feel like an unintended consequence, even if she knows better. “Well,” she sighs, stroking over Asami’s knuckles with her thumb. “As long as they make blubbered seal jerky the festival food.”
They’ve made their way into a busier part of the city, where people have assembled in the street and hold excited conversations over the live music coming from a few blocks away. Here, the lanterns illuminate the stands of the street vendors and the game booths, whose brightly painted dragons glimmer in the yellow light. Korra spots a game where the goal is to spray water at a target and excitedly squeezes Asami’s hand. “That looks like fun.”
“That looks like it could easily be cheated by a waterbender,” Asami responds with a knowing grin. Then, without warning, she pulls Korra along, into the crowd.
“Asami,” Korra whispers, trying to slow her girlfriend down to no avail. “People are going to see us .” Probably the only downside to being the Avatar is the complete lack of privacy, Korra has come to find; although, it is worse in Republic City than anywhere else in the world.
Asami gives her a comforting smile over her shoulder, her hair swishing as she turns. “We’re just two girls enjoying the festival. No one is going to notice.”
The deep blue of her dress may prove her wrong about that, Korra thinks, but then they’re at the game booth and she has a job to do. The spray gun gets pressed into her hands by the eager man on the other side, who likely doesn’t even notice the incriminating evidence—her blue dress, blue eyes, and dark skin—until Korra has hit all targets in rapid succession and tells him she would like the biggest prize he has. Korra can’t help but grin as a giant, plush dragon is pushed into her hands, after which the man walks away, muttering something about having to put up a sign.
“My lady, please accept this gift of gratitude,” Korra says as she bows slightly and offers the dragon to Asami, “for accompanying me on this night.”
“Oh, I could never,” Asami plays along, laughing loudly when, after some more polite rejections, Korra gets fed up and just pushes it into her arms.
They spend most of the evening in this part of town, eating greasy festival foods that hadn’t been available in the palace and getting tipsy off burnt wine. Time seems to stand still here, in the lit up squares where dancers in dragon costumes move to an unbroken beat of the cymbals and the drums.
Someone does recognize Korra once during the night and she unsuccessfully pretends to be a Northern Water Tribe aristocrat to get out of it, doing a terrible imitation of her cousins’ stilted accent before bursting into a fit of laughter and pulling Asami along in her flight.
Her laughter echoes as she grins and runs, away from the festivities and into increasingly narrowing streets and alleyways. No thought of how to get back to the palace from here enters her mind—Korra is positively giddy living in the present, her face warm from the wine and the spicy foods, and her hand warm in Asami’s. “I told you,” she says breathlessly, as they turn into an alley that lacks the soft glow of strung-up lanterns. “That someone would recognize us.”
“You did,” Asami admits with a chuckle, “seeing you come up with a disguise on the spot was worth it, though.” Korra rolls her eyes fondly.
“I panicked, okay?”
“And you’re usually so good under pressure,” Asami teases with a smirk.
“Shut up,” Korra mutters, pulling her close and emphasizing her words with a kiss. In the sudden quiet of the backstreet, she can hear her heartbeat thundering in her chest, and against her better judgment blames the wine.
***
Long after the last shop has closed, longer still after the last drum has beaten and what feels like an eternity since the fireworks show at midnight, Korra and Asami wind up back at the tall wall that encircles the palace complex.
Korra feels her legs turn to blubber at the imposing sight of it, her cheeks still warm from their drinks. “How did we manage to sneak out, again?”
Asami throws her arm around Korra and leans heavy on her shoulder, her eyes falling shut. “I’m the boss of one of the leading companies in the world,” she says. “and you’re the Avatar. Climbing this wall should be a piece of cake for us.”
She seems even less steady on her feet than Korra. “Are you nauseous at all?” she asks her girlfriend.
“Not really,” Asami answers. “That usually comes the next morning.”
“Okay.” Korra turns into Asami fully, closing an arm around her middle and pulling her flush against her body, her fingers twisting into the fabric of Asami’s dress. “Hold onto me.”
“What are you—” Asami starts as she tightens her hold around Korra’s shoulders, but the Avatar is already moving, albeit more slowly and wobbly than usual. Bending is less fit for sneaking than she would like, but it’s really the only way for them to get back in that doesn’t involve an incredibly awkward conversation with the Fire Lord. Korra slams a foot down and a platform of earth shoots up underneath their feet, propelling them upwards. Just before they start to fall, she follows it up with a well-timed blast of air, which is enough to get them over the wall.
With Asami clutching her neck, Korra lands the two of them safely on the small pocket of air she manages to create with her one free hand. After that it’s only a matter of sneaking back inside, to the Avatar’s room. Korra only realizes quite how late it’s gotten when she notices the sky, just before they duck into a servant’s entrance. The inky dark of the night is already turning blue and pink.
Red morning skies mean rain, and rain in the caldera is an auspicious sign, one that calms Korra’s tired nerves and must be what sees them walk the tall, dark palace halls undisturbed.
If Izumi spots the dark circles under their eyes at breakfast the next morning, she doesn’t mention it, something Korra is grateful for. Still, there is no escaping the inquisitive gaze that falls on her and Asami when the captain of the guard enters, excusing himself for interrupting before informing his Fire Lord of the strange, raised plateau that has mysteriously appeared in the sandstone outside the palace wall overnight.