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Asami finds her new wife on the quiet balcony off of the secondary bar; the whole venue is theirs, of course, but they chose to keep the party in the ballroom, to keep this space as a quiet refuge for only their closest friends. The two of them as important as they are, their wedding becoming a capital-‘E’ Event had been inevitable; there’s a greater number business associates and politicians and obscure royalty in attendance than either of them would have strictly preferred.
It hadn’t mattered, in the end. When Korra had floated down the aisle towards her on Tonraq’s arm, she hadn’t been able to see anyone else, anyway.
Approaching quietly, Asami announces her presence with a light touch of Korra’s elbow. “Hi, wife.”
“Hey back,” Korra says, turning away from the view to smile at her. “Wife.” Her face is lit up in an aurora of hues from the city skyline and the glow of the spirit portal, ethereal in her long white dress.
As happy as Korra seems to be to see her, Asami is cognisant of the far-away look in her bride’s eyes.
“Should I start gathering the others,” Asami asks, “to bring them in here, like we talked about?”
Korra bites her lip for a moment. “Yeah. I think that would be good, actually.” She hadn’t been sure of the idea, when Asami had suggested it, worried it was too morose a thing for a wedding.
“You’re missing her right now?” It’s not really a question. Korra misses her mom all the time, but the contemplative expression she’d held when Asami found her is reserved for moments when she’s holding Senna particularly close.
Korra sighs, and loops her arms around Asami, who places her hand on her wife’s hips. “I just wish she were here.”
“I know, love,” Asami says, squeezing the prominent bones under her hands with her thumbs. “Me too.”
She wishes her own mother were present too, but she can’t pretend it’s the same. Yasuko is more of a concept to her than a person at this point; the memories are so few and so vague. Asami’s had twenty years to get used to the idea her mother wouldn’t be at her wedding… and as for her dad? That was complicated. She’d told him she’d forgiven him, but the separation of time taught her it was more that she’d accepted she still loved him, and acknowledged there was some good left. If he’d lived, she doesn’t think they’d be super close now. She couldn’t imagine him walking her down the aisle, letting him give her away after he’d left her all alone for so long. He’d be here, though.
They both have people they wish were here; it’s only that Korra’s grief is rawer, sharper. Senna and Korra had been the closest they’d ever been when she was given her diagnosis. Korra’s years recovering in the South after Zaheer were the longest she’d lived in her family home since she was an infant. After the work of rebuilding Republic City and settling conflict in the Earth Kingdom, she’d prioritised building the relationships she’d been denied by her confined childhood. It seemed wholly unfair to Asami that Senna’s illness came just as Korra started to learn what peace was.
“She loved you, you know,” Korra says. Asami does, but it still twists in her stomach, setting her heart aching even as it warms it.
“I loved her too,” Asami says. “And so did a lot of other people here.” It’s a gentle reminder.
Korra take the opportunity for a quick kiss before she shoves Asami lightly back. “Go on then, get the others. I’ll get stuff ready for the toast.”
Asami runs into Tonraq first - or rather he runs into her, clasping a large hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a tight hug, as he has whenever he’s seen her tonight. She’s gained just enough of a grip on her high-running emotions that it’s stopped making her cry out of pure affection each time. “Korra and I are trying to get a moment with close loved ones in the back bar,” she tells him. “If you could be there in fifteen minutes or so? If you run into anyone that should be there, if you could let them know too, in case I don’t manage to find everyone…”
“I’m on it, Asami.” Her father-in-law’s cheeks are ruddy, and he’s clearly a little merry, which Asami is glad for - she hasn’t paid for an open bar for nothing.
She finds Opal and Bolin next, and then Kya, who promises to hunt down Lin. Once she tracks down Jinora, it’s as simple as anything for her to get a message to the rest of their inner circle - the utility of spirit projection never fails to astonish Asami.
“That was quick,” Korra says, once she comes back. She’s pouring pale golden wine into flutes, and Asami watches the liquid fizz.
“I found Jinora.” It’s enough of an explanation, and she joins Korra at the bar, popping open another bottle to help her wife in her task.
“Do you mind being the one to explain everything?” Korra says after a quiet moment. “I don’t know if I could lead it without crying.”
“Of course,” Asami says. She lightly bumps her hip against Korra’s, making the other woman splash wine over her hand. She laughs at Korra’s glare, and takes her by the wrist, kissing the sweet alcohol away.
Truthfully, Asami feels a little funny about the fact she’ll be the one addressing the crowd. As much as she loves and knows she is loved, it’s always been true that Korra stands at the centre of their community of friends and family. She’s the point around which they all coalesced. It scares Asami a little, when she tentatively thinks as Korra’s family - both blood and otherwise - as her own. Now that they’re married, she supposes it’s official. She’s part of a tribe, a member of an extended family - she never has been before.
Slowly, the others start filtering in: Tenzin, Pema and their kids, Jinora holding hands with Kai; three generations of Beifongs - maybe four, if the way Opal blushes awkwardly when handed a glass of wine, sharing a look with Bolin, means anything; Bolin and Mako; Kya and Bumi, with a sharp looking woman Asami doesn’t know personally, but recognises at once as Firelord Izumi. She’s not the only royalty - though merely a ceremonial figurehead without institutional power, now, King Wu joins them.
Once everyone’s present, Asami taps her newly ringed finger against her glass, letting the chime ring out and get everyone’s attention.
“Thanks for joining us, everyone,” she says, as a semi circle slowly forms in front of her and Korra. “We know today has been a bit of a circus, and so we wanted to make some time for you all, as our nearest and dearest. We are so lucky to have you in our lives, and it’s our great pleasure to have you all here with us. But first, we wanted to take a moment to acknowledge friends and family who couldn’t be with us.”
She looks to Korra, to see if she wants to take over, but she shakes her head slightly, her eyes trusting and slightly glazed with tears already. Asami drops a hand from her wine flute to hold Korra’s, lacing their fingers together tightly.
“We lost Senna shortly after the engagement, and her absence has been felt every step we’ve taken to get to today,” Asami says. It’s an understatement. The loss had come close to tearing them apart. “And there’s nothing we could wish for more than if she could have been here to watch us be married. I’m so grateful to her for bringing Korra into the world - it’s better for having her. I’m better for having her. And I owe all of that to Senna.” There’s a loud cough. “And Tonraq, of course.” There’s a round of chuckles, some of them sounding slightly choked. “So I’d like to propose a round of toasts. First to Senna, and then I’d like to open the floor to all of you, to raise a glass to anyone else we love who’s not here today.”
She lifts her glass, and watches the other’s follow suit.
“Before we toast-” it’s Tonraq speaking, and their glasses hang in the air, waiting- “and I know I touched on my own feelings about this in my speech at dinner, but I just want to say… today would have made Senna so happy, and so proud. We’re lucky to have two incredible daughters. She loved you both so much, as do I.”
“To Mom,” Korra says, finding her voice. A single wet streak maps the length of her face, from the inner corner of her eye to her chin.
“To Senna,” comes the echo.
“I know my Mom is still alive,” Kya says, after a pause, “but she was really upset she wasn’t able to make the journey. Watching you two find love was a great pleasure for her, which - I don’t know, seems a little weird given… you know what? Let’s not get into that… but it did. Korra, she’s loved you as long as she’s known you, and I don’t think it took much more than that after meeting you for her to say the same, Asami. So, to Mom - Katara.”
The echoes are a mix of moms, grandmas and Kataras, and Asami finds herself wishing very badly to see the old woman, blue eyes always seeing right to the core of her. They’d grown close, the shared experience of loving the Avatar bringing them together, but her health was simply too fragile in her old age to risk the trip from the South.
“I’d also like to mention my Uncle Sokka, if that’s alright - I know you never met Asami, but I think you’d have liked him. I’m sure he would’ve adored you. And he would’ve absolutely loved this party.”
Tenzin, of course, is the one to mention Aang. “I’ve spent my whole life doing my best to uphold my father’s legacy. It lives in its truest form in the two of you. He would have loved the way you love each other, and been so proud of how you work together to make the world better.”
Firelord Izumi speaks up next, and Asami is curious when she begins; the woman isn’t close with her or Korra, and she’d been somewhat surprised to see her within the close knit crowd. “Hello. I hope I’m not intruding - Kya convinced me to come back here - but given the spirit of what we’re doing here, I’d like to speak for my father. He wasn’t able to get to know you the way he wished, Avatar Korra - but I know he greatly admired you, and thought you did credit to Aang’s memory. Asami Sato, you might just be the most impressive young woman in the United Republic, and he had a huge deal of respect for you, too. He’d have loved to be here today.”
Asami offers her sincere gratitude for the Firelord’s words, Korra nodding next to her; in the last months of Zuko’s life, he and Korra had begun to exchange frequent letters. Izumi’s sentiments certainly match those of the correspondence.
“Grandma Toph?” Opal nudges the little old woman.
“What?” the woman grumps. “Everyone’s been said already.”
“Oh, go on, you sour old bat,” Kya says, smiling. She lightly hip checks Toph, who glowers in a way that suggests she’s tempting to bury her pseudo-niece alive. Asami is always entertained to no end by the pair of them together - Kya’s utter irreverence lends her an immunity to Toph’s signature hostility that only riles the old woman even more. “You’re the only representative of the old Team Avatar here. Give some wisdom to the youngsters, hm?”
Toph folds her arms. “Hmph. You kids are doing alright. The others would have probably said something to that effect, but more sappy, the losers.”
From Toph, it’s lavish praise.
“To the original Team Avatar?” Bolin says tentatively, but he’s echoed soundly.
“And to you lot, too, I guess,” Toph says.
Asami takes a deep breath to wrap things up - they’ve moved to toasting the youth in the room instead of missing loved ones, so she supposes they’re done - but Korra squeezes her hand, and smiles softly at her. Asami lets her take over.
“I’d like to raise a last glass to a couple more people, who may not be as known to the room at large as some of the people we’ve mentioned, but whose absence is no less missed. Yasuko and Hiroshi Sato.”
Asami inhales sharply, as she looks to Korra, who is looking only back at her. Her chest throbs, and she feels a burn in the back of her throat. Of course Korra wouldn’t let her other herself from the group, or ignore Asami’s losses. Asami hadn’t felt able to mention them herself - nobody had known her mom, and she still got nervous talking positively about her dad in company. There were people in the room who had every right to feel negatively towards him, after all, no matter his sacrifice.
She loves Korra so much. Her wife. Her family.
“If your mom could see you, Asami - she’d see the most brilliant, beautiful, kindhearted woman in the world. I wish I could have met her, but I’ll do my best to honour her every day by trying my hardest to be the wife you deserve. As for Hiroshi… he was a complicated man, but he loved fiercely, and he gave everything for Republic City. He is missed, today.” She lifts her glass. “To Yasuko Sato.”
“To Yasuko!” comes the cry, and the clinking of glass. Korra’s arm slips round Asami’s waist as she blinks hard against the dampness burning her eyes.
“And to Hiroshi!” Korra calls.
Asami’s tears can’t be held at bay when her father’s name is said just as resoundingly around the room. She’s no fool - she doesn’t believe there to be much love lost for Hiroshi Sato; rather, it’s love given freely to her. The unconditional support of family and friends who love her, and love Korra.
“To absent friends!” Tonraq takes over, with a final toast, the semi circle fracturing as everyone taps glasses with everyone else. Asami blindly lifts hers to each person that approaches, but seeks out Korra’s sole attention as soon as she can.
“Thank you, baby,” she says, and Korra thumbs away the tears as they fall. “I love you so much.”
“Love you more.”
“Don’t start that,” Asami warns her wife, heartache settling into a glow as her tears dry up. “Or we’ll be here all night. And I have plans for you later, Mrs Sato.”
“I still think we should go for “Mrs and Mrs Of The Southern Water Tribe.”
“And I still don’t believe that’s your legal surname, so.” She kisses Korra, unable to resist her put-out little pout. “Wanna get back out there and dance? I feel like we haven’t had a chance with everyone trying to schmooze us.”
“Absolutely.” Korra sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles piercingly, getting the attention of all of the little groups that have splintered off. “As much as we appreciated you taking the time to do that with us, my wife paid a whole load for that band out there. And since that bank account is now joint? I’m going to have to insist you all quit wasting my money and come dance.”
“Last to the floor’s a hog monkey!” Rohan shouts, slipping from under his mom’s arm with eel-like ease and sprinting off. No one is far behind him.