1. She loved his scar

And she got him to love it, too, because she loved it (Which is adorable and it probably took him a year to muster up the courage to tell her that, even if she sort-of argued it out of him). There was everything to love about it, really. It wasn't like the rest of his alabaster skin, of course, but it was soft in its own right; the color of Fire, an inner flame and an outer, and the color of him. It made him beautiful, and she told him this all the time and he never believed her, but it did. Something that was once shame, and now it was pride and honor. His scar was proof that he was mortal, that he was human - and that he had risen above this innate mortal fear of injury and pain, in defense of something as pure as a 13-year-old's desire to protect the weak.

2. She loved his clumsiness

It was cute. And hilarious. Mostly hilarious, a girl with milky-green eyes chuckled, but still cute. And she didn't mean that he was physically clumsy. He was possibly one of the most graceful men she'd ever met. But she remembered, how hard he'd tried to speak to her and gain her trust. How hard he'd tried to fit in with the group. There were several drunken and sober alike conversations (aka teasings) about that . . . ("So, Mr. Hotpants . . . I hear you're a badgerfrog whisperer, eh?" "Wha- NO. Agni's sake, it was one time-" "I mean, if you can get something to listen to you impersonate your crazy sister, you've GOT to be magicky or something, right?" "WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT?" "A little bird-" "MY ASS." "Whoa! Hey, watch the warrior's wolftail!") Ooh, they really gave him a hard time with that one. They still did - he was still clumsy, after all. From their first date to their wedding. Honestly.

3. She loved his smile

Possibly because they were so rare, back in the day, that she used to pride herself on being able to make him smile as easily as she twirled water around her fingertips. He smiles a lot more now, but they're still just as genuine. Small, shy smiles that meant he trusted you. He never used to smile. He was always scowling, spitting fire and venom and curses - or nothing at all. There used to be anger radiating all around him, fueling his bending more heatedly than the sun. But now he was gentle, and his bending was birthed from his breath, and his breath was steadied by his strength, and his strength was rooted in his heart: which, of course, was the heart of a king. A workaholic, grumpy king that gave her tiny smiles in exchange for a kind word, a gentle touch, a little kiss.

4. She loved his determination

Oh, it was damnably scary way back when. A crazed Fire Nation prince chasing three - then four - children across the globe? Even after a certain Avatar had (repeatedly) handed his butt back to him? That's determination. But that's also strength. Rising against an impossible challenge; that's who he was, isn't it? He's the type who would walk through blizzards if it would help his people (she would say "blazing infernos" but, really, maybe the fire-crazy firebender would enjoy that, the weirdo). Now that she thought about it, this drive of his . . . it's hope. She loves that he has so much hope. Hope enough to fuel 3 years of a thought-to-be fruitless quest to capture a boy with blue tattoos; hope enough to let that girl surrounded by crystals touch his face; hope enough to betray his family; hope enough to guide an airbender to his destiny. She loves hope; it's what she likes to think she gave and still gives out to people. He tells her she does; she loves him for that. How many husbands had to literally battle their future-wives to learn about them?

5. She loved his . . .

Now, it isn't fair. She's slower now, with her belly as big as it is and her body aching with preparation for a child, and he walks quickly - always has. And he's being him, so very him, that she feels like a teenager again and her face is warm and her baby's kicking (because her hearts fluttering, and she supposes her little one is a bit worried for her at the moment). He walks over, his "good" side (she didn't like dividing his face up into "good" and "bad", there was just "scarred" and "not scarred", but the idiot still had his insecurities) facing her at first, but even when she sees the scar of honor on his face, she doesn't recoil - never, not like others, will she ever recoil at the most beautiful thing in the world. And then he's scratching his cheek, eyes wandering away shyly, no doubt thinking that the Fire Lord should not, in fact, be ditching his duties to philander with a waterbender; but she laughs when she sees him and his silliness, and then he's smiling. He's smiling that little smile that used to be rare, and his steps quicken, and now he's a Fire Lord determined to ditch his dull meetings in favor of flirting with a woman dressed in reds and golds and blues all together.

She tells him to go back to work, though she doesn't really want him to, and he knows this and takes one of the firelilies she'd picked earlier that day and tucks it into her hair; and he's smiling, and she's laughing, and still trying to think of more things on her list (she didn't want him to be the only one with a list of lovely things, it wouldn't be fair, even if he was shy about it and still had yet to reveal all of the listings) - but he's looking at her like she's the moon and the stars, and it's really very distracting, which she says plainly to him. He blushes ("Like a little girl!" a earthbending master once said.) and demands to know what's on her list, but also to stop making the list, since he's embarrassed enough that she knows about his.

"How many things are on your list?" she asks first, and he replies with a grumble and an awkward cough that sounds suspiciously like "Six", so she tells him that she had seven and thinks of the other three while berating him with, "Only six?"