She knew that face, the one he made whenever he couldn't bend lightening, whenever Azula showed her prowess, whenever someone doubted his strength. It was his determination, blind to the point that he would ignore threats of death and risk for that small glimpse or chance of honor and glory. She saw it now; his mouth set in a firm line, eyebrows furrowed, as he walked up the steps and then the hallway that led to the throne room where his father waited amidst the sounds of despair and destruction, the cries of pain and death that echoed from the blood covered battlefield in the valley below. And still he walked, climbing those golden steps of his once home with two swords already stained in his hands - hands covered in dirt and grime, frustration and anger from time in exile and then as a refugee when all was lost and his only future was that of a tea-maker. But … but then hands covered with hope when he saw a twelve year old boy create fire that he taught him to bend and thought maybe, maybe he could have it all back one day, when his father was brought down and when the fire nation needed someone to show a better way. Although until then, in the dark of night, the prince would slip away while the others slept. Those nights, he would look up in the sky, close his eyes, clench his fists, and sometimes hold himself as his body quaked and swayed with his release from memories of a time past when everything was alright even if his cries weren't heard and his tears never showed.
Katara had watched him those nights. She crept up slowly behind his muscled form and stared at his illuminated body, moving with emotions and words unspoken hidden behind a face scarred with eyes so powerful but sad. And she thought to herself that she had never seen anything so moving, so truly powerful. A teenager with a world against him, fighting demons seen and unseen, but with a soul so honorable and with a penchant for righteousness … he was beauty of another kind.
Sokka could attract girls because of his looks; Aang because of his personality (and the fact that he was the avatar), but Zuko? His scar offset most and his crude demeanor would shun girls away. But Katara had patience unlike most and after consistently watching him out under the moon night after night, a single soul trying to find its way, pushing and pulling and swaying with everything life threw at it, she learned what beauty truly was.
And to her, as she witnessed Zuko stand before the throne room, outside the closed doors knowing that in a few minutes he, and only he, would determine everything for his own future, hands clenched, eyes blazing, and his body quaking with fears and frustration and anguish, Katara ….
… Katara had never seen anyone more beautiful.