Somehow, Katara always managed to get her way. When she was a small child, she had made good use of her large blue eyes. She had learned that if she angled her head just so in the face of the sun, her eyes would catch the sunlight and sparkle, bedazzling those that she pleaded with and almost always made them give into her demands.
When she grew older, she had learned that charm and flirtation worked the same way that her childish antics had. A gentle brush of the hand here, a soft smile there, and the boys were putty in her hands.
When flirtation and bedazzlement failed, there was always tenacity. In the Northern Water Tribe, she had made good use of her stubborn streak to wear down Master Pakku. The man had been tough as nails, but her strength and determination had eventually wore him down.
Yes, one way or the other Katara certainly always managed to win.
Except on the day of the Black Sun. Her big, blue eyes, tenacity and charms were rendered useless as she watched Zuko be cut down by his father. And no matter how much she pleaded with the Spirits, no matter how many bargains she made, he would never come back.
There are just some things that can never be won.