Korra wasn't scared of much: there were the infrequent jolts of panic when she fought or made a mistake- but the real fear- the fear she refused to acknowledge within herself (because acknowledging it would only serve to validate it) made pale memories flick behind her eyelids in the darkness of her room in the hours while sleep eluded her.
Avatar Aang wouldn't have fought them. They would have liked him. Of course they would rather spend time with her. The first Avatar, unable to bend all the elements- what a shame.
Inadequacy. That was her greatest fear. That she would never be enough. That her story, carved into sandstone walls out of mere obligation, would be hidden in the corners of the temples where no one would have to look upon her failure.
When she heard that silky voice floating out of the radio -you no longer have to live in fear; the time has come for benders to feel fear- she was cemented into place with cold sweat dripping down the hollow of her back. If she hadn't wanted to scream, she might have laughed.
Buddy, I'm nothing but solidified fear.
Tarlok came- we need someone fearless in the face of danger- and panic sizzled up so quickly in her throat it was a battle in itself to suppress it. Iamnotafraid. Iamnotafraid.
Then gala was just shot after shot. There was the girl resting a tastefully placed arm on Mako's (if only Korra was a master at making herself look good) and the police chief up in her face reminding her that she had done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Fear didn't make Korra timid and there was a fierce frustration building beneath the thin web of her shame.
The popcorning of the reporters was so well scripted that it was almost as though they had taped the nasally voice that whispered doubt in her head. This had trap stamped all over it in big red letters. How do you think Avatar Aang would have handled this? Are you afraid of Amon?
Iamnotafraid. Iamnotafraid.
"I am not afraid of anyone!"
Not even herself.