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Katara is beautiful, though he would never say so. It's a weakness to notice it, to be captured by those defiant blue eyes as he ties her to the tree with careful, respectful hands. Zuko does not let his hands wander, but his eyes roam over soft brown loops of hair and softer brown skin, the curve of rounded cheeks and soft lips, the slender legs under her split dress.
He does not let her see that he thinks her beautiful, or let it stop him from questioning her. But she lingers disquietingly in his mind afterwards, and haunts his dreams. The vague, urgent dreams of coupling are embarrassing, but not new, and he can repeat his uncle's words to himself - they happen, they mean nothing, don't worry about them. But when he wakes with his eyes stinging from a dream of her kissing him in the house on Ember Island, smiling up at him, wearing the red of the Fire Nation, when his heart aches as much as his nether parts... then he is troubled and ashamed.
*
She is beautiful when they fight, in an oasis between cliffs of ice. Beautiful and deadly, like a fine sword, flashing blue and silver as her arms twist and her body flows like her water. He tries to insult her, clumsily, but his treacherous eyes will not be wrenched away from determined blue eyes and a slim, strong body. She would die for this boy she found such a short time ago, he knows that, and his bitter envy gives him the strength to strike her down.
But he makes sure, before he leaves, that she will not roll into the water or hurt herself somehow. It would be unchivalrous, he tells himself, and knows he is lying. He doesn't want her to suffer for her loyalty and honour. He admires them, and they make her even more beautiful in his eyes.
*
She is beautiful when she offers to help his uncle, in the barren semi-desert of the Earth Kingdom. Her eyes are soft and she holds out her hand to him and offers kindness even to her enemy, and he screams at her in fear as well as anger, pushing her away because she weakens him. Because a part of him would kneel at her feet and throw any hope of regaining his honour away for even the chance of seeing those eyes soften for him, holding her in his arms and saying the stupid, tender words that poison his dreams of her.
*
She is beautiful in the green light of the crystals, deep underground, and when she reaches out to him and lifts her eyes to his face, he is hers. He aches for her, submits willingly to those tender fingers brushing the scar he never let anyone touch before, and if she can mend the scar perhaps there is hope that one day she'd look at him with something other than revulsion.
But she turns her back on him, doesn't keep her word, and her beauty and his desire turn to bitter bile in his heart. He goes back to Azula, and finds solace in Mai's company. She is everything that Katara is not - cool where Katara is passionate, tall where Katara is small, elegant and restrained instead of shabby and tempestuous. She eases the ache inside him, and slowly begins to replace Katara in his dreams and yearnings.
*
But Katara is beautiful in her anger at his betrayal, when her eyes spark and her brows draw down in a scowl. He has never seen her so angry, and the venom in her voice has the same bitter edge that he remembers from the catacombs. Zuko is about as adept at reading people as he is at flying, but he recognises the pain behind her anger and realizes how very badly he misunderstood, or she did, that afternoon a couple of months and a lifetime ago.
So he endures her disdain, and tries to find ways to make it up to her. He trains the Avatar, brings her father back to her, but it is when he stands back and lets her choose her own vengeance that she finally forgives him. She is in his arms at last, and for all that he loves Mai, he cannot forget how Katara felt in his arms.
*
The war ends, and the relationship with Mai ends, and he is left with his nation to rule and persistent dreams of a girl who is brave and loyal and passionate and consummately honourable, with beautiful blue eyes that still make his chest ache with longing.
He is in his twenties when he steps out one morning onto a broad balcony. He is still wearing the loose trousers he slept in and as the sun rises he moves through his forms, letting them flow one to another, fire trailing his fingers in loops and swirls. He remembers dragons flowing through the air and the glory of rainbow fire, and he is startled when a soft voice speaks behind him.
"Beautiful," Katara says quietly. Her hair is loose, and she is wrapped in a soft, trailing robe. She smiles shyly when he looks at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
He straightens, his cheeks heating a little. "It took me a long time to realize that the fire could be beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you are," he adds bashfully, because sweet words still come awkwardly to him.
She smiles, padding out to join him. "It is beautiful... but I meant you."
He blinks at her, puzzled. "The forms, you mean?"
"No, Zuko, not the forms." She lays her soft hands on his bare chest, sending a thrill through him. "I meant you."
His hand comes up automatically towards his scar, but hers touches it first, gentle as always. "You always were beautiful, you know," she murmurs, smiling up at him. "Even with this. Even with the way you used to yell all the time, and scowl..."
She took his breath away the first time she kissed him, cupping his face between soft fingers. She made him ache with joy when she agreed to marry him, and when she placed her hand in his as they were married his heart had almost burst with happiness.
But now he looks down at her, with her small hands on his skin and her blue eyes soft as she gazes up at him, and his breath is stolen away all over again. "You did?"
"Oh, yes." She smiles a little, reminiscent smile. "I hated you at first... but I couldn't look away from you. And then in the catacombs, I wanted... I think if you'd come with me then, Aang would never have stood a chance."
"If you hadn't left with him, I'd have followed you anywhere," he blurts, face flaming. "Katara, did you really think - even with the scar?"
"Yes. Always. Ever since you tied me to that tree." She cups his face between her hands again, the scarred and unscarred sides framed in her slender fingers. "I hated myself for it sometimes, but I did."
He kisses her, drawing her into his arms and letting his fingers twine in her loose hair. "Ever since the tree," he whispers against her lips between fervent kisses. "Ever since then, I've dreamed about you. Not just about wanting you, but... but holding you in my arms, kissing you in the house on Ember Island, touching your hair... No matter how much I tried to push you away, except when I was with Mai, I dreamed of you. You were so beautiful, so brave and honourable, I couldn't help myself."
She smiles, kissing him back and then drawing away to look up at him. "You are beautiful," she whispers. "I've always known that. And he will be too."
Still lost in happiness, he is confused. "He?"
"Or she. There's really no way to know yet." Katara's smile is the sweetest of a thousand sweet smiles he's seen cross her face, and when he stares at her in bewilderment she draws his hand down to her stomach.
He falls to his knees then, the way he'd been afraid to in the desert, the way he'd wanted to in the catacombs, tears stinging his eyes as he rests his forehead against her stomach and holds her close, feeling her soft hands smoothing his hair and imagining the tiny life beginning inside her. This. This is the happiest it is possible to be. And then he kisses her stomach and launches himself to his feet, catching her up and swinging her around in the air, and rainbow fire swirls around them both but did not burn. Katara looks down at him, her eyes bright and her lips parted on a joyful laugh.
And she is so, so beautiful.