Work Text:
Katara knew the play was going to be bad, but she didn’t expect…this.
Why they’d gone along with Sokka’s brilliant idea to watch a play about themselves in an enemy nation, she has no idea. But out of all the possible ways this could have gone horribly wrong, this is the last one Katara was expecting.
It could be worse, though. They could have been discovered and captured. The thought makes Katara feel petty; why is she even worried about something this silly? Sozin’s comet is rapidly approaching, and there are much bigger problems to worry about.
So, Katara decides to keep the crushing humiliation the depiction of her on stage makes her feel to herself. Nobody—well, except Toph—seems happy with their characters. There’s no reason for her to make a big deal out of it.
But that feeling of discomfort still doesn’t go away.
From the moment that actress first opened her mouth, any excitement Katara might have had about the play disappears by the minute. She’s forced to sit through scene after scene of this caricature of herself exaggeratedly crying and giving meaningless speeches that the other characters more or less ignore. Most infuriating is the laughter of her friends beside her. The only one she doesn’t hear laugh is Zuko, who seems too preoccupied with pouting over his own character’s portrayal, hood pulled around his face. A rare occasion where she welcomes his brooding.
The only thing about her character that seems to overshadow the embarrassing bouts of emotion is the way she’s dressed. Katara had tried to brush it off at first, but the ample cleavage and the slip that reaches nearly to her hips couldn’t have been an accident. Not with the way the actress keeps leaning over to flaunt it. Katara feels sick to her stomach when the audience laughs and even whistles at the woman on stage. Why would they even do that to her? Those clothes are definitely not suitable for life in the South Pole.
If it was just that, it would have been tolerable. But the actors decide to play up her romantic life for laughs, too.
Katara is shocked when the actress makes out with not-Haru. She hears a few chuckles from her friends and scowls. That did not happen.
When the play shows her press herself close to Jet and swoon as the town floods beneath them, Katara feels herself cringing in horror. The old guilt at being manipulated like that flashes through her. Katara never wanted to hurt anyone! She certainly wouldn’t blush and flirt while people drowned before her eyes. They’re making her look so…so foolish and selfish!
But…it is true that she’d been with Jet. She really had been tricked so easily. Katara gulps, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly feeling as if the whole room is staring at her.
Is this really how other people see her? The audience sure seems to be enjoying themselves at her expense.
She very nearly feels tears spring to her eyes as she scrutinizes herself in a way she hadn’t before. When she dressed to go out tonight—as well as most days spent in the Fire Nation—Katara had hardly thought about it. Many other young women here seemed to dress like this, and it makes sense with the tropical climate. It had felt comfortable, once…freeing. Katara felt beautiful, like it helped her fit in while in a foreign land surrounded by people who look nothing like her.
But now…the naked truth is right before her eyes. Maybe they still think she’s beautiful on stage, but above all else, they think she’s a joke. They laugh and jeer when her skin shows, or when she flings herself at nearly every man in sight. Katara crosses her arms, and feels so unbelievably exposed with her bare shoulders and midriff. Would they stare at her the same way when she exits this room? Were the looks she’d received earlier simply another form of mockery rather than the appreciation she’d mistaken them for? The laughter echoes in Katara’s mind; laughter that she now realizes had been silently chasing her all along.
All she ever wanted to do was help, so why is this all the world seems to think of her?
Katara tries to enjoy herself, she really does. Every time one of her proudest moments approaches, she eagerly awaits the scene. But…every time—freeing Haru and the earthbenders, fighting to learn waterbending, leading her friends across the desert—she’s let down. The actress bends more water from her eyes than her hands. It’s the worst form of mockery; reducing the memories Katara takes the most pride in to teary speeches for onlookers to groan at, or worse yet, a voyeuristic spectacle to gawk at.
That isn’t the truth, and it isn’t who Katara is. She knows that. One stupid play can’t take away everything she had done to help people.
But…is this what people would remember her for? Is this what the people of the Fire Nation are being led to believe? Does…does Zuko think of her like this?
Tui and La, Zuko. A mere month ago, Katara couldn’t have cared less what he thought about her. But now, it’s different. Zuko is her friend. They fight together, train together, even do chores together. Katara really does care what he thinks now.
She cares about him.
Not that she can tell anyone else right now—Tui and La know Aang wouldn’t take it well—but Katara often finds herself thinking about Zuko. When he helps her with the laundry, she watches his strong hands working at the fabric. When he trains, she can't help but study his figure as he elegantly moves through his katas. Even the soft rasp of his voice has the power to instantly get her attention. Katara is sure Zuko doesn’t notice, but she almost prefers it this way for now. War is no time to get hung up on feelings like this. Besides, this way she knows Zuko isn’t vying for her special attention and putting on an act like Jet did. No, this is a soft yet genuine side of Zuko that Katara finally gets to meet. And she loves it.
Secretly, Katara was thrilled at the beginning of the play when Zuko took his seat beside her. But as the monstrosity of a performance continues, she isn’t sure whether she’s sitting in the best or worst place. On one hand, her character’s degrading portrayal makes her want to run and hide. But on the other hand…Zuko doesn’t stare at her and doesn’t laugh at her expense. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Aang turning his head to look at her every time her actress flirts with a man. Katara almost feels like he would have said something if Zuko wasn’t between them. His presence is oddly comforting in that way. Katara notices that he doesn’t so much as smirk at the actress’s borderline strip-teases. Every time Katara sneaks a glance at him, he’s simply staring straight ahead, expression neutral save for the furrowed brow. Katara decides she doesn’t mind sitting with Zuko at all.
That was until the play got to the Crystal Catacombs.
“You know, Prince Zuko, I’ve always found you attractive,” drawls the grating voice of the actress as she poses in a way that pushes up her breasts.
Katara freezes. Please no. Jokes in poor taste about Haru or Jet are one thing, but not Zuko. Anyone but Zuko, who is sitting mere inches away from her. Katara watches as the woman on stage gushes over not-Zuko, making increasingly provocative advances towards him. She isn’t like that…is she? Zuko is attractive and she admittedly does stare at him from time to time, but this makes it look so shallow and superficial. Katara doesn’t just want that; she wants his company while she cooks, the sound of his laugh, and his indignant little blush when she teases him.
When the actress presses herself flush against not-Zuko’s chest, Katara can’t take it anymore. The woman even lifts her leg, exposing the better part of her thigh through the slip. Katara stands abruptly from her seat and hurries towards the door behind their booth, the whistles and jeers of the audience chasing her out.
Stepping out into the light, Katara somehow feels even more exposed. She notices that people are looking at her now. Tui and La, they really had always been looking at her like that. Katara crosses her arms over her midsection and rushes past the few people milling around the lobby. Luckily, the balcony is empty and the night air is cool, allowing her to catch her breath.
She stares into the water below, thoughts of the play still plaguing her mind like dark storm clouds. Katara doesn’t even know if she could handle being in the same room as Zuko again. Would he catch her staring and assume she just wanted to grope him like that awful actress had done? She buries her head in her hands. Of all things that could have destroyed her relationship with her crush, she had never imagined it would be a stupid play.
“Katara?”
Her breath hitches at the sound of that soft, raspy voice. She turns, and sure enough, Zuko is standing behind her. Before Katara can even begin to wonder what he’s doing and why he even wants to be seen near her, Zuko speaks quickly, words tumbling out of his mouth.
“Katara, about the play…I’m so sorry I upset you. I know what I did back in Ba Sing Se was wrong, and I’m sorry you had to see that again.” he babbles. “You were so kind to me, and I betrayed you. You deserve so much better than that, Katara.”
Katara just blinks. What is he talking about? Did he even care about the way the play had shown her—Oh Tui and La, Zuko thinks she’s mad at him.
“No, no—don’t worry about that,” she quickly assures him. “I’m not mad at you, Zuko. I know you wouldn’t do something like that again.”
Zuko visibly relaxes, but still looks confused. “Oh. Well…. Are you ok?”
Katara contemplates lying, but ultimately just looks down and shakes her head, crossing her arms tightly across her middle once again, shielding herself. Funny how she hadn’t given her bare midriff a second thought mere hours ago, and now it feels like a beacon inviting mocking stares.
“Are you…cold?” Zuko offers when she doesn’t answer.
“No, I just…. That actress makes me feel…strange,” Katara says meekly.
She feels silly speaking it out loud. Of course it feels strange; everyone is a caricature of themselves in this play.
But, Zuko doesn’t show it if he finds it ridiculous and responds without missing a beat. “The play is awful. They got everything wrong. I mean, I guess they’re kind of right about me, but not you! You were always…so kind to me. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Not…making speeches and crying because you won a fight.”
That gets a faint giggle out of her. Crying over winning a fight. Katara nervously adjusts her hair, hoping he can’t see the heat in her cheeks. Zuko says it so casually, but it’s one of the most thoughtful compliments someone has given her. He speaks to Katara as she wants to be seen, not like the version of her on stage.
“Thank you, Zuko,” she says softly. His words are comforting, but she still feels the unspoken tension lingering in the air. “But it’s also…she’s dressed so…”
Katara trails off, unsure of what to say.
Zuko just frowns. “Oh, you mean…”
Is he really so clueless? Katara’s eyes narrow. A sudden burst of indignation overtakes her. She uncurls her arms, spreading them out.
“When you look at me, what do you see?” She doesn’t mean for that to come out sounding like an accusation, but she feels the frustration bleed into her voice.
“Wha—you’re Katara. I mean, of course you know that, but…you’re strong and brave and kind, and you mean so much to me—to everyone. You always fought so passionately for what you believed in, and you even kicked my ass a couple times,” Zuko lets out a single chuckle at that, but his eyes shine with pride. Pride for her. “But then I finally joined you and I realized…. You did all of that to protect your friends. You care about them so deeply. So I guess what I’m trying to say is…I see a warrior who fights for the people she loves.”
Katara feels tears gathering in her eyes as he finishes. She wants nothing more than to throw her arms around him, but she holds back, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Thank you, Zuko.”
His happy expression slowly fades into a concerned frown. “Wait, Katara…did something happen? Are you alright?”
She feels so guilty for giving in—Zuko must feel so awkward because of her—but Katara suddenly can’t stop herself from wrapping her arms around Zuko and burying her face in his chest. His eyes are so full of respect and care for her, not to mention he’s only out here because he was worried about her, and he feels like her only source of comfort right now. Zuko cares about her—the real her—and Katara buries every bit of her hopelessness and shame in his tunic.
His arms come up to hold her in turn, slowly and carefully. Katara allows herself to sink into the comfort of his body for just a moment, but then she realizes she’s behaving just like the actress and pulls away, disgusted with herself.
“Katara?” Zuko asks gently, arms still half-outstretched in offering.
“Maybe that stupid play is right about me,” she says, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice…the way that actress is dressed…the way she threw herself on you…the way everyone whistles—”
Katara cuts herself off, feeling even more ridiculous. Zuko probably doesn’t want to hear about any of this. She’s only digging herself deeper by bothering him about it…
To her surprise, she feels the gentlest of touches around her wrists. When she doesn’t pull away, she feels that grip tighten ever so slightly to tug her hands down away from her face. Zuko’s golden stare greets her, sympathetic with a hint of underlying anger.
“Katara…you don’t think people actually see you that way, do you?” he asks softly. “These playwrights are way out of line. This is Fire Nation propaganda—they know if they showed the real you, the people would adore you. That’s why they’re treating you so horribly.”
Katara blinks. She hadn’t considered that, but Zuko speaks with such contempt for his nation that she knows he can’t be lying. He says it like it’s obvious to him, and it helps her relax somewhat.
She feels her cheeks flush when she realizes Zuko’s hands are still holding her wrists. The irony of it is almost laughable—this is the same way he’d first touched her. Although as opposed to two enemies tussling for control, the gesture is now warm, comforting. There is no roughness or anger in Zuko’s hands; they feel warm and gentle. He even shifts them as he speaks, so that they’re nearly holding hands.
“Thank you, Zuko,” Katara says with a soft smile. “That…that really helps. I felt so exposed in there, like they’re all watching me, just waiting for me to…lean over or something.”
As she speaks, she finds herself drawing back in, letting her hands slip out of Zuko’s as she returns them to her body, nervously covering herself in all the places she feels exposed.
A flash of understanding seems to pass through Zuko’s eyes before he’s slowly removing his cloak and holding it out. Katara very nearly scolds him for it; showing his scar in public is a risky move. But, the soft rasp of his voice stops her.
“Would this help?” he offers, gesturing to the cloak in his hands. “With…feeling exposed, I mean.”
“Thank you, Zuko,” Katara says as she accepts the cloak, encouraged by the welcoming look in his eyes. “That’s very sweet of you.”
She pulls it around her shoulders, and doesn’t regret her decision in the slightest. She wasn’t cold before, but she can’t deny how pleasant the lingering warmth of Zuko’s body on his cloak feels. It’s the perfect weight, the perfect size to wrap protectively around herself, and it feels almost like the ghost of Zuko’s hug. It really does help to quell those feelings of exposure that had made her gut twist with humiliation as she’d rushed her way out here.
But…she remembers Zuko is now exposed, in a different way.
“Zuko, are you sure?” Katara asks him. “What if someone…recognizes you?”
Zuko shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Some kid already bothered me about my ‘Zuko costume’ so I’m not too worried about it.”
Katara lets out a short laugh before she can stop herself, but Zuko doesn’t seem to mind. He even cracks a smile. “You’re serious?”
“Yep,” Zuko confirms. “Apparently my scar is on the wrong side.”
He chuckles slightly at that, and Katara can’t help but join him.
“We should probably head back in,” Katara finally says. “I don’t want the others to get worried.”
“That’s true,” Zuko agrees. He catches Katara’s wrist again before she turns to leave. “But…I’m serious, Katara. That play is garbage. Everyone who’s met you, and seen what you’ve done for the world? You’re a hero to them, Katara. They love you. And if they don’t? Their loss. You’re such a wonderful friend and ally to have.”
Katara hugs him again, quicker this time. It feels so much more natural. “You’re a wonderful friend too, you know that? Don’t beat yourself up over what happened in the past; I can see who you really are now. And that person is a good person. You’re good, Zuko, despite everything you’ve been through, and you’re so strong for that.”
They’re almost back to the theater by now, and they don’t exchange any more words, but the look on Zuko’s face tells Katara that her words touched him. They enter as quietly as possible and take their original places. Katara hears Sokka scold Zuko for not bringing back any fire flakes and rolls her eyes.
The remainder of the play is tolerable after that. The antics don’t get any better, but at least Katara has Zuko’s cloak around her and his presence beside her. It’s warm, it smells like him, and it’s a reminder of the comforting words he’d had for her. After their conversation, she doesn’t have to worry what he thinks of her. She doesn’t have to feel guilty for the way their shoulders seem to press closer together and the way their fingers subconsciously reach out for one another.
When Zuko’s actor dramatically feigns his death on stage to the roaring cheers of the crowd, Katara allows her hand to cover his and give it a gentle squeeze. She wants to tell him what he told her—his people only hate him because they’re being led to. Zuko too would be loved if these people knew him as she did.
As they—finally—exit the theater, there is a somber mood hanging over the group. Even Toph has lost her enthusiasm. It isn’t like they’d forgotten the war or what is at stake if they lose, but the reminder leaves Katara with a deep sense of dread. The only bright side is that everyone else seems too preoccupied with that thought to question why Katara is still wearing Zuko’s cloak.
She’s surprised he doesn’t ask for it back when they arrive back at the house. Everyone seems content to wander off their separate ways. Katara wonders if Zuko forgot or left it with her intentionally. No; she shouldn’t get her hopes up. He’s notorious for being an early riser, probably just got tired and slunk off to his bedroom. She can give it back in the morning.
Katara, however, doesn’t feel tired in the slightest. She stands outside on the upstairs balcony, watching the moon. There’s so much at stake this coming summer…what would she do if her friends lost? If she lost the war?
There is a faint patter of footsteps behind her, and Katara turns, realizing she’s not alone. It’s Aang, and she doesn’t need to ask to know that he’s upset. He looks almost…angry. The play must have gotten to him, too.
“Hey, Aang,” Katara greets tiredly. “Is everything okay?”
He scowls before looking away, out towards the ocean. “No, Katara, everything’s not okay! I hated that play!”
She’s momentarily taken aback by the venom in his tone, but figures it’s only fair. After all, Aang is the one tasked with facing Ozai after less than a year to master all four elements. He has more pressure on him than anyone else right now.
Katara sighs and tries to think of something reassuring to tell him before he cuts her off.
“Did you mean what you said in there?” Aang asks, confusing Katara. She can’t remember saying much to him during the play, much less anything about facing the Fire Lord.
“What do you mean?” she questions, doing her best not to upset him further.
“On stage,” Aang says sadly, though his voice is still heavy with resentment. “You said…I’m just like a little brother to you. That you don’t have feelings for me.”
Oh…oh. The actress version of her. Katara bites back the urge to scold him; this is not the time for this! Of all things to be worried about right now…
She sighs. “I didn’t say that, Aang. An actress did. Come on, you should get some rest. You need to be ready for firebending training with Zuko tomorrow.”
Aang doesn’t budge. The hurt scowl on his face only deepens. “But what they showed on stage was true, wasn’t it? We kissed at the invasion, and I thought we would be together. But we’re not. I really am the little brother, and…and you hang around with him instead!”
Katara feels her mouth drop open in shock at the accusation. She realizes she’s still wearing Zuko’s cloak and rubbing it absently with one hand—there’s no way Aang doesn’t notice it—and she doesn’t know what to say. Maybe that’s true, but there are much bigger things to consider now! They’re fighting a war, and Aang has the nerve to act jealous over Zuko? Katara feels the urge to remind Aang of that fact, and the fact that their kiss was never something she agreed to, but she restrains herself. Tense as she may be, Aang is still just a kid with a lot on his plate.
“Aang, it’s complicated. I…I don’t know,” she finally says, looking away. How could she even approach this without hurting his feelings? Ugh, this is exactly why she doesn’t want to have these kinds of conversations right now…
“Why don’t you know?” Aang presses, stepping closer.
Katara feels her eyes narrow into a subtle scowl. “Because we’re in the middle of a war and we have other things to worry about. This isn’t the right time for this.”
“Well, when is the right time?” His voice sounds almost demanding now.
Katara closes her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused right now.”
Aang doesn’t respond, but suddenly, Katara feels the touch of lips against hers. She pulls back in shock, subconsciously tugging Zuko’s cloak tighter around her shoulders as if it would protect her. She stares back at Aang in horror. Why would he do something like that? She thought he was her friend!
“Aang, I just said I was confused!” Katara exclaims, unable to keep the anger out of her voice this time. She sighs and closes her eyes as she steps further away from her. “I’m going to bed.”
She turns and hurries back into the house, back towards the room she’d temporarily taken over. The feelings of shame and embarrassment she’d felt during the play rush back tenfold.
To her relief, Aang doesn’t follow her.
Katara finds that tears are trickling down her cheeks. She tries to tell herself it was just a kiss, but she knows how much more it was than that. Aang was supposed to be her ally, her student, her friend. All along, she’d felt like they had a great friendship. She genuinely thought that Aang admired her as a waterbending master and warrior. Did he? Or was all that attention just for that?
She doesn’t want to believe that. Katara doesn’t want to believe that Aang could be anything like those people in the audience, seeing only a superficial part of her among the many other, more important, things she values about herself. But…she hadn’t missed all the looks Aang gave her since they first met. The kiss she’d done her best to forget about. The anger he’d displayed just now, simply at the idea that Katara could love someone other than him. That he seemed to feel some kind of claim over her despite them never being anything more than friends.
When she arrives back at her door, Katara is so wrapped up in those thoughts that she nearly runs smack into Zuko. She quickly composes herself, forcing a smile as she looks up at him.
“Oh…hey Katara,” he says awkwardly. “Sorry. I was just looking for you.”
“Sorry,” she says meekly. “I bet you want your cloak back, don’t you?”
“You can keep it if you want. I have more than one,” Zuko says with a smile. “Actually, I just…came to check on you. Wait…Katara, are you okay? What happened?”
Katara goes to wipe her eyes again, but realizes it’s too late. He can tell. She doesn’t know what compels her to tell him the truth, but she does.
“Aang kissed me,” she says dully.
“Like…just now?” Zuko’s eyes suddenly narrow as his voice darkens. “Without asking?”
Katara sighs. “Yes. I mean…I guess I knew he had a bit of a crush on me, but I thought he’d grow out of it eventually. I never expected him to do…that.”
“I…Katara, I’m so sorry,” Zuko says, his voice surprisingly soft with the way he’s clearly trying to keep his temper in check. “He has no right to disrespect you like that. Especially not now. I—”
“Zuko, I don’t want the others to hear,” she admonishes gently. After a brief moment of thought, she decides to take his arm and pull him into her room. “Let’s take this in here.”
As soon as the door shuts, Zuko’s expression looks absolutely disgusted. “It’s alright; I can talk to Aang if you don’t feel up to it. He needs to know that is not okay to do.”
“It’s fine,” Katara sighs. “We can sort this all out after the war. He’s only twelve, Zuko. He’s stressing out over this battle so much. It was…just a mistake.”
“Katara, we’re all stressed out,” Zuko growls. “That is not an excuse for what he did. We’re all just kids, too. You included. You shouldn’t have to take this from him. If he’s mature enough to be the Avatar, he’s mature enough to show some respect for your boundaries!”
“I know,” she sighs. “I’m just…I’m scared, Zuko. Especially after watching that play end with our whole world up in flames. Just because I don’t feel that way about Aang doesn’t mean I don’t care for him. I don’t want to hurt him while he’s already dealing with so much! I just…I don’t know what to do!”
Katara is looking down at the floor, but she senses Zuko step closer, then pause. She looks up at him to find his hands reaching out, hovering in midair.
“I’m sorry, Katara. I, uh…. Is it alright if I hug you?” he asks awkwardly, and it’s probably one of the most endearing things she’s ever seen.
It takes no more encouragement than that before she’s throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face into his shoulder, taking in that blissful warmth he offers her and the steadiness of his body. Zuko even rubs Katara’s back with one hand as she hugs him tighter, and she wonders why she doesn't do this more often.
“Katara, I know it might seem like that sometimes, but Aang has to take some things on by himself,” Zuko says against her hair. “It isn’t your fault that he’s upset; that’s on him for not being able to take ‘no’ for an answer. He’ll grow up, but in the meantime, you should never have to be an outlet for his issues.”
“But it’s more than that,” Katara whispers. “It’s…Aang is angry at you, too. He’s…jealous.”
“Me?” Zuko asks, perplexed. “Just because of that play?”
“Well…” Katara swallows nervously. “The play might not have been entirely wrong about some things.”
The steady circles Zuko is rubbing across her back pause. “You mean…about me?”
“Yes, Zuko,” Katara says quietly, thankful that her rapidly heating face is still hidden against his shoulder. “But…not in the way that actress made it seem. I just…I like spending time with you. I like getting to know you better. And I do…findyouattractive I guess, but that’s not all! I—”
“Katara,” Zuko says gently, breaking the embrace to place his hands on her shoulders. The look in his eyes is kind, inviting. There’s even a pink tint to his cheeks. “I’ve…felt similarly about you. Since we’ve gotten to know each other, but also before. You’re brave and smart and kind, and you’re also so beautiful. I’m honored that you enjoy my company.”
She stares up at him in surprise, the little voice in the back of her head whispering that a prince like him could never care for a peasant like her crushed once and for all. Zuko stands right in front of her, a loving smile on his lips and his tender touch on her shoulders. Not knowing how to respond to him, Katara only touches his forearms, stroking them gently to appreciate his gesture.
Zuko smiles. “Don’t feel guilty, Katara. Your feelings matter, too. You don’t owe your affection to anyone, not even me if you don’t want me. But for as long as you do…I’ll be here for you.”
“Thank you, Zuko,” she whispers, stepping forward to embrace him again. “It’s pretty late. We should probably get to sleep.”
“Yeah,” he says, shifting his feet nervously. He gives her one last little grin as he turns to leave. “And I’ve got breakfast tomorrow, alright? Don’t even think about trying to get up early before I’m done training Aang again.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Katara laughs. “And…thank you again, Zuko. So much. Just…don’t be too hard on him, alright?”
“Oh, I’ve got several rounds of hot-squats and fire-jumps with his name on them,” Zuko says with a spiteful smirk. “And some choice words. But…I just want you to be okay, Katara. Sleep well.”
In spite of everything, Katara does. She still forgot to give Zuko his cloak back.
It’s comforting to her as she lies in bed and closes her eyes, wrapped around her just like Zuko himself had been. Katara even pulls it over her nose, loving the way it smells just like him.
She thinks about the play and Aang, but that hopeless feeling doesn’t plague her quite so much. Katara realizes what her fear truly is; that nobody could love her the way she wants to be loved. Most of all she wants to help those around her, and to pass that legacy onwards. Katara wants to be remembered for all that she fought for, not for who she marries or the constant scrutiny of her body and her romantic life as so many women of history before her had been.
The thought sickens her, that all of her passions and feats could be overlooked for that, but she clutches that cloak and remembers the way Zuko spoke to her. A prince of a powerful nation, one who would certainly have his hand in shaping and writing history in the decades to come.
But on a more personal level, Katara feels warm inside as she thinks about the way Zuko loves.
Zuko does not love like Aang, a childish crush picked up from the moment he laid eyes on Katara, before he’s even heard her speak or learned her name. Aang’s love is of his vision of her, an ideal that he desperately wants her to fulfill and becomes frustrated when she doesn’t.
No…Zuko’s love is different; it’s a solid, steady flame rather than a spark in the wind. Zuko loves Katara, not a mythical version of her that exists only in his mind. He loves her company, her strength—he shares in the love she has for herself. His words touch her heart and his hands touch her body in such a comforting, unselfish way. Zuko’s love is about building trust and respect between them with both of their well-beings in mind, not controlling and dominating her feelings and aspirations with his own.
Katara falls asleep with a smile on her face, Zuko’s cloak tucked comfortably around her.
Maybe not today or tomorrow, but once the war is finally won, Katara knows there is at least one person in this world who won’t make her feel trapped.
She knows she won’t have to take on the world alone, not anymore.