This is my first fanfiction since about two or three years ago. I just really have not had the time to write anything but in light of the new Legend of Korra—I've gotten back into the Avatar world. We all seem to mistake Azula, Mai, and even Ty Lee for being the villains of the second season and part of the third season. However, we fail to see that as characters they each have internal turmoil that causes them to act that way. As humans, our experiences shape who we are and who we ultimately become. Here's an inside look on each of their thoughts.

Empty

AZULA'S POV

Father was….an unique human being and I was close to him. Or as close as I could get to my own father.

I say was because since the war is over—I'm not really close with him anymore. I've kind of acquired a taste for my cold cell in which I now reside while my brother runs his country. I have to be honest, although it may seem as though my dreams only involved hurting others for my own benefit, I do not relish in it. I relished in the love and praise my father showed after I had finished one of his tasks. I relished in his acceptance of me as a daughter because let me tell you, he never really wanted me. He never really wanted anyone. I was a fool to believe that I was going to change that.

Firstly, father always thought that he married beneath him. That's what he said, that's what he said. My mother was not of high nobility nor was she a lady that knew court life and etiquette. Did he fall in love with her? No. When he purposed to my mother he told her that he was probably her very last chance. My mother was 22 at the time and 22 was clearly an ancient hag. She was considered old and unfruitful unable to bring life and heirs but my father married her anyway. He married her to bridge the gap between a Civil War that had resulted in our lovely Fire Nation. My mother was a peasant from the opposing side and marrying her was the only way to seal the nation together. Now, life with my father was not ever a picnic—Zuzu can attest to that he has it all over his face—more like a "come as you are". When I was five, I remember my mother dug earrings out of his robes pocket. I knew that they were not hers but it was not something you want to discuss.

He was not warm. Well, not to her. Well, not to us.

Anyway, my mother used to take my friends and I to the theatre every week. I would sit in the front row and comment on the frail looking women dancing around as if life were easy. Mai would comment on how poised the ladies were and Ty Lee just enjoyed watching them dance. Ty Le was always a dancer and she loved being exposed to the theatre. I have to admit that though I expressed a clear distaste of the theatre I could not help but notice that everything was beautiful in the theatre.

Graceful men lifted lovely girls in white. Men that meant something, men that were honorable. Men that looked as if they cared even for just a moment.

To get to the theatre my mother and friends would walk up a steep and very narrow stairway. It wasn't paradise, but it was home.

And I was happy. For once.

MAI'S POV

Mother always said I would be very attractive. When I grew up, when I grew up. See, when I was born I was not the most beautiful baby. I was not the most beautiful child. With my dull black hair and pale skin I was considered the most unattractive thing my mother had ever seen. My mother would always comment on how lifeless I seemed. She called me "different" and would try to make it better by adding in "you have a special….something and a very personal flair." She acted as though my beauty or my lack thereof was an acquired taste. I must have been only eight or nine but gods, I hated her.

Sure, different is nice but it sure is not pretty. Pretty is what it is about. I never met anyone who was different who could not figure that out. I became extremely quiet and exactly what she said I was….dull and lifeless. But beauty I'd never live to see and I was so depressed because when Ty Lee or Azula your self-esteem kind of plummets surrounds you. My mother would always comment on how beautiful they were. Azula for her strength and Ty Lee for her peppy self and I was the odd one out. To my mother I was always odd and always ugly. She was even surprised when Zuko showed an interest in me. She was surprised when anyone showed an interest in me. In comparison to Zuko, I was this gloomy and uninteresting person that rarely spoke. He was a prince and who was I to deserve something like that?

Sigh.

Fire Lady Ursa would take us to the theatre once a week. We would climb these steps that were very steep and up this narrow stairway which we all found uncomfortable. But the theatre was beautiful and the dancers were so graceful. I would never admit to it in public but I felt as though I wanted to dance like them. Watching those women and men look at each other as if they were the most beautiful thing on this planet made me want to be a dancer. Everyone is beautiful in the theatre because every prince has got to have his swan.

But at the theatre, watching those women dance, I felt pretty.

I felt pretty.

TY LEE'S POV

I don't think that life is easy for anybody. I guess because I'm always happy people believe that my life is just wonderful but that is not the case. People think that I am so sure of myself and so confident in what I do. But in fact, I joined the circus because I needed to find myself. I needed to discover my own identity. The thing is that when I was younger my parents would fight all the time. I'm the oldest out of many, many siblings who symbolize how hard my parents tried to make their marriage work. I don't know what they were for or against really, except each other. I mean, I was the first and I was born to "save" their marriage. But when my father picked my mother up from the hospital he said,

"Well, I thought this was going to help but I guess it's not."

That is also what he said with my twenty other siblings. They were always trying but my father was always rejecting all of us. But anyway, in spite of his rejection I did have a fantastic fantasy life. I used prance around the living room with my arms and my fantasy was that I was an Indian Chief and he would say to me,

"Ty Lee, do you want to dance?" and I'd say, "Daddy, I would love to dance."

I acquired this love for dance and performing on my many trips to the theatre with Azula's mom, Mai and I. The dancers were everything I had ever wanted to be. They each meant something to the overall context of the show. Without just one of them, the show was over. I had always felt so interchangeable with my siblings, like I was never anything important to my parents. Nevertheless, at the theatre, in the art of performing, I felt like an indispensable being capable of anything. In this art, you are never ignored. You love the people and the people love you.

They treat you with kindness.

They give you their full attention.

You can basically just raise your arms and someone's always there. Everything was so beautiful.

So beautiful that every time I went I cried. I cried for my lack of love. I cried for everything I had and never complained about to anyone. I cried for the pain I knew was in Mai and Azula's souls. I cried out of happiness for seeing them so comfortable in watching the grace, beauty, and realness of the art.

Mai felt beautiful.

Azula was finally happy.

And I….

I would love to be that one. To inspire, to bring together, to feel special, and above all-to feel whole.

Needless to say, my friends and I were home. It wasn't paradise. It was more like a temporary glimpse of what we could have and be. But, it was home.

A/N: Listen to "At the Ballet" from the musical A Chorus Line to experience some genius. Thank you for reading!

Aimie.