Steeped in History
By
SuilsSaifir
It all started when Moli died.
Rather a few days after her ashes had been scattered and both he and Lu Ten had managed to take breakfast together. Both sat and ate morosely without tasting anything, still both clinging to the remnants of what was left of their wife and mother. Even in the middle of his grief, he noticed the pot of steaming tea remained untouched.
Unlike the stereotypical fire bender, the Crown Prince did not take the red and gold decorated porcelain teapot and throw it at the nearest servant all because it served as a scalding reminder of what he had lost. The teapot remained full and untouched.
The next meal was set before them and along came a pot of fresh tea. Clearly the servants had better things to gossip about than how much the Crown Prince ate and who exactly consumed the copious amounts of Ginseng tea. He had never held much interest in it except for when his wife had taken time to prepare it herself. The tea pot once again lingered without recognition from either individual at the table.
Even at dinner which was shared with all members of the family, the same porcelain teapot was laid down on his right side. But on this occasion Iroh noticed that apart from the container of hot leaf juice, there was no receptacle to drink from. His fleeting interest fell away as his sister-in-law carefully inquired after his well-being. Only capable of a stiff reply, it was his nephew Zuko attempting to firebend and setting the napkin tucked under his chin alight that brought Lu Ten from his melancholic daze to snort with laughter. The ensuing chaos brought a smile even to his face and as they left the dining room of the Fire Lord, both father and son found Zuko smile cheekily at them.
The next morning at breakfast the teapot had a neighbour. A small white cup with a dragon curled on the inside of the cup as though it were sleeping. It was a rueful smile that slid across the Dragon of the West's face as he poured the tawny liquid into the cup with care. The cup set to his lips and he took a measured sip before the boiling liquid sprayed across the table and halfway across his son's bowl of honeyed congee. For the second time since he had laid his hand against the cool forehead of his wife, his son smiled and asked cheekily, "Is the tea hot enough for you Dad?"
At sunrise the following morning, the teapot was sitting calmly, waiting for him with the adjoining teacup and the grieving husband found his facial muscles stretch as he smiled at the recollection of his son's foray into comedic timing by heating the teapot at dinner without his knowing and causing him to have a burnt tongue and throat.
It became almost instinctive in the weeks and months that followed for him to find the companionable teapot expectantly sat on the table before him whilst dining, signing official documents or after meditation.
Unsurprisingly, or so he believed, it was his nephew once again who asked him on a rain splattered morning after he had returned from Ba Sing Se as to why he drank so much tea and so often. With a smile on his face, General Iroh didn't reply but poured a second cup and offered it to the overly burdened boy who sat beside him.
A/N: First foray into ATLA writing and it's my favourite pairing: Iroh/Tea.
Lastly, type in Iroh's wife's name into a Chinese dictionary. ;)