I don't own. I don't win at life.

Set right after Iroh watched the ship he thought his nephew was on burn to charcoal, and before he went to Zhao.


To Grieve

He held his head in his hands - something he rarely did. The inn was crowded with Earth Kingdom peasants made rowdy by their stressful jobs and homes. He had silently excused himself into a corner, and now he sat with nothing before him.

Normally, he would have asked for something relaxing. Ginseng, or chai.

But he knew tonight he would only end up with something… a little stronger.

He laughed; humorless, rough.

And who would he stagger home to?

Someone paid for drinks and the tavern roared. When Iroh raised his face from his hands, he was surprised to see them steam.