Iroh had been steadily sinking into a pit of despair, ever since he got home. Sometimes he wondered why he even came home. Without Lu Ten here - there was nothing left to love. Instead there was fighting. There was always fighting in the firenation and Iroh was thoroughly sick of it.
People wanted and expected him to stand up and take a stand and do something about his brother. But Iroh was too tired and too sad and too exhausted by life. He cloaked himself with his grief. It protected him from the intrusions, expectations and demands of the outside world.
Iroh and his grief became constant comapions and after a while, everyone seemed content to leave them alone together. People respected the grief and gave it privacy.
All except Azula.
Azula had no respect for anything. Certainly not for grief. She had no time for sentiment or for sentimental old men who gave in to despair, especially when the despair was all of their own making. In their last argument, which was fierce and vicious and full of mutual resentment, Azula had shouted at him that he didn't get to just give up and wallow – not when Lut Ten's death was all his fault.
Zuko taken Azula outside and chastised her for being unkind, but Iroh doubted that her brother's disapproval would mean much to the girl – she had never been overly bothered with being kind anyway.
Zuko came back, a minute, an hour, perhaps a day later, with jasmine tea and plate of sweet zingers – Iroh had heartily enjoyed both once. Zuko said he was sorry, as he laid them in front of Iroh. He said that Azula was wrong and she hadn't meant those things that she said.
She wasn't wrong.
Ba Sing Se had been Iroh's idea. If not for Iroh - his dreams of glory and his faith in the promises of the spirits – Lu Ten would be alive.
Iroh found that he could never quite bring himself to forgive Azula for being right about this.