Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of its affliated characters. All definitions herein provided by Franklin Electronic Publishers, Inc.

Warnings: language.

Teeny author's note: I would really appreciate reviews, since this is my first ATLA piece of fanfiction. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

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os-tra-cize (verb)
1. to exclude from a group by common consent
2. to drive out; EXPEL

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Zuko's burning was painful in every way to witness. From the delighted faces of Zhao and Azula to the shoutshriek that rang throughout the hall, Iroh found he could not stand one more second. The instant Fire Lord Ozai had turned his back on his son, Iroh left the assembled audience and hollered down the empty hallway for the doctor.

A mere hour after the Agni Kai, Iroh's feet led him to the infirmary.

"Iroh," doctor Zheng dipped his head in greeting. Iroh found that, even with nearly a century of war ongoing, doctors lived in a different world. A craftsman or soldier would've bowed deeply, but doctor Zheng saw only Iroh's concern. "Prince Zuko is awake. The first door on your left."

Iroh thanked the doctor, brushing past. The doctor smelt of bitter herbs.

Zuko's door was shut tightly.

"Zuko, please, let me in."

The only reply he received was a colourful string of curses.

Suddenly, Zheng was rushing to the door, easily finding one key on a ring of at least 20, and pushing it open. The door swung quickly on its hinges, and Iroh looked past the doctor's shoulder to catch sight of an enraged Zuko.

"Prince Zuko!" hollered Zheng, covering the space between the examining table and himself with impressive speed. He wrenched Zuko's hands from his face. "Stop. Immediately!"

"I'll burn you, doctor," said Zuko. Iroh's whole self lurched. Zuko's voice was deep and ragged, as if the flames had touched not only his face but his vocal chords. Where Iroh had heard determination and optimism in Zuko's voice, he now recognized raw hurt and anger. Iroh suspected his throat was dry and bleeding. It must've hurt like hell to speak. Iroh stood in the doorway and closed his eyes, collecting himself for a moment.

As far as Iroh could tell, doctor Zheng was not threatened. "Prince Zuko, you must not touch your wound. It will only slow the heal--"

"Get this damn bandage off of me," Zuko growled. His hands tried to find his face again.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said softly, though it was all the more cutting, "It would do you good to listen to the doctor."

Zuko clenched his jaw. The vein running up his temple pulsed strongly beneath his bruised skin. He made a show of dropping his hands and breathed out angrily.

Zheng stepped aside, clearing the way for Iroh. He made a face. Iroh saw that face a lot when it came to his nephew.

"Just be glad he does not have the breath of fire," muttered Iroh. Zheng made the next most popular face in conjunction with Zuko's legendary stubbornness - rolling his eyes. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

"I don't need this bandage, uncle Iroh," Zuko rumbled. His voice was on its way to a croak.

Iroh reasoned with him. "But you do need the medication beneath it, Zuko. Medicine that stays in place helps to heal much better than medicine washed off by the elements."

Zuko stewed silently. His arms were crossed and his feet dangled inches above the floor. Iroh watched his features twist and settle. He looked younger and older in the same glance.

"Now, come, Prince Zuko. You can rest in your quarters." Iroh dared to take Zuko by the shoulder. Zuko went without complaint, his neck arching downward of its own accord.

After leaving the infirmary, Iroh walked beside his nephew in the direction of the royal family's quarters. He hoped Zuko could rest and have a blissfully dreamless sleep, but it was unlikely. He snuck a glance sideways. Something was brewing beneath his nephew's surface, and he was certain that it was a bitter mixture.

Upon turning the next corner, an impassive messenger came into view. Before they could take two steps, the messenger opened her mouth: "Prince Zuko, your banishment is effective immediately. Fire Lord Ozai has allowed a time limit of 24 hours for you to leave Fire Nation territory. You are to leave the palace within the hour." She bowed. "Please be on your way."

The line of Zuko's jaw tightened. He did not look up.

Iroh was taken aback. Banishment? His brother was crueler than he'd ever known. But there was nothing he could do against the Fire Lord's orders. He turned towards his nephew.

Zuko's anger had already turned inward, it was easy to see. But being so fresh, Zuko's anger was also strong and shallow. He would release it soon. Iroh could see the massive force damming up behind his one good eye, shaking the shape of his mouth.

Even the messenger seemed to know. She began to run just as Zuko screamed so loud that the torches flared a sickening blue, then went out for good, taking his voice along with them.

-

Iroh got the story in full later on - that as soon as he had bolted from the duel, his brother Ozai told the whole room that his son had shown shameful weakness. That he was to leave the Fire Nation as a Prince in exile until he restored his honour. That the only way Ozai would welcome Zuko back was as the Avatar's captor.

5 days after that night, and Zuko was already antagonizing everyone and everything on the ship. Not even the steam pipes tolerated his aura of gloom - they broke right when Zuko was walking below and showered him in grit.

"Fuck!" he cursed now, sitting impatiently on his bed and waiting for the ship medic to confirm a lack of burns to the scalp. It seemed that as soon as his voice returned, he'd begun swearing. "Get the maintenance man to fix that fucking, fucking--"

"His name is Jia," Iroh cut in calmly, as he was doing a lot more these days. "And he has been called up."

"I don't care what his name is," said Zuko callously. "I just care that this ship doesn't kill me."

Iroh ignored his nephew's hyperbole. "You should care, Prince Zuko. Jia is a member of your crew. He is as committed to your cause as you are."

The medic was done checking the seething Zuko and had evaporated - she was brave, but not stupid. Zuko stood now without her there, taking long strides to his uncle. "I. Don't. Need. To. Know. His. Name."

The door burst open now, iron clanking loudly. In its frame stood a monster of a man, taller than Zuko by at least two heads, and carrying a lot more muscle on his frame as well. He took three giant steps inside. "Prince Zuko! I don't care if you are a prince. You're the most selfish guy I know!"

Zuko looked up at the man, not caring how big he was. This was dangerous, Iroh concluded. Zuko would barrel through the situation, without regard to the consequences. "I don't care what you think. Who are you, anyway?"

"Jia, you little mouth-off! Now you shape up that attitude of yours, or I bend it into shape for you."

Zuko's mouth quirked into a smirk. "Jia. Doesn't sound familiar," he said coolly. Now, he turned to Iroh. "Uncle, I'll be on the deck. I don't want to waste anymore time in here." He walked around Jia, each of his steps firm and resolute.

Jia sneered in contempt. "What's his deal?"

Iroh lowered his voice confidentially. "Prince Zuko has been ostracized."

Jia made that face that Iroh was by now very familiar with. "What's ostracized mean?" he asked loudly.

Iroh froze. Zuko had definitely heard. Iroh expected the worst.

As he thought, a set of footsteps came back down the hall. Zuko stopped in the doorway, stepping just enough into the light of the room. He spoke slowly, the words slipping out from his mouth, which looked very small. "It means to be banished." And before Iroh could stop him, Zuko had ripped away the bandage and gauze that covered his left eye. The flesh around his eye was an ugly red, snarled over his cheekbone and stretching gracelessly over his eyelid. His eye was almost swollen shut. But his gaze challenged them to utter a word. "This," he said, "Is what it means."