After the war

All men must die Pt. 3 - Once more unto the Fire Nation

At the best of times, Fire Nation ships were an imposing sight to behold. But when it was taking Jet to face the executioner's block or the hanging tree, an iron juggernaut of a ship was an even more horrifying sight as it approached.

The guards escorting Jet marched him up the gangplank and shoved him down to sit on the deck. His hands were cuffed to a metal pole behind him, and he looked around the iron monster that was going to take him to meet a very angry Firelord.

"I get the Fire Nation ship" Jet said, looking around. "But what are they doing here?" He looked scornfully at two Fire Nation soldiers in red and black armour, studying the insignia on their breastplates. It looked like the crown he'd plucked out of Zuko's hair in his prison cell. He'd never seen that on any soldier's uniform and he'd certainly never seen the deep red floor length cloaks the soldiers sported.

"We are Firelord Zuko's personal guards, he sent us to retrieve you, you're a very important prisoner" the taller of the two soldiers said, a sick twisted smile on his face.

Before Jet could retort, he heard a voice and watched a girl with metal wrapped around her waist and shoulders walk up the gangplank with a Kyoshi warrior behind her. He recognised the girl as the blind earthbender he'd met the last time he saw the Avatar.

"His Imperial Fiery Majesty is looking forward to seeing you" despite the girl being blind, Jet felt her stare piercing directly into his soul. Even though it was directed off somewhere behind him.

"Ser Lee" the Kyoshi warrior addressed one of the soldiers and Jet hung his head, watching his hair fall in front of his eyes. Once messy and shorn unevenly, just the way he liked, Jet's hair was now a long, tangled brown mess nesting on his head. Completely unfit for an audience with the Firelord. Though once his head was on the executioner's block, Jet supposed the state of his hair didn't matter. "Set sail for the Fire Nation" Jet glared out of the corner of his eye at the Kyoshi Warrior speaking to the soldier.

Jet caught a movement of red out of the corner of his eye and realised it must be one of Zuko's personal soldiers carrying out orders. Jet leaned his head back against the metal pole he was chained to and looked up at the sky. He reasoned it must be the afternoon.

Halfway to the Fire Nation, the sun went down, and the sky darkened. Jet stared up at the fading light and wondered what fate awaited him in the Fire Nation.

-.-. .... .- -. --. .    --- ..-.    .--. --- ...-

Zuko brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, as he often did when he was stressed. He tried to keep his attention on the book in front of him. Zuko had elected not to sit at the table, but rather plant his palms on it and lean over, studying the material required for the trial. It felt like he'd stared at the various forms of Capital Punishment for hours, and he was starting to wonder whether 'execution' was even a real word. He'd read it so many times it didn't look right anymore.

"Zuko, have you had any sleep at all?" Zuko leaned back into the familiar broad chest of his husband as he felt Sokka's arms drape over his shoulders. His silence told Sokka all he needed to know. Zuko had been turning the trial over in his mind for days. So far his options were Boiling Rock or execution. He knew there was a far better sentence but it continued to elude him.

At sunrise, Zuko had been informed that Lee and Jay had retrieved Jet. He couldn't recall sleeping that night. Or the night before for that matter. His messenger had found him lying on his back on the floor of the Setting Sun Library, studying the book that currently sat open on the table.

"The History of Capital Punishment and the Trials from Which they Stemmed in the Fire Nation" Sokka read the title of the book out loud and Zuko turned to hug his husband's waist and bury his face in his chest. "Sounds serious Hotshot" Zuko would act like Sokka's humorous tone went unappreciated, but Sokka knew that it helped him when his mind was racing at a million miles per hour.