Work Text:
As Lloyd woke up, he was immediately hit with a crushing headache. An intense sensation that made him groan quietly and hide his face in his hands.
He sat on his bed, waiting for the pulsing pain to lessen and for his pounding heart to calm down. He didn't know what happened or where he was: he couldn't see a thing – his vision was still obscured by flashing memories and afterimages.
He remembered fighting someone. Yes, he attempted to dodge a strike, but lost balance and fell. His body hit the hard surface, pushing all air from his lungs and darkening his vision. There was pain and fear, for he was losing control. He strived to get up and back to fight, but then there was something suddenly piercing his chest, a wave of pain crashing onto him with full force, a glimpse of a menacing figure standing above him and…
That was it.
He died.
He failed.
Panic struck him, as he instinctively grasped his chest. No, he wasn't dead. He could feel his heart pound in a fast, chaotic rhythm.
His mind raced, as he tried desperately to remember what just happened. Where was he? He blinked several times, forcing the afterimages to go away. It was still dark, but thanks to a single ray of moonlight that had found its way into the room, he could just barely make out the shape of the interior.
The realization did not lessen his confusion.
It was his father's monastery.
But… it didn't make any sense. He hadn't visited this place for years – he had no reason to. How did he end up here all of a sudden?
He pinched himself lightly on the arm. No, it was not a dream. He was really there.
But why…?
He heard something outside the room. A muffled rhythm of approaching footsteps. He froze for a second before his mind began to race. Should he get up and fight, or maybe pretend to sleep? His temples were pulsing furiously, as he tried to think straight…
There was a knock on the door. And then Lloyd heard a voice – one that seemed so awfully, painfully familiar.
"Lloyd?"
The ninja was paralyzed. This voice belonged to Garmadon, there could be no doubt about that. Yet it sounded softer. Almost… gentle.
"No , " Lloyd shook his head. It was a trick, it had to be. The Emperor was trying to put Lloyd's guard down. But he wouldn't give in this time. He knew now that this creature, this monstrosity , was not his father. And he would not allow himself to be fooled again. He would not–
"Is everything alright, son?"
Lloyd covered his mouth, as his head began to spin even more. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
Did Garmadon just call him his– No, no, it was just a game. A trap he couldn't fall for. The worry in the Emperor's voice was a fakery. He couldn't let himself forget that, even though it made his heart ache so much…
He tried to speak, to tell the monster to go away, but his voice failed him completely. The only sound he managed to produce was one of a barely held back sob.
Was he… crying?
He felt a glimpse of hate towards himself, as he realized there were tears rolling down his face. He wiped them away with his sleeve, but only more came in their place. He didn't want this. He couldn't allow himself to…
His chest burned with pain, as quiet cries escaped his throat.
"How dare he," he thought half-consciously. His breath quickened, his mind spun even faster as his rage slowly escalated. "He almost killed me! He threw me into a wall! He disowned me! And now he dares to speak to me in this tone? He dares to remind me of–"
"Lloyd?"
"Get away from me!" he yelled from the top of his lungs. His heart was racing. He inhaled shakily and fell back onto his pillows, suddenly devoid of any strength. He could feel it now – his body was burning with fever.
Tears ran down his face. He didn't even try to stop them anymore.
As he closed his eyes, he heard the door open. Someone walked inside, their steps careful but urgent.
Lloyd moaned. "Did he come to finish me off?" he thought bitterly. If so, he was as good as dead. He had no power. He had no will to fight.
The footsteps grew closer.
"Get… away," the boy repeated in a broken whisper. "You are… an insult to my father's memory. You…"
He felt a touch on top of his hand…
That was enough for him to find the strength to scream. He sat up abruptly, which sent another wave of nausea through his mind. He backed away, till he reached the verge of the bed and almost fell.
He blinked feverishly, suddenly blinded by the light that was now flowing through the open door.
The monastery was an odd place for a final battle, but perhaps the monster wanted to end him here specifically. Maybe he wanted to see him suffer, plagued by memories of good times long lost. Maybe that's why he tried to imitate his father's tone. But Lloyd wouldn't let him have it. The Emperor was not, and would never be his–
He finally registered the figure who had touched him. They sat at the verge of bed, one hand slightly outstretched, reaching for Lloyd. He blinked. They didn't look like the four armed monster…
The figure leaned forward a bit and now the moonlight illuminated their face. It was…
Lloyd covered his mouth with his hands, suppressing a scream.
It was his father. His real father. The one he had lost years ago, the one he missed every single day of his life.
He was there, he was right there.
Lloyd's entire body trembled. It couldn't be. It just… couldn't…
Garmadon's brow was slightly furrowed, his eyes wide open and filled with worry.
"Lloyd, please," he said softly. "Calm down. Tell me what's wrong, my child."
The tone of his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes… It was too much. Lloyd could feel his feverish mind spin and his lungs struggle to breathe.
It was an illusion, it had to be. A trick. A hallucination. But it was a perfect one, and it felt so real. So cruelly real…
"Go… away…" Lloyd's words came out in breathless gasps. "You're not… true…"
Garmadon blinked. After a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the boy's hand.
Lloyd felt a wave of paralysis wash over him. It was, undeniably, his father's hand, calloused and warm.
"What do you mean I'm not true? I'm right here." Garmadon said. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare?"
A nightmare? No, this was a nightmare. If it wasn't the Emperor's trick, it had to be some twisted fabrication of Lloyd's tired mind. Yes, in distress it must have conjured this fever dream, one calling back to his fondest memories and deepest regrets. Soon he will wake up and his father won't be there. He–
His father won't be there.
No. No, it wasn't really his father, he couldn't forget that. No matter how real he looked, no matter how painfully familiar his touch felt, how caring his voice sounded. None of it was real.
…Right?
Lloyd closed his eyes, swallowing his tears. It would be so easy to give into this illusion. To be held in his father's arms once more. To simply talk to him. To look into his eyes instead of staring at the lifeless statue in the Corridor of Elders. To hear him say his name with tenderness instead of disdain.
To feel loved by his father once more.
He felt so tired. So scared and confused. How could he possibly resist such a promise?
" Just a few minutes ," he thought, as he allowed his father to caress his hand. A small smile formed on his trembling lips. " Just a few…"
" I … I did," he said quietly. "I had a bad dream…"
He opened his eyes just to be met with Garmadon's concerned, yet gentle gaze. He looked at his father, carefully tracing every tiny scar and wrinkle. He knew this face, he knew it oh so well. But he never dared to dream he would see it again.
He gathered the courage to reach out and wrap his arms around Garmadon's neck. Another sob escaped his lips, as he was pulled into a careful embrace. He rested his head against his father's chest, as his blood continued to pulse in his veins and his mind spun even faster.
He felt so warm. So safe.
"How could this not be real?"
"Lloyd, you're burning," Garmadon said, placing his palm against the boy's forehead. He studied his face for a few moments, as his expression grew more and more worried. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's– Oh, child…"
Lloyd couldn't stop tears from falling. His smile faded, replaced with a pained grimace, as emotions began to overflow him. He continued to stare into his father's eyes - ones that were a perfect reflection of his own - while his mind desperately tried to get a grasp on reality.
Memories flooded his brain, some clear as day, some reduced to mere flashing images. It was becoming hard to breathe, to supply his racing heart with enough oxygen.
Suddenly he felt so weak. He curled his fingers around his father's arms for support, but he feared it wouldn't be enough. He felt like he was about to faint.
He moved closer to Garmadon, for at the moment he was the boy's only anchor. He was real, even if nothing else was. He was right there, and he wouldn't let anything bad happen to his son.
Right?
Because Lloyd was still his son, wasn't he? He was still–
"I have no son."
A breathless sob escaped Lloyd's throat. He clutched his heart, as if the memory had caused him physical pain.
"No, it isn't true," he told himself desperately. "It isn't true. That wasn't real. This is real, not that, it's not…"
"Lloyd." Garmadon's voice managed to bring the boy back to the present. He took Lloyd's face between his hands, forcing him to look at him. "Please, you need to calm down. Whatever scared you so much is gone. You are safe now." Lloyd felt his father's thumb caress his cheekbone. "You are safe."
Lloyd tried to catch his breath, as he lifted his hand and covered his father's. He wanted to believe him, he wanted to believe him so badly.
He wanted this to be real.
The possibility of waking up, of having to face the Emperor again… It filled his mind with terror, and made him panic even more.
"Dad…" he whispered. It was everything his broken voice allowed him to say.
"I'm here," Garmadon told him softly. "I'm right here, son. I've got you." He leaned forward slightly and planted a gentle kiss at the top of the boy's head. "Tell me… Was it really just that dream that has upset you so much?"
Lloyd closed his eyes, unable to bear his father's gaze. How could he even begin to explain his fears? What could he tell him?
Words rolled through his fuzzy mind and none of them felt right.
"I saw you die. I had to destroy your soul. I watched you be brought back to life. I fought you. You tried to kill me."
"You said you had no son and tried to kill me."
"You tried to kill me. You–"
"You threw me against a wall, and… and you hit me with… dark magic. You…pierced my chest, and then you smiled, you laughed at me, at my pain, and I couldn't do anything, I was so scared, I–"
"Lloyd!"
His eyes snapped open. He hadn't even realized the words were spilling from his mouth, but now, seeing the terror in his father's eyes, he felt himself break down completely. He hid his face in his hands, as a wave of uncontrollable sobs hit him once more.
"But you wouldn't do this, you would never do this. You wouldn't hurt me. You…"
He cut off, realizing he had asked the Emperor the very same thing. As he was gripped by his throat, struggling to breathe, he found himself grasping at his last hope, saying those very words.
But what he heard in response only shattered his heart.
" I have no son."
He screamed. He screamed like a horrified baby, like a wounded animal. He dug his nails into his skull, in a vain effort to stop his mind from breaking.
It was a nightmare. It was one cruel nightmare.
But now he was awake, wasn't he? He was back home, he was safe…
Or he was just dreaming of being home. And soon he would really wake up.
It wasn't a nightmare… It was his reality.
He felt two strong hands grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his head.
"Child, you're going to hurt yourself."
Garmadon's voice only made his heart ache even more. But it was enough to save him from falling apart completely.
He wrapped his arms around his father's neck, clinging to him for dear life.
"I can't go back there," he sobbed. "I can't. Please, don't let me go back there. Please, father…" His grip only tightened, as his body began to tremble with fear. "I'll do anything. I promise I'll be good. Just… let me stay here. Please…"
"Lloyd…" He could hear the pain in Garmadon's voice. "What are you talking about? You are home. Nothing is going to hurt you…"
"He doesn't understand, " Lloyd thought. "He thinks I've gone crazy. He–"
"I know nightmares are scary," Garmadon continued in the calmest tone he could muster. "I have them too, almost every night. They represent my deepest worries and regrets, and they can be quite exhausting. But, in the end, I always wake up. And I remember that this is the life I'm living, not that absurd fabrication of my troubled mind. And once you accept this…" he gently took Lloyd's hand, "…it's not so scary anymore.
"But…" the boy sobbed, wrapping his fingers around his father's. "What if it's the other way around? What if the nightmare is real?"
"It never is, son. It's just your brain playing tricks on you. And I can guarantee you that you are safe in the waking world."
Lloyd's breathing was still heavy as he was lying in bed, his bloodshot eyes locked on Garmadon. He was afraid to close them. He feared the darkness, but even more so he feared what would come next.
His grip around his father's hand tightened. Garmadon didn't flinch – he simply continued to stroke his son's hair tenderly.
"It's alright. Close your eyes. You need to rest."
Lloyd's heartbeat quickened, despite his efforts to push his fears away.
"Promise me you'll be here when I wake up," he asked in a hoarse voice. "Please, dad…"
"I'll be here, don't worry." Garmadon gave him a soft smile. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, and then I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"But what if–" Lloyd shut his eyes tightly, but a few tears escaped them anyway.
"What if I wake up and it turns out to have been a dream? I don't want to go back there. I can't…"
"Shhh…" Garmadon whispered. "You trust me, don't you?"
Lloyd nodded. Of course he did. He desperately wanted to.
"Then you can be certain I won't let anything happen to you while you're asleep."
"And if I have a nightmare," Lloyd's eyes snapped open, "will you wake me up?"
"I will," Garmadon nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."
After a few long minutes, Lloyd's breathing finally relaxed, as his father's warm hand continued to stroke his forehead. He focused on the touch, on the simple, monotonous movement, until he stopped even noticing it.
He allowed darkness to fill his mind, making him forget about his fear for a few blissful hours.
And then, when he woke up and saw where he was, he immediately burst into tears.