Set in Season 9's ending episodes.

TW: Death, blood, stabbing, mourning, defeat.

Lloyd doesn't realize what he has to do to defeat his father. Fatigue takes over, and eventually his father doesn't even have to finish it.

a lame excuse to write sad stuff

• • •

It'd been one of the best moments in his life so far, seeing the light sky flash blue and white and open a portal in his sky, and then the pure happiness of realizing that it was his brothers, they held out, help was finally here and everything would be just fine—

But no, life always cut in, and pretty soon he was about to step on a dragon and be brought to face his father, which he felt like doing maybe never. Nya stared at him wordlessly, stepping closer. The rest of his teammates stood behind her, worried gazes piercing into him 

"Good luck, Lloyd. " She said, and Lloyd nodded silently. He thinks he hears a small 'come back to us' whispered under her breath, too, and all too quickly, the magnificent dragon was sweeping her swings and they were alight in the air, and Lloyd felt like all the air in his lungs had been sucked out of him along with any earlier bravado acquired. 

Like he was drowning in the empty space, losing all ability to breathe. 

Sensei Wu gave him a small, encouraging smile, as he draws his sword, and as his father's voice echoes around them, Lloyd thought they might actually have a chance. 

• • •

He did not have a single chance, one on one with his father. Sensei Wu had disappeared into thin air, his powers were not making an appearance anytime soon, and he was getting tired. The sky is darkening quickly, sun disappearing behind the horizon as if it it being tugged away by an invisible hand. 

Really, really tired. The fatigue setting deep into his bones, dragging his movements slower, muting his thoughts. 

It would be fatal if he carried on like this.

His father was laughing, jeering, and his mind was screaming at him to do something, anything, to shut the deep, hateful, voice up. Somehow, in a moment of confusion, his sword was parried out of his fingers, falling, falling, falling over the edge, and Lloyd knows he's just lost about half his chances of winning this fight.

And all that's left now is to dodge the flashing silver strikes, since he has nothing to parry with, and hope to land a few more of his own hits. Help still hasn't come, but he can hear the Colossal in the background roaring in a He just has to hang on a little longer.

A little longer.

• • •

The next thing he knows,  his father is suddenly laughing like he's won the lottery, his side is pouring a dark, dark red into his arms, and his head feels a lot lighter. 

Oh. 

Lloyd looks down at his chest, and his shaking fingers pull away to reveal a deep wound. That's... not good.But help is coming, right? He just has to hold on. 

Although, he's not sure how much time he has left. 

• • •

And now blood is pouring down everywhere he goes, covering his arms, legs, sides, and his thoughts swim, dance, flutter like butterflies in a field, and his father is lowering his sword, and looking just the littlest bit sad. 

Maybe Lloyd did something wrong? The thought is lost in a pile of others, his vision is hazed and dizzy, and he's on the floor now, maybe he's slipped.

 But the world is fading out of his sight and he struggles to hold on, because someone is coming to help, his brothers are coming, he just doesn't know when and if he can still endure— The black floats across the corners of his vision, and a sword clatters somewhere next to him. That's odd, he thinks dazedly. 

And the roar of the dragons are getting closer, but so is the darkness. And the air is suddenly getting harder to pull into his lungs.

I'm sorry, Nya. I held on as long as I could.

And then he's tumbling, falling, drowning in the darkness, and in the end, he thinks maybe he's finally getting to rest. 

• • •

And that's where his brothers find him. Curled up in a ball in a corner of the rooftop, blood still flowing out of his wounds. But his eyes are closed,  and his face is more peaceful than they have ever seen it. 

Lord Garmadon is gone, dark sword abandoned with all promises of destroying the rest of Ninjago. 

Cole sits and holds the cold, cold, body, and whispers to Lloyd through the night how sorry he is, refusing to let go even when the rest of the team try to persuade three, four, five hours later. 

Kai disappears from the roof, wishing Garmadon hadn't left so he could have something, anything to fight, to beat up, to put the blame on for killing Lloyd, because if there's nobody else, he will push the blame onto himself for not being stronger, faster, better, and how he couldn't save the person he promise to protect. 

Zane escapes away and shuts himself off for a little while. It's selfish, but also the only thing he can do. Pixal follows, if only to make sure he will still wake up. 

Jay sits at the ledges of the building, with Nya beside him sobbing into his shoulder. She keeps him grounded, grounded as the harsh reality slowly sinks into him.

They'd been too late. 

 If he'd fought a little faster, a little harder, made one less joke, maybe, maybe they would've arrived in time to help. The 'maybes' and 'what ifs' sit tugging at his heart through the night, and he knows they'll continue for as long as he lives.

Wu doesn't understand any of it. The countless prophecies, tales, myths, they all failed at the final fight. There was no ending strike. No returns of powers. 

Blood loss. That's what had finally ended the Green Ninja. And it was so stupid, so painfully simple. His only reassurance was that it was supposedly an easy death. Like falling asleep, the paramedics assure him. And Wu is glad, that if nothing else, there was no suffering, painful, death for his nephew. 

They all think about how death was the only way he could find rest, in the end.