Chapter Text
For a ship containing technological miracles—seriously, Lloyd still didn’t understand how the thing could fly ; it should have been impossible—the level of insulation was severely lacking. And maybe the constant chill flooding his closet-of-a-room had something to do with him leaving his window open permanently, but Lloyd refused to accept that explanation. It was all the ship’s fault.
He also refused to close said window. On his first night here, only a couple days ago, he had been so exhausted, between the lack of sleep and a full belly—a rare occurrence for him—that he had passed out the moment his Uncle had left the room, leaving the window shut firmly, blocking out the frigid wind as they flew. He had awoken late the next morning to a stifling heat within the room, the air stale and so unlike the fresh breeze he had grown used to on his travels. It reminded him of the bland air back at Darkley’s, filled with heated stares and whispered comments, just loud enough for him to hear—on purpose, no doubt. It had taken him a moment to remember that he wasn’t back at the school where everyone hated him, where he was bullied mercilessly for not being evil enough.
Where his mother had dumped him before she upped and vanished from his life forever. Where he was all alone.
A flutter of panic had filled him, snatching the breath from his lungs, his throat tightening. And then he had felt the rocking of the ship as it flew, heard the Ninja’s banter through his closed door, and his heart had settled, if only slightly.
He had kept his window open since then, letting in the fresh air and banishing the memories he tried so hard to forget.
As if his thoughts had summoned it, a frigid breeze swept into his room, icy claws digging into his flesh and tearing a shudder from him. With a groan, Lloyd rolled over and pulled the thin blanket the Ninja had supplied him with tighter around himself, desperately trying to drift back off. Sleep was already so fleeting for him—did the world have to pull him away from it so soon?
He squeezed bleary eyes shut when the air suddenly dropped a few more degrees, groaning weakly. The world did have it out for him, then.
Peeling open his eyes, he searched for his hoodie, perking up when he saw it hanging on the doorknob. His Uncle had pried it from him the morning before to wash it the moment Lloyd had stepped into the room. Lloyd had tried to convince him that the mud splattered on its side was nothing—and really, compared to his months traversing Ninjago, it was nothing—but his Uncle wouldn’t hear it, and so he had been left without its defences for the night, protected only by the thin long-sleeve he wore permanently underneath.
He threw the blanket back, not feeling the loss of warmth when it had been so minimal, but he did feel the frozen floorboards under his socked feet, felt how they sent waves of ice-coldness into him, pricking like needles.
“Stupid ship,” he grumbled to himself, snatching up his hoodie and pulling it on, sighing in content when its familiar weight settled over him, comforting like a suit of armour to a knight. It was his only line of defence against the outside world that hated him so—and, it had been a gift from his dad for his eighth birthday a few months ago, and so he cherished it dearly. The fabric was softer than usual and smelled faintly of lavender, and he wondered if his Uncle had used something special while he washed it, just for Lloyd. He wondered if his Uncle had noticed the darkness etched beneath his eyes and had chosen lavender in hopes of helping him sleep.
His chest swelled with warmth at the thought, and he pulled the hood over his head, inhaling the soft scent appreciatively. But he wouldn’t tell his Uncle he appreciated it—no evil son of Lord Garmadon would do such a thing, and he was as evil as they came!
A breeze drifted in through his window, forcing him to wrap his arms around himself, and he was reminded as to why he felt so miserable and tired in the first place: this stupid ship’s stupid lack of insulation. Seriously, he had squatted in caves warmer than this, especially when he—
Lloyd gasped, an idea coming to mind. Whenever he was cold during his time out and about in Ninjago, he would gather some kindling and light a fire with his trusty rocks—a skill he had learned quickly one frigid night where his life depended on aforementioned skill. The rocks had been with him for months, and they now rested in the corner of the room, beneath the edge of the padded training mat he had claimed as a bed.
He scurried over, dropping to his knees and peeling back the corner of the mat. He held the two rocks reverently for a moment, felt the weight of old friends he wouldn’t have survived without in his palms, then turned in search of something to light. An ancient broom leaned against the wall near the window, its wood dry and cracked. Perfect.
In the corner opposite his bed, a bucket full of bamboo sat, ready to be discarded when the Ninja remembered to do so. It was a weathered yellow, dry and cracked.
Perfect again. Maybe the world didn’t hate him entirely.
He gathered the broom and bamboo, snapping the broomstick into smaller pieces, sticking a finger in his mouth with a wince when the ancient wood cut him. Within minutes, he had a tent fire built expertly in the centre of his room. Kindling would help, but… he wouldn’t be able to find any here.
Instead, he tore off a corner of his blanket and looped it around a chunk of broom, shooting a quick prayer to the gods for it to take properly.
Next, he sat back on his knees, pulling his rocks from his hoodie pocket. He paused then, wondering if he really needed the fire now; all the movement and excitement had warmed him up a little, and he no longer shivered, nor did his bones ache with the cold—but then another breeze wafted in, bringing with it the equivalent of icy hands crawling up his spine, and Lloyd knew he had to do it, if only to stop being so miserable here. It had only been two days, and he hadn’t had a second of peace! Maybe he could keep it small, and use any spare wood overnight when it inevitably grew colder again.
With a nod to himself, he removed some of the bamboo sticks, setting them to the side for next time. He would need to hunt down more scraps of wood, but that could come later, when his skin was free of gooseflesh and his bones weren’t so stiff with cold.
Was this what his Uncle felt like all the time? It was awful.
Kneeling before his skeleton of a fire again, he held the two rocks firmly in both hands. The cloth-wrapped broom piece lay before him, waiting to be lit. With confidence only months of experience could grant, he struck the two rocks together, their sparks skittering over the cloth, as he had commanded them to.
The cloth sizzled and smoked, but didn’t take. That was fine. It wasn’t often his kindling took flame on the first strike anyway, Lloyd thought with a shrug.
He struck them together again, and this time, the cloth sizzled and smoked—then caught fire. A small pinprick of a thing at first, no bigger than a firefly, but steadily growing with every passing second. Lloyd was quick to pick it up and cover it with his body, protecting it from the harsh winds still crawling into his room.
The flame grew, slowly but surely, and then all at once, encompassing the piece of old wood in its fiery embrace. With a grin, Lloyd pushed it into the centre of the wood, through a gap he had prepared. It didn’t take long for the flames to latch onto the dry, cracked wood, and soon he had a little fire before him, pushing warm air into the frigid room. Smoke curled from the flames, up and up, until it was dragged out of the window by the ever-present breeze eddying through Lloyd’s room.
But the breeze didn’t matter anymore. Not to Lloyd. Not when the warmth pulsing from the fire settled over him like a blanket, soothing the shivers wracking his thin frame, warming palms that had been frigid for days. With a sigh of relief, Lloyd leaned back on his now-warm hands, eyes slipping shut contentedly as heat washed over him. Gods, this was much better. Why hadn’t he thought to do this sooner? He would need to collect as much wood as possible if he was to keep his room warm during his stay with Uncle and the Ninja—he doubted they would be letting him go anytime soon, and… as much as he hated to admit it, it was nice to be around other people for once. Maybe, if he kept his room warm, he would even be able to snag more sleep!
Gods, he had forgotten what a full night of rest felt like.
Excitement thrumming through his veins, golden and warm and fuzzy, Lloyd leaned back over the fire, holding his hands out again as the floorboards sent their chill needling through his palms. His eyes slipped shut with content for the first time in days, and he wondered if he could drift back to sleep, now that he was warm.
As if the world had realised he was too comfortable, the door was abruptly slammed open with a loud bang , tearing Lloyd out of the fuzzy warmth clinging to his mind and making him drowsy. He jumped a foot in the air, his palm meeting the flickering flames for a split second—long enough to sear it and pull a pained hiss from his lips.
“What are you doing ?” Ah. It was Kai. What did the moron want from him now? And did he have to be so loud? The words grated on his ears like nails on a chalk board.
“What do you—” His words were cut off when Kai shoved him out of the way, knocking him onto his side. “Hey!”
Kai ignored him in favour of snatching up his blanket and using it to stamp out his fire. Each stomp of his boot against the floor made Lloyd flinch, and he edged away when Kai turned furious eyes to him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you brat?” Kai seethed.
Lloyd blinked, glancing between Kai, and the scattered remains of the fire he had worked so hard to prepare. His eyes narrowed as irritation tore through him like a wildfire, his nose scrunching up in a way he hoped was intimidating. “How dare—”
Kai cut him off with a growl. “Are you trying to set the Bounty on fire?” His eyes widened. “Is this some scheme of yours? We foiled your ‘big bad plan’”—he held his hands up, making mocking air quotations, as if he didn’t believe Lloyd’s plans had been evil —“so now you’re trying to destroy our home?”
Lloyd blew a raspberry at him. “Go away!” First Kai had ruined his only source of warmth, and now he was accusing him of something he hadn’t even been trying to do! He hated it here.
Kai bared his teeth at him, and Lloyd smirked in response. Even if burning the Bounty down hadn’t been his goal, he would let Kai believe it. Doing so would help build up his evil reputation, after all. Plus, lying was bad , so it was a double win, with an extra side of evil .
“That’s it,” Kai said, storming over to him, kicking aside the smouldering remains of Lloyd’s fire. In the blink of an eye, Kai latched onto his wrist, hauling him up and out of the room. Lloyd gasped, for three different reasons:
One, he had forgotten that the Ninja were ninja—they were quick, and could take him out if they wished to do so;
Two, Kai’s hand over his wrist was so warm , as if the Master of Fire had molten lava flowing through his veins, rather than blood;
And three, the scratches on his wrist—last night had been hard—flared up at the aggravation, leaving him trying to tug his arm away to no avail.
Kai paid no attention to his reaction. He said nothing at all, but his hand tightened over Lloyd’s wrist, making him wince, even as warmth flowed into him—it reminded him of the times the other boys would grab him and throw him at something, usually a locker or a desk.
It would bruise the same way, he was certain of that.
Kai pulled him into the thankfully empty kitchen, retaining his hold on Lloyd’s wrist while he grabbed a chair, dragging it over to the corner. Kai shoved Lloyd into the chair, finally releasing him—Lloyd rubbed at his wrist with a wince, eyeing off the chair with confusion.
“I’ve had enough of your”—Kai gestured vaguely at Lloyd—“whole evil thing. You’re in time-out, buddy.” He said the final word wryly, as if Uncle had forced him to use it rather than a few choice words he would have preferred.
Lloyd blinked. “Time… out?”
“Yep,” Kai said, popping the ‘p’. “You can stay there and think about what you did until you apologise.”
Ah. Kai had mistaken his confusion for disbelief.
“What the hell is time-out?” Lloyd snapped, attempting to push himself off of the chair. Kai grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him back in place. “Let me go! If you don’t let me out right now, my dad will—”
Kai scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he thought Lloyd was being difficult. “What?” he began, ignoring Lloyd’s demands that he let him go, that he had done nothing wrong, “Your Ma never put you in time-out? I find that hard to believe.”
Lloyd’s mouth snapped shut, his throat suddenly dry. He looked away from Kai, turning his gaze to the side and crossing his arms. Of course she had never put him in ‘time-out.’ She had dumped him at Darkley’s before he could walk.
Kai huffed, and when Lloyd cast him a fleeting glance, he saw the ninja was smirking. “Guess that got you to shut up, huh? About time.” He shook his head, moving away to clear dishes from breakfast and missing Lloyd’s piercing glare. Lloyd’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food, but he refused to pay it any attention. The Ninja already hated him enough; they wouldn’t want him taking their food, and he had survived longer without it anyway.
If they wanted to share, they would have told him.
“No wonder you’re so bratty,” Kai grumbled as he set about washing the dishes. “She must have spoiled you to no end, right? Bet she’d be disappointed now.”
Lloyd grit his teeth, blinking back the tears pricking at his eyes. Let them believe whatever they wanted; he wouldn’t be here much longer, anyway. Not if he had a say in it.
Kai hummed. “Nothing else to say, huh? Good. Think about what you’ve done.”
Lloyd’s cheeks burned, and he was glad Kai wasn’t looking his way, focused on the dishes. He crossed his arms tighter, lowering his gaze to glare at the floor.
When Kai finished up and turned around expectantly, Lloyd mumbled a quick, “sorry,” and scurried back to his room. He kicked the pile of burnt wood to the side and crawled back into his bed, huddling beneath his burned blanket and ignoring the way his palm flared with pain.
He didn’t leave his room again that day.