#wrote this in 2 days and didn't bother editing bc im nonchalant like that

[astro-nomaly]

Sword and Shield (greenflower)

jfc i feel insane. i had to get this au out of my head so i wrote this first draft thing in two days anyways this is probably all i'll write at least for a while bc i don't have an actual set storyline and i really need to write tkal lmao. this is technically 2 chapters but whatever they made sense together

anyways @morroodle this is for you dude and uh sorry if this crashes anyone's browser. no cw for this

Brad Tudabone is 17 years old – almost 18 (if ‘in seven months’ counts as ‘almost’) - and is currently climbing the tallest mountain in Ninjago.  

Now, the Realm has its fair share of mountains. The Golden Peaks of the West (the existence of which is not confirmed) in the Endless Sea are supposed to be taller than the sea is deep. Less impressively, the Shintaro Mountain range in the Southern Province stretches dozens of miles high, and the Caves of Despair are the most treacherous peaks in the world. But Brad is conquering something a little more difficult - the Mountains of Impossible Height.  

Honestly, the name was an exaggeration. It was, at best, the Mountains of Incredibly Dangerous Do Not Attempt for Fear of Death. Brad had only almost died, like, five times. And his arm was probably fractured, but whatever.  

He huddled against the cave wall, wincing as the sharp edges dug into the thin fabric of his shirt. Dammit, he should’ve brought a coat. He scowled at his fraying boots, one cold toe poking through. Should’ve brought better boots, too. Who knew climbing the world’s tallest mountain was such hard work?  

Brad was taking shelter in a small cave carved into the side of the Mountain of Impossible Height, which was a mouthful, waiting for the rain to pass. This high up, a light shower could kill him. He was already freezing.  

Brad shuffled a little closer to the small fire he had going, huffing into his hands. Next time, he would bring gloves that covered his fingers. Man, fingerless gloves looked so cool though! Though, it’s not like anyone else he knew wore them.  

To pass the time as he warmed up, Brad pulled an ancient scroll from his bag of assorted supplies, most of which he needed more of. Climbing mountains sucked.  

The scroll was fraying, yellow and browning around the edges. The thing was only a few decades old, but hadn’t been preserved well. Brad had found it only a month or two ago while poking around a half-destroyed museum, courtesy of the Oni army.  

Ugh. Brad hated the Oni. They’d shown up, what, fifty years ago?  So far, the army had been kept at bay by the holders of the Golden Weapons - weapons people didn’t know even existed - and Wu, the son of the First Spinjitzu Master – supposedly. No one knew if the god was real or not, but the dragon demigod of creation pointed to ‘yes’. The army had come out of a strange portal from the First Realm, a place no one was sure even existed before the arrival of the four-armed demons. They were led by yet another legendary figure; Garmadon, the Oni demigod of destruction and the first son of the FSM.  

There was a running theme here. Fifty years ago, several ancient legends were confirmed to be true as magic and elements were thrust into their realm. So, Brad felt confident about this legend as well.  

The Sword of Sanctuary. The scroll Brad scavenged from the museum rubble illustrated a lustrous golden sword surrounded by elegant text. The sword was, supposedly, the legendary weapon of the FSM himself, and super powerful to boot.  

It made sense, didn’t it? If demigods of creation and destruction were real, and other realms were real, and the elemental Golden Weapons then didn’t it stand to reason that the guy who made those weapons and fathered those demigods existed? If the FSM was real, then the sword was too, and that meant it could be useful.  

Everyone Brad reported his theory to – his overworked mom, his friends, the cops – laughed in his face. After fifty years of war that went almost nowhere, no matter how many dragons showed up to help, people were tired and low on hope. Every day the Oni army got closer to capturing the capital city, and if they did, they’d have easy access to the other four provinces. People needed practical solutions, not fairytales.  

But Brad knew that this wasn’t a fairytale. The sword was real, he just knew it. Was it a little presumptuous to assume that he could use it? Maybe. Brad was a normal guy – he played basketball, he gardened, and he was self-taught in using any kind of weapon. He didn’t know a single martial arts form, and his go-to for winning fights was the kick the other guy in the crotch and run. (Which, by the way, totally worked.) But even if Brad himself couldn’t use the sword, couldn’t someone else? One of the elemental masters, or even Wu? It didn’t matter who had the sword - if Brad found it, he could find someone to use it and win the fight.  

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want the sword, though. Brad hated feeling so useless all the time. His mom worked day and night to keep their apartment and put food on the table, half of which Brad grew in their own house. All his friends were either enlisted or contributing to society somehow. But Brad... didn’t really want to be in the army. Sure, fighting demons sounded cool, but he wanted adventure, not barracks and boot camp.  

If Brad found the Sword of Sanctuary, not only could the humans win the war, but Brad would be a hero.  

Besides, how cool would a magic sword be? Brad’s thinking lasers.  

He traced the thin letters around the illustration. He should, if the scroll isn’t lying to him, find some sort of temple at the top of the mountain, and the sword inside. Just like the last few days on this mountain, the scroll strengthened his resolve. He wasn’t just doing it for the adventure – though, if Ninjago weren’t in such dire straits, he would probably still do this – he was also doing it for Ninjago. For his mom, for Gene, who worked all the time trying to develop better technologies, and for all the citizens of Ninjago City who wanted just one good day.  

He tucked the scroll back into his bag, careful to make sure it wouldn’t crease or tear, and settled on his side. The rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Might as well sleep.  

Brad dreams of Green. Not green, like the color, but Green. It’s life, it’s beauty, it’s the forest floor dappled in sunlight and the tall field grass swaying in a gentle breeze. It’s the shine of a bright grin and the adrenaline of a race. The Green is everywhere, all-consuming and shining like a star. Sheer gold peeks through the cracks, brighter than the sun itself.  

It’s crying.  

“Let me out,” the Green and Gold begs. The words don’t exist. They’re a compilation of feelings, hopes and dreams and everything else the universe can’t quantify. It’s like Brad has been granted a window into the soul of the realm itself, only to find that it was looking back.  

The words come in a melody, sweet and bright and lulling him to an even deeper sleep despite the sheer desperation leaking through.  

“LET ME OUT!” The Green and Gold screams, but Brad can only dip further into sleep.  

For the rest of the night, he dreams of darkness. 

Brad hates mountains. He’s been on this damned mountain for five days, ran out of food two days and has been random fruit since, and has no idea where he is. He briefly entertains the thought of dying up here before shaking it from his mind. He knows he’s getting closer – this mountain can’t get too much taller, can it?  

He shivers, clutching his arms as he stalks up the natural pathway. It’s overgrown and treacherous, but he’s lucky nonetheless that a path exists at all. It only supports his mission – at some point, people were here.  

“’Course, they probably had coats,” he muttered. He’s been talking to himself lately, which isn’t ideal, but whatever.  

He cut through a particularly nasty bramble patch in his way with his katana. It was an old, chipped thing, supposedly belonging to his father at some point. He didn’t have any attachment to the guy; he died before Brad was born. Still, a sword was a sword.  

Not as cool as the Sword of Sanctuary, though. 

Surprisingly, though, today seems to be a good day for Brad. For the past five days, the mountain had only gotten more and more treacherous, trying its best to kill him at every turn. He’s had to dodge wolves, evil birds, navigate horrendously narrow pathways and climb vertical cliff faces. Nothing so far has been easy – except now. The path levels out, the jagged rocks become smooth- 

Water. 

Brad laughs in disbelief. There’s a river! Oh, he’s missed water. He bends at the bank, scooping water in his mouth. It’s cold as it slides down his throat, and he drinks greedily.  

He wipes his mouth, sated, and takes another second to look around. The mountain is starting to level out, and greenery fills the area. The trees are lusher than they have any right to be, bearing fruit that definitely isn’t in season. It’s warmer now, too, which is weird so high up. The ground is crawling with bright green vines, flowering in shades of unnatural gold.  

“...huh,” he says. The Mountain of Impossible Height has been inhospitable to a fault so far. Why is it suddenly so nice? A refreshing river, fruit-bearing trees, smooth pathways?  

“Either something is horrifically wrong or terrifically right,” Brad said, adjusting the strap of his bag as he stood. He followed the path, holding his katana cautiously. But nothing came out at him. Birds literally sang in the treetops, a few does bound through the increasingly thick trees, hell, a butterfly literally landed on his nose at one point. It was as if he’d crossed a threshold.  

Brad soon came to an actual pathway, made up of cobblestone overgrown with moss. He followed the winding road, growing more and more excited as lamps began to dress the grass along the path.  

Then- a monastery.  

Brad gaped at the sight. A large red Torii gate stood before him, and further down the path, a grand monastery. It was gated by a tall solid stone fence, overgrown with flowering vines and moss. Brad whooped, running along the path until he reached the entrance, throwing the double doors open with a laugh.  

He came into a courtyard with a golden dragon statue in the middle. If he wasn’t sure of this place before, he was now. This had to be it. The home of the Sword of Sanctuary.  

He stepped forward carefully, looking around the courtyard. It was wholly abandoned and overgrown in greenery. It was beautiful, yes, but eerie as well. Like a school at midnight, or a graveyard at night. Otherworldly.  

“Hello?” He called, just to be safe. He didn’t want to upset a possible deity or something.  

Nothing. He shrugged and poked around on the wrap-around porch. He slid open the doors inside and recoiled at the smell of dust. Yeah, this place hadn’t been touched for a while.  

He stepped inside, feeling as though he’d come into another realm entirely. Yeah, this had ‘school at midnight’ vibes. The halls were dark, lit only by the fading sunlight that shown through the aged walls and grimy windows. Every step he took made the floorboards creak and groan.  

He followed the hall, humming nervously. He poked his head in every door he came across but just found abandoned bedrooms and bathrooms. There was a large kitchen, a couch and TV – weird – and a small armory. He made his way around the entire monastery, and didn’t find anything of note.  

He sighed, flopping down on the couch. Dust rose up around him, settling on the disturbed surface.  

“Think, Tudabone,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, pulled back by a red bandana. There had to be something here that would lead him to the sword.  

“A basement!” He exclaimed, smacking his forehead. Of course! Who would leave a mega-powerful legendary sword laying around for anyone to nab? There had to be a hidden room or basement or-  

“Or not,” he said, staring at the ceiling. Outside, he’d made note of the way the roof accommodated what seemed to be two extra rooms stacked on each other above the entrance doors, featuring round windows.  

He vaguely recalled a faint light coming from the very top window, what he’d assumed to be sunlight.  

Well, he’s looked everywhere else.  

Brad quickly ran back outside, looking up at the extra two stories, rising into a tower. The sun was going down now, but the golden light remained in the uppermost window. He grinned and looked for a way to get up to it. The stone around the double gates was crumbling, revealing convenient footholds.  

He crossed the courtyard, hauling himself up the wall until he stood on the narrow shingles, balancing carefully. He slowly put one foot in front of the other, making his way over to the wider part of the roof. When he did, he scrambled over the roof to the second story, holding the red column that supported the roof.  

Brad stretched on his toes, trying to grasp the edge of the second story’s slanted roof. He was a tall guy, but damn! When he finally got his fingers over the edge, he jumped the extra few inches to grab on with his other hand. Brad breathed heavily, swaying lightly from the roof. He grunted as he pulled himself up, using the shingles as leverage until he could awkwardly kneel on the second story roof. The third story was small, and the window was too grimy to see through. But up close, he could definitely tell that the golden light was emitting from this room.  

He fumbled with the round window, searching for a latch. The latch was on the inside, but a little jiggling got the run-down window to slowly creak open. Brad tumbled through, landing on his knees and cutting up his palm with splinters. He hissed, drawing his hand to his chest.  

Inside the room, he felt warmth as golden light bathed his body. He looked up just for his breath to catch in his throat with a gasp.  

The Sword of Sanctuary.  

Brad didn’t need to reference the scroll to know that this was the sword. It gleamed in the sunset, emitting a soft golden light from its spotless blade. The blade seemed to be painted with every color of the waning and rising sun, thrumming with light. Warmth emanated from it, bathing the room in honey. The hilt curved inward elegantly, and in the middle rested a magnificent green gem. Brad couldn’t tell if it was emerald – it seemed too ethereal to come from the earth.  

The sword was held downward by a statue. The statue was a simple androgynous person with intricately carved feathered wings draping their body like a chiton, and a crown resting upon their brow. Otherwise, they were bare. Their eyes were closed, and their expression seemed to leak with sadness as they clutched the sword by the hilt.  

Brad stepped forward, enraptured by the sight of the sword. The green gem, originally inactive, pulsed and light up with light like it had sensed him. Brad stopped, holding his breath. The gem simply continued to glow.  

“Right, right,” Brad whispered, strangely short of breath, “watch out for boobytraps.” He looked around for tripwires or plates but found nothing. The walls were decorated with woven tapestries of the Golden Weapons, and behind the statue on either side were an Oni and a dragon. Otherwise, the room was empty.  

Okay. No boobytraps – maybe it was a test of character? He’d seen books like that.  

“Hey... sword,” he said, feeling a little dumb, “I’m not going to use you for, like, evil. I’m here to save people, so please don’t kill me.” 

He left his katana and satchel on the floor, slowly walking toward the statue. The green gem, somehow demanding more attention than the ethereal blade, thrummed in time with his footsteps, glowing brighter as he got closer. He hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.  

Brad hesitated, reaching for the sword. His hand curled, hesitant, before he used both hands to grab the sword by the curling hilt. The second he laid hands on it, the sword lit up even brighter, shining brighter than the sun.  

Brad shut his eyes against the onslaught of light, grunting, but didn’t let go. The sword was hot, now, but it wasn’t painful. It was like a melty cookie, or a space heater – warm, comforting, soft.  

He squinted, and tugged. The statue’s hands held the sword tightly. Brad braced his feet, trying to adjust for more leverage. “Come on,” he said, tugging again. “Please,” he whispered, “I need you.” 

With each increasingly hard tug, the sword somehow became brighter and brighter. It was audibly humming now, filling the air with a strangely familiar melody. The smell of flowers filled the air, wafting in the dusty room. Wind ruffled the tapestries as Brad pulled at the sword harder and harder.  

He grit his teeth, tightened his hold, and pulled as hard as he possibly could.  

The stone hands around the sword cracked and fell, releasing the sword. With one final burst of light, the sword fell forward, and Brad toppled from the momentum of his pull.  

He stumbled back, breathing heavily, as the sword dimmed, slowly ceasing the thrumming and humming. The wind died down, and the scent of flowers settled with the dust.  

Brad stared down at the sword, its blade gleaming like new, breathless. He laughed, little bursts falling from his mouth. “I did it,” he whispered, disbelieving, “I did it! I got the sword!” 

The winged statue crumbled to pieces. Brad flinched, jumping back, as the stone fell away in chunks. “Ooh,” he winced, “that’s... that’s not a great sign.” 

He waited for something else to happen, but nothing did.  

“...huh. Okay." He looked down at the sword. “You're not going to disintegrate me, right? We’re chill?” The sword did not respond.  

He grinned, readjusting his grip to hold the actual handle. He noticed, belatedly, that the pommel is a second, smaller green gem encased in gold. He holds the sword up high, tilting it back and forth to catch the fading light.  

“Heh,” he laughs, swinging it in a slow arc through the air. He hears an audible swish, and laughs again. He feels so cool! Him, regular old Brad Tudabone, wielding the legendary Sword of Sanctuary with ease! He even feels stronger for it, like he could sprint a hundred miles or punch straight through a mountain. “This is so cool,” he says, cutting another arc through the air. He twirls the sword, taking it the way the light creates a kaleidoscope.  

Brad wonders what the sword can really do. Does it shoot lasers? Is it telekinetic, somehow? Or- ooh, he saw an anime where the sword duplicated itself once, that would epic. He traces the blade reverently, imagining everything the sword could possibly accomplish against the Oni. He notices soft green vines, thin and fragile, curling up from the golden hilt against the sunset blade. He smiles.  

“I bet someone was real lucky to have this,” he thinks aloud, “you’re going to help so many people, y’know. Ugh, I wish you could talk. I want to know everything.”  

As if he’s said some kind of code word, the blade begins to shudder. Brad makes a startled noise, holding the sword at arm's length. The green gem begins to glow brighter than ever, thrumming violently. The blade itself warps, the previously soft hues becoming eye-scorching shades of burning violets and yellows. Brad feels nauseous just looking at it, but he can’t seem to let go.  

“No, no, no-” he gasps, arms shaking from the strain as the sword grows more violent by the second, “please, stop, no, no, no-” he begs, but the sword isn’t listening anymore. It’s gone from elegant and soft to nauseating as colors blend into each other. The hilt itself begins to warp, curling inward as the metal melts into itself. Glowing cracks emanate from the green gem as bright, scorching cracks appear in the sword. Brad gasps, frantically shaking the sword as if he can make it stop.  

Then light like a flashbang overtakes the entire room, blinding Brad, and he falls on his butt.  

Brad comes to slowly, still blinking rainbow spots out of his eyes. He’s pinned to the floor by something on his stomach and legs, and quickly realizes that the weight is moving. He rubs his eyes, propping his upper half up.  

There is a person on his lap.  

Brad gapes, once again speechless. By now, the moon is up, framing the person in a halo of cold light that only accentuates the sheer warmth leaking off of them. They have long golden hair that curls down to their shoulders, fluffy and soft and shining. A light gold and green diadem rests on their head, secured in their thick hair. They’re dressed in a white, sleeveless sort of shirt, ruffled and flowing at the end. The top folds over their shoulders, lined in green and tiny little emerald gemstones. Their legs are covered by a long white cloth that’s secured by another silky material with a gold chain. Their legs are otherwise bare and freckled. Their skin is a soft tan, golden in the moonlight.  

They’re really, really cute. And they’re on Brad’s lap.  

Okay Tudabone, don’t mess this up.  

The person groans softly, face twitching. Their eyelashes are as golden as their hair, and underneath their eyes are soft golden markings, curly and elegant. He can respect the color scheme.  

Brad watches as their eyes flutter open, confused and dazed. Their irises are a beautiful emerald green, shining in every shade Brad can think of. Their pupils are shaped like miniature twinkling stars, again golden. Golden pupils – strange. As they slowly adjust, making confused noises, their pointed ears twitch rapidly.  

That’s really cute, Brad thinks, face hot.  

They seem to realize that they’re sitting on Brad, and stare up at him with giant green doe eyes. Brad’s face gets even hotter the longer they make eye contact.  

“...hi,” they whisper softly. Their voice is oddly familiar, like a melody he’s heard before.  

He swallows thickly. “Hi,” he responds softly, not willing to break the strange spell over the room.  

The blonde looks around, and they don’t seem to recognize their surroundings. “Wh- who- where-” they mutter, and Brad starts to get concerned. He holds them by the arms gently, trying to corral them up off of him.  

“Are you okay?” He asks. The person nods vaguely, slowly wobbling to their feet. Brad notices that their feet are bare with a grimace. They could easily cut their skin on splinters.  

They stare down at their own freckled hands, inspecting their skin. Now that Brad’s had a few seconds to get his bearings, he’s getting really freaked out. Ten seconds ago, he was holding the Sword of Sanctuary when it suddenly began warping and glowing. Now there’s a blonde person dressed in oddly ancient-looking clothes, acting as if they've never seen their own hands before.  

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks again, because he might be freaked out, but this person is obviously not okay. They hum, twisting around to look at him with those giant green eyes. They’re practically glowing in the moonlight.  

“Where are we?" They ask. Brad blinks, surprised.  

“The- the Mountain of Impossible Height. Seriously, are you feeling alright? You seem confused.” 

They touch their forehead, eyes shutting like they’ve encountered a sudden headache. It draws Brad’s attention to the strange golden tattoo imprinted on their forehead like a little tiara.  

“How- who are you?” They demand.  

“Brad,” he answers gently. “Look, I don’t mean to push, but twenty seconds ago I was holding a magic sword. Now you’re here. Where did you come from?” 

“A sword?” They’re suddenly staring at him with intensity. “What do you know about the sword?”  

Brad holds his hands up, trying to calm them. “Hey, I just found it here. It freaked out and boom, here you are. I’m just as confused as you. Here, look.” Brad scooped his bag off the floor, brandishing the worn scroll to the stranger. “Look, this is what I was looking for.” 

They snatch the scroll, eyes raking over it. “...does anyone else know about this?”  

“No, no one else believed me. Why? Really, you just came out of no... where...” Brad trails off slowly. The sword was golden, inlaid with green gemstones that seemed to come from the stars themselves.  

This person speaks with a melodious voice, just as soft and ethereal as the sword. They’re dressed in white, yes, but marked with golden tattoos. Their eyes are such a pure, glittering green that Brad can’t stand to look at them for too long.  

His eyes inadvertently lock onto their chest. Two sparkling green gemstones are imbedded in their skin, softly thrumming.  

“You’re the sword,” he says dumbly.  

They stiffen, eyes wild like a deer in headlights. The two stare at one another, frozen. The blonde – the Sword of Sanctuary who is a person – goes from a terrified stare to a glare. “What do you know about this?” They demand, waving the scroll at Brad. “Why did you come looking for me?” 

“I just found it!” Brad defended, “I was looking for the sword- for you because you’re supposed to be really powerful! Look, you belonged to the First Master, right?” 

“I don’t belong to anyone,” they snarled. Brad nodded.  

“Okay, okay. But still, you’re all about justice and whatnot, right? Look, there’s this huge Oni army, and they’re hurting people. I came looking for you because you were supposed to help.” 

“Oni army?” They ask, their gaze intense.  

Brad nodded. “Yeah, and they’re close to taking over Ninjago City. Can’t you do anything?” 

They hum, tapping the parchment. “How long has it been?” 

“What?” 

“How long has the army been in Ninjago?” 

“Oh,” Brad hummed, “about... fifty years, give or take. It’s been a while.” 

Their eyes grow huge, pupils shrinking. “Fifty years?!” They cry, their harsh grip creasing the scroll. Brad nodded, confused. They clutch at their hair, breaths suddenly coming in sharp gasps. “It’s been fifty years?!” They whisper to themself.  

Brad steps forward, but they recoil as if he’d threatened them with a knife. “Don’t touch me!” They shriek. Brad freezes as they shake in place. Tears begin to grow in their eyes, and their shoulders fall as their face crumples.  

“Fifty years...” they mumble, holding their face in their hand.  

“Have... have you been in that sword this entire time?” Brad asks incredulously. “Why?” 

They shake their head. “I didn’t have a choice,” they mumble miserably, shoulders shaking.  

Brad makes an affronted noise. “Somebody did that to you? Why?! Did you do something evil?” 

“No, I’m not evil!” 

“Then I’ll punch them in the face,” Brad decided, punching his fist into his palm and looking around like the culprit would suddenly appear.  

They let out a startled laugh through tears. “Y-you definitely can’t do that,” they say, wiping their eyes. Brad scoffs.  

“Yeah? Why not?” 

“He’d probably kill you,” they mutter. Their expression crumbles all over again, misery etching their face. “Fifty years...” they mumble, sniffling. “And nobody came for me. Not my uncle... not my brothers and sister... nobody except you.” 

Brad grimaced. “...I do my best?” 

They make a sound between a laugh and a sob. “I-I’m sorry. Brad, right? You probably want an explanation.” 

He shakes his head, reaching out tentatively. When they don’t freak out again, he rests his hand on their arm. “It’s okay,” he says, “you’re upset. You don’t have to explain anything. Actually, I can just fuck off if I’m stressing you out-” 

They shake their head, wiping away any lingering tears. “It’s okay. You came all this way.” 

“Well... okay,” Brad pulls them to the floor so they can sit down. He lets go of their arm once he’s sure they’re not going to topple over. “So, how are you a sword? Or, I guess, how is a sword a person. Which came first, the person or the sword?” 

They shake their head, mixed between amusement and that ever-present misery. “It’s not like that,” they say, “I wasn’t always a sword. I used to be a person.” 

“Oh,” Brad says, “so someone turned you into a sword. But if the sword belonged to that Spinjitzu guy, shouldn’t you be... older?” 

“Nice to know I look young,” they joke. “But yeah, I’m only sixteen. I wasn’t turned into a sword so much as I was fused with it. Like a curse, kind of.” 

Brad nodded. So, this person, whoever they were, was fused with the FSM’s sword? Why the hell would anyone do that just to leave them in some dusty monastery? “Well, if you’re a person first, what’s your name?” Brad asks, tired of not knowing. They blink, surprised, like they hadn’t conceived that Brad would care to ask for a name.  

“...Lloyd Garmadon.” 

Brad gaped. “Garmadon? As in Emperor Garmadon?!” 

Lloyd made a face. “Is that what he’s calling himself? Ugh, my dad is cringy. Yes, I’m the son of Garmadon. He’s... actually the one that fused me with the sword.” 

“His own son? That’s- really fucked up,” Brad didn’t even know how to react. Who does that to their own kid? Was it some sort of twisted immortal being punishment? What could Lloyd have possibly done? 

Lloyd drew his knees up to his chest, resting his head in the soft white fabric of his tunic. “It’s complicated,” he mumbled, picking at the fine golden threads lining his clothes. “My dad was banished to the First Realm when I was four after he tried to steal the Golden Weapons. I grew up with my uncle and his students, the elemental masters. I became the Green Ninja when I was fourteen, and Garmadon returned when I was sixteen.”  

“You were a ninja? What’s your element?” Brad leaned forward.  

Lloyd smiled wistfully. “The Green element.” 

“What... what is that.” 

He laughed, and Brad blushed at the sound. “I can’t explain it to you. The words don’t exist in a language mortals can comprehend. The closest thing is... energy. The energy within everything.” 

“Wow,” Brad breathed, “it must’ve been epic.” 

“It was,” Lloyd agreed, “it was incredible.” 

Brad hummed, picking at the floor. “If you were so powerful, though, how did Garmadon... swordify? Is that the term? How’d he swordify you?” 

Lloyd’s face spasmed in a mix of embarrassment and regret. “It was my fault,” he mumbled, eyes downcast, “Uncle Wu didn’t want me to fight him. He wanted me kept far away from Garmadon. But after months of no progress, I... I confronted him. I thought I could get him to listen. Instead, he put me in a sword.” 

“But... how?” 

“I was stupid,” Lloyd said, “I refused to fight him. I let myself get tricked, and he... it doesn’t matter,” Lloyd fiercely wiped at his face, erasing any sign of tears before they could appear. “M-my uncle saved me, that’s the point. He stole me back, and changed the curse. Uncle Wu made sure that nobody could use the Green Element, and so long as I’m here, I have free will.”  

Brad’s face screwed up, confused. “Free will? What does that mean?”  

Lloyd’s expression spasmed again, and he stared at the floor, eyebrows furrowed. “I- okay. My father turned me into a sword to use my element. When he did, he stripped away my free will. Basically, whoever picks me up as a sword becomes my wielder, and they control whether I’m human. I physically can’t disobey them.” 

Brad struggled to wrap his head around it. “Like... Ella Enchanted?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“That movie! The girl has to obey everyone, and can’t say no. Like, the stepsisters-” 

Lloyd let out a dry laugh, sniffling. “Actually, yes. Except only my wielder controls me, and they turn me into a sword. I can’t switch by myself.” 

Brad snapped his fingers, “hey, doesn’t that mean that your uncle was your last wielder? Why’d he leave you like this? What a dick.” 

Lloyd shook with laughter. “Good question. Maybe he wanted to protect me, or make sure I didn’t run away again. Not that I could. If I get too far away from a wielder, I just turn back into a sword.” 

“Speaking from experience?” 

Lloyd bit his lip and nodded. Brad scoffed. “I’m going to punch Garmadon in the face.” 

“Good luck with that,” Lloyd said, smoothing out the creases in his tunic. “I, for one, would love to punch my father.” 

Lloyd’s words gave Brad a sudden idea, and he shot to his feet, pacing back and forth. Lloyd watched him from the floor, somewhat wary, but Brad was too caught up in his head.  

“That’s it,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair, “wait, that’s it!” 

“What is? Punching Garmadon? I’m all for it, but-” 

“No- well, yes, but no,” Brad turned back to Lloyd, who’s head was tilted to the side in confusion. Brad blushed briefly at the sight, before shaking it away. “Lloyd, I’m your new wielder, right? I picked you up, I think I made you human-” 

“It doesn’t work in here,” Lloyd snapped defensively, crossing his arms over himself protectively. “You can’t order me around in the monastery, and I’ll kick your ass if you try.” 

“No!” Brad waved his hands, “No, I wouldn’t do that! I mean, if I’m your wielder, and someone can only control you if they pick you up as a sword, what if I just never turn you into a sword? Loophole!” 

“For what?” Lloyd asked, exasperated. Brad grinned.  

“If no one – especially Garmadon – can ever steal you, then you’re free to use your element without anyone controlling you! I get that you can’t get too far away from me – so we’ll stick together. I’ll take you to Ninjago City, and you’ll kick Garmadon’s ass with your epic element! I can cheer you on in the background, it’ll be great!” 

Lloyd’s eyes grew big as his face went straight back to miserable. “I- I can’t.” He hugged his legs to his chest, looking at anything but Brad as if he was ashamed. Brad deflated, staring down at him.  

“But... why? You’re a ninja, aren’t you? Isn’t fighting evil emperors your whole thing?” 

“No, I can’t use my element,” Lloyd corrected in a small voice. “My element was sealed away in the sword. And since Uncle Wu made it so that nobody could use my element, that means that the Green Element is gone. Nobody, not even me, can use it anymore. I can’t even do Spinjitzu.” 

Brad’s shoulders fell as his excitement flew out of him. “...oh. Well, that sucks.” 

Brad sat back down across from Lloyd, who was curled into himself as if he could hide in the white swathes of clothing. Brad felt kind of silly, now. Like, no duh! Why would an evil warlord leave his prisoner’s power unchained?  

Lloyd sniffled. “I’m sorry, Brad,” he said quietly. “I wish I could help. But I- I can’t leave and let people use me. I can’t just give up my body so people can swing me around and kill people with me. I just...” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Brad said, scooting closer to Lloyd. He laid a hand on Lloyd’s freckled shoulder, and froze when Lloyd fell into him, leaning on his side. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around the demigod, letting Lloyd leach off of his warmth. Lloyd himself was warm to the touch, and Brad’s skin reflected the glow, ever so faint. 

Brad sighed. He was fucked, wasn’t he? Well, at least this wasn’t for nothing. He looked down at Lloyd, and let a smile cross his face. At least Lloyd wouldn’t have to be trapped inside of that sword forever.  

“We might still win anyways,” he mused aloud, mostly just to fill the silence, “I mean, dragons show up all the time to help out, and we still have the Golden Weapons. We’ll be fine.” 

Lloyd hummed, tracing the wood of the floor idly. “Still... I hate to let you down.” 

“No let down here! I came here for a sword and found a friend. Uh... are we friends?” 

Lloyd turned his face up to smile at Brad, green eyes crinkling. The tattoo on his forehead glowed briefly, like Lloyd’s smile couldn’t be contained to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, “we’re friends.” 

Brad’s face grew hot, and he coughed, looking away before he spontaneously combusted. Lloyd didn’t seem to notice, and drew himself up, dusting off his tunic.  

“Hey, I know I’ve been kind of disappointing-” 

“Not at all!” Brad jumped to his feet, and immediately felt stupid for yelling. Lloyd froze, eyes wide, before he laughed, a light blush covering his cheeks.  

“Anyways. Stay for a while? It’s lonely up here.” 

Brad hesitated. He’d left his mom, who was surely wondering where the hell he was, and Gene was probably worried as well. But looking at Lloyd’s hopeful expression, he couldn’t say no.  

“Sure. You have a garden?” 

Lloyd’s bright golden smile made it all worth it.  

Lloyd led him through the monastery, introducing him to a bedroom that once belonged to Cole Brookstone, the Master of Earth. Brad was astounded to learn how long Elemental Masters truly lived – the same ones Lloyd grew up with over 60 years ago were still kicking, wiping Oni ass.  

“Sorry for the mess,” Lloyd said, gathering the dusty comforter up, “ugh, I hope the washer still works.” 

Brad chuckled, shaking dust off of the pillows. “We’ve got some cleaning ahead of us. I can start on laundry.” 

Lloyd seemed surprised at the offer, before his eyes crinkled in a smile as the little gemstones imbedded in his chest glowed, twinkling like happy little stars. Brad couldn’t help the pink that spread across his cheeks. Man, if Lloyd continued smiling at him like that, Brad thinks he would do anything for him.  

Oh wow, he was whipped. Gene was going to make so much fun of him.  

That is, essentially, how Brad spends the next several days. He and Lloyd unearth ancient cleaning supplies and do their best tackling the dust and grime settled over the monastery. Lloyd, surprisingly adept with technology, tackles the appliances and power while Brad curb stomps the overgrown garden into submission. They both spend hours in the sun and crisp breeze cleaning the courtyard, and every night they do dishes together.  

Just two weeks ago, Brad was adrift. He didn’t know what he wanted from life – just that he wanted more. Now he spends his days in a monastery on the world’s tallest mountain with the oddest boy he’s ever met, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.  

Lloyd is funny. He’s wry, and sharp, and through his hesitance is cheeky humor that Brad can’t help but find endlessly endearing, even when it’s used to dump buckets of water over his head.  

Somehow, Lloyd Garmadon has made this one of the best weeks of his life.  

Even if he has to leave soon.  

Brad splayed over a sofa in the library, idly flicking through scrolls and books. Lloyd was in the courtyard practicing katas and what Brad thinks might be Spinjitzu – minus the magic tornado.  

His thoughts are all over the place. On the one hand, he has to go. His mom and Gene will be worried, and he hates worrying them. On the other, all Brad wants is an adventure. Lloyd is quickly becoming a close friend, despite them not really sharing that much about themselves. Brad is just so easily drawn to him – or maybe that’s his raging ‘cute boy’ radar.  

He groaned, staring at the ceiling. If he left, he’d be doing more than leaving behind a close friend – he'd be leaving Lloyd all alone. In fifty years, Brad was the only person to come up here. Who would Lloyd talk to about Starfarer, or beat in Mario Kart, or do the dishes with? He’d be up on this tall mountain all alone.  

He wished there was a way to give Lloyd freedom. He saw the way the demigod looked at into the distance sometimes – like there was nothing he wanted more than to run out of this monastery as fast as possible and never look back.  

“I’m so punching Garmadon,” Brad grumbled, picking up the random scrolls he’d been looking through. Boring stuff, honestly. As he was setting them back in their respective nooks, his eye caught on one, seemingly disturbed. Curiously, he unfurled it.  

A sketch, done in quick, fluid pencil, of the four Golden Weapons. Those things were old news, but what interested Brad was the Sword of Sanctuary in the middle. His eyes roved over the words, and startled as he made out the characters spelling Lloyd’s name.  

“Holy shit,” he whispered, rereading the text in astonishment. He laughed, bouncing in place. “Lloyd! Lloyd, holy shit!” 

A few seconds later, the doors to the library slammed open, and Lloyd burst through the door with his fists up. He deflated when he saw Brad with the scroll.  

“Is... something wrong?” Brad grinned, holding out the scroll.  

“Lloyd, you’ve got to see this. It’s the solution!” 

Lloyd took the scroll, reading carefully. His eyes widened the more he read, clutching the scroll tightly. “This... oh, grandfather.” 

Brad grabbed Lloyd’s wrists, causing the blonde to look up at him. “Lloyd,” he breathed, “this is our answer. We can cure your curse and beat Garmadon.” 

“The Golden Weapons... can break the curse,” Lloyd whispered. A small, hesitant smile grew on his face as hope shined in his eyes. “They- they can get me out of the sword.” 

Hypothetically. The scroll was vague, and seemingly all hypotheticals, but it was hope. Hope for Lloyd, and Ninjago.  

Brad held Lloyd’s hands to his chest. “Then let’s go get them,” he urged. Lloyd shrunk away a bit.  

“But if I leave...” 

“Lloyd, please,” Brad begged. “I’m your wielder, aren’t I? Well, I promise, I will never make you shift. I won’t ever order you around, and I won’t ever ignore you if you don’t want to do something.” 

“But...”  

Lloyd was terrified of losing his free will. From his perspective, Brad could be lying. His words didn’t mean much when they’d known each other for a week.  

“Do you really want to wait around for your uncle to do it?” Brad pressed, desperate. He felt bad for pressuring Lloyd, but he also knew that if they could make this work, then Ninjago would be safe. “Lloyd, we can do this, can’t we? One kickass demigod and a swordsman!” 

Lloyd gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you even trained?” 

“I am... self-taught.” 

Lloyd drew back, staring down at the scroll. Brad sighed, and retracted his hands. “I won’t make you,” he said softly, “If you really don’t want to, then I won’t try to make you. But don’t you want to be free?” 

“And how do I know you won’t just turn me into a sword the second I step out that door?” Lloyd demanded. His voice cracked. “It’s what anyone would do! I- I'm not even a person to you.” 

Brad crossed his arms. “Okay, rude.” 

“What?” 

“Rude! Man, when I have acted like you’re not a person? I mean, you’re a mega powerful demigod, but that’s different than ‘not a person’. I mean it, Lloyd – I won’t force you to do anything.” 

Lloyd furrowed his brows. “I make a pretty kickass sword,” he warned, “you’ll be very sorely tempted. Not to mention all the people that will be after me.” 

“They can’t do anything to you,” Brad reminded with a smile, “not if I never turn you into a sword. Which I won’t, because you’re my friend.” 

Lloyd hummed thoughtfully. “...I’ve been wanting to kick my dad’s ass for a while,” he muttered vindictively.  

“Come on,” Brad said, “adventure of a lifetime!” 

“We’ll have to cross the entire continent.” 

“Road trip!” 

“We’ll be facing down my father’s worst soldiers, and neither of us have powers.” 

“We’ll be crafty. You’re a ninja, aren’t you?” 

Lloyd hesitated, and Brad could tell he was on the precipice. He softened his gaze. “Lloyd,” he said quietly, “you could wait for someone else to come along and free you... or you can free yourself.” 

“Why?” Lloyd muttered. He seemed genuinely curious. “Why risk your life for me like this? You realize that you’ll be in constant danger.” 

“Dude, why wouldn’t I? We break your curse, you get your powers back, and boom! Garmadon defeated, Ninjago saved. Besides,” he blushed, “an adventure? With you? Sign me up.” 

Lloyd fell quiet, his green eyes calculating. The gemstones on his chest betrayed his growing excitement as they began to light up, thrumming with their own melody.  

“Okay,” Lloyd breathed, his eyes brighter than Brad had ever seen them. The sight took his breath away.  

“Okay?” He said. Lloyd nodded vigorously, bouncing in excitement.  

“Yes! Let’s do it!”  

Brad laughed, tackling Lloyd in a hug. The shorter blonde startled, letting out a surprised laugh.  

“I am,” Lloyd said when they pulled away, “so ready to leave this monastery.” 

They find themselves, hours later, at the gate of the monastery. Brad shoulders the bulk of the bags, full to the brim with clothes and food they’d hurriedly packed. They were both itching to get out now. Maybe Brad hadn’t thought this over enough – but how could he deny the chance to stop the Oni army? How could he pass up such a big adventure?  

Lloyd hesitated on the steps, just within the boundaries of the monastery. Brad wordlessly held out his hand for Lloyd to take, smiling softly.  

Lloyd looked down at him, framed by the sunlight shining through his golden hair like a halo. He took a deep, shuddery breath, and grabbed the hand.