Conquest | Harumi &&. Lloyd Garmadon

One

Blood started to ooze from his neck. A shallow and thin river of blood. The streak of crimson proof of the blade's gentle touch. His hands trying to stop the overpowerment. Pushing the sword away from his throat, but it was no use. Instead his palms were marked in blood.

He reminded himself to fight as his arms grew weak. His eyes glued to the lair of his ex-lover's, a lust for murder dancing in them. He could only question how something so beautiful can be so lethal.

Sudden strength began to flow through his body. In a second he knocked the sword to the opposite end of the room. The weapon bouncing a couple times before hitting the ground for a final one. His heartbeat drowning out its patter on the ground.

He attempted to move but the shocked leader still had him pinned. He wasn't as prepared to die as before. However, hope was not faithful to him that night. His conscious met an all time low. Everything went dark, he blacked out.

The princess released a sharp exhale, but it wasn't quite of relief.

Harumi got to her feet. Beholding the mess on her bedroom floor. A knocked out ninja and broken shards of glass beside his head. Swords sleeping on either ends of the room. She was suddenly thankful for the glass alcohol bottle she forgot on the table.

This room became her portrait. Work of art. Painted with drops of blood and alcohol remains. Erased of any emotion, only calm anger in it. Any other emotion would be fatal. Any other emotion would be a death sentence.

The only opinion that mattered at this point was that of Lord Garmadon.

Once again, her chest burns.

She can feel her insides contradict each other. Her brain washed with relief, Garmadon would be pleased. Her stomach eating itself in worry. Her chest burning but from who knows what. Her heart had given her the alias. She wasn't called The Quiet One for nothing.

Everything after that became a blur. She dragged Lloyd's limp body to her bed, tossing him carelessly onto it. Bleaching her floor and weapons next. Cleaning up the remains of the war zone. The only thing left was the blond boy on her bed. He looked much like Sleeping Beauty. A story she was often told as a child.

Her eyes narrowed.

He was the reason she could never be a child again. She believed in him once. Long, long ago. When the world always seemed at its end. She isn't as foolish now. After all, if he hadn't been so impulsive and revenge driven he wouldn't be in this situation now. Neither would she. She could've been at home, helping her mother cook or doing some homework, seeing her father go off to work and embracing him tightly upon his return. No, she wouldn't ponder on what could've been. It makes her eyes water, sometimes a tear slipping unnoticed onto her red-painted cheeks before crossing the border onto her pale skin. It happened again, she wipes it away.

If only Lloyd hadn't been so Lloyd. Then maybe she wouldn't be so she. Just like him, blinded by revenge but her senses still made her strong enough.

Now, she could only decide on how to bother the writers on fate. Now, the little green ninja would meet karma for his actions. Something that happened years and years ago.