The Quiet One

5 | The Journal

Please vote and comment. luv you guys and thx for reading!

Hutchins, for a while, was like my best friend. He talked to me and seemed to understand what I was going through. I was hesitant to tell him what I was truly feeling, however, so most of my real emotions were bottled up inside. He knew that I was unhappy with my new royal life, and encouraged me to find other ways to release that tension.

Yoga? Didn't work, I started sparring with the rolled-up yoga mats.

Meditation? I could barely sit still, and I may have upturned a burning candle and a tray of incense... and that didn't end well.

Exercise? If anything, it made me more hyper and made my depression worse. (Which doesn't make sense as exercise releases dopamine in your brain, which should make you happier... sorry. I'll stop.)

When I couldn't sleep at night, Hutchins would sing to me. Well, he tried to sing. One night, when I was feeling particularly rebellious, I refused to sleep. I sat on my bed, crossed my arms over my green (ew) silk pajamas, and said, "No."

He pointed at the pillow. "Sleep, Princess."

"No."

Hutchins continued to insist, and I continued to refuse. After a good ten minutes, he gave up and started to sing. His singing voice wasn't the best, but it was comforting as I was used to his voice.

"What are you singing?" I asked, but he ignored me. I had no choice but to listen. He could only sing the same verses, and with each time he sang I paid more attention to the words.

"Spider's in the house, sleep, sleep
"Spider bit the mouse, sleep deep.
"Don't wake up or else,
"You'll find a spider in your mouth."

I shivered. I found it rather creepy. I haven't ever been a big fan of spiders, with all their hairy legs and eight eyes.

It more or less became a tradition. When I couldn't (or wouldn't) sleep, Hutchins would sing "Spider's In The House" to me. I soon was able to sing it myself, though I didn't like to. It creeped me out. But singing lullabies didn't help me after a while.

Journaling was the only thing that seemed to help. Hutchins gave me a diary, and said, "Write about your feelings. As silly as it may sound, it might help you."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Hutchins, do you have a diary?"

He leaned down and patted the cover of my new journal, which sat on my bedside table. "No, young miss. But I do advise you to try this, it may be helpful."

I did my best to write. It was stiff and forced at first, but became used to writing out the day's events. I was able to express my idolization of Garmadon, my distrust of the royal family, my hatred of being a princess. It was my outlet to my unhappiness and was the only place where I could scribble my anger out furiously without getting in trouble.

💮

I burned that journal in the fire a few years later.

It was after that brat Lloyd had become the Golden Ninja, and he and his troupe of pajama teenagers had defeated the Overlord. Lord Garmadon had been purged and saved by Lloyd.

Big whoop. In a public ceremony pardoning him from his actions, Garmadon knelt before the Emperor and Empress-- the supposed "rulers" without any power or rights whatsoever. It shocked me, and still does now. Garmadon- a previously four-armed supervillain with dark powers- bowed to the Emperor and Empress?

My admiration for him drained. Even I, the powerless adopted princess, wouldn't bow to my "parents". In my spite, I chucked my journal straight into the fireplace, sending a satisfying shower of sparks into the air and pricking my skin. I began to see Garmadon as weak and pathetic, instead of the powerful villain he had been before. I abandoned my idolization of him, and from then on I was fueled by my own hatred. I no longer relied on something to help me, and struck out on my own.

💮

I despise that evil palace. It felt like a jail: no going in, no going out, guards everywhere, every action closely monitored. I hated it, and couldn't wait until I could burn it to ashes. You can call it mean, but it seems fair to me.

After one ambitious all-nighter of exploring, I discovered a secret place within the castle, palace, whatever you want to call it. I'll get to that later. The most important thing is that I used the secret hideout to train. This mostly occurred when the Ninja were out of town, and everyone was in disarray. The villain Garmadon was at large, spurred by a mysterious force, but he wasn't near the city, as much as citizens thought.

This was inspiration to take action, to do something other than stand around pretending to help Ninjago. Garmadon could fight with a sword, I thought. So why don't I learn too?

I stole swords and a variety of weapons from the guards' armory. I found it amusing that the guards didn't guard their armory. I guess they never expected people to steal from it.

With many long nights without sleep, I began to learn to defend myself and fight. I was strong. I felt even more confident because as I got older, I was smarter, stronger, faster. I was more experienced. And as I grew older and built up more responsibilities, small slip-ups were— to my surprise— ignored over time. I was in the perfect spot to begin planning, so I did.