I own nothing but the story.

Looking back, it wasn't a very good life. When he did choose to look at life backwards instead of forwards, Garmadon found that most of his life was a choking winter that burned like hellfire, and that throughout most of it, he'd been screaming. The good moments were few and far in between, so he sought them as much as he could. Whatever he did find he considered more valuable than emeralds, both in rarity and preciousness.

The little jewels they created he wore close to his heart, so that he'd always a way to look back at them, to clutch them in times of trouble, when the bad memories did shroud him too much. It was both a comfort and a necessity, and he yearned for a day to come when his jewels would grow so numerous he wouldn't know what to do with them.

Since the venom had been purged from his veins, and he'd spent more time with Lloyd and Misako, his jewels had indeed grown larger, but he still guarded them like a dragon its gold, so that he wouldn't lose them. While he now had many memories he could swap out, perhaps replace, he still held on to older ones, because he found he remembered them just as fondly as he did newer ones, a fact Lloyd found out one beautiful morning in springtime.

Garmadon always did like sunrises; they offered what he felt was a reflection of his own life, in that the night only got darker until dawn's first sun rays chased the night away. They were important to him, so every morning, he made a habit of rising in time to sit in a wooden rocking chair with a blanket around his waist and a cup of cocoa in his hand so that he could watch the sky come alive with color and the world from slumber.

Some mornings, Misako would join him, other days Lloyd, and sometimes both of them at once. On one such morning Lloyd stumbled out of the monastery pajama clad and holding an entire pot of coffee in his hand. He sat with a plop upon the stone floor next to the wooden bands of Garmadon's chair, staring out and sipping slowly, slurping slightly, but caring not.

Garmadon smiled.

For a while all was quiet, as was typical of these tranquil mornings, but as the birds began to chirp and the wooded critters began to chatter, Lloyd initiated a conversation. It, like many of their morning babbles, consisted of simple but sweet topics that never failed to make Garmadon smile and think about how lucky he was to have something like this with the life he'd lead.

Today, their conversation brought them to an odd question. Or, at least, odd to Garmadon.

"Do you have any good memories of me?" said Lloyd, nearly causing Garmadon to have a start right there before he turned and finished the question, "When you were still evil?"

In spite of himself, Garmadon frowned, "Of course I do. What makes you think I don't?"

Lloyd shrugged, turned his gaze to the floor, "It just seems like, before the Final Battle, all I ever did was fight you."

"Hm," Garmadon sat back, "That's true, but that is far from saying that all my memories of you are bad," he unconsciously ran his fingers along his clavicle, where his necklace of jewels would hang, had they any form, "I would say that my list of 'bad' memories of you, or, where you were the cause, is so low it can hardly be considered a list."

Lloyd still looked down, and Garmadon stared at him, noting his face, his stature. He wasn't upset, merely thoughtful, doubtful, perhaps. With an almost defiant frown, Garmadon decided to remove that doubt from Lloyd's face, for he couldn't have his son looking like that, no no no.

"You want to know my favorite memory of you that I have from when I was evil?"

Lloyd looked up in an instant, curiosity blooming in his eyes and a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Garmadon sat forward and leaned an elbow against the chair's armrest, a grin on his face and his eyes going into a faraway gaze as his mind conjured a gem to hold against the morning light so that it could glitter.

"It was when we were rescuing you from the Serpentine in that volcano."

"Oh," Lloyd interrupted almost immediately, and this was when Garmadon knew that his boy had indeed turned into a teenager. He sounded almost disappointed as he uttered his next words, "I suppose I should have guessed that; it was a good experience for most everybody."

Garmadon chuckled, "Let me finish. Most of that memory was actually very bad, son."

Lloyd stared at him.

"You were in danger; if there's ever any bad memories I have with you in it, it is when you are in danger. No, I'm talking about one moment in particular. It was when," Garmadon looked to the sun again, beaming as he told the next part, "I pulled that cage out of the lava, and you jumped forward and gave me the biggest bear hug your tiny little body could offer."

A new sort of expression spread over Lloyd's features as something between understanding and joy coursed through him. Garmadon chuckled again as he stared at the visage.

"Yes, it was that hug alone I loved from our time in the volcano. Do you know why?"

Lloyd shook his head, eager for his father to continue.

"It's because that was the first hug I'd gotten in over a decade, Lloyd," his son's jaw dropped, "and the fact that it got to come from you made it all the better."

"No—" Lloyd huffed a laugh, "no way!"

Garmadon nodded, "It's true. I hadn't been touched in any way other than violence before that hug."

"Are you serious?"

Garmadon nodded, and laughed as another, older memory resurfaced, one not quite as good, but not bad, and certainly worth a tell while they were on the subject. "You know, there several years where I was hardly touched at all. Hardly even a tap on the shoulder, or a poke in the back."

Lloyd turned around completely, pulling his knees to his chest and staring with all the earnestness of a young child, making Garmadon question his earlier conclusion of his son's mental age.

"Back when I first ruled the Underworld," Garmadon began, "when I'd overthrown Samukai, there was a long time where there weren't really any rules. If I needed something done, I merely demanded it, rather than bother with making laws or regulations. For a while, this worked. Then one day, a little Skulkin came up to me and said, 'Sir, I've never met a being with flesh on his bones. Do you mind if I touch it and see what it's like?'"

Lloyd snorted.

"Being relatively naïve at the time," Garmadon shook his head, "I offered an arm for him to touch, figuring, 'what harm could this possibly do?' Turned out to be a lot, because every other skeleton within the vicinity joined in."

Lloyd let out a full laugh this time.

"Thus, my first official law was born," he held out a hand and made block letters in the air, "'Thou shalt not touch me.'"

He'd even had it inscribed in stone, so that no one could ever forget. Lloyd chortled merrily, eating his story up like candy. Garmadon smiled.

"Anything after that was either the result of a fight or a mistake."

"Ha," Lloyd wiped the corner of an eye, "Oh...Dad," there was a pause, where he said, "So that hug really was something, huh?"

"Of course," said Garmadon, sipping from his now cool mug, "Don't you think for a second that I hold any memories where you're painted a villain. You're the reason I have as many good memories as I do."

Indeed, it was true, more than Lloyd would ever know. His son was silent, his gaze turning towards the sun, until at last he smiled. He stood, and, upon an instance of contemplation, gave his dad a one armed hug before taking himself indoors. Garmadon watched him go, fingers still turning over each other as he thought of those memories, those small moments where the world took a moment to calm down and smile at him.

Lloyd hugged him significantly more often after that, most times when he least expected it. Each of them would make his day. Over time, his collection of good memories grew larger and larger, to the point where their numbers lined more with those of the common quartz, but in his mind they were no less valuable, and he guarded them with the same potency he did in the past. They were more common indeed, but that was just how he liked it.

End.

So season eight of Ninjago was a roller coaster with no seatbelts, and because of that I've decided to have a story full of goodness rather than trauma-inducing crap that really should leave Lloyd sobbing alone in a corner. This will basically just be a series of one-shots centered around the Garmadon family (the Garmafamily, if you will :D), and I will try to keep it mainly lighthearted. I'll certainly dip my toes into the angst pool, but don't expect anything to be overly dark.

That being said, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Have a nice day!