The soft cries of a newborn baby filled the vast monastery, the First Spinjitzu Master cradling his newest son. He gently laid him in his mother's arms, looking down at the infant. He had dark brunette hair streaked with red highlights, similar to his mother's. Young blue irises locked on older, mother's looking into son's. The baby smiled, the mother kissing his forehead lovingly. He looked just like her in every way, it was impossible to determine the similarities from himself to his loving father. The First Spinjitzu Master's wife held him against her instinctively, wanting nothing to separate her from her little boy.

"Garmadon."

The elder master, Masamoto, looked up. "What?"

"Garmadon. I want to name him Garmadon."

"Very well...Garmadon...very, er...eccentric choice, my love."

Grace, Masamoto's wife, smiled. "Exactly…"

Garmadon smiled up at his mother, grasping her finger. She smiled down at him, ruffling his hair. The little infant yawned, closing his deep blue eyes. He started to snore softly, Grace giggling. She gently set him next to her, keeping her arm tucked around him. Soon, mother fell asleep next to baby.

The now three year old Garmadon sat next to his mother, who sat with Wu, his two month old baby brother. Wu looked at Garmadon, smiling. "Bubba!"

Grace smiled at the sound of the nickname Wu had chosen for Garmadon. Garmadon grinned, holding out his hand to Wu. Wu grasped his finger, sticking it into his mouth. Garmadon recoiled, falling to the floor. Wu laughed, seeing his brother on the ground. Grace sighed. "Wu, you are a troublemaker, I tell you what…"

Masamoto smiled at the sight of his wife and two sons. "Grace, darling, you remember the Langledes, right?"

Grace nodded. "Yes, of course…"

"Well...they have a daughter...Garmadon's age...and I was considering...maybe in a few years training her alongside Garmadon…"

Grace looked at Garmadon. "Really? Well, that's okay with me…"

Garmadon frowned. "A girl?! Yuck! Girls have cooties! They-"

"Garmadon, I'm a girl…"

Garmadon frowned. "You're my mom, though, that doesn't count!"

Wu giggled. "Bubba siwwy!"

Garmadon sighed. "I don't like girls!"

Misako, the Langlede's daughter, met Masamoto and Garmadon in the marketplace with her parents a few years after Wu was born. Wu was now three, and Garmadon six. Misako was five and a half. She had mocha colored skin, light brown hair, blue rimmed glasses, a splash of freckles across her nose. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the sunshine, catching Garmadon off guard. He stared at her, smitten.

"Uh-I-" He stuttered, in awe of her beauty.

She glanced at him, taking in his appearance; his red-brown hair waving softly in the breeze, blue irises like deep pools of sincerity. He had soft, pale skin, long eyelashes rimming the blue eyes on his face. He had strong arms for only a six-year-old male. His voice as he greeted her was light, but rich like caramel. Their hands linked, indescribable future of love surrounding them.

Masamoto and Jonathan, Misako's father, smiled, watching the two young lovers.

Garmadon, Wu, and Misako sparred in the courtyard of the monastery, katanas clashing. Garmadon knocked the katana out of Wu's hand, said sword flying over the monastery's walls. Masamoto had warned them not to go out of the safety of the walls without an adult accompanying them. He had his head bent over his work, carefully perfecting the Shurikens of Ice.

Wu frowned. "Oh no...Father's going to be upset with me…"

Garmadon patted the younger's shoulder. "Don't worry Wu...take mine...I'll take the blame; I knocked it out of your hand."

Misako looked up the wall. "You make sure he doesn't see...I'll go get it-"

Garmadon grabbed her wrist suddenly, pulling her back. "Mia-"

Misako shook him off. "I'll be okay...be right back."

She climbed up over the blanched wall, Wu looking nervously at his father, who he loved dearly. "Donny…"

Garmadon shushed him. "Just act natural…"

Misako found the katana under a small bush, smiling with relief. "There you are…"

She reached for the blade, unaware of the danger approaching.

Fangs sunk into skin, Misako screaming and jumping back in pain. "Ow!" She looked at the assailant, suddenly feeling woozy. She fell over, moaning in pain.

Masamoto, hearing Misako's distressed cries, rushed out of the garden, to see her limp form pressed against the grass. He saw the tail of a snake disappear, the old master glaring after it. He gently hefted Misako up out off the ground, holding her close. He carried her into the safety of the monastery walls, Garmadon and Wu shocked at the sight of their unconscious friend.

Masamoto laid her down in her bed, whirling around to face his two sons, anger etched in his face. "You were supposed to keep each other from HARM!"

Wu flinched at the harshness in his father's voice. Garmadon stood defiantly in front of his younger brother. "It's not his fault! It's nobody's f-"

Masamoto glared daggers. "THIS BEHAVIOR IS WHAT SEPARATED ME FROM YOUR MOTHER!"

Garmadon blinked back hot tears. "No! YOUR CONCERN WITH THE GOLDEN WEAPONS POWER IS WHAT KILLED HER! YOU SHOULD'VE KNOWN THE POWER OF ALL OF THEM COMBINED WAS TOO MUCH TO HANDLE! YOU KILLED MY MOTHER! SHE'S NEVER COMING BACK!" Garmadon gasped for breath, looking in disbelief at his father. "Daddy…"

Masamoto turned his back on them, pointing to the door. The two sons bowed, leaving.

;O;

Man I hated writing this chapter! Too many FEELS!

But, ya know, there's the Garsako… B)

Heh heh heh

I have no life… *le sigh*

Thank you for reading my attempt to write something not totally dialogue based (which is what i usually write).

Did I do good?

Yeah...this story...drags on a bit...but skips around too...any criticism/requests? Hmm?

Oh, and head-canon...Garmadon's mother (she's called Grace in this) is killed when she possessed all the Golden Weapons at once. That's why Wu and Garmadon know that can could happen...no one can possess all four…

Anyway, thanks for reading and have a nice time in the land of Ninjago.

And put down below-who's your favorite ninja/samurai/sensei/character in Ninjago?

~The Ninja of Writing