Chapter Three- Execution
"Guards!" Pythor's voice boomed through the throne room.
A nightmare. An illusion. Anything- Anything but real. It just couldn't be real. The progress he'd made fell from him, and Lloyd reverted back to
the pits of denial. He refused to believe in the world around him, even as strong arms pulled him back. The pain in his limbs was nothing. Not real. Not real. Anything but real.
It couldn't end like this, could it? Dead at the hands of an old enemy, helpless and alone, left behind in a place where he did not belong.
No. The end of his story had always been an uncertain thing, but Lloyd couldn't bring himself to believe that this was it.
Fight. You have to fight, Lloyd.
Lloyd gritted his teeth. How? How could he fight? It was all too much- he could only just manage to breathe.
You're the green ninja. The golden master. You are so much more than Pythor will ever be.
Then why am I so scared?
"Sir Cole!" Pythor's voice whipped through Lloyd's panic. Cole stepped forward, brown eyes lowered as a sign of respect. "Arrange the execution for tonight. The sooner the better, yes? This traitor has evaded justice for long enough."
Cole's eyes flickered to Lloyd's. The green ninja's evident panic stirred something in Cole's eyes. They softened. The familiar look made Lloyd weak with relief. It's me, Cole. Please.
"With- all due respect, your majesty." Cole addressed Pythor, head still bowed. "He's- only a child. Maybe we can find another way to-"
"Sir Cole?"
"Your majesty?" Cole's voice faltered. The fear in it was not something Lloyd was used to. Cole was- strong. Reliable. Even when things had slipped from bad to worse, Cole had always been a pillar of comforting stability.
Under enough pressure however . . .
Lloyd supposed even stone could break.
"Do you love your father, Sir Cole?"
Cole stiffened. He spared Lloyd another glance. Apologetic. "Yes, Your majesty."
"Good. Then I suggest you do as I say."
"Of- Of course your majesty."
Cole turned away from Pythor and straightened. With a brusque nod, he ordered the rest of the guards to follow him.
The one-eyed guard that had brought Lloyd to Pythor was the same to lead him out. He bound Lloyd's hands behind his back, pulling the rope tight enough to split thin lines into his skin.
Lloyd blinked. The pain helped- some. It quieted the panic in his mind. Made it a little easier to breathe.
"I hope you try to run." The guard whispered in his ear as he shoved Lloyd forward. "Then I get to shoot you."
"I hope you learn to brush your teeth." Lloyd hissed back. He shifted his wrists against the rope, the repeated flash of pain gifting him another ounce of focus. A tinge of pride ran through him at his recovered ability to speak. "Then I'll get to breathe."
The pride was short lived- with a grunt, the guard pushed Lloyd forward with more force. With his hands bound, Lloyd was left defenseless against the pull of gravity. His cheek hit the tile hard enough to bruise.
"Brat." The guard hissed.
"Stop that!" Cole shouted, and stomped back to help Lloyd to his feet. "Can I trust you to escort the prisoner without unnecessary force? Or would you like to go back to your post?"
The guard bowed his head and mumbled an apology. Cole shook his head, then took the lead again. Lloyd tried to catch his eye, but Cole was determined to avoid his gaze.
All of the fairy tale charm of the castle had faded. The sun had lowered, and now the windows threw shadows over the halls.
I can't use spinjitzu with my hands bound. Lloyd thought. And my powers-
Lloyd searched within himself for the whisper of strength that had been his constant companion, there even before he'd understood what it meant. Back in the forest, a persistent tug had recognized the power within Jay's golden weapon. Which- had to mean something.
"You'll wait here, till we're ready for you." The one-eyed guard grinned. He gestured toward an open wagon, built out of half rotten wood and rusted nails. Left without a choice, Lloyd climbed on. After exchanging a few whispered words with the one-eyed guard, Cole left.
Lloyd sat. The wood dug against him, and made it impossible for him to find any comfortable position. Regardless, he needed to focus.
Lloyd closed his eyes.
Yes. Focus.
"I need you." Lloyd whispered. "Please. Now more than ever."
Lloyd couldn't remember the last time he'd struggled to call his powers forward. They'd become instinct- and now, with the easy connection he'd taken for granted severed, he couldn't reach them.
He could feel a press of scattered energy somewhere within the depths of his body but- small. Like a signal a bit too far from its source.
"Please." Lloyd whispered again.
The pressure of his insistence turned into a dull ache. His power danced just out of reach.
With a curse, Lloyd opened his eyes. A warm line of blood trickled from his nose. With an exasperated sigh, he used his shoulder to wipe it away.
Fine then. No powers. He'd survived through plenty without them. He could handle this. He could run and- run and-
Run, and end up with an arrow sticking out of his back.
Not good. Not ideal.
Cole returned, with a new entourage of guards. "Everything's ready now. Let's get him moving."
The voice of the man that should have been his friend had changed. It was cold and distant now.
Painfully unfamiliar.
The guards obeyed Cole's order. The one-eyed guard who'd stayed with Lloyd flashed him a sadistic grin. Together, they all pulled the wagon forward. Cole kept himself far ahead of the procession. Too far to talk to.
There's got to be something I can do. Lloyd thought. There's always something. Always.
But what if Pythor was right? Different world. Different rules.
No happy endings.
With the lowering sun now a red line in the distance, Lloyd was pulled into an open plaza. A crowd had gathered. Everyone dressed up in extravagant fits. People covered in over-done makeup, and serpentined donned with an abundance of jewelry. They all whispered as Lloyd passed.
"That's the boy."
"Can it really be?"
"Those eyes…"
"An omen?"
"Just like the old king."
Lloyd could see Pythor now. He sat across the plaza, in yet another throne. He looked like a child. Giddy with excitement.
The cart stopped beside a platform. Lloyd pretended not to notice the splatters of dried blood against the wood. A hooded serpentine stood waiting, a heavy ax in hand. The metal glinted against the sunset, and Lloyd met the terrified eyes of his reflection upon its shined surface.
"For the Kingdom of Ouroboros!" Pythor shouted. "Let us begin!"
Lloyd chuckled. A soft, hysterical thing. Everything inside him twisted upon itself.
This isn't real. I'm going to wake up. I have to wake up.
Cole took his arm, and led him up the platform. The guard's gentle grip tempted Lloyd into a breakdown.
Wake up, Lloyd. Wake up.
"I'm really sorry. I wish. . ." Cole's words faded into silence. Then, the guard cleared his throat and address the crowd. "Today, we are gathered to finally bring and end to the life of Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon. He is charged with- with thievery, murder, and high treason against the crown."
The one-eyed guard climbed up beside Cole, and pushed Lloyd down to his knees. Something flitted past the edge of Lloyd's vision. Lloyd turned his head, but the guard forced it back down.
Wake up. Please, let me wake up.
Lloyd forced his eyes open and shut again, over and over, even as the hooded serpentine moved forward, even as the ax was raised above him. Because- Because, what else could he do? He couldn't accept this. No. No, no, no, no-
"Stop him!"
Lloyd's head snapped up at Pythor's raged filled shout. Something (Someone?) pulled him to his feet. The hooded serpentine felt on a lifeless heap before him.
"H-Hey!" Cole moved to reach for Lloyd, but the person behind him shoved him off the platform with impressive force.
"Please. Keep up."
The voice in his ear was familiar. And not. Just like everything else. Before Lloyd could question the words, he felt himself being dragged forward, off the platform and through the now panicked crowd.
"Stop him! Stop him or I'll have you all executed in place of the boy!"
Guards came out from various directions, but none of them managed to get close. One by one they collapsed. Too fast for Lloyd to make sense of what, exactly, was going on.
Together, Lloyd and his agile savior escaped the plaza. The wind felt good, as did the wild beating of Lloyd's heart. He was alive. Somehow and against all odds, he had wound up alive. Despite Pythor's best efforts.
Lloyd could have laughed.
"My apologies, Your Highness." Lloyd's savior spoke again, moments before shoving Lloyd's frame into yet another cart. Lloyd landed in a heap of limbs, and he struggled to right himself. "We need to hurry."
"Right. Yeah." Lloyd mumbled.
His savior gave him a nod. "We will be safe soon."
In the last rays of sunlight, the shadowed figure of the familiar stranger was brought to life. Dark fitted clothes. An array of shurikens strapped across his chest. And a red shawl that covered most of his features.
But not the familiar pair of sharp, icy blue eyes.