ScribLegos

⋆˚࿔Timeline of Events: ⋆˚࿔

Note: this is a rough timeline that is subject to change and has several gaps that I will fill in later! You can assume that most canon events happen, even if distorted, aside from the exceptions/additions below.

Rise of the Snakes:

Lloyd is bitten by the Great Devourer during "The Day of the Great Devourer". Garmadon leaves in an attempt to protect him.

Legacy of the Green Ninja:

Lloyd gets aged up by tomorrows tea, and the effects expedite the venom's affect and cause him to go into a rage (mostly aimed towards his father). Gives Kai his eye scar accidentally.

Misako returns because she is concerned about the balance.

Lloyd is unable to stop himself from confronting Garmadon too soon/attempting to kill him. Misako sacrifices herself to preserve the balance.

Lloyd manages to defeat the Overlord, but in his unstable state is unable to completely purge the venom from Garmadon, leaving him still partially afflicted. [See: my sensei!Garmadon redesign]

Rebooted:

Sensei!Garmadon takes Lloyd under his wing, but struggles himself due to not being fully healed of the venom.

Tournament of Elements:

Lloyd struggles to keep his composure during the tournament.

Losing Sensei!Garmadon expedites the venom's hold further.

Possession:

Morro's possession expedites the venom's effects further. Lloyd has trouble fighting him, and Morro's power is much stronger (and more erratic) because of this.

Skybound-Hands of Time:

Most canon events occur. Least fleshed out section of the AU currently, more info pending.

Sons of Garmadon:

Harumi's manipulation is more effective on Lloyd in his current state. His father's rejection and violence sends him into a spiral.

Hunted:

Lloyd's physical transformation from the venom is completed during a sparring match with Nya, who is hurt in the process. Lloyd runs away and joins forces with his father and Harumi.

Garmadon teaches him how to harness his oni form.

Nya is brought to Lloyd during the events of the finale for Lloyd to dispose of her. He throws her off of the building, but has a moment of clarity and manages to save her using the oni form.

Lloyd's elemental powers return. He fights and kills his father. Harumi dies.

Lloyd takes his father's helmet and uses one of the dragons and flees to another realm.

Garmadon meets the FSM and is resurrected for the second time, now acting as a vessel for some of the FSM's powers (to help restore balance). He regains his memories. See his initial design here.

March of the Oni:

Lloyd is missing. No one knows where he is.

Garmadon willingly aids the ninja in their fight against the oni. He meets Vinny. He chooses to stay in the monastery for a while to help restore balance.

Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitzu-Master of the Mountain:

Most canon events occur, minus any of Lloyd's involvement as he is still missing. Meanwhile, Garmadon deepens his connection to Vinny, and leaves during MotM to search for Lloyd.

Seabound/in between Seabound and Crystallized:

Garmadon finds Lloyd in the dark realm where he originally got his second set of arms. Lloyd hid there for the safety of others. He kept himself alive by using his elemental power to create vines of pure energy, which connect directly to him like nutrient-giving IVs.

Lloyd gains an extra set of arms.

Lloyd fights Garmadon but ends up breaking down. Garmadon cuts him free of the vines and takes him home.

Lloyd goes into a coma after the vines are severed. He meets the FSM.

Crystallized:

[The prison arc never happens, mostly for simplicity...and personal gripes with it. Nya is, however, returned to her body.]

Vinny suggests propagating the vines to regrow them, and helps Garmadon plant the new roots.

Lloyd wakes up after Nya returns.

Lloyd undergoes PT, as his muscles have atrophied during his self-appointed exile. The vines are transferred into a planter backpack so he can move more freely. He and Nya bond over feeling (or being) powerless.

The Overlord is awoken. Harumi is resurrected and does his bidding begrudgingly, while planning her own counter-attack. She aids the ninja at the end.

Lloyd manages to defeat the Overlord with the help of his allies but is brought close to death. Garmadon uses the FSM's powers to revive him and, in the process, drains him of the venom.

Lloyd is no longer afflicted. The FSM's gifted powers are used up, and Garmadon reverts to his destruction powers.

Lloyd and Harumi come to somewhat of an understanding but Lloyd cannot forgive her. They part ways.

(I don't have a timeline yet for Dragons Rising because I haven't finished watching, and it's an ongoing series. However, I don't anticipate much being changed besides Lloyd's general disposition being more reserved/depressed, and him being resistant to helping Arin and Sora at first.)

He paced the mouth of the cave restlessly, keeping an eye on the shore and treeline alike and finding nothing in any direction. The morning air had already succumbed to humidity, which seemed to sit in the Squire's lungs heavier than the smoke he presently yearned for. He still managed to harbor his pipe, but a pat-down of his tattered clothes reminded him that his tobacco stores had long since been expended or lost. He heaved a sigh and, knowing it would be some hours before he was likely to hear from any party, retired into the cave.

Captain Smollett lay beside a fire pit on the sandy floor, propped up on a smooth, sloped rock. His eyes were closed, so Trelawney did his best to move quietly. The Captain rarely allowed himself the rest Dr. Livesey prescribed, choosing instead to continue giving orders from his low position and asking for constant updates on the developing situation. On the voyage out, the Squire had loathed those barked orders, and the sharp tongue he was often lashed with. Now, with the stench of death lingering in his nostrils, blood staining his hands, and the results of the entire cruise weighing on his conscience, Trelawney found himself wanting for a harsh reprimand. Harshness, however, had all but bled out of the Captain. No matter how brave an act he attempted to put on, weakness seeped into his voice, forcing him to speak softer, breathier, to take breaks between words. The Squire had to admit his pity and admiration alike for such tenacity.

He fed a few logs to the fire, further brightening the large space. Golden flames glinted off of the hoarded wealth that surrounded them and chased away the shadows on the Captain's handsome face, which was chiseled as it was weathered by sun and experience. Even when the most righteous anger had tightened Squire Trelawney's chest at the Captain's audacity, he had to, at least internally, appreciate the build of his face. And his physical build… Dr. Livesey had caught him staring on more than one occasion, which might have been far more embarrassing had the roles not been reversed an equal number of times. Livesey joked he was merely making a visual assessment of a patient, and Trelawney insisted he was staring in anger and nothing more, but the pair knew each other too intimately to buy the excuses. This led to several hushed conversations in their quarters, and agreements that seemed, at the time, entirely fantastical.

Now, the Squire's mind wandered back to such fantasies. It felt strangely close to his grip, with the Captain softened by their shared trauma and the Squire having fallen from his high horse long ago. And yet there still seemed a wall between them. Perhaps this time, it was of the Squire's making, not his stony Captain. Or perhaps, more likely still, he was just thinking wishfully as he tended to do.

Trelawney was adrift in daydreams when he noticed Captain Smollett's eyes had opened, and were staring back into his own. He startled out of his trance with an ungentlemanly yelp. "Ah! Captain! Forgive me, I was… lost in thought."

"An unfortunate state for a watchman on duty, Squire," Smollett said, the reprimand tempered by a rare glint of humor in his eye.

"It will be hours before we see or hear from them, Captain. The pirates have a long, fruitless journey ahead as it were, and that worthless map will bring them nowhere near our hideout." The Squire took a seat on a nearby rock. "I can assure you, there is little to watch."

"Save for me, it would seem."

That comment brought a flush to the Squire's cheeks, which he hoped would be disguised as warmth from the fire. He huffed. "Of course, even in your injured state you still find a way of practicing self-interest. I admire your commitment to being a pompous ass in the face of adversity, sir, but as I said, it was merely a lapse in focus."

The Captain exhaled something akin to a scoff, at the expense of a coughing fit it triggered. He put a hand on his chest in a self-soothing manner. "I'll remind you, Squire, that I am still your Captain whether walking the decks, or laying on this sandy floor. That doctor of yours—"

"Of mine?"

"Indeed. He promised me a full recovery, and I intend to make good on that. You may very well prefer to be on my good side once I have the strength of health once more."

The Squire was quite preoccupied with the Captain's insistence on calling Livesey 'his' doctor. While it was true that he and the Doctor were attached, much in the same way a husband and wife might consider themselves, he hadn't expected a single-minded fellow like Smollett to pick up on their affections. The pair took great efforts to introduce themselves as good friends, lest their deeper connection bring judgment or even harm; then again, perhaps he was giving the Captain too much credit, and he was actually making some joke about the two of them being inseparable on a platonic level… Trelawney hummed, hoping none of his musings showed on his face. "Is that a threat, Captain Smollett?"

Smollett shook his head, best he could with it propped against a stone support. "No. Pirates threaten. I give you my word as an honorable seaman that should we get out of this alive, and you have the audacity to come knocking about another treasure-bound expedition, I will give you more than the deserved earful, Mr. Trelawney."

He couldn't help the breathy chuckle at the Captain's words. "I suppose that is only fair. Though, I do wish you wouldn't use language like 'should we'. Look around, Captain. We practically bathe in coin, and young Hawkins secured us the means of bringing it home. The Hispaniola is out there, awaiting your command. All that remains is those pesky pirates…"

"The very same 'pesky pirates' that turned your own men against us and killed nearly all the others just for the promise of something heavy to line their pockets," the Captain reminded, managing a surprising sternness for his current state. "Hear me well, Squire. I am not a negative man, despite what you may think. I am realistic. And it is that realistic view what has saved my hide more than once." He attempted to lean forward for effect, wincing at the action. As he was seemingly set on following through, Trelawney had to take him by the shoulder and urge him back into a supine position. The Captain waved him off. "The ocean doesn't bow to optimism. You must prepare for any squalls that may appear," he continued. "I wish our crew to return triumphantly all the same, but that will not make it so. All we can do presently is wait and see."

"Yes, because thinking objectively about our friend's chances of failure is a much more comforting notion," Trelawney muttered.

"It is comforting to me."

"How in the blazes is that comforting?"

"I would rather temper my expectations and be thankfully proven wrong, than spend hours in unfounded excitement just to be disappointed," he said. "However, if your preference is blissful ignorance, far be it from me to keep you from your bliss."

The Squire opened his mouth to offer his usual sputtered rebuttal, but found himself exhaling a heavy sigh instead. His head drooped with his shoulders. "I must admit there's little bliss in my current ignorance, Captain. I am worried about them."

Captain Smollett allowed a silence to lapse, broken only by the crackling fire, then reached out a hand and gently rested it on the Squire's shin. The touch jolted through Trelawney like lightning. His gaze snapped up to meet Smollett's again, finding a fierce yet unreadable expression staring back; it was like his eyes were desperate to tell the story the rest of his face concealed. "We'll have some certainty soon enough," the Captain finally said.

It was perhaps the closest thing to positive encouragement the stuffy seafarer could have offered. Trelawney accepted it with a small nod. Even if he wasn't exactly comforted, he found it rightly difficult to focus on the possible fates of their companions when the Captain's sizable palm remained like an anchor on his leg. "Right you are…" the Squire said. The warmth from the fire felt suffocating just then, leaving him to once again crave a different kind of smoke. "Say, Captain, I don't suppose you'd happen to be hiding some tobacco in those bandages of yours, would you?"

At that, Smollett smiled. It was barely more than a grimace by any other man's standards, just the humblest upturn at the corners, yet Trelawney felt he might as well have been graced by a toothy grin. Smollett patted Trelawney's leg before pulling his hand away and making the effort to sit up straighter once more, at the same time waving off the Squire's efforts to aid the endeavor. He managed it well enough and gingerly tucked a hand into an inner pocket of his coat, procuring a cigar to the Squire's wide-eyed awe.

"My last cigar," Smollett said, turning it over in his fingers with something of reverence. "I don't make a habit, you'll understand. Smoke and drink have claimed even the most respectable sailors, and I'd much rather my death be of the sea, not excessive indulgences. However… should my death not find me waterlogged, I like to believe a final smoke would be preferable."

"So… this is a dead man's cigar?" Trelawney ventured. "I can't imagine it'd bring much luck to smoke it, then."

"You misunderstand, Squire. I hoped to smoke it in case of uncertainty for the future." The Captain held out the cigar. "So I can think of no better time to light it."

The Squire considered the cigar and words alike, his cravings eventually winning out against what he believed was his better judgment. He plucked it from the Captain's fingers and turned to the fire. In lieu of sticking his hand into the flame, he selected a stick which had only partially burnt, and held up the smoldering end to the cigar as a makeshift match while he puffed. Once lit, he drew a long, indulgent drag and let it out in an exaggerated sigh of relief. "You're a good man, Captain Smollett," he said, passing it back to its owner.

Smollett accepted the offer, his pointed attention never faltering as he wrapped his lips around it and took a couple puffs. The hazy smoke plumed from the corners of his lips. The Squire felt he couldn't be blamed for staring this time, and thus he did so shamelessly.

"So, after all this time, it was a lungful of smoke that proved my worth to you, Mr. Trelawney?" Smollett said.

"Now, Captain. I know I've given you plenty of grief over the course of this voyage, and yes, we certainly got off on the wrong footing, but you surely must know how I truly think of you by now."

Smollett took another, longer pull and let it out in the Squire's direction. He tilted his head, an action that might have seemed playful on anyone else. On him, it seemed a challenge. "A 'pompous ass'?"

The echoed words brought a wince. "All in good nature, I assure you sir. Truthfully, I have come to respect you as an upstanding man and sailor alike. And me, the true ass, am in your debt."

If it were a test, it seemed Trelawney passed well enough. He was rewarded by the cigar being held out again, and he more than eagerly took it.

"And that's all?" the Captain said.

The Squire's brow pinched. "All, sir?"

"That's how you think of me? No more, no less?"

The Captain's voice was quiet. Squire Trelawney might have attributed it to his weakened state, had he not detected a hint of shyness under his usual flat tone. The words, however, struck true like an arrow, and not the drunken sort what got buried in the sea many nautical miles back. Trelawney faltered, blinking rapidly as though that would bring clarity to his suddenly swarming mind. It, of course, did no such thing. And the Captain, always the stoic one, offered no further context in his expression. One would think all the wrinkles on his face could be read like a book, or the rings of the felled tree that birthed the pages, but even his facial muscles were under strict, explicit control. All in a neat line with not a worry showing, it was a wonder he had any wrinkles to begin with. He may as well have been carved by marble. And such Trelawney was imagining the handsome sculpture Smollett would make standing tall and half-nude in a personal gallery, when the Captain's clearing throat reminded him that he had to at least attempt to conjure an answer.

"I— oh! Um… well, I…" He willed himself to come up with something better, to speak properly, to not miss his chance, only for his tongue to continue betraying him with useless hemming and hawing. His face took on the hue of the glowing embers.

Smollett held up a hand. "Alright. Spare us both indignity, Squire, I can tell my question was ill received. Do not fret. I understand you have a special relationship with Dr. Livesey already, and I do not wish to impose any further than I already have."

"No! No, please, sir, don't mistake my tied tongue as rejection," the Squire blurted out rather hastily. "I'm just, you see… well, ah… just— just let me…right." He took a deep drag of the cigar and let it out at a molasses pace, willing his thoughts, and his pulse, to slow in time. When he'd finally collected himself enough, he continued. "Yes, it's true that Livesey and I are closely intertwined, as much as two men may be in the grace of privacy. However, it is also true that both of us have noticed a quickening heartbeat in your presence, Captain. Even before I would have admitted to appreciating your character. In fact, the Doctor and I already discussed certain… scenarios…"

"Scenarios," Smollett echoed flatly. If Trelawney wasn't mistaken, he swore he could see the gears churning behind the captain's dark eyes.

"About your… involvement, sir. I admit, Livesey and I previously thought these to be nothing but baseless fantasies, though we did take the discussion of the matter quite seriously…"

Smollett fell silent. His gaze finally drifted away to stare up at the cave ceiling, as though he'd find some answers there. Or perhaps Trelawney had misjudged, and the Captain was begging the Lord for forgiveness from his association with a sinner such as this. Trelawney had sucked down half the cigar in nerves by the time Smollett spoke again. "So, you… both… think of me well, then."

"Oh, well indeed sir."

That earned a small, breathy chuckle. Rarer than a smile, and rarer still than the wealth that surrounded them. At that moment, the Squire wanted nothing more than to hear it again. "I suppose that alleviates the need for another, equally uncomfortable conversation. I know I can be sparing with my praise, but let it be known that I have come to regard yourself and Dr. Livesey with the utmost respect myself. And the utmost… interest. If we get off this island alive—"

"When," Trelawney corrected.

"…If we get off this island alive, I would very much like to treat you both to a proper supper so you can debrief me on these 'scenarios'. I must admit you have piqued this old captain's curiosity."

Trelawney's heart swelled as though Smollett had just spun the most romantic yarn. He dropped from his seated position to kneel between the Captain and the fire pit, taking one of his hands in his. "Consider it a date. I think you'll find my imagination favorable, Captain."

"Hm…" Smollett squeezed his hand in turn and brought it gently to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Shivers raced up Trelawney's spine as soon as his lips made contact. They felt soft despite the sun-made cracks peppering the surface. "I don't doubt it, Mr. Trelawney. This entire trip was born of a wild imagination, for better and worse. And despite my best efforts to entertain logic, I can't say I regret it."

Incensed by the kiss, Trelawney scooted closer and leaned in with eyes blazing. "I could give you a taste of one of those scenarios now, Mr. Smollett."

"That's still 'Captain' to you," he replied, though the correction came quietly through a good-natured smile. "And I'd thank you to be gentle with me, Squire. Doctor's orders, you'll remember."

"Naturally, my Captain," Trelawney said pointedly. He closed the gap between their faces, eyes flickering down to the Captain's lips which slackened in anticipation. "So long as you promise not to be quite so gentle with me once you have the strength of health."

Another soft chuckle. "Agreed, Mr. Trelawney."

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