A Garden of Flowers and Bones [Lloyd Garmadon x Reader]

Chapter 3: Visitors (Prt 1)

"BUGGER!!"

She crashed to the ground, shoes scuffed with dirt, kicking up dust in her wake. The fall was harsh and unforgiving, and the sword that landed at her neck was just the same, glinting in the afternoon sun.

"Point," Came Beathán's voice, again.

Again and again, he gave her no leeway for being a complete failure. Sighing, irritated, she batted the blunt metal away from her with the back of her hand.

"Yeah, yeah. You win, you..." Her voice lowered into an aggravated mutter, "Absolute troglodyte..."

The afternoon was alight with laughter from those on the sidelines. Their spars weren't much of a spectacle since the outcome was always the same, but sometimes people stopped by to watch just because.

In this case, a small crowd had bunched up nearby, comprised mainly of gossiping teenagers chatting away with Gayle and a couple hunters returning from the forest. Most of the onlookers were simply passing by and stopped for a quick chat, the one-sided onslaught being little more than background visuals. They still found the time to 'oooo' and wince whenever Y/N received a particularly hard counter or laugh when she predictably hit the ground. There were a few motivating cheers whenever she was able to take her teacher off guard, as well.

There were whispers from a group of older mothers further out. They stood by a storefront, hair pulled back in conservative buns and braids, eyelashes flickering over disdainful eyes, hands clasped over murmuring voices as they shared looks between them.

But Y/N didn't see them. Didn't notice the way they lingered on the sword loosely held in the young adult's ringless fingers before padding off with baskets of herbs and fruit towards their children playing in the streets.

Y/N did notice the way one young girl tried to scurry forward excitedly through the wide berth between the two adults and the sidelines, only for a father to grab her arm and pull her away. He had been a particularly vocal individual, but it seemed his fascination with the fight ended there. And when they made eye-contact, his eyes were the ones that looked away first.

Ouch.

"If you're frustrated," Startled by the sound of Beathán's voice, Y/N turned her head back to him, "You should quit effective immediately."

He had misread the trickling pain of her expression (her gritted teeth and upturned brows,as if she'd received a blow herself) as a sign of her bruised ego.

"I, honest to the Goddess, hate you and everythin you stand for."

"It should be easy to quit, then. You're not making any headway."

"Looks like you're the one who wants to quit, old man."

He heaved a sigh of defeat, as if he couldn't quite argue against what she was saying, and that fact made him upset. Out of the blue, from over her shoulder, an arm extended out, offering a glass of water. After getting over her initial surprise, she turned and gave the owner of said arm her full attention.

"You did good, kid. You did good," Dareth grinned from overhead, "Keep in mind that the guy is a trained soldier. None of us could beat him, not even me... as I am now. Once I reach my final form..."

"Certainly," The veteran rolled his eye.

With a huff, she took the cup and downed the whole thing before handing it back, using her free hand to wipe her mouth.

"Yeah, well, I've been at it for over a year, and I still haven't gotten any closer to wipin that cocky look off his stupid face."

"You never will. If that was your goal, then you'd give up if you knew what was best for you."