#past captain

Gently, so as not to damage the card, Rusthaven removes the bracelet and holds it up for a closer look. 

He can count on one hand the number of homemade gifts he’s ever received, and they were usually from his grandfather (there was also the carving he received from his father when he was small, but since he couldn’t remember getting it, it was hard to think of it as a present). As he looks at the bracelet, marveling at the intricacy of it, memories of those gifts come flooding back; or, at least, the feeling of receiving them. Like his grandfather, Cassandra had made them just for him. That alone was enough to make him return his daughter’s smile. But, to him, it’s also a kind of confirmation, more proof he’s been accepted as her father. You didn’t put that much effort into a gift if you didn’t care about the person. Well, he didn’t. 

“Cassandra,” he says, “this is the finest bracelet I’ve ever seen.” He puts it on his left wrist immediately before picking up the card. “And this,” he went on, showing her the card, “is gonna have pride of place.” 

He gets up and walks over to the mantelpiece, moving a few cards carefully out of the way so he can put Cassandra’s card right in the middle, where it’s easy to spot. 

Going to have to go straight into headcanon territory for this one:

The Captain’s journey really started back when he was around eight or nine, because that’s when he gave up any hope of being a performer. Roderick had been bullied for years by this point because he was into singing and dancing, and eventually he just decided he was done. It didn’t make him happy anymore. So he stopped doing it. Unfortunately, he’d also developed a tendency to fight back, because it got the bullies to back off. Boys may not sing and dance, but they sure did fight. Without the theater classes to express himself and give him something to achieve, Roderick felt useless and frustrated. He also lost his grandfather that year, the closest thing to a father he had, so this was a very bad year for him. A lot of anger, a lot of resentment and sadness, and not much he could do with it.

So he got into more fights, usually with honorable intentions (if he thought someone was being unjust, for instance. He once picked a fight with a kid two years older than him because he stole from a smaller child). He felt he was in the right. He felt he was doing something, achieving something. All it really did, though, was alienate him from other children. Even the ones he defended were scared of him. He got into trouble, he got told off, he got hurt. He wasn’t a particularly smart kid and he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He liked soldiers, but the idea of being one didn’t seem like an option for him. He was working class, and no guard he’d met seemed like they had that background.

Then, at 13, he met Whent, a new guard who’d just started patrolling the part of Corona where he lived. Roderick’s walk to school coincided with Whent’s route, and the guard would talk to him; first by asking him how he was, then having conversations with him. And Whent had also been working-class. He told Roderick that didn’t matter and he proved it just by existing. 

Just like that, Roderick felt he had a future. He’d become a guard. He’d try to stay out of trouble. For the first time, he began to register the impact the fights had on his life - and how much they upset his mother - so he tried to stop doing them. He didn’t manage to get rid of his temper or the instinct to lash out, but he learned how to reign it in, something he’d continue to learn as a soldier (it’s still there, though. A good example is his behaviour in “The Wrath of Ruthless Ruth”). He got along better with people and even got a girlfriend, although they broke up after two years.

Then, at eighteen, he joins the royal guard. He gets through basic training and, for perhaps the first time, he feels like he belongs somewhere. He makes friends. He admires his predecessor, Captain Winters, who’d become something of a father figure to him. He adjusts to life as a soldier easily enough. Eventually he adopts Cassandra I always found it hard to believe he’d reached his current rank when he did this, even if he’s wearing that uniform in the flashback. Sorry. He’s doing the right thing and he’s doing it in a way that doesn’t hurt him or those he cares about. He almost feels at peace. 

Key word being almost. 

As the years passed, his mental health got challenged a lot. His tendency to never leave things unfinished was something of a double-edged sword (it still is, to be honest), but the biggest problem was watching other men die. It was even worse if the man was one of his friends; the final straw was the loss of one of those men, Gerard Wexley, while they were chasing a thief. There weren’t a lot of deaths, but they were still more than Roderick had to deal with before and Wexley’s was particularly disturbing. It wasn’t just about his friends dying, it was also a reminder of his own mortality. Eventually he found a way of dealing with it - by focusing on the here and now, something he’d later teach his daughter - which works for the most part, but that tendency to dwell on things never really went away. However, as a soldier, he went from strength to strength and rose through the ranks, gaining a lot of respect in the process.

He’s nearly 19, and he’s standing before his commanding officer. He’s not alone; several other guards are with him, all the men who were searching the house when the little girl was found. Said little girl is in the center of the room, holding the hand of a man who’d just joined up but seemed to be good with kids. Later, Roderick would find out his name; Stan. Now, his priorities are elsewhere. 

Captain Winters leans over the desk. He looks at the child and asks some questions. No, there was no sign of the parents. No, there was nothing to show where they’d been. 

“We have to get back out there,” Winters says. “Before the trail goes cold.” 

“And the girl?” asks one of the officers. 

Winters sighs. Maybe the child worries him, too. She certainly worries Roderick. Who’d abandon their kid like that? She was a toddler; barely old enough to know her name. The men had to assume it was the same name they’d found on her crib. 

“There’s an orphanage on the east side,” Winters says. “She’ll be safe there.”

Roderick’s heard of this orphanage. Sometimes the babies his mother helped deliver would end up there, when their mothers couldn’t keep them. Or wouldn’t. The thought of this child ending up there bothers him so much he has to speak up. 

“Sir?” 

“Got something to say, Rusthaven?” the officer’s tone is so fierce Roderick knows he should shut up. But he can’t. 

“You can’t send her there, Sir.”

“Why not?” asks Winters. 

Why not, indeed? All Roderick has to go on is his perception of this orphanage. But it’s not a pretty picture. He pictures this girl on her own in some shabby building, with no one to look out for her, missing the family she ought to have. She reminds him of himself, missing the father he never got to know. But at least he had people to look out for him. To deny the girl that… he couldn’t let that happen. 

“I’ll look after her.” 

The other men stare at him. Winters’ mouth drops open. Roderick continues: “my mother, she’s a midwife. We’ve got room at our house. She can stay there.” 

He can see the uncertainty on the officers’ faces. Winters looks like he’s about to object, but his mouth snaps shut again and he shakes his head. “As long as she goes somewhere,” he says. 

Roderick walks over to Stan and the little girl. The other soldier lets her go without complaint, looking just as surprised as everyone else. Roderick picks the child up and she clings to him, no doubt scared out of her mind by everything that happened today. And in that moment, Roderick is more certain than ever he’s done the right thing. 

It was the hair that shocked him.

Kids playing in the street? Rusthaven was used to that. He'd done it himself. Even tiny ones like this had a tendency to wander away from their parents. Assuming they had them. But a little girl with long blonde hair? What were the odds?

But, first and foremost, she was a lost child. Rusthaven decided to treat her as such.

-A memory that makes them feel guilty

He’s around 35. He’s in his house, sitting on his bed. Morwenna’s next to him. She’s crying, and he’s holding her hand. As if that would do any good. They’re not married yet. Their relationship was meant to be casual; she wasn’t even meant to be staying with him for long. But now she’s having a child. His child.

He pulls her close, promises he’ll look after her. And he will; the Captain has never been the type of man who’d shirk responsibility. He’s already planning to ask his mother for help. But deep down, he knows he shouldn’t have made a mistake like this. Not at his age. He should’ve considered the consequences. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with her at all, no matter how attracted he was to her. He was definitely old enough to show restraint.

He gets up. If he’s going to tell his mother about this, better to do it sooner rather than later. Morwenna clings to him. He tells her he won’t be gone long; takes her hand in his again, promises her everything will be okay. She seems to believe it. He wishes he could say the same.

-A memory that leaves them feeling lonely

He’s 18. Still in boot camp, but the end is in sight. It’s the final exam next week. Rusthaven’s more than ready. He’s held his own in every test so far.

He and the others leave the training ground. Rusthaven doesn’t speak to anyone. He’s talked to some of the other men in the past, likes them, but for now he’s more used to being alone.

He sees the relatives waiting to greet the other trainees. Mostly men. Having your mother show up to a place like this would be mortifying; he’s grateful his own isn’t here. But he can’t look away from the proud fathers, patting their sons on the back and congratulating them. Even the disappointed ones snag at his heart. Just because they’re fathers, he supposes.

Rusthaven doesn’t say anything. But on his way home, he pauses outside the graveyard. He can see the memorial at the back, where his own father’s name is written. It takes him awhile to walk on.

-A memory that leaves them laughing

He’s around 26. He’s got a day off, and he’s spending it at home. Back then, “home” was still his mother’s house, and he’s looking out the front window and watching his daughter play outside.

He has no idea what Cassandra’s doing out there. Building something, by the looks of it, some kind of little house out of rubble. The fact he doesn’t know is part of what interests him. The other reason is because it’s Cassandra doing it. He recognises the stick lying next to her, though. She’s been using it as a sword. He’s been teaching her how to wield it.

A bigger boy comes along. He’s holding a bag of carrots in one hand. Spitefully, he kicks Cassandra’s little house, knocking it down. Rusthaven begins to rise from his chair, all set to defend his daughter-

But he doesn’t need to. Cassandra grabs her stick and charges at the boy. He clearly didn’t see that coming. His mouth drops open, and the look on the little girl’s face must be terrifying - Rusthaven can’t see it - because he drops the carrots and runs like hell. Cassandra watches him run before returning to her house. Now Rusthaven can see her face. She looks satisfied.

“I know,” the Captain replied, but Frederic had been gone for a long time. Longer than he was supposed to. That was unusual. 

The Captain knew he should’ve accompanied him. The King had ordered him to stay at home, to “do his job”. But protecting the royal family was also his job, and setting off alone based solely on some rumor was not an idea the Captain approved of. 

“It’s a circus, Sire!” he’d tried to tell him. “They aren’t… they don’t tell the truth. I saw one as a child that promised trained wolves and gave us elderly dogs. They might not have a girl with-”

“But they might, Captain!” The King had shown him the poster, as if he needed to see it again. Various acts were announced; among them, “the golden girl”. What did that mean, anyway? The Captain had no idea, but Frederic had insisted on checking it out. Just to see. If it was her, he’d send for the Captain and his men. If it wasn’t, he’d come back. 

But he wasn’t back, no message had been sent, and the Captain had been forced to tell Arianna about the search. 

He’s thirteen years old, and he’s waiting in the streets again. It’s time for school, and he knows it, but he lives for this part of the week. This is when Whent is on patrol.

He sees the guard before Whent sees him and walks over to him, trying to look nonchalant. As though he isn’t excited to see him. He’s better at it now he’s older.

“Hey, Roderick!” the guard calls out. “Coming to join me, are you?”

It’s a joke. They both know it. Whent also knows the boy would love to join him, but he doesn’t push it.

“Can’t,” the boy replies. “School.”

“Well, school’s important. I’ll walk with you, shall I?”

“It’s not on your route.”

“And you know my route so well, boy?” the guard grins. “Actually, I’ve got some free time. I was going to get something to drink, but it’s my duty to serve the people…”