Chapter Text
Silver hadn’t always been a cold man. He didn’t always carry the weight he does now.
☆☆☆
Growing up in an orphanage was never easy. As the oldest, John took it upon himself to watch over the other children—but he did it gladly. They were his family. They starved together, played together, fought and laughed and loved like a real family should.
When he was five, Anita—the orphanage’s caretaker—began pulling him aside from the others to teach him how to read. “Readin’ gives you a smart mind and a quick wit,” she’d say, tapping the side of her head. “And in this world, you need both to survive.”
By the time he turned six, he was reading every book he could get his paws on. Educating himself, learning about the world, was his main priority, and stayed that way for a very long time.
When he was finally able to read most anything on his own, Anita pulled him aside and put a book into his paws. “I want you to have this, my boy.” The emblem on the cover was strange and unfamiliar. He flipped it open, and on the first page read the title: “The Tales of Captain Nathaniel Flint.” John scanned the first few lines—and was enthralled instantly. A ruthless pirate, sailing the stars, stealing treasure, living a life of danger and adventure… It was every poor orphan’s dream.
From that night on, he gathered the younger kids around and read to them by flickering candlelight, his voice bringing Captain Flint’s escapades to life. They all adored the stories. But in John, something deeper awoke inside him—a fire, a longing. A dream.
1751
By the time John turned eight, Anita decided he was old enough to start working. Feeding that many mouths on one income was becoming harder every day. Anita was often able to find jobs around town. Everyone needed help, and he was a diligent worker, for someone so small. Eventually Anita had found him a job that paid him very well, a job in the forest, a group of men that cut and planted trees, and they kept him for a much longer time than his other jobs had. So, for most of the year, he spent his time there.
Every morning before the sun rose, John walked two miles into the woods to the camp. He was too small to swing an axe or haul timber like the older boys, but the foreman found uses for him. He collected kindling, stacked branches, ran messages between tree crews, and fetched water from the stream. Dirty work. Cold work. But it was work.
The woods were quiet in the mornings—eerily so. Fog hung low over the ground, curling around tree roots like smoke. John grew used to the silence. It gave him time to think. Time to dream. He’d imagine himself as Captain Flint, slicing through vines with a saber and finding secret paths to buried treasure. But when the daydreams faded, all that remained was the cold and the ache in his legs.
Every evening, after a long day of hauling bark and bruising his fingers, he sat by the candlelight and read to the other children from the book. His voice cracked with exhaustion, but their eyes still lit up at every word. It was in those moments—between the dirt and the candlelight —that the man John would become began to take shape.
☆☆☆
The older kids tucked the youngest ones into bed after John had read nearly half the stories on Captain Flint. “John, Killian can’t sleep.” Another boy yawned, nudging John’s shoulder. “Can you try and settle him down?” John pushed the other boy to his bed. “Yeah, I can Maller. Go sleep, I’ve got this.”
John knelt next to Killian’s bed, running his paws through the younger kid’s silky hair. “Having trouble settling?” He asked softly. “I’m just not tired,” Killian mumbled, rolling over to rub his head against John’s paw. John raised a brow. “Oh really now?”
“Yeah John, not tired,” the kid said through a yawn. John grinned. “Well, you know, everyone has to sleep. Even Captain Flint.”
"Really?"
"Mhm." John nodded. He chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair. “Get some sleep, Killian. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?” The kid nodded, yawning again.
John smiled and walked out, gently closing the door. “John.” Anita's voice. Weird. She's usually asleep by now. Maller and some of the older kids were standing with her.
“Can you feel it, John?”
“Feel what?”
Anita gestured loosely. “Something is… wrong. The others can feel it too.” Maller nodded, shivering from his place slumped against the wall. “It’s like the planet is holding its breath. Waiting.”
“I can feel it. It started this morning.”
Anita nodded. “Stay alert. I'll watch over the young children. I'd like you kids to stay on watch tonight. Rotate. Make sure someone is awake in case we need to move fast.”
“I’ll stay up first; the others look exhausted.” A girl offered, giving John and Maller knowing looks. Anita looked at each of their faces in turn. “You are good kids, all of you. If anything happens, I love you, okay?” They all nodded. Anita slipped quietly into the younger kids' bedroom, settling into a rocking chair for the night.