Chapter Text
“I– I didn’t mean to…!”
There were tears in Roda’s eyes as she knelt on the floor, two pieces of a broken alien dish clasped on her lap. She hadn’t meant to! She had only intended to look at the gift from the Draconian ambassador. She hadn’t even meant to touch it, let alone to break it. But her robes had gotten under her feet when she stood on her tiptoes, and she’d knocked it down with her elbow before she had a chance to try and react.
Lord Rassilon stood over her with a quiet fury on his face that made Roda feel very, very small. Not that she didn’t always feel small around him. He was Lord Rassilon, President and Founder of Gallifrey; the first Solar Engineer, a peerless politician, and slayer of the Yssgaroth and Zagreus. Who was she? Orphan Roda. Couldn’t focus at the Academy Roda. Never going to account for anything to anyone Roda. Clumsy Roda. And yet he had taken her in when nobody else had wanted her… this was how she repaid him.
A part of her wanted to cower. Another knew that her tears were yet another sign of weakness. More than anything else, she wanted to be anywhere other than where she was, whether that meant that she was a coward or not. Anywhere but under his glare, disappointing him, yet again.
“No. I do not imagine you did.”
Rassilon didn’t kneel down, or even make any move towards her. Roda could barely hold his gaze, as her hands shook. He sounded so… calm. Like it didn’t surprise him in the least bit that Roda had messed up, yet again. But she still flinched as he folded his arms across his chest, wincing as the edge of one of the shards of pottery dug into her palm. She pulled her hand away sharply, feeling blood trickle quickly down and between her fingers, staining her skin with her guilt.
“I can fix it! What–whatever I have to do, I will.”
“It cannot be fixed, Rodageitarynxmososa,” Rassilon’s voice began to darken. “It was an antique; the method by which it was crafted is long dead.” Roda felt her hearts catch in her throat. “...Did I not tell you to remain at the desk while I was in my meeting?”
“Y–yes, Lord Rassilon.”
“Were you not instructed,” he continued, “to touch nothing in my absence?” Roda swallowed. “Well…?”
“Yes, Lord Rassilon.”
“And did you obey these instructions…?”
“...N–no, Lord Rassilon.” Roda bit down a sob, embarrassment and shame threatening to overwhelm her. “I – I didn’t. I just…”
She looked down at the growing flower of red that was tarnishing the pretty, broken thing she had already ruined, and shakily held the two pieces together again as if she could not only will them back together, but will time itself to reverse so that she had done as she was told. She – she had only wanted to see. She’d never seen anything from Draconian before.
“Whether or not you have seen its like before,” Rassilon said, suddenly breaking through her thoughts. Roda hadn’t even felt him in her mind; the realization cut her to the quick, only making her feel even worse. She was supposed to have practiced… “You should not have disobeyed me so fragrantly.”
“I – I know.”
“And yet you did.”
“I’m s–sorry.”
“...how disappointing.”
“I– I’ll make it up to you!” Roda begged, feeling sick with self-loathing, regret and a strange sense of… invasion? “Pl–please, my Lord Rassilon. I’ll do anything you want me to in order to – to make it up to you!”
“And what if you cannot?” Rassilon snapped. Roda flinched again, resisting the urge to shield herself from her guardian. He wouldn’t hurt her… would he? And if he would, would she deserve it? She’d done wrong… “What then?”
“I– I– I don’t know, Ras– Lord Rassilon, I–”
“Silence.”
Rassilon shook his head. He swept his robes out of the way, his staff thumping on the ground as he rested it against his desk. Roda let out a small cry of alarm before she could stop herself as he abruptly crouched to the ground, landing hard on her backside as she moved away from him. For just a second, that seemed to give him pause. Roda looked up with eyes blurry with tears, still stumbling over her own words as the older Time Lord studied her.
“I – I really didn’t mean to,” she said, between shaky breaths, after what felt like a respectable time. She did her best to sound steadier, and less like a scared, embarrassed child. To sound like someone he could one day not be ashamed of. “It was an accident. I thought I – I could learn from it…” She swallowed. “I could… write to the Ambassador. I’ll p–pay. Somehow.”
Rassilon said nothing; only held out one hand. It took Roda a second to work out what he was asking. When she did she hurriedly handed him the broken pieces, looking at her bloody hands as he brusquely stood up again. He looked at the shards for a minute, before walking around his desk and dropping them into the bin with a final clink-clink of dismissal. He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he turned on his heel, heading for the door.
“I’m sorry…” Roda whispered, shakily.
If he walked out now… it was as good as saying she could never make it better. Another black mark on her record. As if she didn’t have enough of them by now.
Rassilon ignored her words.
“Finish your studies in your quarters. You will be summoned for mealtime.”
Roda curled up, hugging her knees to her chest as the office door slammed shut behind the Lord President. The room was too, too silent; for only a moment. And then the Time Tot’s chest began to heave as she gulped in great, gasping sobs.
“I’m sorry…” She whispered, to nobody in particular. To Rassilon. To her real father, years gone now. To – to the universe. A single, desperate prayer that she could be more than the failure she’d been today.
“I’ll be better…”