Chapter Text
25 P.I.C.
Jordan knew his sister would fall down the stairs before he finished his morning workout.
Down, hold position, and back up again.
A loud thump came from the direction of the stairs. Jordan’s lips twitched.
Down, hold position, and back up again.
“I’m okay!” Came Aashvi’s peppy voice. Jordan shook his head, sweat dripping off his nose. He didn’t know how she did it every single day. Being that happy must be exhausting.
Down, hold position, and back up again.
“Aashvi, glasses.” Kaz called, and Jordan could hear the annoyance in his father’s voice. She’d had the damn things since she was two years old, yet, nearly every morning, they did this exact same dance.
Down, hold position, and back up again.
Jordan’s arms burned. He did ten more, and hopped up to change his shirt. He hissed softly as the snug fabric slid over the nasty cut he’d gotten from scrapping yesterday. If his father got wind of the fact that Jordan had gotten injured and then hid that injury from Kaz, he’d be in big trouble. A full checkup, temperature and lungs included, just because he’d lied about one small little injury.
So instead he just prayed it wouldn’t start bleeding, threw his vest on, sprinted downstairs, and hopped on the railing to smoothly glide down to the bottom.
He landed in a small bow in front of his father, who was leaning on the bannister, newspaper in hand, and smiled smugly. Perfect in every way, if he did say so himself.
Kaz rolled his eyes, and Jordan felt the familiar thwack of a newspaper hitting his head. “Watch it, showboat. Try to be humble around the rest of us mortals who aren’t as athletically skilled.”
Jordan felt a pang of hurt, but passed it off with an easy, self-confident smile. “What’s for breakfast?” He forced, trying to change the subject.
Kaz glanced at his pocket watch and grimaced, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. “Well, let’s see. I have to go into town right about now, and unless you, your sister, or your mother have somehow learned to cook while I slept, I’d say your best bet is to reheat some oatmeal or have some fruit.” Jordan deflated ever so slightly.
“But I have so many chores to do today, Dad.” He whined, scrunching his face up. “I need energy.”
Kaz raised a dangerous eyebrow. “You know, when I was your age…” Kaz hooked his cane around Jordan’s ankle and jerked it up to rest on his good knee. Jordan’s jaw tightened as Kaz roughly laced his boot up, all while dumping his traumatic childhood memories onto his son. Jordan had heard the spiel a thousand times before, and it always gave him a sinking feeling of worthlessness in the pit of his stomach.
“So you should be lucky you’re getting food at all, got it, boy?” Jordan snapped back to attention, always the dutiful son. Kaz let his foot down and switched to the other one, looking pointedly at Jordan for a response.
“Yes, sir. I’ll have an apple and pray to the Saints for forgiveness for my ungratefulness.” Jordan said earnestly, internally kicking himself for acting spoiled. Kaz’s lips dipped down into a frown.
Jordan’s confidence wavered as his father searched his face, looking for something he would never find. Then Kaz exhaled through his nose and his lips twitched fondly. He finished the knot on Jordan’s boot and let it down, dusting the knees of his pants off lightly. Jordan knew his shoes weren’t dirty in the slightest, he’d spent all of the previous day cleaning them after Kaz had commented on the grime while Jordan had done a handstand, but he wasn’t about to mention that.
Kaz fixed Jordan’s already perfect hair and straightened his son’s vest. Then he grabbed his hat off the rack and looked around the hallway one final time, as if scouting for enemies.
“You’re too good, sol. Say hi to your Saints for me.” Jordan nodded in determination. Kaz did a weird thing with his face again, where Jordan couldn’t quite tell if he was proud or disappointed, and slipped out the door, placing his hat on his head.
Jordan worked his jaw, wondering what he did wrong. He’d have to try harder, maybe complain less. Perhaps even learn how to cook.
Although that might just make his father even more disappointed, as the last time he’d tried he’d gotten banned from ever being in the kitchen without Kaz there to supervise. Jordan chewed his lip and headed off to start his day. If there was one thing he could do, it was follow directions.
-
Aashvi was frowning at her food when Jordan walked into the kitchen. She drearily stirred at her oatmeal as Jordan stuck an apple between his teeth. “Bad today?” He asked through the fruit, ruffling her hair, not yet in her signature braids. Ama would do them before school, he knew that. Aashvi gave him an unimpressed look, and he took the apple out and repeated his question. Aashvi just sighed and stirred her oatmeal once more. “Do you think I’m pretty?” She asked finally, pouting her lip out.
Jordan made a face. “What kind of a question is that?”
Aashvi shrugged, her brown cheeks gaining a deeper color as the blood rushed to her face. Jordan kissed her head and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, I can definitely say that you’re not uglier than Prince.” He grinned and slipped out the door as Aashvi scoffed loudly.
“Prince is a horse!”
“Still an achievement!” He winked as the screen slammed shut. She sent him a very rude hand symbol and he dramatically clutched his chest, and then turned around and walked to the barn, chuckling.
Chores.
He was good at chores. He could handle chores. After the chores he would go to school and have a normal day, and nothing special or important would happen, no news he’d been waiting weeks for would appear, just a normal day of school where his dreams couldn’t be achieved or crushed at any moment.
Jordan let a deep breath out through his nose, and pet Sankta Leoni on her nose. The cow mooed and swished her tail, and Jordan sat down to milk her. His mind wandered as he went through the motions, trying to keep his hands steady as his head raced with anxiety. This was the week he’d be getting the results of his University acceptance letters. He’d woken up every day, stressed out of his mind, having to pretend like he was excited for every letter and not just one specific one.
Ketterdam University. Jordan hadn’t seen his home in four years. Not since Aashvi had gotten sick with the Queen’s Lady Plague, and Kaz had freaked out and moved them all to Lij.
Jordan yearned for it. For the hustle and bustle of the people, the crowded streets and the busy bars, the dim alleyways that Kaz had always made him stay clear of. The fountains in the parks, the bakeries and sweet shops, the Suli section of Little Ravka that always gave his Ama free candies for Jordan and Aashvi. The Van Eck estate, Uncle Jesper, Uncle Wylan, and Conor.
Jordan hadn’t seen his best friend in four years, even though he was just a few bells away. From the moment they’d met, when Conor was seven and Jordan eight, they had stuck together like glue. They’d taught each other to speak clearer, Conor had helped Jordan get over his mumbling and Jordan had helped Conor learn Kerch clearer. They’d had sleepovers practically every night, so much so that if Jordan or Conor weren’t in their respective rooms, their parents would just assume that they were at the other’s house.
He missed him desperately.
So desperately that Jordan, Jordan Harajj Ghafa, the child who declared at age seven he wanted to be in the Stadwatch (much to his father’s irritation and his mother’s amusement), he decided to break his father’s biggest rule: he was going back to Ketterdam.
Jordan had been absolutely petrified for weeks that his father would disown him; he’d never done something so vile and devious in his life. Kaz hadn’t even known he’d applied! Just trusted Jordan to go on his merry way to the post office and send the letters out, without even checking to see if Jordan was deceiving him. Because Jordan Harajj Ghafa had never broken a rule in his damn life, so Kaz trusted him blindly. Jordan could only hope he’d be forgiven in time.
Sankta Leoni mooed loudly and stamped her hoof, and Jordan let go of her udders, cheeks coloring a dark brown as he apologized to the cow.
The town bell rang. Damn it. He was going to be late for school, and Aashvi was definitely going to make fun of him. This day was off to a great start.
-
Jordan clutched his acceptance folder to his chest, drumming his fingers across the seal. He’d already opened it, of course he had. If he hadn’t gotten in then there would’ve been no need to even show his father. He would’ve just burned the folder so that Kaz would never find out, and then bury himself in work and go to the secluded college in Belendt that Kaz had already decided he was going to.
But he had gotten accepted. Logistically, he knew this was a bad idea. The moment he’d joined Aashvi outside and she’d seen the seal on the folder, she’d told him it was a bad idea. His teacher had given him a look that told him it was a bad idea.
He should be terrified, should be practically hyperventilating. Jordan has no idea why he isn’t, because his father is a terrifying man, and he will definitely not approve of this. Then again, he also shouldn’t have applied to Ketterdam University, and yet he did that anyways.
Maybe he was just in the phase of his life to break rules.
Also he’d been doing double chores ever since he sent his application in, so he hoped that the wheels were greased enough for him to slide past his father’s temper.
Aashvi bumped his shoulder playfully. He scowled at her and yanked on one of her twin braids lightly, and she screwed up her face in response. “What’s up your ass, Jojo?”
Jordan drummed on the folder again. “You can’t tell Dad.” He burst out. Aashvi’s eyes bugged behind her thick framed glasses.
“You’re hiding something from Baba ? You? Jordan Harajj Ghafa? The perfect little soldier boy?” Jordan ignored the pang of irritation at the nickname.
“I applied to college. In Ketterdam.” He said slowly, like he couldn’t even believe the words himself. Aashvi, who had previously looked overjoyed that she might have the chance to get her perfect brother in trouble, suddenly looked like he had just kicked her favorite rabbit.
“And?”
Jordan exhaled. “I got in.”
Aashvi was quiet. Jordan had finally made his sister shut up. It wasn’t as joyous of a moment as he’d hoped it would be.
He opened the screen door, shoving his hip against the stuck handle.
“Are you gonna go?”
Jordan blew a breath out.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
This was his chance to break away. This was his The Wraith, this was his Ice Court Heist.
“What’s this now? Where are you headed, sol?” Jordan froze. Kaz was treating himself to a cup of coffee, reading glasses on the bridge of his nose as he skimmed a folded down version of the newspaper. His sharp eyes shifted between reading the front article and looking at his son.
Jordan squeaked. Kaz’s eyes finally picked a spot to land, and he raised an eyebrow at his son. “What was that?” He asked, and Jordan could hear the clear amusement present in his voice.
Aashvi snorted softly at her brother’s plight, and kissed Kaz on the cheek. “Gonna go study, Baba!” Jordan knew very well that she was not. Kaz reached a hand back to grip her’s softly in acknowledgement and then let her go off. His eyes were still glued on Jordan.
Jordan cleared his throat. “I got a letter. A university letter. Accepted. I- uh, was accepted. Into university. Via the letter.” Jordan stuttered out. Kaz’s eyes wandered back down to the newspaper and he nodded and made a small, congratulatory noise in the back of his throat.
Jordan’s mouth felt dry. He swallowed to refresh it. Didn’t do shit.
Wonderful.
“I got into Ketterdam University.”
Jordan was waiting for Kaz to blow up. To slam his hand down, to yell at Jordan, to growl, to do something.
Hell, he’d even take his father just looking away from the damn newspaper.
Instead, Kaz swung his cane around, hooked it on a trashcan, and pulled it right up to land at Jordan’s feet.
Jordan stared at the trashcan. “...what’re you doing, Dad?”
At that, Kaz peeked up from the newspaper and frowned. “What, do they want you to send it back or something?”
Jordan squinted at his father. What the hell was he talking about-?
Oh.
The realization hit Jordan like a bucket of water. Kaz wasn’t even entertaining the idea of him going to KU.
Jordan swallowed harshly. His heart hurt from how hard it pounded against his chest.
“No, I… I wanna go.”
Kaz slowly set the newspaper down. “I’m sorry?”
Jordan blew out a breath of air. “I wanna go to Ketterdam University. I wanna study cartography, just like we talked about, except KU has a much better cartography course than BU does, because it’s actually on the harbor. I can go see Uncle Jes, and Uncle Wy, and Conor, and their new kid on weekends. I’ll be five blocks from the old house, and ten up and three over from the Crow Club. I can go to that one bakery in Little Ravka where Ama used to take us when you were at work. I-”
“Jordan Harajj.” Jordan flinched as Kaz’s cold tone cut off all of the steam he had picked up while building his argument. His father had the ability to do that, to just tear him apart with the slightest raise of his voice. A raise of his voice and a slight narrow of his cold, steel eyes, that was all it took to send Jordan fully back into his shell.
Kaz stared him down with those cold, stone brick eyes. Jordan straightened his posture, picked at a stray hair in his bangs, and stared half-heartedly at a button on his father’s shirt.
Kaz crooked two fingers, motioning Jordan over. Jordan shuffled close, and stood still as his father brushed stray dust and dirt off of his school uniform. It was a long time before Kaz spoke again.
“I was under the assumption that we had come to an agreement, Jordan.” Jordan winced.
“Yeah, I mean, we did. But… I really want to-” Jordan cut himself off and looked at his boots. He could feel Kaz studying him. His father hated when he didn’t finish his sentences, he said it only made Jordan seem like he had a weak argument. Jordan didn’t know how to tell his father that sometimes he just stumbled over his words.
The floor scraped against the chair, and Jordan watched, feeling slightly out of his body, as Kaz tilted his chin up. One would assume that a farmer’s fingers would be firm from farmwork, but Kaz spent more time in his accounting office than he ever did out back with the actual farm, so his were still soft. But sharp.
Kaz gripped his chin and looked down at Jordan. Even though they were almost the same height, with the top of Jordan’s head coming up to Kaz’s eyebrows, his father still managed to make him feel like a child.
“You are going to Belendt University,” Jordan nodded. “You are burning that letter,” another nod. “And you will never go to Ketterdam alone.” A third and final nod.
He liked to think that it was because Kaz was moving his face, but in all honesty, Kaz wasn’t doing anything. It was just Jordan bending to his father’s wishes, as usual.
“Yes, sir.” Jordan finally met his father’s gaze, with a surprising amount of vitriol in his glare. Kaz stepped away, and opened his mouth to say more. Jordan normally would wait for a dismissal, would wait for Kaz to finish speaking. This time, as soon as Kaz let him go, Jordan practically flew up the stairs.
“Jordan!” Kaz shouted.
Jordan slammed the door shut.