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Like most things typically did, guardianship came natural to Jayce.
After a while, that is.
He’d once thought himself to be one of – if not the least qualified person to raise or even so much as look after a child (that hasn’t really changed), but… things have been going rather decent. Amaranthine is as stubborn as ever, but it’s nothing that would or should be considered disrespectful or out of line. Jayce likes to think she’s just headstrong, just as he was at her age. And then for a good sum of years after. But, overall, she’s a really good kid: smart, funny, surprisingly not too irritating (that took some work).
They have a good system set up.
Jayce takes his role quite seriously—father-daughter galas, school fundraisers, career day, and so on and so forth. Their latest venture, (un)surprisingly: ballet. Amaranthine talks incessantly about being a ballerina, as girls her age typically do. He doesn’t really get it, but it’s something that makes her happy, so who is he to complain? She could grow up to be one of the greatest ballerinas the city’s ever seen, but in order to do that, she needs a good support system. She’s been begging to be enrolled in lessons for weeks. When she’s not begging, she’s frolicking, pliéing, and pirouetting all around the flat, the workshop, and the streets on the walk home from school. Even with all of this, Jayce just wants to be sure she’s serious. Because… money is a little tight, and wasting a bunch of that already-tight-money on classes that she’ll tire of within a week is less than ideal.
So, to test her commitment, he’s decided to take her to see a show—a professional one, just to see if this is what she really wants. That, and he does have an appreciation for the arts. More importantly, Albus requested his presence at the first show of the season. All for optics, obviously. They struck a (rare) compromise, allowing little Ama to tag along, and that’s how Jayce ended up with a pile of magazines laid out in front of him while he masterfully tackled the task of tying her hair up.
He has at least three or four pins shoved in his mouth, constantly looking back and forth between the sections of hair and the pictures in the magazine. Amaranthine rubs her neck, glaring over her shoulder at him. “My neck hurts,” she said, reaching back to whack his arm. “If you keep tugging it in all different directions like that, I’ll end up bald like you!”
Remember. Children are blessings. And they don’t know any better.
Jayce slowly looks down at her, pins still in his mouth, and she just keeps going. “You know, those guides really aren’t hard to follow. They even come with pictures. You have to be pretty stupid to not be able to follow pictures. Even I could do that,” she nods curtly. It takes everything in his power to not roll his eyes.
“Yeah, well,” Jayce fixes her hair into place, finally, “this isn’t exactly my field of expertise.” Good on him for admitting that. Even if his inability to follow the tutorial properly was making him want to rip his own hair out and hide under the bed until it grows back. “Just keep it down and let me finish this, ‘cause the complaining’s really not helping. Five minutes, kid.”
It takes him at least another fifteen to actually get everything done, minus the time spent helping her choose just what accessories she wanted to clip in, too. Everything had to match the ruffled pink dress Jayce had bought her for the occasion, and if it didn’t, she would simply die. Jayce, again, doesn’t get it. But it’s really none of his business. He’s just glad she likes the dress so much, because going into the modiste to order it may or may not have been one of the most daunting things he’s ever done. Somehow.
❀
After they arrived, it was as if Amaranthine’s jaw had hit the ground and was stuck there. She was in awe, staring at the glistening gowns of passersby, and drawn to the gilded walls and the portraits of past Piltovan creatives hanging upon them. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and it left Jayce wondering whether or not she was going to burst into tears at any moment. Jayce, on the other hand, usually hates coming to these things. Everything is so stuffy and performative, but having Amaranthine along with him may just make it bearable.
He’s in the process of adjusting his tie when he hears Ama’s high-pitched gasp, and then she suddenly tugs on his arm. Repeatedly. “Look! Look, look over there!” She’s pointing at a little stand off in the corner, stomping her foot, “they’re glasses! Can I get a pair, Jayce— can I, can I? What if I can’t see the show without them?!”
Gods. They’ll sell anything in this city. Special glasses. Just for the theater.
Jayce sighs. If he says no, she’ll throw a fit. Either that, or she’ll claim that he ruined her first experience at the ballet. “You can see just fine,” is what he settles on, “you just passed your eye exam. And the Ferroses’ box has a direct view of the stage. You don’t need overpriced glasses.”
❀
It takes a few minutes for them to settle into their seats. Jayce plops down next to Amaranthine after a long, draining conversation with Albus—during which she was fiddling about with her new glasses, and staring at unsuspecting people from across the auditorium. If it wasn’t enough that she was one of the only kids there, she was now spying on people. So, that’s great. Just another earful awaiting him.
“Stop that,” Jayce says, in a weak ‘attempt’ at scolding her. “We’re right at the front of the box, and people can see the reflection of your glasses. Your sleuthing needs work.” Amaranthine just shakes her head. Yeah, he should’ve seen that coming.
She lowers her glasses and looks up at him, then over to the stage, “Thank you for bringing me.” And she sounds genuinely appreciative, which… how could she not be, considering ballet is all she’s talked about since her school’s recital.
Hearing it from her makes Jayce smile. Even if he was just nagging over her being too curious and using her glasses to snoop. He’s forgotten what it was like to be a kid, sort of. Not to mention that his sorry excuse of a childhood didn’t include any of this. He worked and studied more than he played, and unlike Ama, he had no friends at school or people who cared much about him outside of it—minus the Gioparas who, in a way, were kind of his saving grace. Still, it was nothing like this. Jayce wasn’t really raised, or supported, or loved. He was dragged along and morphed into a model Piltovan. And he’s still not even sure if he fulfills his role properly.
He’s not sure it matters, though. Because at least he’s doing this right.
“Yeah,” he reaches over to lightly pat her head, making sure he doesn’t mess up the hairstyle that took him all too long to style and pin in place. “No problem, kid.”
As if it was right on cue, the lamps dimmed, the curtain started to rise, and Amaranthine immediately lifted her glasses back into place.
Jayce finally feels like he’s done something right for a change.