Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If anyone were ask Jote how her life has been since the fall of Origin and the start of rebuilding Rosaria, she supposed she would answer that it hadn’t changed much.

She wakes up before dawn, and is in the kitchens of Rosalith helping cook before the sun pinkens the sky and she carries a breakfast tray up through Rosalith castle till she reaches the room of the Archduke where she knocks once before stepping in.

The body on the bed barely moves till she sets down the food and opens the curtains to let in the light, and at that point there is stirring yet it is to shift the face away from the sun and it will take a lot more words of coaxing before finally she sees the blue eyes flutter open and accept being awake.

The difficulties of waking up Joshua Rosfield are ones she knows well and fondly, and if it had been any other there might have been a glare towards whom had disturbed his beauty sleep but for his past Attendant Joshua merely groaned and rolled onto his back. Bare arm covering his eyes though Jote knows that he is now awake and moves from the bedside to bring over the tray of food.

From there he’ll sit up, ask her if she’s eaten anything and she’ll tell him she ate some food here and there while cooking. He won’t press further and begin to eat.

Jote will ask him what his plans are for the day, and what she might do.

Joshua will tell her he has some meeting or another with the Seven High Houses, something Clive has asked of him to accomplish, and other political matters he must attend to too fully see Rosaria healed.

And then, he will tell her when she asks once again what she might do, that Jote can do what she likes.

Then he’d get up.

Get dressed.

And leave.

The similarities of before and after Origin… end there. Because Jote doesn’t see him much, ever since coming to live in Rosalith.

Nor does he have any duties for her.

Most mornings, she’ll make his bed just to have something to do, but it’s not like she needs to, anymore. If she did not touch the linens, a maid would come in later and do it anyway. If she did not wake up to make and deliver his breakfast, a butler would.

Clive, Torgal, and Jill stay by Joshua’s side and protect him when he travels so she is not needed there and even if none of them could go, Joshua is the Archduke. He has all the resources of the Undying and Rosaria at his fingertips!

Jote is merely… a woman standing in his room. Doing duties anyone else could do.

Later that day Jote briefly crosses paths with him when she was thinking about getting him lunch and finds him already with it and discussing travel plans for something she isn’t privy to know and so quickly she excuses herself so that it could continue.

That, Jote supposes as she leaves the cold halls into the garden, is something that has not changed. It was never her duty to know, just follow and aid. Yet now there isn’t even anything for her to follow.

Technically, he never even reinstated her as his Attendant so none of the castle staff know what to do with her. The head maid has a powerful down the nose look of disapproval she gives whenever she sees Jote, for to them Jote is just a woman who returned with the Archduke. Who is not a servant nor knight nor attendant. Just a woman existing around the Archduke like she’s supposed to be there when she doesn’t have any purpose to.

Not anymore.

Some nights Jote will lay awake. Wondering if she’s even Jote anymore for that name was given to the Attendant of the Phoenix, yet no longer is Joshua the phoenix nor her his attendant.

She is not who the Inner Coals of the Undying told her she was anymore, and no longer is she a person Joshua will seek out in dark rooms and run his thumb along her cheek, just to whisper her name like it was glass he had to hold carefully lest it shatter on his unworthy tongue.

Her whole life, she FELT like she was Jote.

The name her mother had stitched into her baby blanket was just one that she thought of occasionally in passing wonder after long night discussions with Joshua about how much he treasured his given name for it was given by his family, and traveling around being called Margrace was something he did not want to last for long.

But now… she found herself thinking of it often.

When she passed mirrors she’d pause, and try and think of introducing herself as the name her mother gave her.

She pulled out the baby blanket from the depths of her starch belongings and traced the name with her forefinger. Mouthing each word in the privacy of her room to familiarize it to her tongue. The gold thread on the green knit seemed surprisingly wealthy for a woman Jote only knew of as a maid.

Her new free time had been spent searching to see if maybe her mother was still here in Rosalith, but after months of searching Jote had to concede that no, she was not. Either her mother had been one of the unfortunate kidnapped by the Iron Kingdom, killed years ago, or most unlikely, had just left.

“My mother no longer seems to be in Rosalith.” Jote told Joshua one morning, and she saw some guilt in his eyes for he had once promised her that he’d help her search when he became Archduke. She was not surprised or hurt that it had slipped his mind, for he truly had much going on in his life to think about something he’d promised almost ten years ago to a servant.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said and there was genuine remorse in his voice. “I can send scouts to search throughout Rosaria if that’s what you’d want.”

“No. No there is no need, Your Grace.” Jote replied, trying to smile though she could not help that it was rather sad. “I know not even a name or description to give. It’d be a waste of resources and Rosaria has more uses for its scouts then to help me.”

Those were the words she was saying, yet she knew she sadness was growing with each word and so to not cry in front of the Archduke, she excused herself and left before he had even finished breakfast. Hurrying to her room where she remained for the rest of the day.

Never before had she mourned for someone she had never met, but in the privacy of her bedchambers this day Jote found herself weeping for hours into the night over the loss of a mother she never- and would never- know.

She did not even have a name to pray to Metia for safety in the afterlife for the Undying had burned it from records and all who knew refused to say, and Jote was not about to begin giving them the satisfaction of her begging for answers after they did not even care in the first place to tear from her the one thing she could search for outside of them.

But, she knows she did have a mother. For it was someone’s hands who had spent hours knitting together the blanket she was holding tight to her chest. Who had adored a name so much that she had found gold thread to embroider in large loopy letters.

Someone had once adored her without even knowing her and how cruel of a daughter was she that she hadn’t even used the name her mother loved her whole life? That she had preferred to go by a name that was tied to a duty and title rather than love.

Her mother had wanted her to use this name. Because it was all she could give her child  

Fingers memorized each loop and twirl of thread.

 Had anyone ever… wanted anything of Jote?

She thought of how it’s been almost two days since she left this room, and no one has come to check on her.

Did anyone want Jote now? Was there a point to still go by that name when it had no purpose or attachment anymore?

Was there even a reason for her to remain in Rosalith?

There was no sleeping the third night, but it was Jote who rose as morning neared and washed and dressed and found her way to the kitchen.

Her stomach was starving yet she could not eat yet. Jote needed to know first whether there was even one person still who wanted her.

One knock on the door, and then she entered.

No stirring from the blankets till she pulled the curtains wide, and when blue eyes opened she saw for a moment a look when he recognized it was her and almost she let herself hope that maybe-

“You wake me up earlier than anyone else.” Joshua commented as he rolled onto his back, and his bare arm covered his eyes.

Jote’s mouth felt dry. Her stomach felt like a pit.

“My apologies. It’s a force of habit.” Her feet felt like stone as she forced them to move to the food tray. “It won’t happen again.”

“It’s not a bad thing, no need for apologies. I’m just tired.” Joshua’s voice sounded distant in her ears, and as she set the food tray on his lap, she could not bear to look at him. “I barely slept last night.”

She just nodded.

“Tonight perhaps you will sleep better.” She said, thinking of how Jote will be gone. She felt too weighted in a place she was not wanted to stay so to the door she went, but as her hand rested on the handle a hesitant voice called.

“No lecture on how I should sleep better?”

A short, sharp bitter laugh.

“No. I’m sure you’re tired of them. Good-bye, Your Grace.”

His bedroom door closed behind quietly, and tears pricked at her eyes as she silently stood there a moment and said a mental good bye to the man she was so in love with it hurt.

In her room, she found herself crying more but she did not stop moving as she put the little belongings she had into her travel pack. Catching herself every few minutes looking for Joshua’s things or medicine to put away as well and each time it seemed to bring a fresh fall of tears.

Eighteen years of her life spent as Jote next to Joshua, and she was probably the only one who’d cry about it ending.

Just like she had been the only one to cry after Tabor.

That thought gave her pause, and with a deep breath she tried to compose herself as she buried her face in her hands yet all that came out was a stuttering breath.

Fuck, she had always been alone, hadn’t she?

A sharp knock suddenly rapped against her door and she hastened to wipe her face before answering.

There was a tall blonde man at the door who she barely recognized as someone she had seen a few times at the Hideaway, but the smile and little bow he gave was quick yet kind.

“Hello! I uh, have a letter to deliver to “Jote”?”

Cautiously, she took it with a raised brow.

“I don’t know who its from, it was just in the mail pile at the Hideaway.”

“Oh. Thank you, I suppose…”

“Oscar Murdoch!” He filled in the questioning silence, and his smile faltered a little, and he leaned forward a little more and his voice dropped “… Are you alright, My Lady?”

“I’m doing fine. Thank you for the letter, Oscar.” Jote replied shortly before stepping back and closing her door with finality in his face. Which was rude, but she wasn’t about to start crying in front of a stranger.

Curious though, she inspected the letter.

There was just her name on it as receiver, and in handwriting she did not recognize nor were there any marks to indicate it was the Undying.

Which was strange, as they were all she could think of that would be sending her a letter.

Opening it revealed the sender in the first sentence.

“I hope you can forgive this sudden letter, Jote, but it’s me, Edda! I hope you remember me…

 I’m a little embarrassed to be writing you this so that’s why it’s unmarked, its childish I know but... pray forgive me!

I’m not sure if you’ve been told, but Lord Clive has organized a group of Bearers and myself to move back into my home village in Waloed. It’s so exciting to return home… yet also I fear it. It’s where I lost all my family. It’s terrifying to return, if I’m honest, even though I trust it is once again safe because I know neither Clive nor Gav would lie to me! But… to bring Aegir here and live in a house alone with just me and him is…”

The letter trailed off there, and there were a few tear stains before Edda picked up on a different train of thought.

 “You were so kind to me when I first arrived at the Hideaway, Jote. Making me feel comfortable and talking to me often so I wouldn’t get lonely. When those wivres attacked you protected all of us in the infirmary so easily I felt in awe, like you had the power to defeat anything!! It… reminded me of my older sister Yetta.

I lost her years before Waloed fell, but when you told me I would be alright and that I’d be a great mother, I felt reassured like it was family telling me and it gave me great strength. Which is why, even though it’s selfish and a little bit childish, I would like to ask if you could come live in Eistla with me and Aegir?

 Just till we feel comfortable once more at home!”

The letter continued, speaking of how she doesn’t have to agree but none of that mattered because this letter was exactly what she needed right now.

An invitation for her to go to Ash where she might live from now on as Miriam; The name her mother had wanted for her.

Miriam would awake each day, and not feel like a tossed aside burden in a castle where not a single soul even cared for her.

She’d be in a small village with things to do- rebuilding to be done, people to care for… reasons to wake up each morning.

 A purpose.

Packing renewed with vigor, and when finished packing, it was Miriam who set off for the Sanbreque coast to find Edda.

All that was left of Jote was a note.

Chapter Text

Who knew a simple, three sentence note could hurt so much?

The paper had many lines in it from how often Joshua had crunched it in his fist. As if the pressure would erase the ink and make it all untrue.

Perhaps if he still could burn it with just a thought she would come back with the ashes?

But no. Everytime he reread it, it was the same. 

“ I'm leaving.

The name ‘Jote’ is not coming with me.

Do not burden yourself with finding me.”

Joshua could not decide which farewell was worse. The written one, or the physical one he could have stopped if he had just noticed it had been a truly meant goodbye. 

“I thought you said she was doing well.” Joshua did not look up from the fire as Cyril and Abraham approached. His silhouette darkened by the only light behind him. “Just yesterday you reported that. And today, she’s gone.”

Silence met his words, and that only made him feel more disgusted.

“Did you lie to me?”

Abraham was one of the more bullheaded of the Inner Coals. He spoke.

“We merely delivered what we thought was best for you, Your Grace.”

“The trip, was that a lie as well?” Joshua directed that question to Cyril, who at least had the grace to bow his head.

“It had not been what I voted to tell you.”

So all the Inner Coals had known this? All had decided to say nothing to his face every time he asked if the trip Jote had taken- the one they had sworn she took after telling him of her mother- was going well?

The two men could undoubtedly hear as the paper got crushed even more against Joshua’s palm, and Abraham spoke once more in a hurried way for all of them felt no apprehension with lying yet sweated so furiously when faced with it.

“Again Your Grace we are in the middle of ridding the world of the Iron Kingdom! To have your attention be anywhere but at what is important is-”

“I’m deciding on whether you’re important right now.” Joshua cut him off. “You do not want to be here when I decide. Rosalith castle better be free of you and your men when I leave this room, Abraham, or whatever I decide might change.” 

The acolyte did not need to be told twice. He saluted and left the room.

Cyril, for his part, seemed genuine in not wishing to lie.

“She was in her room all three days. Never left, nor ate the food I left for her.” He offered without needing to be asked. Though his face remained unmoving. “I do not know why.”

“Did you ever ask?”

His silence answered that, and with a snarl that so desperately wanted to be a sob yet could not for his anger had not quite become despair, Joshua stood up and marched out of his office.

His feet took him to her room and it was as if every step the world got more distorted and unpleasant.

He wanted to deny. Tear up the entire castle till they found wherever she had gone after this morning because surely it wasn't true.

 But as soon as his feet stepped through the door, all around were the clear signs that she was gone.

Her bedroll and medicine bag were no one in sight.

The wardrobe empty before he even got a chance to spoil her with clothes.

The bed was made and bare of life. Uniform down to the creases because she secretly hated making beds, and had developed a system she followed every time to get it done as fast as she could without needing to put in thought. 

Only Joshua knew that.

But what good was all the secrets he held like treasures now that she had left before he could admit how much he loved them. How much he loved her?

The note fell to the ground somewhere between closing the door and the bed, but Joshua could not find it in him to care as his knees hit the floor hard. All he could think to do now was bury his head in the comforter, clutch it like if he did it hard enough it would become her skirt, and let the sobs out at last. 

Jote was gone.

Truly- of her own volition- gone .

And he didn’t even have a name to search for. Not anymore.