The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 269: Autonomy of Choice

Jerrick’s face darkened the shadows in his expression deepening as her question hung in the air between them. He studied her, waiting, almost hoping she would retract the words, but she only gazed back at him with those wide, unwavering blue eyes that held an unsettling calm.

The tension thickened, wrapping around them like a cloak, until he finally spoke, his voice low and firm.

"Beside my coffin," he answered, his jaw clenched tightly, his eyes hard as if he was issuing a warning—a final one.

It was as though he was daring her to push him further, daring her to cross that invisible line, but Jessamyn only leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a sound she had learned to find comfort in, a sound that had often soothed her troubled heart.

"Why do you love me?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

His brows furrowed in confusion, his hand stilling against her back. "Why?" he echoed, his tone curious as he tried to understand the sudden shift in her thoughts.

"Just...what made you think you’re in love with me? How are you so sure it’s not the effect of the foretold prophecy? What if you were just a pawn moved by the forces unseen, and you only think you’re in love with me?" Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something fragile and almost broken. It wasn’t just idle curiosity that prompted her question; it was doubt, deep and unyielding, that had been gnawing at her.

Jerrick was silent, caught off guard by her words. "That came out of nowhere," he said finally, though he knew better.

He knew her too well to dismiss this as a passing thought. This was something that had been festering in her mind, something that had taken root and grown into this moment. He wondered briefly if she had ever truly believed in his love, or if she had always questioned it.

Her eyes flicked up to his, searching, waiting. He felt the weight of her gaze and the significance of her question. She had loved him before, in the past, but there had been another—Joar. She had loved him too, and that love had not been part of any prophecy. It had been real, genuine, and born of her own free will.

"Do you think you had the autonomy of choice with Joar?" he asked, trying to navigate the tangled web of her thoughts.

But Jessamyn didn’t answer. Instead, she shifted slightly in his arms, her fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. "You never told me the truth about anything," she began, her voice steady but tinged with a quiet sadness.

"You didn’t even tell me why you left me, or that you could shapeshift. I had to learn it all on my own. If you love me, why is it so hard for you to trust me?"

Jerrick’s grip on her tightened as though he feared she might slip away if he let go. "Because I’m scared to lose you," he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of his confession. "You could somehow live without me, but I couldn’t—and cannot—live without you. That thought terrifies me. I never stopped loving you, but you could. Maybe...maybe your autonomy scares me."

He hadn’t truly considered it before, hadn’t put it into words, but as he spoke, he realized just how deeply that fear ran. The thought of losing her had been a constant undercurrent in his life, shaping his actions, his decisions, and even his silence.

It was irrational, perhaps, but it was real.

"But I’ve pushed you to despair with my silence, haven’t I?" he asked, his voice softer now, filled with regret.

Jessamyn’s hand moved to rest over his heart, her touch gentle, soothing. "It’s the curse," she whispered, as though trying to convince herself as much as him. "It’s what made you overthink, gave you that irrational fear of losing me. It pushed you to the verge of insanity and made you act detached."

She hesitated, her mind drifting back to Imogen and the tangled mess that had led them all to this point. Would he have acted the way he had with Imogen if not for the curse? Could they really blame everything on that dark force that had loomed over them for so long?

"I’m not hiding anything from you now," Jerrick said, breaking through her thoughts. His voice was firm and resolute, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made her heart ache.

If they blamed the curse for his actions, for the way he had distanced himself, would that mean they had to accept the prophecy as well? And if they accepted the prophecy, did that mean they had no real choice in any of this? That they were mere pawns in a game far greater than themselves?

Jessamyn shifted to look up at him, a small smile playing on her lips despite the turmoil in her heart. "Should I tell you everything, then?" she asked.

Jerrick nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "You must."

Her smile faltered, and she looked away, her fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "I don’t want to tell you what I inferred from Imogen’s words..." she started, hesitating.

"But?" Jerrick prompted gently, sensing that whatever she was about to say was something that had been weighing heavily on her.

"But...I think you should know," she sighed, her voice barely audible. "I might be the reason for your son’s death."

Jerrick stilled, his fingers pausing in her hair. "You cannot be responsible for other people’s actions, even if they did that on your behalf," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the turmoil that threatened to rise within him. "I know you. You find no joy in this."

She searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but found none. He meant every word.

"You had a feeling, didn’t you?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

He responded with a kiss to her forehead, his silent confirmation.

"You do love me," Jessamyn said, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and sorrow.

Even after everything, after all the doubts and fears, he still loved her. He still held her close, still protected her with everything he had.

"I do," Jerrick whispered, his arms tightening around her as if to shield her from the world. He gently rocked her, a soothing motion that made her feel safe, even amidst the chaos.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to reveal. "I thought Imogen was talking about the old witch, but she wasn’t," she said slowly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "She was talking about your mother."

Jerrick’s fingers stilled again, the tension in his body palpable. Jessamyn wasn’t sure how he would react, but she had to tell him the truth, no matter how much it hurt. "Your mother convinced Imogen to kill your son, to..." her voice trailed off, and her hand instinctively went to her belly.

Jerrick was a Theodulf, and he couldn’t have two living sons. His mother had been an exception because she was a woman, and women in their line could have more than one child. But for Jerrick, to fulfill the prophecy, his mother had convinced Imogen to kill his firstborn. The cruelty of it all was almost too much to bear.

"She’s not getting anywhere near you," Jerrick vowed, his voice hard as steel as he pulled her closer. "I’ll see to it."

Jessamyn’s thoughts drifted to Isadora, wondering how many children she might have, as she carried Theodulf’s blood.

"I don’t think she would have more than one," Jerrick said, his voice breaking through her reverie.

"How come?" Jessamyn asked, her curiosity piqued despite the heaviness in her heart.