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Jote is born a member of the Undying, and she shall die a member of the Undying.
She knows this so well that she can't even place when she was told, or if she was ever even told at all. Perhaps she simply absorbed the knowledge from those around her.
She learns that her purpose is to protect the Phoenix (and, secondarily, his family) nearly before she learns to walk.
By the time her fifth summer has passed, Jote is anxious to be involved in the group's activities, to be able to relate to her parents and do what they do... even if she is not... entirely sure what that is. She tugs on their sleeves and asks questions that receive no answers. She cries in corners, then wipes her tears before anyone can see, because it is undignified. (Surely the Phoenix would not want a sniveling child serving him.) She pleads with their leaders to be given her role, her duties, but they tell her that she is too young.
What is the point, she thinks, Of being born to serve if nobody will let you serve?
Not long after she turns six, Jote hears whispers of what later comes to be known as the Night of Flames. She rushes to the entrance to see what all the commotion is about, and there, being carried in the midst of the crowd is a boy. A boy who looks to be sleeping, but is covered in bruises and burns and cuts. A boy whose hair is the color of fire and has long trails of feathers made of flame.
There is Joshua Rosfield.
The Phoenix.
Her destiny.
For a week, nobody is allowed into the Phoenix's room except for healers and physickers.
After that, they begin to lose hope. Though they continue to monitor him and do his best to treat his wounds, life mostly returns to normal. People are sent out on missions and journeys that will, hopefully, prepare the world for the Phoenix's eventual return... whether or not it is in the form of Joshua Rosfield.
Tired of her getting underfoot, the elders finally give Jote her role. It is the most important one of all, they say, and she nearly bounces with excitement. Her position is to be the Phoenix's personal attendant. She will remain by his side come hell or high water and tend to his every need.
Jote can hardly believe her ears. For one of her age and inexperience to be given such an important job is almost unthinkable.
She wants to run to the Phoenix's room, but she maintains her dignity, walking alongside their leaders so they can alert the guards to her new role. The guards do little more than blink in surprise and then roll their eyes before letting her into the room.
The elders do not enter with her.
The boy is there, his feathers of flame gone and his hair no longer the color of fire but of caramel.
His eyes are still closed, and though the smaller scrapes and bruises have healed, the worst of the injuries still mar his skin.
He is her elder by four years, and yet he looks so frail, so tiny, lying there. He may be the Phoenix, but he is still a child.
Jote slowly sits down in the chair by the boy's bedside, her legs not yet even long enough for her feet to touch the ground. She stares at his wounds and feels tears well up in her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she wants to hurt someone. Wants to hurt them like they hurt him.
She is horribly, unspeakably grateful that nobody has told her who left those wounds.
Jote visits the boy every day, sitting at his bedside any time that she is not sleeping or eating or attending to her chores.
He does not awaken, but still she sits by his side. She dabs the sweat from his brow and changes out his covers and describes the room to him to fill the silence, imagining that he can hear her in his sleep. When she tires of that, she brings the handful of silly little picture books in the Undying's library and narrates the images to him.
After a month, the boy still sleeps like the dead.
She wonders, sometimes, if he is dead. If his breath and heartbeat remain only because his body doesn't know how to be dead, because his lungs and heart have only ever been alive.
She wonders if it is common, for one's body to keep going after they have died. If her own will not realize it when she dies one day.
Eventually, her duties lose their appeal. Jote begins to bring things to busy herself with, toys and snacks and parchment and quill, until she suddenly realizes one day that her own possessions take up more of the boy's room than his do. That he has no possessions at all.
So Jote seeks to rectify that. She creates shoddy crafts to place and hang around the room, gifts just for him. She needles her parents until they agree to buy some clothes for the boy; they are surely nothing like the finery he is used to, but at least he will have something clean to wear when he wakes up. She hunts down one of the Undying that she has seen whittling and convinces him to give her a small blade and teach her how to use it—carefully, so very carefully, until she can craft lovely things she hadn't thought herself capable of without spilling a single drop of blood.
The boy's family may be gone, but when he wakes, he will know that he is still cared for. That he is not alone in the world.
After a year, Joshua Rosfield is still asleep. He is in a coma, they explained to Jote at one point, and she finally began to understand.
Her position is not one of honor as she'd believed, but one of busywork. It is to keep her out of the way while the adults do their important work, and she is left to babysit a child who may be older than her but is helpless all the same.
She spends the next year resenting her role as his attendant, resenting her parents, resenting the elders and the Undying as a whole.
But never once does she resent Joshua Rosfield, the boy who asked not to be the Phoenix, asked not to be half-dead, asked not to be left alone with no company but her day after day.
Time passes, and Joshua begins to look healthier. His wounds fade, his skin regains its color, and his breathing loses a bit of the rasp it's held since the night he arrived.
If she didn't know better, Jote could almost believe he was truly alive.
As it is, she holds vigil over his not-quite-a-corpse and protects him from those who would seek to harm him. She learns combat and cooking and better control over her fire magic and any other skill she thinks may be of assistance to Joshua if he ever awakens. By ten, she is a master with a blade, not only in terms of whittling but in terms of both defense and offense.
If protecting a sleeping teenager is all that her destiny holds, then she will at least fulfill that destiny to the best of her ability.
When he is 15, Joshua opens his eyes for the first time since the Night of Flames. He is panicked, eyes wild as they search the unfamiliar room, and his body catches fire without his permission. The flames take the bed, as well.
Jote, 11 years old and simultaneously wholly prepared and wholly unprepared for this moment, jumps up from her spot on the floor and does a nervous dance around the bed, trying to find a way to reach the boy without being burnt to a crisp. "Please calm yourself!" she shouts to be heard over the boy's screams. She searches her mind frantically for the title she hasn't thought of in years and repeats, "Please, Your Grace!"
Joshua still looks terrified, but her voice soothes the wild beast in him enough to douse his flames. "Wh-Who are you?" he asks, turning pleading eyes on her. "Where am I? Where is my brother?" He clutches at his own throat in confusion, it's deeper tone and the rasp of long years of unuse catching him by surprise.
She holds her hands up placatingly and inches closer, ready to jump away should he decide to light himself on fire again. "I am Jote of the Undying," she says, deciding that the best course of action is to simply answer his questions in order. "Your attendant."
"My—?" he starts, confused, but Jote continues on. She cannot handle more questions until she's dealt with the ones he's already asked.
"You are in our sanctuary. And your brother..." Here she hesitates, unsure what kind of risk Joshua may pose to her or himself if told the truth. "...He isn't here."
"Where is he?" Joshua asks again, insistent. He tries to sit up, but she hurries forward to press him back to the bed by his shoulders.
"Please, let me get the physickers so they can tend to you first!" she pleads. "We can discuss all that has happened after I'm sure that you are well!"
"I feel so... so weak," he says quietly, staring at her hands holding him down. From what Jote was told, Joshua had always been a sickly child, so the shock in his voice speaks strongly of the damage done by five long years of inactivity.
"I know," she says, trying to keep her voice calm and even as her parents and the physickers and healers have always done when tending to her wounds or low moods. "I understand. Please let me get some help before we do anything else?"
Joshua looks like he wants nothing more than to argue, but eventually he nods and sinks into the bed. "...Very well," he agrees reluctantly, the pout on his face reminding her more of the ten-year-old he was when she first saw him than the 15-year-old he is supposed to be now.
"Thank you," she says with a sigh of relief, slowly backing away from him and heading for the door. Jote pauses with her hand on the doorknob. Turning back to Joshua to give him a warning glare, she says, "Don't move."
She makes her way down the halls as quickly as possible to minimize the chance of him trying to run away or catch anything else on fire while she's gone. Within a few scant minutes, she's leading a whole crowd of people back to Joshua's room. She wants to stop them outside the door, to insist that only one or two people come inside because the crowd will surely scare him, but the rest of the Undying have been waiting for (if not exactly expecting) this moment as long as she has, and they are all eager to ensure that Joshua—that the Phoenix is safe.
Jote opens the door slowly and tells him nervously, "There are many here who would like to welcome you. I hope that's alright... Your Grace." He only stares blankly at her, so Jote steps inside and opens the door wider to allow the others in.
They swarm Joshua's bed, and one of the healers bats her away. "Children shouldn't be in here right now," he says, shooing her toward the door. Jote freezes just before it, stunned.
Ah. So this is it, then. This is when her destiny is taken from her, because it was never truly hers to begin with.
Joshua was never truly hers to begin with.
She was only ever a nuisance, and he something to keep her busy. It was only ever meant to last until he awoke, until his life had meaning to the Undying again and someone more suitable could take her place.
So this is what it feels like to have your purpose, your entire reason for existing, pulled out from under you in one fell swoop.
This is what it feels like to have your heart broken in a single moment.
"Wait!" Joshua cries out, urgent, and Jote can't help it; she turns to look at him, ignoring her directive, fear spiking from the anxiety in his voice. "Wait, please let her stay! I—I want her here, please!"
Jote pushes through the crowd to run to him, taking one of his hands between her own. It burns, but she ignores the pain in favor of making meaningless little shushing noises. "It's alright, I'm here," she whispers, staring down at this boy who she has looked after all on her own for five years now. This boy who is both older than her and so, so much younger. This boy who is crying for her despite knowing nothing more than her name, who needs her now more than ever. She turns defiantly to the adults in the room and, for the first time in her entire life, speaks up against them. "I'm staying right here," she says, meeting each of their eyes in turn and silently daring them to argue.
They don't, though the man who tried to send her out rolls his eyes and sighs and moves to the other side of the bed to check Joshua's health.
Jote takes her usual seat, watching what the healers and physickers do with interest but very little understanding, and Joshua clings to her hand until it's over and the room has nearly cleared.
The last person out is one of the elders who had joined them as soon as she heard what was happening. She hesitates in the doorway and eventually says, "Jote, we will need to discuss the changes to your role soon."
Jote's heart sinks again. Of course this didn't mean that she can stay by his side forever.
Not wanting to worry Joshua any more, she forces a smile and nods. "Of course," she agrees, "I'll come to see you when next the Phoenix sleeps."
"Very well," she says, nodding once and disappearing, the door clicking shut behind her.
For several long minutes, there is silence as they both process all that's happened. After so much time spent alone with her thoughts, the silence is much more comforting to Jote than the noise and chaos of the rest of the evening. She knows that it won't last long, though.
There is a quiet sniffle, and Jote looks up to see Joshua trying his hardest to hold back tears. She squeezes his hand, and eventually he asks miserably, "It... It's been more than a day or two, hasn't it?" She frowns, heart aching, and squeezes again. Slowly nods. "...How long?"
"...Are you sure you're ready to know?" she asks hesitantly.
Joshua barks out a laugh, bitter and as rough as all his words. "No," he confesses, "But I must."
"...Very well," Jote answers after a long moment. She takes a deep breath and lets it out on a sigh. "You've been asleep for five years now."
She expects more panic and distress, but he only lets out a single sob and asks, "...And my brother? What happened to Clive?"
"...I don't know," she admits. "We believe he may have perished in the flames that night. There were... many bodies that were never recovered."
"Because I burned them all," Joshua concludes.
Jote doesn't have it in her to lie to him, but she does add, "And the other Eikon of Fire."
"Do you know—" Joshua cuts himself off and shakes his head. "I suppose that's a question for later."
Jote nods. "It will take a long time to explain, and the elders would know the answers to those questions better than I do."
Joshua nods in acceptance. "And what of my—" He pauses, eyes widening as terror flashes through them, and for a moment, Jote worries that he's about to catch fire again. But he takes a few slow, deep breaths and instead asks, "My mother?"
"We... We have reason to believe that she may have been the one to betray Rosaria that night," Jote answers hesitantly. She bows deeply and adds, "I hope it does not anger you that she was not brought to the sanctuary."
Joshua looks shocked, but after a long minute, his eyes harden, and Jote realizes that she is watching a boy being forced to grow up in mere moments, right before her eyes. "...No," he sighs, shaking his head. "No, I suppose that's for the best, then."
There's silence for a minute as Joshua processes all that has been said. Jote remains in her seat and eventually says quietly, as sincere as she knows how to be, "I'm sorry that you must learn all of this strange, sad news at once. It cannot be easy to deal with."
"...No. No, it isn't," he agrees. His breath hitches, and his voice has a whine to it when he continues, "Yesterday, I was a child surrounded by my family and Shields and set to take the throne before long. Today, I am suddenly five years older, and I have absolutely no one left!"
Jote's heart clenches in her chest. She stares at the ground, unwilling to meet his eyes as she makes a suggestion that is entirely out of line and above her station. "...You have me," she says. "Whether or not you've been aware of it, I have stayed by your side all these years. And I shall remain there as long as you let me."
Joshua gapes openly at her. "...Indeed, I do have you," he says slowly. "And I thank you for remaining at my side, and for answering my questions honestly... Jote, was it?"
"Yes, Your Grace," she replies, flush with pride at him remembering her name. "The Undying have given me the role of your attendant." Though Founder only knows whether she'll be allowed to keep that position after her conversation with the elders.
"I'm... glad that it was you. Your presence is... calming," he says, blushing, "And it would please me greatly if you would stay with me. Though... you cannot possibly be any older than me, can you?"
"No," Jote answers, laughing into her hand. "I have but eleven summers." Suddenly realizing that that is not a great advertisement of her ability, she rushes to continue, "But I have many skills that could be of use to you! I am a master of the blade, and I can read and write! I am even beginning lessons with the physickers and can tell you many of the plants that will poison or heal or feed you! And of course, I can clean and cook as well!"
Joshua giggles, but it quickly devolves into a coughing fit. He holds up a finger to request a moment, and he manages to calm his body after a minute or two. "All very good skills to have," he says as though nothing happened. "Though you don't need to convince me. I've already said that I'd like you to stay."
"Very well," she says, ducking her head in a weak attempt to hide her pleased smile.
They fall silent again, and Joshua's eyes start to droop after a few minutes. "How am I so tired after I've been sleeping for so long...?" he wonders, the end of the question hitching into a yawn.
"Your body isn't used to being awake yet," Jote says, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. She'd nearly forgotten she was still holding it. "Sleep. We can talk more when you awaken, and then you can bathe and get some proper food in your stomach."
"Will you be here when I wake?" Joshua asks, sinking down into the pillows.
She flinches and, after a long minute, hedges, "I will try my best. I must leave for a bit to speak with the elders and to gather some supplies, but I'll return as soon as I'm able." His hand tightens around hers, and she adds, "And I will stay here until you're truly asleep."
Joshua lets out another yawn and lets his eyes close fully. "Thank you... Lady Jote," he murmurs after a few seconds.
Jote's face burns from hearing her name said in such a way, and she's suddenly glad that he isn't looking at her. As promised, she waits until his breathing has evened out, and then for several minutes after just to be safe. Then, she slowly slips her hand out of his limp grip. When he doesn't stir, she makes her way to the door, easily avoiding the creaking floorboards that she has memorized over the years.
She closes the door quietly and walks through the maze of the sanctuary, stopping at the end of one long hall that holds only one door at the very end. It feels like a nightmare come to life, walking that long hall, and her gut sinks with every step. When she finally reaches the door, Jote nearly turns and runs the other way. Instead, she steels herself and knocks solidly on the door, once, twice, three times.
"Come in, child," calls the voice from inside.
Jote enters and is surprised to see only one person in the large room, the same woman who had asked to speak with her. She takes a deep breath and resigns herself to a humbling experience. Perhaps she is too proud a child after all, if this feels below her, but it is worth the effort. She bows low and shouts without preamble, "Please do not remove me from my position! The Phoenix trusts me and has requested that I stay by his side!"
The woman blinks in surprise, then laughs, not unkindly. "Oh, child, I did not call you here for that... I merely wish to speak with you about the ways in which your duties as an attendant will change now that the Phoenix is awake."
"...Oh," she gasps, the tightness in her chest releasing all at once. "So... I will remain Joshua's attendant, then?" Her feet move without her permission, approaching the woman quickly, desperate for the confirmation.
"Yes, child," she says with another chuckle, pausing to ruffle Jote's hair. "Though I would warn you against being so familiar with the Phoenix."
"Ah, y-yes, of course. I apologize."
"You will continue to see to his basic needs, of course. Additionally, you will be his protector. You will help in his physical recovery. You will either tutor him yourself or assist him with lessons from other members or books from the library. You will ensure that his identity remains secret if he is ever to leave the sanctuary. You will help him with his goals in any way possible. You will see to any and all of his needs, even if it is to the detriment of your own. You will place his life above yours, as all of us do, in every situation."
"I understand," Jote says, and she does. She knows the importance of the Phoenix's continued survival, and she knows Joshua's importance to herself. It still stings to be proven right about her own lowliness in the other Undying's eyes, though.
"In addition to all this, you will be brought into important meetings from now on, and I will tell you all that we know currently."
"...You know more than you've told everyone," she concludes.
"Yes. It would incite panic if this were to become common knowledge, so you must vow to never speak a word of it to anyone but the people already privy to this knowledge or the Phoenix himself."
"I understand," she repeats. She can't help the nervous, excited rocking, the way she bounces up on her toes before dropping back down again, the way her fingers fidget with each other. Finally, she will have answers. Maybe she will even be able to give Joshua the answers that he craves so desperately, that he will need in order to be able to move on with the rest of his life.
"The first thing you need to know is that we have uncovered evidence of... something's involvement in the Night of Flames. Something inhuman. A god, or something that thinks itself one."
"But... But why would a god involve itself in the petty matters of man?" Jote asks, confused. She believes it, because there is no reason to lie to her about this matter, but it is difficult to believe.
"That remains to be seen," she says, "Though, based on the mural located in the Apodytery, we believe it may have something to do with the Dominants... or at least, their Eikons."
"And the second Eikon of Fire?"
She shakes her head. "That, we have not been able to learn anything further about. It has not reappeared since that night, at least not anywhere that we have ears."
And they have ears in many, many locations throughout Valisthea. If the Undying have heard no news, then it is unlikely that there is anything to be discovered there.
"...I see."
"We also have confirmed that the Sanbrequois Empress plotted the downfall of Rosaria. Though, it seems unlikely that she intended for His Grace to be harmed."
Jote nods. There is nothing more to say to that; it is simply a long-held suspicion confirmed. "Is there anything else?"
"I have no further information for you, but I suggest you speak with the healers and physickers. The first and most important step for the Phoenix will be to get him back on his feet, literally and metaphorically."
She bites her lip hard and nods again, watery gaze aimed at the floor. She's been trying hard not to think about that, but it's nearly impossible when she has spent five years watching the boy's muscles waste away to nothing and his skin shrivel day by day.
As soon as she is dismissed, Jote makes her way back to Joshua's room. She will be there when he wakes, as she promised, and she will help him bathe and eat, and then she will find out what more she can do for him.
Staring at that boy who still looks so very young and frail, swallowed up by the blankets piled on him, she cannot help but think that he has a long, long road ahead of him. But she will walk every step of it with him.
Even with the help of the healers, it takes near half a year for Joshua to rebuild his muscles and take control of them to take his first steps without assistance. Jote spends that time helping him get around, continuing her own lessons, and bringing him book after book to feed both his voracious appetite for knowledge and his extreme boredom. (By the time he is able to leave the bed on his own, Joshua has consumed half of the Undying's not inconsiderable library.)
At night, he clings to her hand until he falls asleep. At first, she started sneaking away as soon as he was asleep, not wanting to cause him any discomfort from a girl being in his room late at night. Then she caught her first hint of his nightmares, and she started falling asleep in her chair instead, so that she could comfort him after the worst of them, when he woke up with eyes blaze, screaming himself hoarse. One night, he pulled her closer and tucked her under the covers and curled into the heat of her body, and that was that. She is always careful to be out of the bed before first light, though. Before anyone else can see them and scold her shameful behavior.
Once he is finally able to walk, Joshua only seems more restless than before. He searches desperately for any information about the godlike creature that ruined his life, but there is very little to be found. What little does exist is in old religious texts, mostly from Ash, and more often than not, the sources are half-destroyed and incomplete.
He receives lessons in every subject that the Undying can teach him. He takes up swordsmanship, and one day, he confesses to Jote that he enjoys it less for what it is than for the fact that it makes him feel closer to his brother.
Year by year, Jote watches Joshua grow and do anything and everything he can to rebuild his life. (Although he does not speak to her about it, she has suspicions that he even plans to wrest back the ducal throne someday.)
Until finally, fate shines on him and he is given two things: the name Ultima, and a vague connection to Waloed.
Joshua insists on going to Waloed himself, but with wonderful timing, the Undying hear of the Dominant of Garuda's presence on Storm. Reluctantly, he agrees to seek the Lady Benedikta out before making the long journey to Ash.
The day of his departure is solemn, and Jote hardly speaks a word as she helps him pack his still meager belongings. The decorations she'd made for him over a decade ago are still in the room. They will remain there and await his return as eagerly as she does.
They finish packing and stare at the bag in silence. Jote cannot look at Joshua for fear that she will break; they have spent every day of the last eight years together (and, although he may not have been conscious for it, the five before that), and she has grown to care for him more than she has ever cared for anyone. She has grown to love him, not for the Phoenix that she is supposed to worship, but for the man that she adores. And parting now feels like ripping a piece of her own heart out, especially when she considers that he may not return. (They do not speak of it. But they both know it is a strong possibility.)
After what feels like an eternity, Joshua asks, "Lady Jote... Will you still aid me while I am on this journey, as you have since I was first brought here?"
Jote bows her head, both to show the proper deference and to hide the tears stinging at her eyes. They are the words that she has been wanting, hoping, praying to hear all this time. She nods. "I vow to stay by your side," she says solemnly. "Forevermore."
She looks up to see a pained expression on Joshua's face and realizes a moment too late that she has said the word with nearly the same inflection and cadence as a Shield of Rosaria. "I—I apologize, Your Grace," she stammers out, but Joshua merely breathes a humorless laugh and shakes his head.
"No, there's no need to apologize. It does seem rather... apt," he says, giving voice to the very thing she's been thinking. "After all, you are my only shield now, aren't you, Jote?"
She smiles but doesn't reply; her first instinct is to lie that he needs no shield, but they both know that she is the stronger of the two by far. He has the powers of the Phoenix, true, and those far outweigh her skills, but he can only use them when absolutely necessary, and he is left coughing up blood each time that he tries. Jote is glad to be his shield, if it is from himself and his reckless attitude toward his own health. Eventually, she asks, "Have you said your goodbyes yet, Your Grace?"
"Yes," Joshua answers, nodding. "Let us waste no more time." He hesitates for a long moment and doesn't meet her eyes when he finally requests, "And Jote? If there are no others around, I would be very happy if you were to forego the titles. And if there are others around, for as long as we remain away from the sanctuary, my usual persona will be suitable."
Jote smiles and nods and hurriedly throws her own things into the bag. "Then let us make haste," she says, eager to taste his name on her lips as soon as they leave this place.
The less said about their time with Benedikta Harman, the better. Nothing goes to plan, and it is all Jote can do not to scream in pain when the woman so indifferently stabs her through the shoulder.
Joshua apologizes profusely and nearly cries as he wastes his powers healing her, but Jote forces a smile to her face; this is her role as his attendant, as his shield, and she has performed it to the best of her ability and kept him safe.
He is safe. That is all that matters.
There is one good—amazing, in truth—thing that comes from the event, though: as they flee Caer Norvent, they spot Clive Rosfield, Branded, but alive and well. Jote is not fully convinced that it is him, especially since it has been 13 years since anyone has seen the man and he looks drastically different now, but Joshua is convinced.
He knows.
Just as he knows, when they see Garuda fighting the Second Eikon of Fire in the distance, that the monster is his brother.
The pain and confusion and excitement and terror keep Joshua awake for the next several days. Jote does what she can to comfort him, but that is not much.
What can she possibly do to ease the warring emotions of finding out that Clive is alive and that he is the one who nearly killed him when they were but children?
Although Joshua thinks and thinks until he spirals into darker and darker thoughts, there are no answers to be found, so he resolves to track his brother, to follow his footsteps and gather what information he can before revealing himself.
It is a good plan, and it eventually leads them to the knowledge that Clive has very little control over the Eikon Ifrit, and was not even aware before that day that he was Ifrit.
With how badly Joshua wants to believe in his brother, it is enough for him to find forgiveness in his heart.
And Joshua's forgiveness is enough (if only just) to quash Jote's urge to stab Clive Rosfield through the gut for all the pain he has caused his little brother.
Joshua's choice to reveal himself to Clive is not a choice at all; it is desperation, pure and simple. Desperation to save his brother, to make up for being mere moments late to save his companion, to not allow yet more tragedy to befall an already miserable man's life. And, though the world will always be secondary to Clive in Joshua's eyes, desperation to not let Ultima get what he needs to bring harm to the planet and all people on it.
His choice to disappear as quickly as he appeared is a choice.
He is not yet ready to face his brother, nor to unveil all that he knows—and all that he doesn't—about Ultima's designs on him.
"Am I making the wrong decision?" Joshua asks, wide awake after another nightmare.
"I do not know," Jote confesses. He is curled tight against her for comfort, and it is so very familiar, and yet so very different out under the stars rather than in the darkness of the Undying's sanctuary. She cannot resist running her fingers through his hair, so light and full of life now. "But you must do what is best for yourself."
He tilts his head up to look at her, then shifts closer to meet her eyes more closely, and for a moment she thinks—
Joshua flushes and lowers his head to her chest again. "Will you hold me until I fall asleep again, like you used to?"
Jote chuckles and wraps her arms around him. "Of course, Joshua."
It is a shock to enter the room and find Clive Rosfield there.
Jote moves toward him with quick, even strides, unsure whether she is going to take a knee for him or punch him until it is happening. She kneels and bows her head and thinks of all the good things Joshua has told her about this man. About how he protected him long before she was around to do so. About how much Joshua loves him.
"My lord marquess. It is an honor," she says, and is surprised to find that she means it. What happened at Phoenix Gate was not his fault, and whatever else he might have done, she has him to thank for Joshua living as long as he did and eventually finding his way into her life. "I am Jote. Knight of the Undying, charged with the protection of His Grace, Joshua Rosfield, Keeper of the Flame of the Phoenix."
Joshua walks in behind Clive and Jill, and Jote barely resists the impulse to look up. While they discuss the Undying's existence, all she can think about is the sudden terror that Clive is going to take Joshua away from her. With his brother, his First Shield, back in his life, he will have no further use for her.
"Rise, Lady Jote," Clive eventually says, and it takes far too long to register the directive, much less follow it. When she finally does, he meets her gaze and says, "You saved my brother. I owe you a debt I can never repay."
"I but did my duty," she says, bowing her head again so that they cannot see her face. They do not need to see her eyes and know that she is lying through her teeth.
"Come now. Tell us what you've discovered," Joshua says.
She looks up to him slowly, her movements feeling stiff and mechanical, and says for the first time in quite a while, "Your Grace."
Jote tells them everything she knows about Ultima's designs, and she is once again the Phoenix's attendant, rather than Joshua's trusted companion and protector. It hurts more than she expects when he confirms her fears by saying, "Jote. I will be accompanying my brother to the Free Cities." She opens her mouth to object, but he forges on, "Whilst we are afield, I would have you watch over those Clive has made his wards."
He holds his hand up to her head, and she dips it to accept the knowledge he transmits to her. It would be improper to deny a direct request from the Phoenix, after all. She can't quite stop herself from trying to speak up against it, though. "But, it is my duty to—"
"As it has ever been my brother's duty, remember?" Joshua cuts her off, and Jote wonders if he can see how much he's hurting her by pushing her aside. If it even matters to him, now that he has Clive back in his life. Perhaps she has only ever been a placeholder.
"If... If that is your wish, Your Grace," she says, trying desperately to cling to all that she is supposed to be, until it crumbles around her to give way to her heart. Forgetting propriety for the moment, she snatches his hand up and begs, "But please be safe. If aught were to befall you, I—" Her voice breaks, because she cannot bear to even think of it. To think of her heart, her whole life, gone in an instant without her there to protect him.
Finally, Joshua's face softens, and she sees the man she loves so much, and the care in his eyes. "You have my word," he says quietly. His gloved hand clasps her shoulder, and then he is stepping forward to place a kiss to her forehead.
Jote tries her hardest to believe that it is a promise, rather than a goodbye. Without another word, she picks up the lantern and walks away as quickly as she can, before the tears can begin to fall in front of an audience. She forces herself to stop and bow to the other two before she leaves. "Farewell, my lord. My lady."
"We are in your debt, Jote," Clive says, but she has no reply for him this time.
With one last glance at Joshua, she leaves to fulfill the duty that he has given her and prays for his safe return.
Time seems to stop existing while she waits for him. Every second seems to drag on forever, and it doesn't help that her presence is not actually needed at the Hideaway. There is nobody here that needs protecting, and Jote is reminded of that time so long ago when she was given a comatose boy to keep watch over to keep her out from underfoot.
Tarja gives her countless small tasks to keep her hands busy, and it is all that keeps her sane.
Finally, Joshua returns. He doesn't come to her until night has fallen, when he sneaks into her room and sits in the chair beside the bed. The role reversal would almost make her laugh, if she didn't feel so damn useless and sad.
"I'm sorry," Joshua whispers, taking her hand. She allows it, reluctantly. "But our work is not yet done. I am going to continue helping Clive until Ultima is defeated once and for all."
"I understand," Jote says, and she does. That doesn't mean she has to like it, though.
"But I am here now," he points out. "I gave you my word that I would stay safe, and I did."
"Good," she says, and then, because she is feeling bitter and confused and emotionally exhausted, she adds, "Then I want you to promise me anew, every time you leave without me. Every time I cannot be there to watch over you. Promise me that you will return to me, alive and well."
Joshua lets out a quiet laugh but agrees, "I will. Every time."
"Good," Jote repeats. She hesitates for a long minute, tempted to just pull him into bed and let this be like any other night they have spent together. Eventually, though, greed wins out. "...Before you left," she starts nervously, "You... You kissed me. I know that—that it probably didn't mean—"
"I did," Joshua says, cutting her off before her speech can turn doubtful and self-deprecating, "And it meant everything. I... I understand if you don't feel the same, but I care about you deeply, Jote. I... I love you, and I have for so long that I honestly would not be able to pin down a single moment when it started."
"You fool," she says, weak and shocked, and Joshua laughs, because it might just be the first time she's ever directly insulted him. "Of course I feel the same."
There's a moment of silence before Joshua chuckles again and says pointedly, "I am a selfish man, Jote." She makes a questioning noise, and it is a plea rather than a command when he says, "I want to hear the words, from your own mouth."
Jote flushes, glad that he won't be able to see it in the dark, but she has never been able to deny him anything. "I... I love you as well, Joshua," she says, surprised at how steady she manages to keep her voice, as though her throat isn't closing up and her heart isn't racing faster than it ever has before.
Joshua sighs, surprised but pleased, and leans down until she can feel his breath on her face. "May I kiss you again?" he whispers, and Jote nods, unseen.
"Please," she breathes. Joshua closes the space between them almost before the word is out of her mouth, and she is shocked to feel his lips against her own rather than on her forehead again. Shocked, but not enough to let the moment pass her by. She props herself up on one elbow and tangles her free hand in that lovely hair, keeping him close and returning the kiss. It is her first, and she knows it is the same for him, but it is perfect all the same. When they part for breath, she doesn't let him go far. Joshua only huffs out a laugh and comes back for another, and another after that, alternating them with kisses to her cheeks and nose and hair.
They stay like that for several long minutes, exchanging soft and sweet kisses, until Joshua reluctantly pulls away, putting enough effort into it this time that Jote finally releases him. "We should get some sleep. Early start tomorrow," he says, though he sounds like it's the last thing he wants to be doing.
Jote nods and forces herself to be responsible. "Of course," she agrees, sliding over and holding the covers up in offer.
"I—I don't know if that's the best idea, Jote," Joshua says nervously.
She merely snorts. "Don't try to tell me you've suddenly turned into some beast who cannot control its impulses," she says, then adds in confession, "We have slept this way every night for years, and truth be told, I don't think I can sleep any other way anymore." In fact, she knows it, though she won't tell him that. Sleep while he was away was... fitful, at best.
Joshua hesitates a few moments longer before crawling into the bed next to her. "Very well," he sighs.
"Goodnight, Joshua."
"Goodnight, Jote."
Jote finds herself overcome with anxiety as Joshua prepares to leave for Origin with Clive and Dion. "Promise me you'll be safe," she says quietly as everyone says their goodbyes.
"I promise you," Joshua says solemnly, looking her in the eyes. "I will return to you safely."
Jote nods and forces herself not to cry. "Very well," she says, "I shall hold you to it."
She's caught by surprise when he leans in to kiss her, right in front of everyone else. From the corner of her eye, she sees Clive smiling in their direction. "Your Grace, I—"
"I will be back, Jote."
"...And I will wait for you, Joshua."
He nods, and they do nothing but stare at each other for a minute, as if they haven't already had each other's faces memorized for years.
Then he's off, and Jote stares after Bahamut's form until it disappears entirely.
Her fears do not ease one bit while they are gone, and she is clearly not alone in that. Without a word about it, half the Hideaway's residents have congregated around the tables for drinks. Some are completely sloshed before long, loudly telling stories about Clive's adventures. Jote sips at hers and listens intently, if only to get her mind off of Joshua and Origin and everything that could be happening up there right now.
Eventually, Jill comes to sit next to her, making Jote blink in surprise. She throws in a few tales from her childhood with Clive and Joshua. Jote smiles gratefully for his inclusion and laughs harder than she has in weeks when Jill describes what an absolute menace Joshua was as a child.
She almost doesn't register the shouts above the general noise of the room, but when Jill's ears perk up, Jote follows her gaze. Standing in the doorway is Gav, waving wildly and yelling, "They're back, they're back!"
Jote stands so fast her chair wobbles and threatens to fall before settling back onto all four legs. She sprints to the deck to find all three men collapsed on the ground, all of them injured but clearly breathing, and she sobs in relief. She looks to the sky, and Origin is gone, as if it was never there to begin with.
Kneeling by Joshua's side, she clutches his arm gently and whispers, "I think all this counts as more than enough reason to use the powers of the Phoenix."
Joshua smiles, rueful and weak and proud. "I couldn't," he says. "Magic is no more."
Jote's eyes widen; although she'd always known that was the goal, she'd never really believed that it would actually happen. She calls on her fire to test his statement, and nothing happens. She tries again, putting all her focus into it: still nothing. "It's really gone," she breathes, unsure whether the tight feeling in her chest is relief or loss.
Joshua nods, and she can see in his eyes that he feels the same. "I think it will take much longer than usual for these wounds to heal." He says the words like they're a joke, but she can't find anything funny about them. Slowly, he lifts a hand to pull open his shirt and reveal the flawless skin beneath. "But on the bright side, Clive healed this, at least. Ultima is no more, and nor is his cage."
At the mention of Joshua's brother, Jote looks to him, more concerned than she'd expected. One arm has succumbed entirely to the crystals' curse, and he is covered in blood, but most of it appears to be not his own and he is breathing steadily despite being unconscious. He will live.
As will Dion, who looks bruised and battered but without any immediately obvious major wounds.
"We need to get them all to the infirmary," Jote says, glancing up to Jill and Gav. They both nod in agreement and call for help from the Bearers—ex-Bearers now—around them. Jote hooks Joshua's arm over her shoulders and struggles up, then walks him to the infirmary on her own. Tarja helps her get him settled onto a cot, and once he is asleep, she sits in a chair by the bed and muses.
How easily things come full circle.
It's difficult to imagine a world without magic, but a part of Jote is grateful for it. No more Ultima, no more curse, no more excuses to treat people as subhuman. And if there is no more Phoenix, then there is no more need for the Undying.
Perhaps, when he has healed and the Hideaway has settled into a new routine, she will suggest a little house out in the middle of nowhere. Not too far, because Joshua will miss his brother too much, but far enough that they can have a bit of privacy, and moments of calm and quiet that rarely seem to come here.
Perhaps they will be able to live as simply people, rather than the Phoenix and his attendant.
And whenever he feels the need to rush into danger, Jote knows now that she can just ask him for a promise, and Joshua will do everything in his power to come home to her. Quiet enough to avoid waking him, she renews a promise of her own.
"I vow to stay by your side, forevermore."