The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 350: Life Goes On

Life goes on—for everyone else.

Jerrick stood silently, his gaze fixed on Isadora, who was beaming with the joy of motherhood. Her face was radiant as she cooed softly at the sleeping twins, her eyes brimming with love. The sight tugged at Jerrick’s heart, filling him with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t fully comprehend. Isadora had been so close to Jessamyn, viewing her almost like a mother. In the past, they had been inseparable, and yet, here was Isadora, smiling again—truly smiling, as if the shadow of Jessamyn’s passing had never touched her.

He tried not to resent her for it. How could he? He understood it. That was the power of new life. Children brought healing, a sense of purpose that outshone grief, however profound. Isadora had a family now, with the man she loved, and her priorities had naturally shifted. Jessamyn’s memory might still linger in the back of her mind, but her heart now belonged to her family. It was how things should be.

Jerrick tore his gaze away from Isadora and focused on the two infants in the crib. Their peaceful faces were like an unspoken promise, a future filled with possibilities. His heart softened as he smiled, watching them sleep so innocently, unaware of the world’s pain and loss.

Ricky, who had been standing beside him with little interest, now approached the crib with wide eyes. The boy seemed mesmerized, entranced by the quiet power of new life. Jerrick could see something shift in his son’s expression, a curiosity and tenderness he hadn’t expected.

In that moment, Jerrick’s thoughts turned to Jessamyn. He understood now why she had handed him their son before she left for the battle that claimed her life. She had known—known that if she didn’t give him Adalrich to care for, he would have followed her into the flames without a second thought. Jessamyn, always the one to think ahead, had made sure he had something to hold onto, something to anchor him to life. It was her final gift to him—Adalrich, their son.

And because of that, Jerrick couldn’t abandon the world. He couldn’t give in to the crushing weight of his grief. He had to stay, had to live, for his son.

As Bernard recounted the events that had unfolded during Jerrick’s absence, Jerrick listened quietly, his mind only half-focused on the words. Bernard had been a faithful steward, holding Roche together even when an Altanian army had marched toward them. Jerrick learned how Bernard, with only a small force, had managed to repel the invaders and how King Louis, with William’s strategic brilliance, had wiped out the Altanian forces that had infiltrated Ayberia. Altania would need decades to recover from their defeat, Bernard had said.

Jerrick nodded absently, his thoughts wandering again to his son, now chasing the puppies of the guard dogs outside. Ricky’s laughter filled the air, light and carefree, so different from the heavy sorrow Jerrick carried within. He couldn’t help but marvel at the boy. At such a young age, Ricky was already showing signs of a remarkable gift—his ability to communicate with animals, to understand them, just as Jerrick did. It was astounding. A connection that ran deeper than blood, something primal and ancient, coursing through the veins of the Theodulf bloodline.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and as darkness began to blanket the sky, Jerrick decided it was time to return to Theodulf Castle. Though his return was triumphant, having defeated their enemies, his heart was far from celebratory. He couldn’t bring himself to face the people of Roche, knowing they would want to honor him, to throw a grand welcome in his name.

The weight of his loss was too great, too fresh. He didn’t want to smile, didn’t want to wave to the crowds. He just wanted to disappear into the quiet shadows of his castle, where no one could see the grief that lingered behind his eyes.

As they rode into the darkened landscape, Jerrick’s mind drifted back to the last time he had seen Jessamyn smile. She had been standing at the gates, waving to him, her face lit up with that beautiful, radiant smile of hers. That was the image burned into his memory—the last time he had seen her so full of life, so full of joy. It felt like a lifetime ago.

When they reached the castle, Jerrick sneaked in like a shadow, not wanting the pomp and parades that had once thrilled him. Now, the idea of celebration seemed hollow, meaningless without Jessamyn by his side. What was the point of his titles, his victories, his wealth, if she wasn’t there to share them with him? They were nothing without her.

Word had already spread of his return, and the servants had prepared his room. His room. The very thought made Jerrick pause at the threshold. It had been their room. She had lived there for only a short time, but now, it felt empty, foreign. The silence of the room was deafening. He had lived in that castle alone for years, but now, after having Jessamyn there—even for such a brief time—the solitude felt unbearable.

Jerrick stood frozen at the door, watching as Ricky waddled inside, as if the boy instinctively knew the space. The toddler made his way to the writing desk where Jessamyn had spent many late hours, her face illuminated by candlelight as she scribbled notes and letters. Jerrick’s throat tightened at the memory.

Ricky reached for the top drawer, his small fingers grasping at the handle but unable to pull it open. "What’s in there?" Jerrick asked, his voice barely more than a whisper as he stepped forward. He knelt down and gently opened the drawer.

Inside, there was a single piece of paper—a letter addressed to "Jerry," written in Jessamyn’s elegant handwriting.

For a moment, Jerrick couldn’t move. The sight of her handwriting sent a shockwave through him, as if she had just reached out from beyond the grave to touch him. His fingers trembled as he picked up the letter, the weight of it far heavier than the paper itself.

Ricky, as if sensing his father’s need for solitude, quietly left the room, toddling away without a word. Jerrick didn’t notice. He was too lost in the moment, too consumed by the unexpected gift Jessamyn had left behind.

Jerrick sat on the edge of the bed, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he carefully unfolded the letter. He stared at the words, his heart pounding in his chest as if the paper itself held the final pieces of Jessamyn’s soul.

With a deep breath, he began to read.

My Dearest Jerry, she had written. Jerrick’s hand gently trailed over the ink.