When she arrives in the Mother's apartments, one of her maids, of whom she has thirty, opens the door so she can come inside.
Joana dipped into a deep curtsy the moment she entered the grand chamber. The Mother sat upon a plush divan before her vast, canopied bed, draped in black and red silk — the colors of the imperial house, which she alone was entitled to wear as the Emperor's mother. A gentle smile softened her face as she extended her hand toward Joana.
"My dear," the Mother greeted warmly.
Joana stepped forward, pressing her lips to the older woman's knuckles with reverence before curtsying once more.
"How are you, child? Come, sit with me." She patted the space beside her on the divan. "What brings you to me this morning?"
Joana settled beside her, folding her hands in her lap as she chose her words carefully.
"His Majesty told me of the woman who claims to be Princess Visenya," Joana began, watching the subtle flinch that crossed the Mother's face before her expression returned to one of practiced serenity. "He said it has been painful for you to hear her name used so... cruelly. I wished to see how you fare."
The Mother smiled faintly and reached out, cupping Joana's face with a tenderness that made Joana's heartache.
"You are too kind, my dear," she murmured. Her gaze drifted downward, and her smile turned sorrowful. "It has been nineteen years since our sweet Visenya was lost. And yet, I feel guilty for the pain this imposter brings. Visenya was not my daughter... but no one ever claims to be my Jaehaerys or my Daeron. Sometimes, I think myself wicked for mourning her so deeply."
Joana placed her hand over the Mother's, her voice soft and full of quiet understanding.
"I don't think you are wicked, Mother," she said gently. "Prince Jaehaerys and Prince Daeron are at rest. You can find peace in that. But no one ever found Princess Visenya. To hear her name used this way... it reopens a wound that never truly healed."
Tears glistened in the Mother's eyes, though her smile remained.
"I tried to be kind to Lyanna," she said, her voice distant as her mind drifted to the past. "Visenya's mother. She was so young when her father forced her into Rhaegar's harem. Sixteen and wild, full of anger at her fate. I tried to befriend her, as I did Lynesse... but Lyanna was a skittish little thing, always longing for freedom. She often spoke of escaping and returning home. But Rhaegar... Rhaegar adored her. More than he ever cared for me or Lynesse. She amused him, I think."
The Mother let out a soft, bitter laugh.
"Visenya was born only five days before the Hated's men came. Lyanna was so proud, so certain she would bear no other children and pour all her love into her daughter."
Joana's heart ached for the girl she had never known.
"I'm sure Concubine Lyanna would have raised her with love and devotion," Joana said softly.
The Mother's gaze shifted, her eyes dark with memories.
"Do you know the worst part of it all?" she whispered. "When the warning came, I hid the Emperor and Rhaenys in a grain storage. I saved them... but it took too long to find a place I believed could keep them safe. If I had been quicker, perhaps others could have been saved as well. Jaehaerys and Daeron... Lyanna, Visenya, and Lynesse with her unborn child... they all died because I was too slow."
"Mother, no," Joana said, her voice trembling. "It was not your fault. It was the Hated Emperor's doing. He murdered his son and grandchildren out of jealousy and fear. This was his sin, not yours."
The Mother did not weep for the children she lost, nor for the young women who had perished that night. She wept because she had survived when others did not. She wept because she blamed herself for failing to protect them.
"You are kind to say so," the Mother murmured, brushing her thumb along Joana's cheek. "But these lies... they hurt my son. And when my son suffers, so do I."
She shook her head, her voice breaking.
"I don't know how to help him. It has been so long that I've forgotten Lyanna's face. And Visenya... she was but a babe. Even if she lived, I fear I would not recognize her." Her hand drifted to her stomach as if feeling her lost sons still within her. "Jaehaerys and Daeron... I can never think of them as men. In my mind, they will always be young. Always innocent."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Joana said softly. "For all that you have endured. You and your children did not deserve such cruelty."
The Mother smiled faintly, though her dark eyes studied Joana with unsettling intensity.
"You remind me of Lyanna," she said quietly. "What little I knew of her. She was fierce... and a survivor."
Her gaze shifted to the curve of Joana's belly, softening as she regarded her growing grandchild.
"If you bear a son, I would prefer him as emperor over the sons of Lady Margaery and Lady Desmera. The Reach and my homeland have been enemies for a thousand years."
Joana's breath caught in her throat.
"Mother, I... I fear I do not understand—"
She fell silent as the Mother's eyes locked onto hers, dark and knowing.
Joana understood then. The Mother could not openly favor her over the other consorts. Just as the Emperor could not be seen influencing the line of succession. The struggle for the throne was for the mothers to fight — not the Emperor, nor his mother.
But in this quiet moment, through subtle words and veiled glances, the Mother had chosen her side.
Joana swallowed, her heart swelling with both fear and hope.
She would have to fight for her child's future, just as the others would. But now, she knew she was not alone. The most powerful woman in the empire stood quietly behind her, hoping — praying — that Joana's son would one day wear the crown.