Joana's steps were careful and measured, her body still adjusting to the toll of childbirth. The aches lingered—her womb tender, her legs raw—but she would not falter. Not here, not now. The crisp morning air kissed her cheeks as she walked through the gardens, the wind tugging at her skirts, snapping them against her legs.
In her arms, Jaehaerys stirred, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling as he took in the world around him. The sun bathed his gentle face in warm light, making him scrunch his eyes shut before he turned his head away with a soft whimper of protest.
Joana chuckled, twisting slightly to shield him from the worst of the brightness. He yawned, his tiny mouth stretching wide, but he did not close his eyes. Instead, he peered up at her with an expression of quiet offense, his violet gaze questioning why she had taken him from the safety of their chambers.
He did not understand why they were there.
He did not know about the letter she had sent to the Healer/Maester in the city, too embarrassed by her own ignorance to seek the Grand Maester's advice directly. She had needed guidance—how to keep him strong, how to ensure he thrived. The response had been simple yet invaluable.
Frequent feedings, the master had written, would go a long way in strengthening the child. Too many visitors, however, could do more harm than good in the first few months. And most importantly—an hour of sunlight every day.
"Children are like plants," he had written. "They do not thrive if they live in darkness."
Joana sighed, brushing her lips gently against Jaehaerys' downy silver hair. He made a small, sleepy sound, his hands flailing briefly before settling again. His fingers reached for a strand of her hair, grasping with all the might his tiny limbs could muster, but his grip was weak, unused to the demands of the real world.
She inhaled his sweet scent—the warmth of milk, the softness of his skin, the indescribable purity that all infants seemed to carry. A gift from the gods, she thought. Perhaps it was their way of ensuring mothers could endure the sleepless nights, the endless crying, and the unrelenting hunger that came with a newborn.
"I love you," she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
Jaehaerys gurgled, his mouth opening and closing, his tongue moving as if he might answer her back.
She grinned. "Won't you smile for Mama? Just a little one?"
Sometimes, she thought he smiled when she bathed him, his tiny face relaxing as if in relief at being clean. But perhaps that was just her own wishful thinking.
A voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Consort Joana!"
She turned, her expression smoothing into polite composure as she saw Lady Margaery approaching, her maids trailing behind her. With her were her children—Princess Elaena, nearly two, her curling silver hair framing her round face, her large brown eyes curious. And Maekar, already four, was a sturdy child with striking indigo eyes. He perched on his mother's hip, watching Joana and his half-brother with the confused solemnity of a child still piecing together the world.
Margaery smiled, her tone light. "What a joy to see you out of bed."
Joana dipped her head slightly. The last time they had seen each other was when Margaery and Desmera had come to visit her and Jaehaerys. They had not brought their own children then, a small courtesy Joana had been grateful for.
"I was so worried for you," Margaery continued, her voice warm with concern.
"Worried?" Joana asked, arching a delicate brow.
"Well," Margaery said with an air of practiced ease, "I know how difficult childbirth can be. I feared you might not have the strength for it. Some women simply cannot manage."
Her expression was serene, her words laced with nothing but humble relief, as if she had never harbored a single negative thought about Joana—never hoped, even briefly, that she might not survive labor.
Joana smiled, tilting her head. "I'm glad I could manage, Lady," she replied smoothly. "The Emperor has told me he intends for me to bear many more children. I'd so hate to disappoint His Majesty."
Margaery's smile did not falter. "Of course."
Joana adjusted Jaehaerys in her arms. "If you'll excuse me, I'm eager to see the new fountain our Gracious Mother had constructed."
She stepped forward, pausing just long enough to lean in ever so slightly. Her voice dropped to a whisper only Margaery could hear.
"I know your family has been trying to get rid of me," she murmured. "To ensure no more half-commoner heirs." She pulled back, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "But you should know—the Emperor has no intention of ever letting me go."
She dipped her chin slightly in a small, deliberate nod. "Lady."
Without waiting for a response, Joana turned and walked away, leaving Margaery and her children behind.
The fountain was, in truth, of little interest to her. A grand display of white marble, with water flowing in delicate arcs, rose-scented droplets catching the morning light. It was beautiful, yes, but nothing she had not already seen in her time within the harem.
Jaehaerys stirred again, his small body restless against her. His noises of discomfort became more insistent, his displeasure clear.
He was hungry.
Joana hesitated. She did not want to return to her chambers so soon, not when Margaery's presence still lingered like a shadow at her back. But Jaehaerys' fussing grew more urgent, his tiny hands pressing against her chest in demand.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, rocking him gently. "I really am. I'll give you as much milk as you want—just wait a moment."
The moment Margaery had moved on, Joana turned on her heel, walking as swiftly as she dared back to her rooms. By the time she arrived, Jaehaerys was truly crying, his small face red with fury, his cries piercing.
Guilt gnawed at her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, kissing his forehead as she stepped inside. "I won't do it again, I promise."
As she adjusted him in her arms, she tugged at the front laces of her bodice with one hand, pulling at the fabric to bare her breast. A drop of milk beaded at the tip as if her body instinctively responded to his cries. The moment she guided it into his mouth, he latched on greedily, his eyes fluttering shut in satisfaction.
It was only then that she noticed Jeyne standing by the table, a bright smile on her face.
"Consort!" she exclaimed. "I have something for you."
Joana barely looked up, adjusting her hold on Jaehaerys as he nursed. "What is it?"
Jeyne gestured toward a lacquered box on the table—large, ornate, with delicate carvings of flowers and stars. Expensive.
"A gift from the Master of Laws," Jeyne said. "In recognition of the present you sent."
Joana blinked. "So he liked the ring?"
Jeyne nodded.
Relief settled over her. She had worried that sending the ring had been a misstep. But this—this was a gesture of favor. A reward.
She leaned forward as much as she could, and with Jeyne's help, lifted the lid.
Inside, rows upon rows of candied figs gleamed dark and rich, their caramelized edges glistening. The scent of sweetness filled the air.
Joana's mouth watered.
She plucked one between her fingers and bit into it, the taste bursting on her tongue. A soft, involuntary sound of pleasure escaped her lips.
Jeyne grinned.
Joana giggled, covering her mouth. "Have some," she insisted. "I couldn't possibly eat all this alone."
Jeyne hesitated, then took one, her eyes lighting up in delight at the taste.
Joana chewed slowly, savoring the richness.
If this was what it meant to have friends in high places, she should have acted long ago.