Ariyana, the gracious mother, sat poised on her balcony, a delicate porcelain teacup cradled in her hands. The warmth of the tea seeped into her fingers as she sipped, her eyes drifting lazily to the sprawling garden below. The roses bloomed in defiant bursts of red, their petals swaying in the late morning breeze. She inhaled deeply, savoring the faint sweetness of the air, when a flicker of movement at the palace gate caught her attention.
A figure slipped through the entrance, cloaked in a rough, blanket-like garment that draped over its frame, obscuring its identity. The way it moved—quick, almost furtive—suggested a man, but something about the gait felt familiar. Ariyana's brow furrowed as she leaned forward, squinting. Then it clicked. Joana .
The memory surfaced like a ripple in a still pond: When she met Joana for the first time in the public market, disguised as a boy, her hair tucked under a cap, stealing money from people.
"Why is she running like that? And disguised again?" Ariyana murmured, her voice barely audible over the rustle of leaves below. Her gaze lingered on the gate, now empty, as a flicker of suspicion stirred in her chest. She could guess at a few possibilities but she dismissed them with a shake of her head.
She lifted the teacup to her lips and sipped again, the tea's warmth grounding her.
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Joana burst into her chambers, her breath ragged, and flung the coarse blanket aside. It landed in a heap on the floor, revealing her gown—damp and clinging to her thighs. She froze, her eyes darting to the fabric. The wet stain was unmistakable, seeping through the thin material.
In the emperor's harem, undergarments were forbidden, a rule designed to grant the emperor easy access to his women and to expose any who dared to grow aroused without his permission. The lack of a barrier meant her juices had leaked freely, staining her dress for all to see. Had the blanket not shielded her, anyone in the palace corridors could have noticed.
She stripped off the gown, letting it fall to the floor, and stood naked, her skin prickling in the cool air. Confusion churned in her mind. She had just witnessed something horrific—cruel, unthinkable acts that left her trembling—yet her body betrayed her. Her vagina was slick, her thighs glistening with her own arousal. Why?
She wasn't excited, not by that brutality. She didn't want to endure such torment. And yet, her body responded as if it had a will of its own.
Shaking her head, she pushed the thoughts aside. The shock of what she'd seen was too raw, too heavy to unravel now. She hurried to the small bathroom attached to her chambers, bypassing the grand bathhouse used by the harem.
This private space was meant for emergencies, sparsely furnished with a latrine, a wooden stool, and a large bucket of water for washing. Beside it sat a deep bathtub, already filled with clear water, its surface catching the dim light from a high window. A bar of lavender-scented soap rested on the rim, its fragrance faint but soothing.
Joana stepped into the bathtub, the cold water biting her skin as she submerged herself. She sat with only her head above the surface, her knees drawn up, and reached between her thighs. Her vagina was impossibly wet, the slickness coating her fingers as she rubbed, trying to wash away the evidence of her body's betrayal.
Her touch was firm, almost frantic, as she slipped two fingers inside.
The tightness surprised her, even now. After childbirth, she had taken a potion from the foreign lands, a medicine that restored her damaged holes to a virgin's state. No matter how brutally Aegon stretched her—his relentless fucking leaving her asshole and vagina gaping each night—the potion worked its magic. By morning, her holes were tight again, as if untouched.
Her mind drifted to the sisters she'd seen, their overstretched holes torn beyond repair, gaping like ruined pipes. A shudder ran through her. "If that happened to me… would my holes heal in a night?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "No. I don't want that torture. Never."
The thought made her stomach twist, but her fingers moved faster, sliding in and out, a third joining the first two. She didn't notice at first, lost in her thoughts, her other hand drifting to her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, her nipple hardening under her palm.
The rhythm of her fingers grew urgent, her breath hitching. Water sloshed gently around her as her body tensed, a wave of pleasure crashing through her. She came with a soft gasp, her cheeks flushing as realization hit.
Masturbation was forbidden in the harem, a rule enforced to keep the women's desires tethered to the emperor. But no one would know. As long as she wasn't caught, she was safe. She leaned back, catching her breath, her skin warm despite the cold water.
Joana washed herself thoroughly, scrubbing her skin with the lavender soap until the scent clung to her. She stepped out of the tub, water dripping onto the stone floor, and dried herself with a soft cloth. Naked, she crossed to her wardrobe and slipped into a fresh gown, the silk cool against her skin. Her son, Jaehaerys, waited in another room, and she hurried toward it, her footsteps light but purposeful.
As she moved through the corridor, she caught sight of the Queen mother, Ariyana, standing in the distance. Their eyes met, and Joana's stomach lurched. Ariyana's face was unreadable, but Joana's mind raced.
Has she endured that kind of torture in the name of sex?
She tried to dismiss the thought, convincing herself the gracious mother would never stoop to such extremes. But doubt gnawed at her, and her expression twisted, a fleeting grimace she couldn't hide.
Unbeknownst to Joana, Ariyana noticed her as soon as she stepped into view. The queen mother's sharp eyes caught the flicker of unease, the strange reaction Joana couldn't mask. Her suspicion deepened, a quiet certainty settling in her chest. She said nothing, turning back to her embroidery.