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The thing is- she knew what she had been getting into, by agreeing to come to Caladan and be Duke Leto’s concubine. She was not his wife, would never be his wife; could never be his wife.
But there is a part of her that still dies every time the subject of his potential political marriage comes up as a topic of conversation. Especially while she carries his heir in her womb. It broke all the rules that had been set out for her by the Bene Gesserit, to only bear the duke daughters, but she hadn’t cared. She had wanted to bear Leto’s son- her.
So, she had.
Her belly is visibly rounded now, so there is no mistaking that she carries their child within her womb, and whenever she enters a room, all eyes fall to her. It isn’t unreasonable for concubines to bear children, but it is often discreet; hidden away. Not Jessica, though- she is the center of attention, always.
And Leto is attentive, of course. She has not told him she knows she is bearing him a son; is saving it for the future. It will change nothing, she knows, so she keeps the knowledge to herself, letting it buoy her amidst the chatter in the courts. But the chatter persists- increases, if anything, that the duke should marry a pretty young thing to impregnant with a proper heir immediately, just in case.
It tears her delicately built walls to shreds despite her best attempts at holding them up with both hands.
Leto sends for her one evening and she refuses, unable to face him as her face is covered in tear tracks and eyes were red from crying in the large, overly ornate bed he’d provided for her. It wasn’t often they slept apart, truthfully, but lately she’d taken to returning to her own room at the end of the day and waiting for him to call for her.
Once the servant has been sent away, she turns back into the pillows and buries a soft sob in them. Jessica curls around her swollen belly, feeling her son tumble within her as if worried, and presses against the kicks he gives in reassurance.
“You refused me,” she startles at the voice in the doorway, attempting to sit upwards and compose herself but hindered by the swell of her belly. Leto stands in the doorway in rumpled bedclothes, as if he’d hastily pulled them on the cross the household and find her, and he’s frowning deeply. Guilt stabs Jessica in the heart at the sight of the hurt that’s slashed across his features.
“I am unwell, my duke,” she answers, and instantly Leto is crossing the threshold to kneel by her side, his palms stroking over her as if to find an injury.
“What ails you, my lady? How may I attend you?” worry coats his voice, and the guilt sits thickly in her throat.
“It is not a physical ailment,” she confesses, and confusion furrows Leto’s brow. “I…”
Jessica trails off, biting her lip as she looked away. Leto’s fingers are soft as they grasp her chin, tilting her gaze back to his- dark eyes burn into hers, and she blinks, shoulders softening as she stared up into his open face.
“I fear…I fear I am not very good at this arrangement,” she finally whispers, and Leto’s frown does not lessen. “I did not realize how hard it would be to carry your child and listen to the courts try to hand you a wife right in front of me.”
At that, Leto finally softens. His hand shifts, cupping her cheek, and he guides her into a gentle kiss.
“Is that what this is about?” he asks, and Jessica has to nod. “Jessica.”
Her name falls from his lips like water from the clouds above, and she drinks it in, eyes sinking shut as their foreheads fall together.
“I have no wish for a wife that is not you,” he murmurs, and treacherous, traitorous hope clutches as Jessica’s heart. “I swear to you, my love.”
She swallows hard, and kisses him again, burrowing in as close as her belly allowed. Leto’s hand fell to the swell, following the kicks their son gave, and broke from her lips with a grin at the movement beneath his palm.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and Leto shakes his head, touching her chin with his knuckle.
“Please, never apologize for wanting to be loved,” he says, and Jessica’s breath catches in her chest. “I am yours, beloved.”
It would not last, she knew. She had to prepare for that. But for now, as Leto curled around her in the big bed, spooning up behind her as their son slowly drifted to sleep within her womb beneath their fingers, she put it from her mind.
Leto was hers, as she was his, and that was enough for now.