Iâm making my return to a potentially dead fandom on tumblr, I donât really know, but I donât care because Iâm happy and excited and I still love Six anyway
Crumbling Walls will finally be complete =w=
seen from Netherlands

seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Russia
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Paraguay
seen from Indonesia

seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from Russia
Iâm making my return to a potentially dead fandom on tumblr, I donât really know, but I donât care because Iâm happy and excited and I still love Six anyway
Crumbling Walls will finally be complete =w=

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Shadow Anne Shadow Anne Shadow Anne
This fic is uber awesome do check it out if you havenât already!!
Sisters Are Doinâ It For Themselves   4/5
Can read on ao3 too
                               âââââââââââââââ
âAnne, why are you on the table?â Jane asks, entering the living room, Catalina behind her.
âShe likes to feel tall every now and then.â
Jane, who had been making a show of looking around, nods. âI thought that perhaps we had somehow run out of proper seats.â
There are eight chairs around the table, a L-shaped sofa that can easily accommodate six people, an armchair, and two beanbags.
âWeâll see who is laughing when we have to hide from a serial killer and you canât fit in the small, perfect, hiding place!â Anne sends a fake glare towards Kat.
âAnd then your laugh will attract him towards your hiding place, and I will escape,â Kat shoots back.
âYouâd leave me there to die??â Anne asks, affronted.
âWhy him? Why not her?â Catalina cuts in. âWomen can be serial killers too.â
âThatâs your question?â Jane looks at her wife in disbelief.
âI think that less than 20% of serial killers are women, so statistically it would beââ
âPlease donât encourage her,â Jane gently interrupts Cathy, prompting Annaâs silent laughter.
Then the four of them turn to the on-going discussion between Anne and Kat, which apparently had degenerated into wildly elaborate revenge plans if one of the two was ever killed.
âDo you think if we return them, we could get a refund?â Catalina asks loudly.
âI think the warranty has long expired,â Jane solemnly informs her. âBesides, it was a sale.â Â
âAnd what a deal you got!â Kat stretches up to exchange a high five with Anne.
âWell, my deals,â Jane chuckles to herself, âmake yourself useful and set the table.â
âAre we eating here?â Anne nonetheless jumps down the table.
âWe have guests, Anne,â Catalina reminds her, gesturing to Cathy and Anna, who are sitting prim and proper on the sofa. Quite a contrast to Anne and even to Kat, who had been slouching on a bean bag near the table, before getting up at her mumâs request. âIâm surprised they havenât run away yet.â
âOh no, I think they are,â Anna smiles, âdeal-ightful.â
Everyone stares at her. Then Jane gasps loudly, clutching her chest. âA girl after my own heart.â
âBack off.â
âHands off.â
Catalina and Anne say at the same time, one more jokingly than the other.
âI guess that leave us, then,â Kat whispers to Cathy, leaning closer to her.
Cathy tilts her head up to look at her, smiling. âMerry Christmas to me.â
.
âGirls, I realise this is probably a bit uncomfortable, staying with people you barely know,â Jane starts during dinner, âand I meant us, me and Lina, obviously,â she adds before Anne can protest like she looked she was ready to do.
âAnd weâd like you to be comfortable. Also so that you can enjoy tomorrow more, rather than being overcautious and overpolite,â Catalina carries on. âWe are family so we can be quite...shameless while playing. It takes a lot to be embarrassed when...well, weâve seen worse things than making a fool out of ourselves for the sake of winning some game.â
âWhat weâre trying to say,â Jane takes over, noticing how Anna and Cathy are getting progressively more nervous as Lina speaks, âis that perhaps we could use tonight to get to know each other better? Or you getting to know us better? Ask questions if you want?â
âYou want to play truth or truth?â Anne asks.
âTruth or truth?â Cathy repeats, a bit confused.
âFor some reason we were banned from daresââ
âYou know perfectly well why. Both of you do.â Jane fixes them with a hard look.
âAnyway,â Anne ignores that, âwe couldnât do truth or dare anymore, so it was truth or truth.â She frowns. âNot that fun if you know the other person perfectly.â
âI still donât think I want to play that with my mums.â
âWe are not,â Catalina reassures Kat. âItâs probably quite foreign to Anne, but there is a thing called normal conversation.â
Thatâs how they spend their after-dinner, just chatting. Anna and Cathy start with routine innocuous questions, from their jobs to the favourite holiday they had ever been to the dream place they want to visit (and equally sharing their own answers), before moving onto more personal ones, like what is the thing they miss the most about Kat and Anne now that they are both away at university or who is more similar to who.
âIf you donât mind me asking, who asked whom out?â
âJane did.â Catalina smiles lovingly at her wife.
âWhat are we talking about?â Anne asks, returning from a loo break.
âDating,â Anna, who had asked the question, replies.
âDon't ask her,â Anne nods towards Catalina, âfor advice.â
âWhy do I sense there is a story there?â
FLASHBACK
âI need advice,â Anne announces entering the study.
Catalina puts down her work, devoting all her attention to the girl.
âDating advice,â the teenager adds.
âJust because I married Jane, it doesnât mean I know how I did that.â
âWell, you asked her to marry you and she said yes, so you must have done something right.â
âShe did,â Catalina tells. âAsk me, I mean. She asked me and I said yes.â
âOkay. Tell me how you asked her out, then,â Anne is not deterred.
âShe did,â Catalina repeats, amused at the disbelief on the girlâs face.
.
Anne joins Kat in her room, flopping down on the bed, face first.
âWell?â Anne rolls on her back after a while. âArenât you going to ask me whatâs the problem?â
âWhy, when youâre going to tell me anyway?â Katâs eyes donât leave the computer screen.
Anne huffs but doesnât reply. Thatâs exactly whatâs going to happen. âI went to ask mamĂĄ Lina advice. Dating advice.â
That gets Katâs attention, who swirls her chair around to face her. âWhy would you ask her?â she almost spits out the last word. âIf it was for her, she and mum would still be best friends.â
âHow was I supposed to know?â
âEveryone does!â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âWhy didnât you ask me?â
Anne groans. âWhatever. Still doesnât help me. How am I supposed to know what to tell Penny now? What do girls like? Iâm seeing her later today and Jane wonât be home before that!â
Kat looks at her, expression saying âI canât believe youâre making me say thisâ.
âAnne. Youâre a girl. I am a girl. Iâm sure we can figure out what girls like â or at least what they donât.â
Anne stares at her. For some reason it had not occurred to her to ask Kat. âWhen did you get so smart?â
âMaybe youâre just dumb.â
END FLASHBACK
âI canât believe that!â
âSee, they didnât know either!â
âThis is second time they met them,â Kat rebuts Anne. âYou grew up with them.â
âAlso I meant more the fact that you didnât realise you were all girls and could just....you know...â
Anne scowls.
.
âAre you sure youâre fine sharing?â Catalina asks as they get ready to call it a night. The plan is for Anne and Kat to sleep in Katâs room with Anna and Cathy sharing...well, there had already been a discussion about whether they should call it the guest room or Anneâs room, with Anne acting offended at the first name. And then there was the discussion about the air mattress that Anna and Cathy wanted to give to Anne â as if Anne would ever sleep on that when she can just share Katâs bed. Â
âItâs absolutely fine. We slept together the very first day we met. I mean, sharing a room. Because we were at summer camp and shared a room. Not becauseâ you knowâ we were 9ââ Anna panics.
âRelax,â Catalina says once she is sure she wonât burst out laughing in her face. âNo reason to be worried or stressed about anything. Nothing you can do or say, even the worst thing you can think of...well, weâre used to these two,â she points at Anne and Kat with her thumb, âso nothing you can do will faze us.â
âThis is bullying and I wonât stand for it!â
âAnne, can I talk to you?â Jane calls for her as she is in the middle of performing a dramatic storm off.
âAm I in trouble?â she asks, half-jokingly half-serious.
âDid you do anything that could get you in trouble?â
âIs it a trick question?â
Jane lets out an endeared sigh. âIt's Christmas, nobody is getting in trouble.â
âI knew that.â
Everyone snickers because it was clear she had not known that.
âAlthough now I wonder what you did if you thought it was possible...â Jane teases her. She waits until everyone leaves, before going to the kitchen, Anne following her.
âWhy do I get the feeling that your crush thinks that we are your parents?â She had her suspicions when they met Anna and Cathy the first time, but after spending more time together, itâs quite obvious.
âWhat am I supposed to tell her? For over a year I let you believe Kat was my sister, but she is not?â Anne indirectly confirms it. âAlso who said Iâm crushing on Anna?â
Jane merely looks at her, as if saying âreally?â. âWe can start from the fact that I never said anything about Anna?â
Anne gapes at her, realising she had played herself.
âWhat are you going to do?â
No answer.
âAnne,â Jane sighs. âPlease tell me you are going to do something?â
Silence lets her know that she isnât. Jane rubs the bridge of her nose. Â
âIf I didnât know any better, Iâd swear you could be Linaâs child. Never thought Iâd met anyone on her level of obliviousness butââ
âWhy is my good name being dragged through the mud?â
âLina, my dearest wife, I married you and I'll spend the rest of my live loving you, but I wonât deny objective facts. Like the fact that sometimes you severely lack perceptiveness,â the confused expression on Linaâs face only prove her point. âYouâre clueless, darling.â
.
Anne heads towards the bedroom, on autopilot, mind mulling over her chat with Jane.
âOh.â
Cathy is on the bed with Kat. Anne looks towards the door and then around, as if to make sure she went to the right room, since she had been lost in thought.
âShe is waiting for Anna to finish using the loo,â Kat tells her.
Anne considers Cathy for a beat. The awkward way she is sitting on the bed...Anne nods to herself. That makes sense.
She skips towards the bed, diving between them. She lays on her back, Kat and Cathy exchanging an amused glance over her form.
âAm I invited to the sleepover or...?â Anna asks from the doorway.
âOh! We should have one!â Anne springs up, sitting on the bed. âBut not tonight. We canât have a sleepover tonight.â
âWhy not?â Anna entertains her, amused as she often is by Anneâs antics.
âItâs called sleepover because sleep. Is. Over!' Anne enunciates. âEveryone knows that you donât sleep at sleepovers.â
The other girls nod. Thatâs true.
âAnd you need to sleep on Christmas night!â she concludes.
âDo youâŠâ Cathy hesitates.
âYes, we know that Santa is not real.â
âThat had been a real blow when we found out.â
Anne and Kat both nod, solemn expressions on their faces.
âAnyway, you need to sleep because Christmas day is full on, and you need to be refreshed!â
âI thought it was lowkey?â Anna looks at Kat. Thatâs what she said, right? Then she turns to Cathy. Thatâs what they all said, right?
'It is.â Kat smiles at her reassuringly. âSome people just tend to get a bit competitive sometimes.â
âJane can be such a sore loser,â Anne informs them. âBoth of them.â
From the face Kat is making, they were not the ones she was referring to.
An incredibly late happy birthday fic for the very lovely and very talented @shut-up-heather-d, who has been patiently waiting for this for weeks. After you read this, you should also take yourself to AO3 to read her OWN writing too, because itâs really excellent.
But hereâs some fluff in the meantime. The request was for Kitty being taken care of by Catalina and Jane, and Catalina being the stricter âparentâ.
âIâm dying-â
Kitty rolls dramatically onto her stomach and buries her face in the couch cushion, displacing Cathy (who falls off the couch with a squeak and retreats hastily to the kitchen for paper towels to mop up the spilled coffee from her shirt).
âYouâre not dying Kit.â
Kitty lifts up her flushed face and tries to muster up the energy to glare at Catalina.
âI AM.â
Catalina raises an unimpressed eyebrow. âYouâre not dying, you have cramps. And if youâd just take the aspirin-â
âBut it tastes HORRIBLE-â
âSo you keep saying.â
Kitty flops back down with another groan and Catalina carries on tidying up.
âI hate today, Iâm really stressed and I have to make that phone call to the bank, on top of everything-â
Catalina sighs. She isnât really sure how to help and she doesnât like it- it feels like Kittyâs blaming her for her not being able to fix it. Of course, she knows this isnât Kittyâs fault at all, just her own stupid brain but stillâŠ
Even so, sheâll do the best she can, even if advice IS all she can do.
âWell, maybe if you go and get it done rather than putting it offâŠ.and you know itâs going to hurt until you take some painkiller, so youâre only hurting yourself by putting that off too.â
There. Sensible and hopefully enough to spur Kitty into action.
Kitty though just gives her a slightly wounded look and rolls onto her side.
After a while, the silence stretches out a little too long. She returns to the couch.
âKit?â
âMmm?â
Kitty doesnât move from where her head is buried in the cushions- Catalina gently tucks a few locks of hair back behind her ear to get a look at slightly more of Kittyâs face, and her fingers brush against dampness on the girl's cheek.
âMija, are you alright?â
ââM fine.â Itâs more indistinct than it should be- Catalina frowns. She starts to feel the first gnawings of guilt in the pit of her stomach.Â
âKitty?â
â- Iâm sorry.â
âOh Kit.â
Catalina pushes a few cushions aside and makes herself a space at the end of the sofa. The guilt grows, and she wonders if maybe advice hadnât been what was needed after all.
âYou have nothing to apologise for. Itâs ok.â
ââM sorry. You donât have to take care of me.â Itâs so small and wavery that Catalina immediately feels like the worst person in the world. Itâs not her fault- she isnât used to this, sheâs used to dramatics needing to be curbed, sheâs used to plain speaking and advice. Thatâs what sheâs good at. Kitty half sits up as Catalina sits down, as if sheâs going to retreat to her bedroom, and Catalina sighs. Sheâs fucked up.
âCome here mija.â Catalina tugs until Kitty reluctantly rests her head against Catalinaâs leg, and begins to smooth her hair back from her warm forehead. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to be so snappish and unhelpful. I was trying to help and I think I just made it worse, didnât I?â
âItâs ok.â
âIâm not actually cross with you, you know that donât you?â
Kitty makes a small non-commital noise.
âDonât you?â
â...I suppose.â
âGood. Now what I can get to help you feel better, hm?â
Kittyâs face sinks into resignation. âIâll take the aspirin. Is it still in the cabinet?â
Itâs mildly painful to Catalina to actually witness this- how Kittyâs resistance, her own wants and needs, are ready to crumble in an instant if it means that sheâll be restored to favour (in the early days, sheâd taken it for a pleasant compliance until Jane had set her straight.)
âYou donât have to-â Catalina stops herself; Kitty blinks at her warily, confusedly. She can see the question in Kittyâs eyes as to whether or not this is some sort of trick or trap. She doesnât take it personally (mostly, usually)- she knows this wariness was bred into the girl a long, long time ago. âThat is, I still think you should. But that wasnât what I meant- I was just trying to think of an alternative.â
âOh.â
âI could run you a bath? Or make you up a hot water bottle. The heat might help. Only if you want to though. You can stay here if you like.â
âYou donât have to.â
âI know. And you donât have to either mija. But it might make you feel better.â
Kitty opens her mouth to give her usual polite refusal and then a cramp makes her tense- her eyes close for a moment and a nod is wrung out of her.
âOk. Thank you.â
âYouâre welcome.â
*
Catalina insists Kitty stay on the couch while she turns on the bath. (She intends to use some of her own special fancy bubble bath in it, as a sort of apology, but realises to her chagrin that sheâs run out. She uses some of Anneâs instead and tells herself it still counts.)
While Kitty soaks Catalina decides to make the hot water bottle anyway. Save them having to do the same rigmarole over whether or not she goes to all the trouble of boiling the kettle or not.
If Kitty doesnât want it, it can just go on the floor or something.
Jane comes home just as the kettles switch flips off. Her cheeks are red from the wind- or possibly just from the three supermarket bags sheâs laden down with.
Catalina stares.Â
âAre you sure you got EVERYTHING?â
Jane nods, opening cupboards and pulling out draws as she stashes boxes and jars.
âI think so- probably.â
âJane, you were picking up milk and bread.â
âOh!â Jane catches the sarcasm too late, as she always does and colour rises in her cheeks as it always does. (She does not however either fly off the handle at Catalina for teasing her- as she used to, in the very early days- or shut down entirely and go silent and drawn in on herself- as she still does on very bad days, although they happily are getting rarer.) âWell I KNOW- but then I remembered itâs Cathyâs turn to cook tomorrow and she probably wonât have time to get to the supermarket before supper-â
âYou mean sheâll keep writing til the last minute and then panic like last time?â
Jane ignores her. â-SO I thought Iâd get some staples just in case. And they had some of that pate Anna really likes on offer, and it seemed silly to not take advantage of THAT. And Anne finished the last of the cereal this morning so-â
âWe have at least three different kinds of cereal in the patry Jane.â
âYes but not the one that she really LIKES. And there were fresh muffins in the bread aisle, and sometimes itâs nice to have a bit of a treat for breakfast even if it ISNâT a weekend day, and THEN I thought that it would be a good idea to get stuff for making that shortbread that Joan really likes because sheâs having a bit of a stressful week, poor thing-â
Catalina smiles despite herself and starts to help put things away.
âI seeâŠâ
âDonât be jealous Catty, I got you some green tea.â
âI do have green tea already.â
âYes but this is a special fancy looking NEW kind of green tea because I thought you might like a treat. Also a mango.â
âDid you get anything for yourself?â
âYes.â Thereâs only the slightest of hesitations and Catalina resists the urge to ask what: they both know itâll just send Jane into a spiral of defensiveness as she tries to justify her spending money on herself to the insatiable long dead ghosts of the past.
âGood. Well done.â
âThank you.â
âAnd thank you for my treats- and for everything else. The others will be thrilled.â
âI hope so. I got some stuff for Kitty and I to bake with too, thereâs a recipe we saw on Bake Off that Anna liked the look of and Kit wanted to try it-â
âI donât think sheâll be quite up to that for the moment.â
âWhy? Why not?â Jane looks suddenly urgently panicked and Catalina hastens to reassure her.
âNothing to worry about. Period pain, thatâs all.â
âOh the poor little thing.â Janeâs face creases into sympathy even as the anxiety leaves it. âWhere is she?â
âTaking a bath. Iâm going to bring her a hot water bottle when sheâs done. Actually-â They hear the rush of water down the drain rattle the loose guttering. âI think thatâs her now.â
âHas she taken anything?â
âShe didnât want the aspirinâŠâ
Jane nods. âShe doesnât like the taste. I usually just end up bribing her. What did you do?â
â....I- um- I told her to stop complaining.â
âCatty!â
âSorry! I didnât say it exactly like that.â
When she glances up at Jane, sheâs supremely relieved to see that Jane looks more amused than vengeful.
âWhatâs funny?â
âSorry. Nothing. JustâŠâ Jane bites back a smile. âYou looked SO guilty when you admitted that. I donât think youâre as cut out for the strict parent role as you think you areâŠâ
Catalina canât help but smile back. âMaybe not. I do want to make it clear I did apologise. And I WAS about to make her a hot chocolate to take up when you came in.â
Jane chuckles and hands over the bag of mini marshmallows. âBetter get started then.â
*
Kittyâs struggling with her wet hair- cursing herself for her ill-thought out decision to lay back in the water and wondering whether to just leave it and lie down with it wet- when Jane taps on the door.
âHow are you feeling love?â
âYouâre back!â For the first time since being struck down, Kitty feels actually, properly happy: she canât quite explain it, but somehow, having Jane in the vicinity during a crisis just makes things better. Easier.Â
It didnât even mean things were fixed or solved- for that, all the queens agreed, you needed Catalina or Anne or Anna (or Cathy if the problem involved etymology or linguistics or the interpretation of scripture). Jane was not the person you had around to fix things, they all knew.Â
But Jane was the person youâd position yourself close to once the solution to the problem had been identified and needed putting into place.Â
(Her role in this respect- always fairly clear- had been absolutely cemented the day that Anna had come home to find Catalina miserably struggling through a phone call, her head in Janeâs lap while Jane did needlepoint and fed her white chocolate buttons. Catalina had been slightly flushed upon discovery but determinedly insouciant, and to their eternal credit, the others had refrained from commenting.)
Kitty struggles to her feet to pull Jane properly into the room. âIâm fine! How was your shopping trip?!â
âIt was alright. They had those special dark chocolate biscuits I was waiting for them to restock at LAST-â
(Jane isnât quite sure why talking about things sheâs brought for herself to Kitty doesnât set off the same anxiety as it does when admitting to having done so to anyone else. It doesnât, and thatâs enough for her.)
Kitty knows better than to comment on the purchase, but she beams proudly at her all the same and Jane shoots a small, grateful smile back- which fades quickly when she notices how tense the girl is.
âAre you sure youâre ok? Is it still hurting? Catalina said you were having a really hard time of it.â
Kitty blushes slightly. âYeah. Did she tell you I was making a fuss?â
She looks so forlorn, Jane thinks it would almost be funny if it wasnât so very sad. She makes her voice as gentle as possible. âOf course not, sweetheart.â She wraps an arm around Kittyâs shoulders, guides her to sit on the edge of the bed and then picks up the abandoned comb. âShe said that you were in pain and that she was concerned. Thatâs all.â
âOh.â Kitty keeps her head down as Jane begins to patiently work through the tangles. âI WAS making a fuss thoughâŠâ
âActually, she told me that she feels awful for not being more sympathetic at first.â
âBut she doesnât need to! She ran me a bath and everything. And I shouldnât be so whiney anyway.â
âLove-â Jane keeps combing, and Kitty unconsciously relaxes back into her touch, enjoying it. âRemember what we told you? You donât need to feel bad about being taken care of sometimes. We all want to help. Especially if youâre not feeling good.â
âBut Iâm an adult, I-â
âYes?â
âI-â Kitty bites her lip miserably. âI should be able to just...handle myself, you know?â
Jane shrugs. âIs that what you think the rest of us should do then?â
âWhat?â
âLike, I should just handle myself and stop bothering Anna or you when I need help doing a form? Or how Cathy should just get over it when she gets overwhelmed and keep going?â
âNo of course not-â
âOr how Anne should just stop being late for things and finish jobs when she starts them?â
âNo! That would be horrible, thatâs-â
Jane nods. âSo why is it any different for you? Why wouldnât we be just as eager to help you when we love you just as much? Hm?â
Kitty sighs in defeat, and then winces as the comb is tugged. âI know. I know that really. I suppose. Itâs justâŠ.hard to know it properly sometimes.â
âI know love.â Jane leans down and kisses the top of her head, then begins to plait her hair back. âWeâll remind you though. As much as you need.â
Kitty opens her mouth to reply but sheâs interrupted by another tap on the door- Catalina, bearing a tray and looking slightly awkward.
âI thought you might like a hot drink-â As she puts the tray down on the nightstand, Kitty sees that it bears one fuzzy hot water bottle, one plate of shortbread, two mugs of tea- and possibly the most decadent hot chocolate she has ever seen in her life.
Sheâd been about to apologise again- she still canât quite shake the anxiety that Catalina might maybe still be annoyed at her despite her reassurances- but the elaborateness of the drink surprises a laugh out of her instead.
âCatty! It looks-â
Janeâs laughing too. âThatâsâŠ.oh my goodness!â
Catalina tries and fails to frown. âHey! I worked very hard on this. It is NOT easy to get that many marshmallows into one mug-â
âYou look like you managed though-â
âJust about-â She glances at Kitty, slightly anxiously. âIs it ok? Do you like it?â
âI love it!â Kitty bounces off the bed to hug Catalina in gratitude and then winces. âArgh. Bad idea. Sorry.â
âItâs ok-â Catalina hands her the hot water bottle and Kitty presses it thankfully to her stomach. âWhy donât you get comfortable? It might feel better if you lie down.â
Jane starts to arrange pillows as Kitty settles onto the bed. âJane, Iâm not an invalid you know, I honestly can do it myself-â
âI know love.â She doesnât stop. âBut youâre sick so-â
âIâm not sick.â
âBeing in pain is a kind of sick.â Catalina chips in. âJust indulge us mija. Now, do you want some peace and quiet so you can rest? Or do you want company?â
Kitty hesitates. âItâs ok love, whichever you prefer. We wonât take it personally if youâd rather have some space-â
Kitty nods; Jane and Catalina wait a moment and then pick up their tea and start for the door. As Jane opens it, theyâre stopped by a squeak from the bed.
âKit?â
âDo- do you mind staying? If youâre not too busy?â She squeezes the hot water bottle case anxiously. âJust, it really hurts and itâs nice to have a distraction and-â Despite their reassurance, Kitty still half expects to catch an eye roll or a reluctant sigh. Of course they donât want to stay really, of course theyâre busyâŠ
But instead, Jane smiles as she closes the door; Catalina squeezes her hand as she settles onto the bed.
âWell done mija. I know that wasnât easy.â
Itâs a silly thing to need validation for but it makes the anxious bands that have seized around Kittyâs chest loosen anyway.
They get comfortable on the bed either side of her and Jane reaches for Kittyâs laptop.
âHow about some trash tv? That usually makes me feel better.â
Kitty settles back, letting her head rest against Catalinaâs shoulder. It feels warm and comfortable, a good place to rest. âSure. Not Love Island though, I feel too gross to enjoy watching people in bikinis.â
âFine.â Jane pouts slightly and Catalina chuckles. âBake Off?â
âOk.â
They watch in silence for a few minutes, as the sprightly music plays and mouth watering images of sponges and tarts fill the screen. Catalina hands Kitty her hot chocolate and itâs very bit as good as it looks; Janeâs arm around her is pleasantly soothing.
âCatty?â
âHm?â
âThanks.â
âYouâre welcome mija.â
(Kitty doesnât just mean for the hot chocolate. But she thinks Catalina probably knows this.)
NEW LEGEND OF THE SIX - CHAPTER 25 - SECRET OF THE FAE
AO3 Link
They had lost.
Catherine rose with the others - almost all the others, actually, as Katherine had not rose - as they calmly looked up at their master, their lord.
Anne disappeared in a cloud of shadow, Maggie and Elizabethâs screams a distant echo.
Anna disappeared in a surge of fire, a dragon screech almost drowning out the screams of thousands.
Cathy disappears in a cloud of blue and pink, the maddened wails of soldiers in her wake.
But Catherine⊠Catherine remains. And kneels. And offers her sword.
The person in front of her takes it, and he smiles.
Henry smiles, and Catherine feels⊠foreign relief.
âYouâve finally seen the light of day, have you?â he asks. âGo on. Fulfill your duty to your king.â
She stands, turns from Henry and Jane, who was suddenly there, and looks down at Maria. Maria is being held down by golden chains.
âPlease,â Maria sobs. âDonât do this, Catherine. Please-!â
The swordâs Blessed energy glows, but itâs angry. Pleading, almost.
âPLEASE!â Maria yells, but the sword swings down-
The Blessed suddenly gasps awake, sweating slightly as she gasps for air. She looks around wildly, grabbing her sword next to her-
-only for a steady hand to shoot out to keep the blade on the ground.
Catherine immediately whips her head towards the source, ready to fire-
âCatherine.â
She blinks.
âAnne?â
Anne Boleyn keeps her hand on Catherineâs, holding the blade down. Her gaze isnât judging at all, instead calmly assessing the started Blessed before her. She keeps Catherineâs gaze until she sees the panic settle for the normal type of calm - well, as normal as it could be given the circumstances.
âYouâre not usually this jumpy,â Anne observes, slowly releasing Catherineâs hand.
She steps back as Catherine puts the hand that was on her blade onto her forehead. She shakes her head. âJust a nightmare. Nothing more.â
âWhat happened?â Anne asks, standing up.
Catherine shakes her head. âItâs⊠itâs nothing.â
Anne is silent for a moment before she nods.
âWell, itâd be a shame for you to suddenly break your Oath, Blessed, so do try to remember which of us is friend and foe next time you reach for that blade of yours, yeah?â Anne asks, stretching.Â
Catherine chuckles. âAnd here I thought we were being friendly.â
âEh, weâve been reunited for a day now,â Anne says with a smirk, looking over at the girl. âLetâs get out of here.â
They both step out of the tents they made for the night, stepping into the clearing that they had set up camp. The City of Everlasting Promise seemed nearby - infuriatingly so.
âStill stuck in this loop, eh?â Catherine asks with a sigh. âEven with how far weâve goneâŠâ
âCathy has a plan,â Katherine says, but sheâs not looking at the Blessed; instead, sheâs looking forward, at Cathy.
The woman in question was with Anna, a few feet away. She was looking down at something in her hand, discussing it quietly with the Battlereeve.
âYouâre probably right,â Cathy says. âI think that makes the most sense.â
Anna nods, somber. âItâs the only explanation I have as to why this area has grown so quickly in the time you suggested.â She shakes her head. âAnd with what you know about the Fae here⊠I think you might be on your own on this one.â
Cathy nods. âIt makes the most sense, yes.â
Anne walks over. âAre we ready?â
Anna nods. âThis is mostly Cathyâs show, but considering what Iâve been seeing, I think I can help towards the end.â She looks over at Cathy. âWhenever youâre ready.â
Cathy stands up, taking a deep breath⊠then starts to summon a portal. Multiple ones, actually. To so many places that thereâs some even Catherine doesnât recognize. Anna puts on a brave face, steeling herself, just before she moves to go into one of the portals-
âHEY! THATâS CHEATING!â
-and suddenly, thereâs Fae all around them. Theyâre a bit mad.
Cathy stops the summoning, a bit winded. âWe were trying to get an audience with your leader-â Cathy starts, but a Fae steps forward and gets right into her face.
âNO, YOU PLAY WITH US FOREVER.â The Fae hollars.
Cathy shakes her head. âWe canât. You know we canât.â
âYes, you can!â The Fae is clearly distressed. âWe can make it so.â
âBut then,â Anna says, voice soft and kind. âWe wouldnât be able to help you.â
The Fae around them pause, chat amongst themselves for a moment.
âWhat do you mean?â The Fae ask.
Thereâs suddenly thousands of them around - so many voices and magicks that the group starts to feel whoozy. Katherine, in particular, leans a bit heavily into Annaâs side. Anna frowns, keeping the girl close, as she takes steady breaths in an attempt to steady herself. Even Catherine is affected, though far less than the rest of the group.
âWhat youâve been showing us⊠these games⊠why did you make them?â Cathy asks.
The Fae narrows its eyes. âYou dare ask a question of us?â
âTo help,â Cathy tries. âTo play-â
âThis is NOT the game we wanted to play!â The Fae replies. A chorus of agreement is all around them. Maggie falls to the ground, holding her head, the world spinning. Anne tries to help her, but sheâs struggling as well.
Cathy pushes forward; this had gone on far enough. âAlright!â she yells. âAlright. Letâs make a deal: we beat your next game, and we are free to go.â
The Fae chatter. Elizabeth looks pale.
The Fae smirk.
âThatâs fine with me!â
All of the Faeâs eyes glow. All of them fade into nothing. All of them start to disappear into the mist that was now forming.
Cathy panics for a moment; before it gets too bad, Catherine rushes forward, grabbing her goddaughter just before they can no longer see anyone.
âThis⊠isnât good,â Catherine mumbles, looking around warily.
âNo,â Cathy replies. âThis is actually close to the plan.â
Cathy looks through the ring with a grin - through the ring, she can see as clear as day. Sheâs quick to bring them all together again. The mist fades.
The Fae are annoyed.
âHow did you?â The Fae asks, but Cathy shrugs sheepishly.
âThrough a ring can you see all things,â Cathy explains. âEspecially one given to me by one of your own.â
They look over at the Fae in question and then back at Cathy. Cathy is smiling softly at the Fae in question. Then she looks up.
âI request an audience with your leader,â Cathy says again.
The Fae talk loudly around each other before, suddenly, theyâre all transported again, this time back to the City of Everlasting Promise.
Catherine groans as she puts a hand to her head. She canât seem to stop herself from grabbing her sword with her non-dominant hand. Elizabeth also seems to be unable to stop herself as she fights with her own off-hand, the two quickly pulled into a duel not of their own making.
Cathy is quick to stop this with some ice magicks. Anna takes the weapons before melting the ice. Katherine binds the two with vines instead.
âIs that what they made you do?â Cathy asks quietly, respectfully. âThey made you fight each other?â
More angry voices. More swirling. This time, theyâre back at the castle, and suddenly Katherine and Maggie are in some sort of path. They were stumbling through the path, and certainly would have fallen to their doom, had it not been Elizabeth and Anna using magicks and wings to guide them to safety.
âThey tricked you, made you fear them?â Cathy asks, once again respectfully. The others havenât said a word, refuse to at the moment. Anything they could say, after all, could damn them. âThey used mind magicks?â
The Fae once again rise up in anger, and then, with a might shriek, they caused the group to fall to their knees in pain. When Cathy looked up, however, sheâd find herself back in something of an ethereal Weston, with see through buildings and villagers.Â
Sheâd see through her husband as the execution went through.
She did not expect to feel it.
She screams in pain, body writhing around as it continues. She holds onto her neck for dear life, she squeezes her eyes shut to block out the pain-
-until she feels someone put a hand to her shoulder and tense. The pain is considerably less, but still agonizing. She knows the armored leg next to her belongs to Anna, who has seemingly grabbed onto her. Then a golden armor appears next to her, and the pain lessens, and they continue more and more, with the pain getting less and less the more it is shared. Cathy can look up now, to see the others taking the pain with her, all grimacing at the unpleasantness but remaining steady.
It gives Cathy the strength to continue.
She gets up, and then, with a deep breath, she yells:
âI call for John Parr!â
It all stops as suddenly as it began, and the Fae are quiet.
After a moment, someone steps forward.
âYou know my name?â
Cathyâs smiling through tears.
âI would be a terrible wife if I didnât.â
The area calms, and the thousands of Fae around them disappear.
John frowns, a hand to his head. âWhatâs happened?â
âYou were executed,â Cathy explains quietly, getting up. Sheâs not alone - Catherine is right there with her. âYou were executed, but you couldnât move on.â She holds onto her wedding ring, the one that she used before to clear the mist. âYou were stuck here. And you still are.â
John frowns. âWhy do I only just remember this now?â
âBecause of the trauma perhaps?â Anna asks. âBecause of the magicks?â
âMagicks?â He asks, and he tenses as he remembers. âOh, my god, the magicks-â
âWhere?â Cathy asks quietly, and heâs clearly shaken, but heâll answer.
âThey⊠theyâve done some foul things, Cathy. Theyâve hurt us all. Theyâve trapped us here.â
âAs prisoners?â Cathy asks.
âAs energy sources.â
Cathy looks over to a Fae nearby, the Fae from the mirrors.Â
âI remember now, too,â they say. âGuess I just needed the reminder.â
âYouâre all trapped here because of some magicks that are intended to keep you here for energy?â Catherine asks, and Maria tenses a bit because of the tone. Catherineâs furious.
âYes,â John replies. âI⊠weâve been turned into something we did not know was possible.â
âAnything like this is possible,â Anne replies gravely, âif you are a Keeper of Necromancy.â
Anna frowns. âYou think Janeâs done it?â
âI think sheâs part of it,â Anne says. She looks over at Catherine. âYou canât call me biased in this either, you know what they can do. The bad ones.â
Catherine sighs. âI donât think I could argue with you on that,â Catherine relents, and she shakes her head. âThis needs to be undone. We need to figure this out.â
âThis was the biggest game of all,â Cathy says, moving closer to John. âFiguring you out. Figuring this area out.â She wants to hold his hand, to embrace him, but she knows she canât; itâs too risky. Embracing a Fae - regardless of how they were made - rarely has good consequences. âWe need to get out of here.â
âYou canât,â John replies. âNot without leaving something here. Not without a placeholder.â
Cathy frowns. âThat shouldnât be a problem.â She holds up her wedding ring, on its chain, and lets it go - it floats in the air. âMy heart is clearly here. And here it will stay.â
John frowns. âIâm sorry, Cathy.â
Cathy smiles back. âSo am I.â
He takes the offer begrudgingly, taking a deep breath before the ring disintegrates into nothing. Cathy forces herself to watch, even as it feels like her heart is being ripped from her chest all over again.
âIâll strike a bargain, one that is for me and me alone, not my comrades,â she says quietly. âWe help free you all, and I get my trinket back.â
The Fae discuss it with each other for moments before they all go silent at the same time.
John steps forward.
âYou are a Friend of the Fae, Catherine Parr,â John says quietly. âAnd we will accept your terms.â
Cathy nods. âLet us leave, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain.â
Everything starts to fade - the City, the Fae, and John. Cathy can barely hold back tears as her husband fades away, barely holding back sobs. He smiles until heâs no longer visible.
âAre they gone?â Katherine asks, looking around warily.
âNot gone,â Anna says. âJust out of view.â She looks at the Catherineâs. âWe need to get going. Weâre not too far from Parlemont, which means we can grab the Seroserum and sprint to the Festival.â
Catherine agrees. âEven at our fastest, weâll only have one shot at this.â
Cathy takes a deep breath before she uses her magick to summon spectral horses. Catherine raises her eyebrows at that, but Cathy doesnât seem to care.
âLetâs do what we can, then,â Cathy says. âPush on.â
With a nod, they ride.
Elsewhere, far, far away, the Capitolâs festival preparations were in full swing.
The town was buzzing with anticipation of the upcoming festivities - servants and villagers alike ran in the halls, putting up decorations. The courtyard was converted to fairgrounds, with people setting up tents and mead halls and sparring pits. Already many had made their home there, and for the next few months theyâd likely remain. The city was completely energized and excited.
It was a shame its queen couldnât feel the same.
Jane watched from above it all, at the top of her tower, fairly passive. This, normally, would be one of the most exciting times of the year: the King would be in incredible spirits, as would the entire world around her, so Jane would have no choice but to be happy.Â
This year, however, was anything but a joyous occasion: her work was far from done, and would likely get more complicated and dangerous from here. The defenses - which she usually had no part in - were now her sole objective of the festival preparations thanks to her newly-minted Keeper status.
The people she worked with didnât seem to question why the queen that once was in charge of the food and drink of the festival was now the head of security; they didnât ask what had changed since her disappearance. Not that sheâd be able to say why, after all; her being a Keeper was a closely guarded secret. Still, despite the secrecy and the like, people did start to look at her differently, even if they had no clue what was really going on.
Her dress, for example, was no longer what it was. Her signature black and white long sleeved dress with a cloak on the back was now replaced by a light coat and pants situation, with the seal of the Realm right over her heart. Her staff was no longer the long elegant one she was known for, but instead one of hard angles and a green crystal that seemed to faintly glow occasionally. It was a massive change, though that change was met with sympathy, with the people thinking it was through her trauma that she had changed.
Which, technically, theyâd be right, but also so very wrong.
âMum?â
She was brought out of her thoughts by a young man with a bright smile and something behind his back. Jane smiled back at him, brightening up at the sight of him.
âHello, Edward,â Jane says fondly, softly. âHow are you?â
âIâm well, but, uhm,â he says, bouncing up and down excitedly. âIâm⊠here!â
He whipped his hands around from behind his back and showed off what he made - a wooden star, painted black and white, with Janeâs name on it.
âJust like how we used to!â He says. âBut this time, this star is for you!â
Jane swelled with pride as she took the star, smiling at him and hugging him tightly. âI love it, Eddie. Thank you.â
He nodded, his smile faltering after a moment, as he nuzzled into his momâs shoulder as they continued the embrace. âIâm⊠not entirely sure what happened before.â Jane tenses as she remembers the situation. âBut I think you saved me from something, didnât you?â He releases and looks back at her. âI think something terribleâs happened, hasnât it?â
Jane sighs. âYou know itâs bad of you to say those things so loudly, donât you?â
Edward shrugs. âElizabeth said I shouldnât worry that much. That he needs an heir.â
Jane chuckles. âSheâs bright for her age, but that doesnât mean he canât hurt you.â
âI know,â he admits. âBecause he can hurt you instead, and thatâd hurt me.â
She pauses at that, looking down at her boy, before she nods.Â
He looks up at the stars then, and smiles.
âAt least weâve the stars to keep us company.â
Jane tilted her head curiously as she watched the stars move above them, a small smile slowly appearing on her face. Eddieâs laughter rang through her ears soothingly, like a song she never wanted to stop hearing.
âWe should make a wish!â Eddie says with a small smile. âYou always said a meteorshower like this means that the gods are listening closer than ever, so we should make a wish! One that we can think of so loudly, theyâll have to listen.â He closes his eyes, head still tilted towards the sky. âI know exactly what Iâm going to wish for.â
Jane chuckles and nods, going to close her eyes before, suddenly, her gemstone on her staff starts to angrily pulse. She stiffens; it means sheâs being called.
It stops as soon as Eddie opens his eyes, though, and he smiles.
âI hope it comes true. For both of us!â He nods, backing up. âI gotta go now, though; I promised Joan Iâd help with the decorating.â
Jane nods, a bit relieved that Joanâs keeping Edward focused on other things while Jane continued with her grim task. Sheâs been a lifesaver, that Joan.
âGo on, and give her my best,â Jane says. Eddie nods, sprinting off with a final wave, down the tower and into the courtyard. Jane can see him as he meets up with Joan. He starts off and Joan looks up, directly at Jane. They share a moment before Joan nods courteously, then follows the boy.
Janeâs smile fades the farther her son gets from her.
She goes to the middle of the room, to a seal. It wasnât there until recently. She presses down on it, and suddenly sheâs transported to a room with no doors. It looks like a cellar of some sort, but Jane understands that this is no cellar; it might not even be in the world.
She takes a deep breath and moves towards the gentle pulsing orb that is in the center of the room. Itâs actually quite soothing⊠or it would be, if it wasnât the personification of the God of Death.
âCan⊠you hear me?â she asks.Â
The glowing orb pulses.
âIâll, uh⊠Iâll take that as a yes,â Jane says quietly. She watches the orb for a moment - the movements are rhythmic. Itâd be calming if it wasnât a literal beacon of death.
âIâve done some more research into you,â Jane says, head tilted down as she continues. Her tone is respectful. âAnd how you operate. And how⊠Keepers of Necromancy are.â
The pulsing continues, so she does as well.
âItâs a really interesting history, if Iâm being honest. The ways that Keepers of Necromancy are rarely by choice, but by traditions or some sort of Pact.â She lowers her gaze. âOf Pacts that held treaties in some of the Forgotten Kingdoms.â
The orb glows brighter, pulsing suddenly before tendrils of green energy extend from it, dropping to the ground. The tendrils of light form into people. Theyâre completely green - still made of the energy of course - but their eyes are glowing.
Jane frowns. âAre these⊠other Keepers?â
She walks to each of them. One holds out their hand, still emotionless. Jane tilts her head curiously before taking it.
She gasps, head thrown back as her own eyes glow green. Sheâs pulled into a vision, looking through the eyes of the person whose hand she touched as if it was her own eyes:
âCallum,â the woman next to them, hand in theirs. âI know this isnât what you had hoped. I understand that this wasnât in the plan. But you must understand - this is for the good of us all.â She smiles, but it doesnât quite reach her eye. âI know you will do this with grace. I know you wonât disrespect us. I just know it.â She starts to tear up. âAs much as I did not want this for you.â
And with that, Jane is released.
She stumbles backwards, hand to her head as her eyes fade with the green energy. She gasps for air as she watches the person she had just moved to dissipate into nothing.
âThatâŠâ she takes a deep breath before composing herself. âThat makes sense.â she looks back at the orb as the rest of the figures disappear from view. She steps forward. âI thank you for telling me more about my current⊠predicament.â
Sheâs being far more formal than usual because this was, after all, a god she was talking to. A god that now held her soul.
For now.
âI came to ask for a blessing, of sorts,â she continues. âThough Iâm unsure if you grant them to your Keepers, I hope that you can honor your servantâs request.â
The orb does nothing.
Jane looks down at the ground, averting her gaze, taking a deep breath before she looks back up at the orb, intensely.
âIâd like to make a Pact of my own.â
A hum fills the room and Jane smiles at it.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
teeth
(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)
Aragon and Anne make the best mother duo and you Cannot Change My Mind
(you can read this as Aralyn if you want, but itâs not written in that way and the line is pretty vague tbh)
Word count: 4769
âââââââ
There was a crash.
And then a crack.
And then a crunch.
The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didnât seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.
âââ
Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.
âââ
In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5â4, and it didnât look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframeâit was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.
An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked...worried. That wouldnât normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her doorâeveryone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time sheâd been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasnât chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.
Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.
The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadnât broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didnât make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.
âMay I talk to you, Aragon?â
The hesitation in the girlâs sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.
âOf course, Joan. Come, sit.â
Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didnât sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment's notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.
âNow then, what is it you want to discuss?â
âWell⊠The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.â Joan signed.
âThatâs good,â Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joanâs lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.
âMaybe.â Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. âBut that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.â
âJoan, you canât seriously be thinking of doing that?â
Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.
âI-I just....â
âI donât see why you think thatâs a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It canât remain shut forever.â
âAragon-â
âNot to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-â
âAragon, please!â
Well that cut her off sharply.
For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.
Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasnât some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.
âHave a mint, Joan.â
Joan just looked at her, baffled.
Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldnât eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.
âââ
Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldnât take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.
âIâm sorry, but youâre going to need to use your words.â She oozed.
Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.
âWell, I donât know what to tell you,â She said. âMutes arenât our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.â
Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an âare you kidding me?â look.
âSheâs in the bathroom.â The worker said cooly.
Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.
Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldnât decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.
Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.
âIgnore her,â She said. âSheâs waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.â
Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.
âWhat is wrong with you?â One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. âWhy donât you speak?â He eyed Joanâs bruised jaw. âOhhh. I see.â
âMy little brother broke his jaw once,â His friend piped up. âHe couldnât talk for two months!â
âWhat does it feel like?â The one in front of Joan asked. âDoes it hurt?â
Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.
âDonât be a brute.â Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.
âOh, hey!â The customer at the counter said. âYouâre Anne Boleyn, arenât you?â
Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.
âYes,â Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. âYou will not touch her again.â
The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.
âNow,â Anne turned her glower on the worker. âI understand that Joan had wanted something?â
âShe can wait. You were here first.â The worker said.
Anne ruffled. âServe her right now.â She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big catâs growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.
The worker didnât dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joanâs order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anneâs side, eyes wide.
After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. Sheâs not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.
âThat was fun,â She chuckled lightly. âSay, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-â She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. âBut I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know weâre having soup tonight. You can eat soup, canât you?â
Joan nodded, flustered. Anneâs grin grew wider.
âWonderful.â
â
âWe have company!â Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.
Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.
âHello, dear,â Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anneâs memory hadnât failed her- they were eating soup that night.
âHello, beautiful.â Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. âI found this little rascal,â She set a hand on Joanâs head. âat that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.â
Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.
âAh. That one.â She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. âIâm not sure what they did, but Iâll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.â
Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.
âOh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!â
âItâs raining,â Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.
âDonât be a buzzkill,â She said. âCome on, my darling!â
She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.
The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.
Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.
âThis is Baguette.â Anne said. âJust kidding! Her name is Freya. Isnât she pretty?â
Joan nodded excitedly.
âWatch this.â Anne grinned. âFreya! Hup!â
Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. Itâs clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.
Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.
They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.
âFreya!â Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her birdâs attention. âCome on! Youâre making a bad first impression!â
Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anneâs outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.
âWanna hold her?â Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. âOkay. Be very careful, okay? And donât freak out.â
Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girlâs arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joanâs wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.
Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.
âDinnerâs ready!â Aragon suddenly called from the back door.
Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.
âImpressed?â She grinned.
Joan nodded.
âGood!â Anne said. âNow, letâs get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.â
The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.
âHave fun?â
âYup!â Anne said. âJoan was very impressed.â
Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragonâs heart melted.
âWhy are there seven bowls?â Kitty asked obnoxiously.
âUhh. Joan.â Aragon answered, blinking. âYou should know that, Kat. Sheâs standing right there.â
âYeah, but... Can she even eat?â
âKit, donât be stupid,â Anne said, slightly defensive. âCome on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldnât wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldnât be able to eat or drink for that long.â
Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.
âHow long will the wires be there?â Cathy asked curiously.
Joan held up eight fingers.
âWeeks?â
She nodded.
There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.
âI couldnât imagine that,â She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. âNot being able to open my mouth for that long.â
âItâs like reverse lockjaw,â Cleves observed. âJust with less seizures.â
âDoes it hurt?â Cathy asked.
Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.
She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.
âNeed a straw?â Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.
Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didnât spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.
It had been much easier to drink her coffee.
âSweetheart,â Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. âIâll get the blender.â
Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.
âOw!â Kitty whined. âStop doing that!â
âThen stop being a brat.â Anne said cooly.
âIâm not a brat!â
âWell, youâre acting like one right now.â
âThis is very entertaining.â Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.
The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.
âFirst the mint and now this?â Anne laughed.
âWhat mint?â Cathy asked.
âCatalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.â Anne told her.
Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.
âIt was a mistake!â She tried to defend herself. âAnd an accident!â
Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasnât much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.
She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, âWhat?â
âWhatâs the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?â Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasnât sitting just a few feet away from her.
âCrookedjaw?â Cathy answered.
âYeah!â Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girlâs mouth. âWe can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.â
Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldnât even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasnât as stricken as she was.
âKatherine, what the fuck?â Aragon seethed.
âWhat?â Kitty said innocently. âIt fits her!â
âAre you fucking nuts?â Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. âNo, actually- are you stupid?â
âShe was just messing around, Catherine.â Jane tried to smooth things over.
âDonât defend her!â Aragon snapped. âYou should tighten the leash on her.â
âSheâs not a dog.â Jane hissed.
âAnd yet sheâs as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,â Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. âCome on, Joan.â
Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.
âIf youâre going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.â She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. âBecause it fits.â
Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragonâs room.
âI am so sorry, Joan.â Anne said once they were inside. âI donât know whatâs gotten into her.â
âShe thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.â Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. âEntitled brat. Just like you said.â
Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.
âAre you okay, my darling?â
Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.
âAlright.â Anne said. âSo... Movie night?â
âSounds good to me,â Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. âThey might be a little big, but you can wear these.â
Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragonâs dresser were, and some black gym shorts.
âCome on,â Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. âLay down!â
It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queenâs comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.
God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.
That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lionâsheâd tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.
Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didnât feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt...serene.
âWeâre watching Hush.â Anne said, smirking slightly. âWhich has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.â
Joan giggled softly and nodded.
âOnly because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.â Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. âAre you okay to watch it?â
Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasnât a baby!
And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.
âAre you okay, sweet girl?â She asked softly.
Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.
Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didnât make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.
âAwww,â Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. âSo cute.â
âJealous?â Aragon smirked.
Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.
Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragonâs soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!
And then they got to the closeup of Maddieâs hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joanâs brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.
âAnne!â Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.
âI didnât know that was in it!â Anne said, raising her hands. âThis is the first time Iâm seeing this!â
Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragonâs arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.
âJoan? My darling?â Anne called. âAre you okay?â
Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.
âOh, you poor thing,â Aragon murmured.
âDoes anything hurt?â Anne asked. âOr did you just get scared?â
âYeah, yeah,â Aragon nodded. âWhat she said! Are you hurting?â
Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anneâs arm frantically.
âGo get painkillers.â
âCatalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?â Anne cried.
âOh no, youâre right!â Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girlâs face. âMy babyâs going to die!â She said woefully.
âSheâs not going toââ Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. âSheâs not going to die, Catalina.â She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. âI mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.â
Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.
âYes. Of course.â She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. âI was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!â
Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. âYeah, okay.â
After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut...
â
âCatalina, look,â Anne whispered.
Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girlâs hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldnât find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.
âOh my,â She murmured. âWhat a sweet girl.â
âI know,â Anne grinned. âSheâs so cute.â She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joanâs head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.
Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.
Perhaps the eight weeks wouldnât be so bad after all...
Ask Me Who I Am, Pretend You Know My Face
Let đ Anne đ Have đ Feelings đ And đ Character đ Depth đ
AKA Anne has an existential crisis. Anon requested âthis isnât you sounds very much like something happens to Anne and she just shuts down...? Maybe Beheaded Cousins?â And Iâm happy to oblige. Iâm not a big fan of the ending, but I didnât know how else to tie it together. Not sure what went through my mind when I wrote this, but have it anyway. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, Iâm now a war veteran.
Writing Masterpost
If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so Iâm always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and Iâll be sure to tag you!
Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts
Trigger Warnings: Existential crisis, anxiety, cursing
Anne Boleyn was many people. She was the temptress history remembered her as. She was the carefree gremlin that the queensâ show presented her as. She was a woman wrongly beheaded by her vengeful husband. She was the mother of one of Englandâs greatest monarchs and more.Â
Of all things Anne was great at, it was acting. She had been doing it long before her second life, and now it was her profession. There wasnât a time she wasnât playing a role and charming someone. And it took a toll on Anne, to the point where she never stopped acting. Even when she went to bed, Anne gave her mirror a charismatic smile and winked, making sure her mask was on. Playing a role was easier than playing herself.Â
It was easy to distract historians who came to interview her. Anne was the most well known queen, so she often had solo interviews to deal with from pushy historians. At first it had been a lot to deal with, but Anne had grown used to their invasive questions. They were almost always the same, so she had her prepared answers. They never wanted to know about her opinions or choices, they wanted to know about all the drama and âseductionâ she took part in.Â
It was Anneâs offday and she had a plethora of interviews scheduled. It wasnât her chosen way of spending the day, but she needed to get them done anyway. She wasnât one to turn interviewers away without even meeting them, so she decided to make a day out of it. The first interview wasnât too bad, actually starting out on a relatively high note. The interviewer was a big fan of the show, and she wanted to know about the dynamics of the queens and what it was like being reincarnated. She made sure Anne knew she didnât have to answer a question if she was uncomfortable, and Anne was grateful for that.Â
The second interview was fine. The historian wasnât too pushy and seemed generally respectful, but he kept asking questions that dragged up bad memories for Anne. By the time the interview was over, she could feel herself settling into a frustrated mindset. This third interview would not go well, and Anne knew that the second she walked into the small office.
This historian was an old white man with greying hair and ancient glasses. She could already tell he was one of those snobs who would argue that his opinion was fact. But rather than judge him right off the bat, Anne put on her excited persona and gave him the benefit of the doubt. âHello!â she spoke happily, giving him a dazzling grin.
âAh yes, Anne Boleyn,â he spoke in a rickety old voice. He pulled down his glasses and gave a smile that seemed to physically pain him. âIâm Director Hoffman, pleasure to meet you.â
âThe pleasureâs mine,â Anne replied, shaking his hand. This was the third time sheâd gone through the motions today, but she acted as if it was her first.
Director Hoffman leaned back into his seat and sighed. Anne sat in the seat across from his desk and put her hands in her lap. He had a pen and paper in front of him, as if he could record the entire interview by hand. Anne already had a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, but she attempted to stifle it. âLetâs get started, shall we.â Anne nodded silently, waiting for his questions. âWhat made you go after King Henry VIII?â
Cringing, Anne realized he was jumping right into the thick of it. âReally it was my father. He pushed me to get involved with Henry for power. It wasnât so much my choice.â
âBut,â Hoffman pushed, âthatâs not what historical records say. In fact, most everyone agrees that you were highly calculated in your bid to steal the King from his wife.â
Anne clenched her teeth and attempted to stay civil. âWell history tends to be misleading about a lot of things. As someone who lived the experience, I can tell you for a fact that those records were not written with me in mind. They paint Henry as a saint while putting me and his other wives down, painting us as horrible when that wasnât the reality of it.â
Hoffman didnât write any of that on his page. âI find that hard to believe,â he stared at Anne. âHow is it that this airheaded girl you appear to be broke England from the Church?â
âThis might be hard to believe,â Anneâs voice dripped with malice, âbut men tend to over exaggerate when they let their dick decide.â
The directorâs eyes widened and he grew aghast. âWhat an improper thing for a lady to say!â
âFreedom of speech,â Anne shrugged. âAnother thing we didnât have back then. All your documents you rely so heavily on, they only say what Henry wanted to hear. Itâs all biased.â
Director Hoffman absolutely refused to listen to what Anne was saying. âYou, Anne Boleyn,â he practically hissed, âare a disgrace to the historical figure this country remembers. You are a disgrace to Elizabeth and all English monarchs. You should be ashamed of who you are.â
Biting her cheek to keep from screaming, Anne slammed her hands on Hoffmanâs desk. The old man leaned away from her, fear creeping in behind his eyes. Restraining herself, Anne stepped back and marched out of the room, not so much as glancing back.
On her way back to the queensâ house, Anne hadnât lost any of her anger. She couldnât take it anymore. Everyone telling her who to be when she was already trying to cater to them. She tried and tried and tried and they were never happy with what she gave them. Maybe she was broken.
Storming into the house, Anne didnât acknowledge any of the other queens. âAnne? Where are you going?â Jane called from the dinner table where all the others queens were conversing with each other.
âLeave me alone,â she said, continuing through the room to get to the stairs.
âHey, donât leave Anne,â Aragon told her, standing up. âYou should at least come eat.â
Freezing but not turning around, Anne growled, âI donât want your food, okay?â
Cathy frowned and put her fork down. âAnne, is there something wrong? You can tell us -â
âNothingâs wrong!â Anne yelled, still staring at the wall. âOr maybe everythingâs wrong, I donât know. But nothingâs changed, so you donât need to worry. Go back to your food.â And then she left the queens, and shut herself up in her room.Â
The other five queens all shared confused glances around the table. âIâll handle this one,â Kat said, standing up.
âAre you sure thatâs a good idea?â Anna asked, her eyes flicking to the stairs where Anne had just been. âShe doesnât seem to be in the most forgiving mood.â
âIt doesnât matter,â Kat made her way to the stairs. âSheâs my cousin and Iâm going to try and help her.â And then she was gone as well, disappearing up the stairs to (hopefully) make Anne feel better.
Muttering, âGodspeed,â Cathy gave the air a small salute.
As Kat traveled up the stairs to Anneâs room, she couldnât help but hold her breath. Literally anything could be going on with Anne and she had absolutely no grounding with how to deal with it. Still, this was her cousin and she would try her best. âAnne?â Kat knocked on her door. âCan I come in.â
âI canât stop you,â came Anneâs defeated voice from inside.Â
Gently opening the door, Kat made her way to Anneâs bed. The girl in question was lying face down on the bed, her limbs spread out at awkward angles. âHey Anne⊠how are you doing.â
Anne scoffed into the bedsheets. âWhat do you think Kat?â
âI think youâre pretending to be angry to hide that youâre hurting.â
Kat noted the way Anne reacted to her words. She sat up from her position and faced Kat with a defensive glare. âIâm not hiding anything. Iâm fine. Good and dandy! Happy fucking Christmas,â Anne snarled, her upper lip starting to curl.
âDo you want to talk about it?â Kat quietly asked, moving closer to her cousin.
Anne pulled away, creating distance between her and Kat. âI donât need to talk about anything. Why canât you let that go? Crawl back to Jane and leave me alone.â
A pang of hurt went through Kat, but she brushed it off. Anne didnât mean it, even if her words still stung. Biting her tongue and glancing down at the floor, Kat summoned up her courage. âThis isnât you Anne.â
Chuckling ruefully, Anne fiddled with her bedsheets. âWas this ever me?â That definitely wasnât the response Kat was expecting, but she kept quiet as Anne started to unravel. âIâve never been me, have I?â Her voice started to quiver, a sign that she was holding back tears, or something much worse. âIâm the temptress or Iâm the falsely accused. Iâm the ditzy stage girl or Iâm the chaotic wingman. Iâm the slut or Iâm the Kingâs prize. But Iâm not me.â
Of all people Kat would think to have an existential crisis, it was not Anne. Her cousin always seemed so confident and sure of herself, but here she seemed so confused and broken down. âAnne, you arenât defined by just one thing.â
âThen what am I defined by?â Anne shot back, her eyes red. âThe documents of history? Theyâre bullshit,â she spit. âAm I defined by my show persona? Itâs seventy-five minutes, that canât be it, Kat!â
The genuine fear on Anneâs face as she tried to figure out how to define herself frightened Kat. âI know the real you.â
âDo you?â Anne asked, the pleading in her voice real. âPlease, tell me who I am, because I canât take this any longer. Iâve tried so hard to do what they want,â Anneâs voice broke. âAnd theyâre never satisfied.â
Grabbing Anneâs hand and pulling her closer, Kat made sure they were face to face. "You are my cousin. You're loyal and caring and you would kill anyone who looks badly at your friends. You're the life of the party, always encouraging people to be their best self. You are educated and smart, even though you tend to hide it. You're human and you have emotions just like anyone else. You are Anne Boleyn."
Choking back tears, Anne threw herself into Katâs arms. âWhat if I canât be that? What if Iâm not who you want me to be?â
âOh Annie, I donât want you to be anyone but yourself. No matter who you are, Iâll still love you.â For a moment, Kat thought Jane mustâve been rubbing off on her because of the sudden role reversal. But Kat didnât mind being the one to comfort her cousin, especially when she needed it so badly.Â
Anne flopped back on her bed, taking a giggling Kat with her. âCan you stay with me tonight?â Anne asked, her voice small.
Rolling to the side so she could face her cousin, Kat immediately agreed. âIâd love to stay with you Annie. But we should probably change into pajamas. And you need to eat something for dinner.â
Kat started to get up, but Anne pulled her back down, hugging her tightly. âNo, Cousin Cuddles first.â
âCousin Cuddles are the best cuddles,â Kat mumbled contentedly.
Before they knew it, both cousins had fallen asleep together, safe and sound.
----------------------------------------
Tag list:
@radcowboyalmondtree@boleynhowards@annabanana2401@babeebobo@dont-lose-your-queerhead@everything-insanity
Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)
A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present.Â
Please note the following ships are canon in this ficâs universe: Parrlyn, Aramour
{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}
I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story.Â
Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon
Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.
It would not stop.
The constant feeling like something would go wrong.
Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleynâs face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.
âKatherine?â
âHey, Kitty⊠you okay?â
The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. âYeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. Iâm fine, really. Guess Iâm just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,â which wasnât a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragonâ (much to everyoneâs surprise)â and Boleyn. It wasnât a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldnât seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.
ââââââââââ
During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.
But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.
Anne Boleynâs eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, âI canât even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!â to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleynâs glances kept going back up to that strange man.
âI think we can all agree Iâm the ten amongst these threes!â
What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know.Â
Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleynâs spotlight in Donât Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:
âTall, large, Henry the Eighth.Â
Supreme Head of the Church of England.Â
Globally revered, although you wouldnât know it from the look of that beard.â
And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIIIâs horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?
That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queenâs shoulder. âMoment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes LĂ€cheln am Ende der Show gehabt,â the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. âWhatâs going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,â Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said.Â
âI donât know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. Iâm normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, sheâs going to regret it. Itâs my nap time,â the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeupâ just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants.Â
ââââââââââ
The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.
Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.
âCathy, look at this,â tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. âItâs us with our kids!â If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parrâs face as she looked up to meet Janeâs eyes. âIf thereâs one thing I have always appreciated, itâs that they know we arenât the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.â The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap.Â
The calligraphy pen twirled around Parrâs fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.
Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.
Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!
Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.
Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.
Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatreâs backstage to pray.
This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.
ââââââââââ
The same seat every damn time.
Who the hell was this guy?
And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?
Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleynâs eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, sheâd put more emphasis on âHold up, let me tell you how it went down.â just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.
But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:
Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.
ââââââââââ
This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous âYeah, I read.â was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. Theyâd recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didnât take a genius to figure it out.Â
The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girlsâ. The girls werenât too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kitâs the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before⊠wellâŠÂ
She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howardâs small frame. âWhatâs wrong, love?â Kit simply points to the man, and Anneâs heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, canât look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything.Â
Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasnât, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr.Â
The others trickle in quickly after, the âmystery manâ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response.Â
Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. âIs he whatâs got you all rattled, love?â Anne lets out a small nod. âItâs him.âÂ
That statement reaches Janeâs ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing roomâs main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing.Â
â...Henry?â
He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. âThe one I truly lovââ Heâs cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.
âDonât ever associate that word with me. You donât know what love is.â A few tears well up in the blondeâs eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. âLove isnât keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!â Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself.Â
âYou all look so different.â The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. âThereâs no need to cry, Katherine⊠or should I say âKittyâ, now?âÂ
âDonât speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.â Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kitâs hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward.Â
âYou know, mate, if youâre still having trouble⊠you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.â She emphasizes âlittleâ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.
The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. âHow funny, laughter coming from someone who couldnât perform.â Anneâs smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Clevesâ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. âThatâs low for the man who so easily says he believesââ
âCatalina, donât even get me started on you either.â
Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Janeâs reddening face from holding back the tears, Clevesâ rather tame anger, Aragonâs scowl⊠Kitâs pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but⊠there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.
âSo you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? Iâd have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I hadââ
âScaffolds donât exist anymore, you twat,â Boleyn hissed under her breath.Â
âEnough, Henry.â
This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasnât even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. âCathy, you should probably not⊠yâknow, say anything,â Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.
âThe survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?â He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. âBecause you shouldâve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able toââ
Henry stops when he sees Parrâs shoulders shake a little. Sheâs⊠laughing?
Thatâs why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. âYouâve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? Youâve got to be kidding me right now.â
Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.
âOkay, okay⊠fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleynâs just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howardââ
The smile from Parrâs face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper.Â
âYou KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.â
Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherineâs ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. âYou KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!â
Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.
âOh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you werenât married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?â The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. âJane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!â
Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.
âMy damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasnât Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasnât beautiful enough for you? Youâre an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didnât know how to use your damn brain!â
At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.
Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.
âWho am I missing⊠letâs see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that⊠Iâm the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.â
âCathyââ
âShut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.â
A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.
âOh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDNâT TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! Iâm the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That canât be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?â
Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Clevesâ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.
âAh, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? IâM HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children⊠and poor KatherineâŠâ A laugh. âYou took poor Katherineâs childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.â
âCatherine, my loveââ
âNo excuses now, Henry. Iâm through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.â
âMy loveââ
The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He⊠was bleeding? âYou actually got the nerve to punch an English King? Youâre a mad woman, Parr. Iâll have you thrown on that scaffold just howââ A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.
âYou wear a crown, but youâre no king. Youâre a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused⊠and killed,â a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands.Â
âIâll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!â
âLike hell youâll be back!â
And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. âSomeone help me hold her back!â Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parrâs other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parrâs legs.
Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. âKitty? Kitty, are you okay?â Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. âI-Is⊠she mad at us, Annie?â Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.
âCatherine Parr, what in Godâs name has gotten into you?â Aragon furrows her eyebrows. âThis is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.â
Anne reaches to take Kitâs hand. âSheâs⊠upset. Not at us, I promise.â Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kitâs eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. âItâs okay, babes⊠Heâs gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls arenât gonna let him get to us.â Kit just buries her face into Anneâs shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldnât let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived.Â
Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. âYou look absolutely knackered, love⊠maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? Câmon.â They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didnât want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest.Â
Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesnât mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer.Â
Thereâs an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.
Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didnât stop him from being inches away from Parrâs face with a very devious smile. âIâll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Katââ
âLike hell you are!â
Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragonâs grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymourâs. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. âGet anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!â
The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.
Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. âHeâll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, heâs wrong,â she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.
And her name was Catherine Parr.
âWhat in heaven was that?â Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men.Â
She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parrâs hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. âCathy⊠let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?âÂ
âLetâs just go home, first.â Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again.Â
ââââââââââ
The six women had gone home after waiting⊠maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.
âIâm actually mad about the fact that heâs actually attractive now,â Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. âIâm kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? Weâve been free for⊠who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?â Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. âIt sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when sheâs a lot calmer, though⊠sheâs veryâŠâ
âUpset, angry⊠name it, I am probably feeling it.â
âWe all are, loveâŠâ Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. Oneâs very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. âLet me clean you up, câmon.â She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. âIâm not ashamed of what I did today.â Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesnât.
âYou protected me. Thatâs all I could ever want.â Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathyâs knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. âDonât be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.âÂ
While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and itâs absolutely filled with regret and apology. âLadies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldnât have gotten so âup in arms.â He just⊠I neverâŠâ Sheâs tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face.Â
âI never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.â
Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. âHe sure got a taste of all of my resentment.â Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesnât know what else to do past wrapping the girlâs knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. âShhh⊠no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.â Her hand goes to hold Parrâs face. âLetâs be happy, okay?âÂ
âJane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.â Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parrâs energy was off, but the queens wouldnât question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didnât take much to see it.Â
âI just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I thinkââ She has to hold back some tears. âI think I shouldâve composed myself.â This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help. Â
Anne clears her throat. âI think you did perfectly, Jane. Heâs an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.â Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug.Â
Cleves takes Janeâs hand, giving it a squeeze. âGute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darĂŒber nachzudenken.â Jane sighs. âStill donât speak German, love.â
âTry not to think too much about it.â
âCatherine,â Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. âMija, what got into you today? That isnât you. Where⊠where did you even go?â A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parrâs eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasnât wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.
The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragonâs concern despite the slight scowl. âIâm sorry, Lina. I⊠no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelĂ©. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre asĂ. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asustĂ© a todos, no?â The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragonâs expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. âSucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amĂĄndote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.â
Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without âDonât stay up late.â being the last thing she said to the sixth wife.Â
Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. âLock your window, Annie, please.â Itâs evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. âOf course.â The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors.Â
Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. âYouâre okay. Youâre safe.â She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work.Â
Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing⊠shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry.Â
âRight, then⊠bed it is.â Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do.Â
Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.
Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside.Â
ââââââââââ
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.
The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.
âItâs not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. Itâs fine. Itâs perfectly fine.â
It was not fine.
No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a riverâs stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parrâs wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.
Almost as if she was running out of time.
She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations⊠name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
There it was again. The ticking of the clock.
Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.
Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.
Why couldnât she be stronger?
Why didnât she do enough at the moment?
The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought sheâd never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.
âCathy? Mija, whatâs theâ⊠Cathy?â
What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. âEscĂșchame. Todo estĂĄ bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.â Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parrâs grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an oceanâs grey waves.
Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. âDuele, Lina,â a sniffle. âTodo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.â And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.
Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.
All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragonâs eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, âLet me try.â Lina nods and gives Cathyâs hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her.Â
The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. âDid that not wake Kitty?â Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howardâs room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door.Â
Anne takes Parrâs hands. âCathy, please talk to me⊠please, love.â It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleynâs eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. âIt kills me to see you hurting.â A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parrâs cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anneâs thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall.Â
âIt kills me to see you hurting.â Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. âI shouldâve done more.â She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girlâs hand.Â
âHeâs the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!â She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anneâs shirt in a matter of seconds. âHe deserves to die! Why is he here?â Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs.Â
The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep.Â
Anne isnât sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. âShh⊠babe⊠he doesnât deserve your tearsâŠâ Anne, you preach this, yet youâre a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. âHe⊠heâs getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he canât do a damned thing to us. Weâre untouchable.â She was also telling herself this.Â
Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean sheâd disappear into thin air. Though she hadnât actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, sheâd do it every day for the rest of her life.Â
âCan I sleep in your room tonight?â She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five oâclock at this point, but it didnât matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple âOf course,â pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didnât matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didnât.Â
The two make their way to Boleynâs room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. Itâs almost as if theyâre out as soon as they cover up.Â
Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps itâs the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but itâs the first night the girl doesnât wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. âGâmorning.â She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. âWhere are Cathy and Annie?âÂ
âIn bed, still.âÂ
âJa.âÂ
âI should check on them.â Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. âHalt die Klappe, KitâŠâ Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. âYouâre too loud.âÂ
The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anneâs cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girlâs face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. âWeâre okay.â She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment.Â
Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day.Â
A couple hours seem to pass and itâs about⊠noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyoneâs attention.
The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.
In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.
Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. âOwâŠâ Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. âOh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?â
Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.
âItâs marvelous, love!â





