Chapter Text
None of the queens questioned it when Kitty bought a board for her room. Nothing too extravagant, just a regular bulletin board. Cathy and Anne joked that she was going to start working on conspiracy theories with it. Kitty had laughed along with them, not daring to mention how close they were.
Most of the time, the queens tended to avoid looking themselves up. For Catherine, Jane, and Anna, it was fine, but Anne, Kitty, and Cathy had all spoken about what happened during their previous lifetimes. It had taken Anne a while to even work toward forgiving Cathy for what had happened to Elizabeth, and both of them had been livid when they found out what happened to Kitty. Even still, none of them looked up what historians had said. It was best for their mindsets if they didn’t.
Unfortunately, years after reincarnating, with the show being as successful as ever, Kitty… wanted to know. She needed to see what they were saying, see what damage had been done. She wanted to know if the message her song was giving off was the right one, was really doing good for what history told of her. So, she bought the board. She bought the board and several books on Henry VIII’s six wives. As many as she could without drawing suspicion from the other queens. If she bought too many at once, they would begin to take notice. No, Kitty worked slowly, books trickling in rather than arriving in bulk.
The trickle method was actually better for her, anyway. It gave her a little time to process what she was finding out. True to the unspoken promise, she didn’t look at any of the sections for the other queens. That was a line she refused to cross. But the sections and books on herself… That was something she needed to see.
And see she did.
“I guess it’s not so different…”
Historians seemed to be of two mindsets. Either she was a victim, or she was a seductress. Reading through the pages, she wondered if either were correct. She had only been thirteen when it started, so perhaps seductress wasn’t the right word. But victim? Certainly Katherine had done all she could, and of course she didn’t want to be queen, but… Did that make her a victim? Was she asking for that treatment? She had omitted information from Henry that could have saved her life, had denied information that could have kept her from being beheaded. She had made it known that she and Dereham didn’t have a marriage contract, even though it could have kept her alive. But she had spent the entirety of her marriage to Henry living a lie. With the truth out in the open, she could take the reins of her life again, even if it meant ending it.
Kitty carefully cut the words from the books. She knew Cathy would probably flay her alive if she knew what Kitty was doing. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Victim, lamb led to slaughter, hapless child. She cut them all. Carefully, Kitty taped them together and stuck them to her board. From there, they taunted her. This is how you’re remembered. Kitty could practically hear the words. This was the legacy she left behind, this was what people thought of her now.
“That was not the most heart-wrenching song we’ve heard this evening.”
The line spun in Kitty’s mind after every show. She knew it was in the script. She knew that was what Jane was supposed to say. It didn’t make the comparison any less upsetting. Used and abused for nothing but her body. Henry didn’t even care about her enough to want a child from her since Jane had already done that for her. Was her story not sad? Was it not worth at least a moment to ponder?
Henry didn’t want her for anything but his next lay. She really shouldn’t have expected anything else. After all, what good was she to him otherwise? It’s not like he viewed her for more. Never mind the good she did outside of the bedroom, the people she cared for, those she saved from his temper. All she was good for was a lay and nothing more in his eyes. His pretty little rose.
Flipping through more Tudor books, especially the ones on herself, Kitty carefully cut out more of the words, words history had used to describe her. Vixen. Whore. Seductress. Taping them together, she added them to the board hanging on her wall. Over and over, every book described her in similar ways. Either a victim in over her head or an adulterous liar getting what she deserved. Just how she was treated. Not what she did, but what others had done to her.
The board slowly filled with the words. Words practically tattooed across her soul at this point. This was all she was to anyone. To Mannox, to Dereham, to Henry and Culpeper, the fans and historians, to anyone. The very mention of her name was enough to draw contempt from anyone who heard it, who spoke it, who thought it. She was something to be pitied, something to be scorned. Nothing outside of her name and her word in the poem.
“That’s so true. When you died, your son did have to grow up without a mother. Oh wait, that was me. And no one cared when YOU died!”
Kitty could have cried after hearing that one night. She couldn’t, of course, they were right in the middle of the show. If any of the audience saw the way she flinched after it, they would just think it was part of the show. But it wasn’t. She was supposed to gasp, to be overexaggeratedly offended, it was supposed to be an act. But it wasn’t. The line stung. It hurt. It burned itself into every cell of Kitty’s body.
Because it was right. Catherine had Maria and Mary to mourn her loss. Most of the country considered her their queen even after the divorce. They mourned her loss, saddened that by her death. When Anne was beheaded, Elizabeth missed her. She cried for her mother. Maggie had lost her Lady as well. Maggie would have mourned her loss even if she had to do it in secret. Jane left behind Edward. Certainly, he was likely raised by the ladies, but that still didn’t erase the fact that he never got to know his mother. He probably wondered what she was like, yearning to see her, to have been able to experience a hug from her even if just once. Anna had a sister in Cleves. And it was clear she was connected on some level to Bessie, since Bessie came back for her. Cathy had many to mourn her loss as well. Thomas Seymour, Elizabeth, and her daughter Mary. History had no idea what happened to Mary, but on the assumption she had lived past infancy… she would have been in the same state as Edward, without a mother to hold her.
They all were loved, cherished, missed. Even Anne, who was scorned by so much of the country and who had been framed for crimes she didn’t commit, had people who cared. No one batted an eye when Katherine died. Henry didn’t even show up to her execution. That’s how little she meant to him, to anyone.
“Jane, chill out! It is NOT her fault no one remembers her bland and uneventful life.”
Kitty stared at the board, thinking of that line. Bland and uneventful. It’s not like she did anything. History didn’t even know she existed until she was placed in court as one of Anna’s ladies. Even then, it would have forgotten her had Henry not taken interest in her. She was nothing, just one of many in the vast Howard clan. The family had several names, many more important than her own. Katherine was so young at the age of her death, she really didn’t have time to make any kind of name for herself, not one history would care about.
One of the show’s lines was right. “The only reason any of these people came out here tonight-.” “is because the same guy fell in love with us.” Kitty doubted it went as far as love, but if Henry hadn’t spotted her, had left her alone… She would have disappeared. She would be nothing. A name long forgotten among the several that history couldn’t keep up with.
One of the lines taped to her wall drew a bitter laugh from her lips. “There are no portraits confirmed to be Katheryn Howard, merely portraits confirmed not to be her.” History didn’t even know what she looked like. Kitty dropped her head onto her knees. A faceless disgraced queen. Nothing.
“Look, babes, I don’t want things to be weird between us just because MY beheading was the result of years of ACTUAL trauma and humiliation. Yours, well...”
That’s right. That’s exactly right. Anne had been pressured into marrying Henry, a pawn in the Howard clan’s bid for more power. She was smart, educated, better than Katherine in every way. She even managed to keep Henry on the ropes, denying him for years because of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon.
It made sense, really. Catherine, Anne, and Jane were all wrapped in a struggle during their times in court. Catherine was trying to have a son to continue the royal line, Anne was just trying to do as her father encouraged, Jane had been Catherine’s head lady at the time that she was banished from court. Jane being pursued by Henry was a way for her to get vengeance for her outcast lady, even if she didn’t know it would lead to Anne’s beheading. Anne hadn’t even wanted to be with Henry in the first place, having affection for a different Henry at the time anyway. Catherine was just passed from one king to another with hardly a say in the matter anyway. The three of them were more important, had more hardships, more to deal with.
Kitty knew it wasn’t fair to make that comparison. The whole point of their show was to get people to stop comparing them, to see them as independent factors, separate people with feelings and thoughts and problems. But she couldn’t stop the comparison. Henry had pursued her while being technically married to Anna, and it was her fault he set his eyes on Cathy.
Maybe Anne’s line was right. Anne had a lot of stress to deal with, the pressure of bearing a son, stoking Henry’s temper with her outspokenness... Of the two beheaded wives, Kitty got off luckier. Right? If it wasn’t true, they wouldn’t have put it in the show.
Staring at her board, Kitty wondered if it would have been better for her not to come back at all. Catherine was the scorned wife who had her husband stolen, Anne was the outspoken queen who lost her head, Jane was the poor mother who died before raising her son, Anna was considered a sister to the king with her wealth, property and long lifespan, and Cathy was the survivor, the one who got to see him die.
What was Kitty? The Rose Without a Thorn. Nothing.
“No one cared when you died!”
It’s true. No one cared. No one missed Katherine. Francis died before she did and he didn’t care about her beyond grooming her into his wife. Thomas died before she did and he didn’t care about her beyond her body. Mannox didn’t care at all once he stopped having access to her. She had no children. Her parents were dead. Her siblings shunned her once the truth came to light. Her step-grandmother was all too happy to be rid of her.
No one missed her. She had no point to being brought back. She didn’t come back with anyone who would care about her. Sure, Anna was there, but she had Bessie back as well, so it’s not like Katherine mattered. If Kitty were to vanish right now, it would probably be the same as back then. No one would care, no one would notice, everyone would move on almost as soon as they found out.
The time spent in her room gradually increased. It’s not like she was really needed for anything other than the show or events related to it. And even then, all she had to do was smile and act catty. Hardly difficult. So, instead of heading down to hang with the other queens, Kitty would sit in her room and stare at the board, at the words, at her legacy.
“It’s not her fault no one remembers her bland and uneventful life.”
Kitty tried to think of a reason why she was brought back with the others. She really did. Maybe because people would notice if one of the six was missing? Maybe because it makes no sense to bring back one through four and six, but not five? Honestly, she couldn’t think of a reason beyond the show. If the force that revived them hadn’t wanted them to get their voices out, would she have even reincarnated at all? What if a universe existed in which the show didn’t exist? Would she just… not come back? The others deserved a second chance, a chance to live their lives without Henry’s interference. Kitty was hardly important enough for a second chance at anything. In that universe, she probably never even existed.
Whenever she wasn’t staring at the board, Kitty attempted to sleep. Sleep became harder ever since she started making the board. Before, it would be nightmares about the things that happened to her. She could feel their hands in her hair, on her thighs, her waist and hips. Their whispers echoed in her mind and she could see their teeth glinting with want, with lust.
Now, though, she could barely even get to sleep at all. Their whispers were joined by the words on the board. Words flitting behind her eyelids every time she closed them, pounding through her head, practically deafening in the silence of her room. When she did manage to sleep, the words would just jolt her back awake again, repeating over and over.
Her makeup supply was suffering because of it. Covering the bags under her eyes took care and effort. She didn’t want the other queens to worry about it. And they would worry if they saw them, but Kitty didn’t want that. Her sleep schedule wasn’t really something to fret over. They had the show, their new lives, to focus on. She wasn’t worth the effort.
Whenever she could make her way from her room when they didn’t have a show to do, it wasn’t to eat or spend time with her fellow queens. It was to walk to the water. The sound of the river was the only thing that drowned out the words, the voices, the taunts and mocking. The river understood her better than anyone. The marks it left behind were hardly even thought about by the people crossing it. If the river were to dry, people would notice the marks left behind because nothing would come along to cover them. Had Katherine done something noteworthy, Cathy wouldn’t have needed to take her place. Instead, just like the bed under the river, Katherine had been mostly forgotten.
Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would be better that way.
Staring at the water below, Kitty’s vision blurred slightly. Not from tears, but from the staring, from just watching the water. Underneath it, she would disappear all over again. Even if the water swept her away, she would be gone, nothing. If she sank to the bed, no one would notice because the water would hide her like it does the river’s scars.
She thought about that on the way back to the house. All of the other queens had something. Catherine had Maria, Anne had Maggie, Jane had Joan, Anna had Bessie, and Cathy had her books, the fans, and the other queens. They would all be fine without her.
Yes, they would be fine without her.
February started just as cold as ever. Chills floated through the air, occasional snowfall covered the sidewalks. Kitty figured that was as much of a sign as anything. The date would be the same as before. If she chose a different day, the few people who might look into it could get confused. She would hate to make it harder for anyone.
The week of the thirteenth, Kitty printed a script of the show. She had to complete her board. It wouldn’t be complete without the latest lines of her history. Carefully, she cut out Anne’s “Yeah, no, I still don’t care”, Jane’s “No one cared when you died”, Anne’s two lines after that one. Along with those… Kitty looked at the lyrics for the songs. “Prick up your ears, I’m the Katherine who lost her head (beheaded) for my promiscuity outside of wed” from Ex-Wives should go up as well. A reminder.
The last piece came from the true queen herself. Printed in a bigger font size than everything else on the board, Kitty taped it to the very top, almost as if it were a title. And indeed, it probably was. Her own title from the paragon of royalty among them.
The least relevant Katheryn.
February 12th passed unbelievably slowly, but far too fast. Kitty couldn’t write a goodbye letter, not by hand. If she did it by hand, she might smudge the ink. She wanted it to be as easy as possible. They would probably stick it in a drawer and forget about it once they read it, but it was only right she do it properly. So, just like the script, she printed out her letter. Kitty was careful while folding it, sealing it in an envelope and writing the names of her fellow queens as neatly as she could.
She set the letter on the freshly made bed. Beside it, she put the first stuffed animal she had ever received. A pale pink bear from Cathy to help her with nightmares. Seeing a random stuffed animal in the middle of the bed was the best way to draw attention to the letter. As the sun sank below the horizon, Kitty sighed. She couldn’t call for a chopping block this time, couldn’t practice her death. At the same time, she didn’t need to. There was no reason to practice a dignified death since it wouldn’t be a public execution. Instead, she could just sit and wait for the sun to rise.
Everything was set, now she just had to wait. The other queens hadn’t really come by to check on her tonight. They hadn’t come by to check on her after the first few times she assured them she was fine. They didn’t need to worry. It would be wasted on her.
Once midnight hit, Kitty figured it was safe. Jane and Catherine would be fast asleep, Anna and Anne would be immersed in whatever they were doing in their rooms, and Cathy would be completely lost to the world as she worked on a new story. No one would notice her leaving.
With feather-light footsteps, Kitty slipped down to the first landing. She knew it was cold outside, but she didn’t bother putting on her shoes or jacket. She’d prefer they go to someone who needed them than be stuck on her corpse for the rest of deterioration. She left her house key hanging by the door. She wouldn’t need it anymore. They could use it as a spare or something.
The front door barely even clicked as she closed it behind her.