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Since she had first found out about it, Catherine Parr had been fascinated by the concept of soulmates. She had been surprised to learn that it used to be a pretty much universally known – and beloved – notion, since in her time only few people, mostly with academic interests, knows about it, and even fewer people believe in it.
She supposes it makes sense. First of all, not everyone has a soulmate. Second, the possibilities of meeting your soulmate, if you even have one, are pretty slim. Most people never leave the place they are born in, so unless both soulmates live in the same village or nearby, they will never meet.
Not to mention that identifying a soulmate is not that easy either: soulmates share pain. But when you’re a peasant breaking your back in the fields day in and day out, how do you know if the backpain is yours or your soulmate’s? Would someone who has never handled any weapon recognise the difference between an arrow wound and a spear one? And even if one knew the difference, how could they find their soulmate with war campaigns going on, battles happening hundreds of miles away if not more, and thousands of men being wounded and dying with similar wounds? Is it even worth knowing, when the chances are that your soulmate died?
With the knowledge mostly lost, other explanations are given when someone feels a pain that is not their own. If they recognise that it is not their own in the first place, of course. The most popular ones being a divine punishment or, on a somewhat opposite end of the spectrum, being cursed by someone.
Catherine has led a sheltered life, certainly from a physical point of view, and it would have been easy to recognise unfamiliar pain. But after she reaches adulthood pain-free, she comes to the conclusion that she is part of the majority who doesn’t have a soulmate. She is not upset about that. She knew what her chances were and besides, she had always been practical and pragmatic: being already married, she would have had no chance to be with her soulmate anyway.
Then it changes. And at the same time, it doesn’t. She starts feeling pain that is clearly not her own...but familiar. Doesn’t take long to figure out her soulmate is a woman. She is not sure how she feels about her discovery…with a lot of questions, mostly. The fact that her soulmate is a woman is somehow of secondary importance. The literature had mentioned the existence of same sex soulmates, so it was not a total surprise. Except for the fact that she had one of those. But it’s not like anything could happen anyway. And there lies the crux of Catherine’s dilemmas. Because yes, she might have a soulmate but there was still no chance for them to be together. What was the point then? Why giving her something special if nothing could ever come from it? Why her among thousands, millions, of other people?
Predictably – people had been asking those questions for ages, even writing about it, no answer ever forthcoming, and she isn’t arrogant enough to think herself better or smarter than everyone else – she doesn't find an answer. So Catherine just goes on with her life, often sparing a thought to her soulmate, but nothing more than that.
And then...then the night between the 12th and 13th of February 1542 she lies awake, unable to sleep. Her neck, in particular, hurting in a very dull way. She entertains the thought that perhaps her soulmate is a reader like her. The crick in the neck is not dissimilar from what she gets when falling asleep at her desk or even on her favourite chair, head hanging down and book abandoned in her lap. She tries to picture her soulmate, whoever she is, doing the same, musing about what type of readings she might enjoy.
Then the light of the morning arrives...and with that an excruciating pain to her neck, so unbearable that she welcomes the darkness that quickly envelops her.
When she wakes up days later, she is told that the only reason they knew she was not dead had been her regular breathing, because otherwise she had been completely unresponsive. Doctors are baffled, especially as she easily bounces back, perfect health and no leftover symptoms, but Catherine has an inkling of what happened. Unfortunately. If she had felt that kind of pain, enough to knock her out for days, she can’t imagine her soulmate surviving it. And then she finds out about the executions that happened on that fatidic 13th February. And she knows exactly what happened to her soulmate, whom, she concludes, had been Lady Rochford.
A year later, Catherine is part of Mary’s household and hearing tales about the previous queen. It’s one in particular that sticks out to her. About Katherine asking for a block to be brought to her the night before her execution, spending the night practicing how to lay her head on it and rehearsing how to place herself. She had almost forgotten about the dull pain in the neck that she had all night, a mere annoyance that had paled in comparison to the agonizing one she experienced in the morning...but now it suddenly becomes so much important.
And she wishes she hadn’t found out. Especially once she catches the King’s attention and, before she knows it, she is marrying him. Because she had come to terms with the fact that her soulmate is dead. That the King killed her. But to realise that she had not been a woman her age, but a teenager. That the pains familiar to her as a married woman...were happening to a child. And worst of all, that she has to marry the man who killed her soulmate, in a way replacing her...
All her previous questions come back with a vengeance. Because it is not just about never meeting a soulmate or knowing they died. It is knowing exactly who her soulmate was. It is having had plenty of chances to meet her but never taking them up. It is knowing details of her too-short life to associate with the too-much suffering she went through. It is having to marry her soulmate’s killer.
Why did she have to have such a cruel destiny? What did she do to deserve it?
///
Okay. Perhaps fate had a plan after all, Catherine muses as she watches her soulmate playfully wrestling with her cousin over the possession of the remote control, while bracing herself for an impact that she knows is coming. And indeed...she winces as Katherine hits her elbow on the corner of the side table, as Anna, who was amusing herself with their antics, lets out a ‘Ouch.’
Something Catherine had discovered since coming back is how common it is to react to someone getting hurt as if it had happened to you. Some sort of pain-empathy. The first time she noticed it, they were out shopping at the supermarket and a box had fallen onto Katherine’s head as another customer had tried to reach for it but had instead pushed it off the shelf.
‘Ow!’ someone else had yelped.
When Catherine had looked around, her eyes had found a young man rubbing his head and looking at Katherine. ‘You alright?’
Dread came over her. Was this another cruel joke of fate? Bringing them back, both of them, only to give her soulmate...another soulmate?
‘I’ve had worse,’ Katherine had smiled at him, hand leaving her head, before sending Catherine a conspiratorial look.
The guy had then walked away and Catherine had relaxed. That was no soulmate behaviour, right? Knowledge about soulmates and how they worked had become popular once again, and there was no chance he could pass the sudden pain to his head off as his own. And no sane person would walk calmly away after having just met their soulmate. Even less if their soulmate looked like Katherine.
The following days Catherine had paid attention at how people tended to react to seeing someone getting hurt with sympathetic noises or even touching the offended area as if they were feeling the pain themselves...even when they didn’t.
The queens had soon adopted the habit too, so Catherine’s reactions to Katherine getting hurt pass unobserved, even if she does feel the pain. And quite often too.
Because yes, they got a second chance at life, both of them (and the other four wives of their common husband too). And this time she got to meet her soulmate. Who is an absolute delight, if a bit (or a lot) lacking in the self-preservation department.
Perhaps that’s too harsh. It’s not that Katherine is…reckless. Or taking unnecessary risks. But if opposite attracts, Catherine ponders, it certainly works for their attitude towards paying attention to what happens to their body...as much as Catherine, Cathy now, is careful to avoid any possible incident, Kat is...not.
Cathy has always been considerate and now...well, now she wants to avoid adding to Kat's pain. In her first life she got enough for two or more lifetimes. Besides, Kat does a good job in getting hurt all by herself, although she seems not to notice.
And Cathy will choose a thousand times the sharp bursts of pain coming from walking into corners and tables and chairs and general hitting of things, and the dull, lingering, ache of bruises, reminders that her soulmate is alive, over the absence of foreign pangs.
And what she can’t prevent (by moving slightly the cabinet so that Kat, who always cuts the corner, won’t bump into it anymore, for example), she does her best to alleviate.
It is quickly established in their household that Cathy has some kind of sixth sense for knowing when Kat is in pain and how to deal with that, from the easy ones, like bringing over comfort food and hot water bottles – even easier once they sync up – to more tricky ones, like somehow knowing if her squinting is due to a headache or tiredness or anything else and providing the appropriate remedy.
/
‘Are you okay?’
Cathy nods, but doing so while wincing and biting her lip is not really convincing, she can tell from Catalina’s raised eyebrow.
‘Nothing physical,’ she admits.
‘Phantom pains?’ Catalina asks with a grimace.
Cathy doesn’t say anything, letting her believe so. After all, they all have some, although it appears soulmates are spared those since she had seen Kat clutching her neck in discomfort without feeling anything. Cathy herself gets abdominal pains and fever-like symptoms, just like Jane does, but this time it’s not that.
Kat had managed to hurt her leg. Quite spectacularly if the pain Cathy feels is any indication. And from the regular jolts she is getting, she is walking on it regardless.
Cathy breathes a sigh of relief (or several) once Kat gets home, no indication of being hurt or in pain or anything else, just toeing off her trainers at the door and plopping down in the armchair to watch whatever it is that they are watching. Well, that Anne is watching and that Cathy is trying to use as a distraction from the throbbing in her leg. Slowly it verges more into discomfort, dull enough for Cathy to feel like she can stand up from the couch she is lying on. It quickly proves itself to be a mistake as Kat chooses that same exact moment to announce she is going to take a shower, leaping on her feet.
Cathy yelps, doubling over in pain.
‘What happened?’ Cathy wishes she could appreciate the irony of Kat asking that to her while she stands completely clueless.
‘Kat,’ Cathy whimpers out, ‘your leg.’
Kat looks down. Red is tinging her white sock. ‘Oh.’
Anne, who had hurried to Cathy’s side at the first sound of distress, twists around, still on her knees, to look at what Cathy means. She reaches out to raises the leg of Kat’s joggers.
‘What the hell?!?’
‘Oh,’ Kat repeats, seeing the full extent of her injury.
‘Oh??’ Anne chokes out in disbelief.
‘I didn’t realise.’
‘You. Did. Not. Realise??’ Anne repeats as if making sure she understood her correctly. ‘How?? How do you not realise your leg is cut open??’
‘Well, I knew there was something but didn’t think it was too bad.’
That doesn’t seem to reassure her cousin. ‘Not too bad??’
‘High pain tolerance?’ Kat hesitantly offers, realisation dawning on her that perhaps it’s not that normal.
‘We’re going to the hospital.’ Anne’s tone leaves no space for discussion.
.
A knock wakes Cathy up. She blinks. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but second-hand pain takes a lot out of you. She remembers going to her room and lying in bed, feeling the prick of a needle, and then blessed, painless nothing.
‘She got stitches.’
Cathy nods. Now that she is awake, she can feel the slight discomfort of them pulling, what she images was local anaesthesia wearing off.
‘How did you know?’ When she doesn’t get an answer, Anne steps fully into her room and closes the door behind her. ‘She is your soulmate.’ This time it’s not a question but a statement.
Cathy looks at her surprised.
‘Yeah, I read.’
She doesn’t look upset, but Cathy can’t help the slightly guilty smile.
‘She doesn’t know, does she?’
Cathy shakes head.
‘Why not?’ Anne crosses her arms over her chest, assuming a protective stance.
‘She had people imposing their wishes and “love” on her,’ the finger-quotes say it all on what Cathy thinks about those men’s actions, ‘I refuse to be like them.’
‘That’s different.’
‘It is. Because I won't do that.'
‘I think she deserves to know.’
‘I think she deserves to be free.’
They stare down at each other, before Anne reluctantly looks away with a sigh, relenting. She still doesn’t agree – not completely at least, of course she thinks Kat should be free to choose whom to love – but at the end of the day it is not her business and all she can do is share her thoughts with Cathy.
Still she has a talk with Kat about being more careful, if not for herself at least for her and the others’ sake and peace of mind...and because Kat is Kat and she often puts others first, she does. Cathy rarely feels pain now.
//
‘No, thanks.’
‘Come on,’ the guy almost cajoles, ‘just a drink.’
‘I’m really not interested.’
‘Are you one of those people who is waiting for a soulmate?’
‘As a matter of fact, she already found hers,’ Kat announces, draping an arm over Cathy’s shoulders.
‘Oh. Sorry,’ the guy immediately drops the matters, ‘I don’t mess with soulmates.’
Cathy would think about how the concept is now back to being common knowledge, even if romanticised and mythologised a lot. Nobody seems to talk about the agony of knowing who your soulmate is but never getting to meet them, having no chances of being together, feeling the same pain as they die a terrible death, and then living the rest of your life with that knowledge. Cathy would think about that had she not been completely taken aback by Kat's words.
‘I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it. To admit it. But you looked really uncomfortable, and I didn’t think about it too much,’ Kat drops her arm, ‘I’ll just leave you be now.’
There goes the possibility that Kat had lied – well, that she thought she was lying while unknowingly telling truth – just to get rid of him.
Cathy hurries after her, finally managing to cut off her path and halting her steps. ‘How long have you known?’
‘Since you sliced your hand open when you saw me in my underwear.’
Caty blushes. Kat had pranced in half-naked, dress in hand, looking for Jane to fix it. Cathy had been opening an avocado...she opened her own palm instead. ‘You knew about that?’
‘Hard not to. I have a high pain tolerance, but it’s not that I don’t feel it, I just find it easy to ignore.’
It's like when she had hurt her leg. She had been exercising at the outdoor fitness stations at the park and hit her shin on a sharp metal edge that has lost its protective cover. She knew that it would get painful and that she should not carry on working out. So she had fished out of her backpack the tracksuit she had brought since she had plans for a pit-stop at the supermarket and didn’t fancy freezing her bits off, put on bottoms and jacket to cool down more slowly and started her walk home. And because she expected the pain...it was easy for her to just ignore it.
But when she felt the pain in her hand, she was surprised. And then curious. She, for once, had not hurt herself. It clearly felt like a cut but there was nothing there. Yet her hand was stinging. She poked at her palm and the pain didn’t increase. She had almost ignored it, until she felt it burn. As if someone was disinfecting it.
Kat knew about people supposedly feeling in their bones when something happens to loved ones, but she never really gave it a second thought. Still, this was different. It was not a feeling. A hunch. It was like she was physically experiencing something that was not happening to her. She had thought about asking her fellow queens, but she didn’t want to come across as stupid. It sounded highly unrealistic and fantastic, even for someone who had died and came back centuries later. So she had googled it, whether it was possible to feel the pain that someone else was feeling.
Top results, and then pages and pages after those, were unequivocally about one thing and one thing only: soulmates.
And Kat might not be smartest, but she could connect the dots.
How Cathy always seems to know when she is feeling unwell. Offering comfort and having the perfect remedy ready at hand. Coming to her room when she is hyperventilating after a nightmare, even when Kat is sure that she had not made noises loud enough to alert the others. Somehow knowing if her headaches are because she is tired or because she has been straying her eyes – Kat would realise that herself just after accepting the eye drops or her rarely used reading glasses – or if it is a tension headache, offering her services to soothe it, nimble fingers massaging her temple indeed helping. Seemingly always sensing when she is coming down with something, handing her meds, even when she hasn’t told anybody about body aches, sore throat or stuffy nose yet. Sitting down on the couch next to her, lifting her legs into her lap and wordlessly massaging the stiffness out of them after a tough workout or just as they are cramping.
‘And it was hard to miss your bandaged hand after.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I was respecting your wishes. You had known for, well, I don’t know how long, but a good while. And never said anything. And if you had not sent Anne to tell me to be more careful, you would have continued to suffer rather than tell me. And I’m really sorry. If I had known, I would have been more…mindful,’ Kat frowns, ‘If you had told me, I would have just...done my best so that you would not hurt because of me. I wouldn’t have forced you to...I don’t know. Anything. Still. I get it. And I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t want me as soulmate either.’
‘Can we go home and talk about it?’
‘There is no need. We can just go back to ignore it as before.’
‘Please, let me explain.’
‘There really is no need.’ Kat insists. ‘I get it. Truly.’
‘Please.’ Cathy’s voice has a tinge of desperation.
Kat sighs. She supposes that they can clear it up once and for all and then go back to, hopefully, being friends. ‘Okay.’
They inform the others they are leaving, which doesn’t raise questions as they are the ones who least enjoy those kind of evening outings, and head back home.
‘I really mean it. You don’t need to explain. I get it. I do.’ Kat finally breaks the silence that has loomed over them on their way back and that didn’t lift as they sat down in the living room.
‘I don’t think you do.’
‘Look, you come back and are ready to enjoy your second chance at life, only to find out that you’ve been saddled with me as your soulmate.’
‘Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?’
‘Is it not?’ Kat’s question sounds like a rhetorical one, the answer already known. ‘You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I just wish I knew. I would have been more careful.’ She repeats once again.
‘Kat, I don’t think there are words to explain how grateful I had been, every single day, to have you here with me. To feel you again. Aches and all.’
‘Wait. Again?’ Kat recoils. ‘Was I- even then-’ she points her thumb behind her.
Cathy gives her a sad smile.
‘So- you-’ she stammers out, bringing a hand to her neck.
Cathy nods.
‘I’m so sorry!’
‘Sorry?’
‘That you had to go through that.’
‘You are sorry?’ Cathy chokes out in disbelief. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you hurt so much.’
‘You never hurt me. Went out of your way to avoid that, I'd say.’
Cathy nods with a small smile. In all honesty, she is quite proud of that. ‘Yes.’
‘So even if it was because you didn’t want me to find out—’
‘It wasn’t.’ Cathy interrupts her. ‘Not that. Not just that. And not like that.’
Kat merely raises an eyebrow. She is not really making any sense, and that’s quite unusual for the sixth queen.
‘When I was at court, I went out of my way to ask people about you. Subtly, and never with him around, but,’ she stops, not wanting to tell her that they thought it was so she could learn from her mistakes, be better, or something like that, ‘I just wanted to feel closer to you. Get to know you, even if by second-hand information. And then we came back, I got to meet you and know you in person, and between then and now, I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I think I know a lot about you. Okay, that sounded creepy.’ Cathy shakes her head slightly as if it could help her re-focus. ‘What I meant is...you never really had a choice, did you? In your...it feels so wrong to even call them that, but can’t think of anything else at the moment, intimate relationships.’
Kat stays silent, there is nothing to say, really.
‘I didn’t want to be yet another one. Showing up and telling you that you had...to love me or whatever, because of some higher power, be the king or the universe. I refuse to be like them. I want you to be free. To be free to choose whether...you love me or not. I didn’t want to...force you.’
‘This might be stupid but...you never once said you’re not interested in me romantically? Which is fine if you’re not,’ Kat hurries to add, ‘I’m happy you’re my friend. Never had many,’ she thought Thomas was one and then look at how it ended, ‘only Jane, bless her soul.’ And look at how that ended too. She still feels guilty about it. Had it not been for her...Jane would surely have had a more dignified death, for starters.
‘You know, for a while I thought she was my soulmate,’ Cathy tells her, ‘I knew that my soulmate had died on the 13th of February and she was,’ she clears her throat, ‘she died that day too. And I thought my soulmate was around my age or older because of...what I felt.’
Kat looks away. She doesn’t need Cathy to expand on it, she knows she means Mannox.
‘Sorry,’ Cathy apologises, ‘it wasn’t my intention to bring up...memories,’ she was going to say unpleasant, but that is certainly not a strong enough word.
‘Were you- are you disappointed?’
‘Never.’
‘You didn’t answer, you know?' Kat points out.
Cathy tilts her head, brow slightly furrowed.
‘Your issue is....not me being your soulmate but...you not wanting me to feel like I don’t have a choice?’
Kat continues, after she gets a nod, ‘What about you? What about your choice?’
Cathy opens her mouth before closing it. Kat looks at her, patiently waiting for her to find her words.
‘Who said you wouldn’t be my choice anyway?’ Cathy murmurs after a while.
‘So you would be interested in going on a date?’ Kat asks cautiously.
‘Because we are soulmates?’
Cathy would later say that Kat looked at her like she was a bit daft, Kat claiming she was just amusedly vexed.
‘Soulmates are supposed to...be a match, right?’ the younger girl finally says, ‘We know we get along. We care for each other. We like each other. At least I do.’
‘Me too,’ Cathy confirms before Kat can start second-guessing, ‘I just....want it to be your choice. I want to be your choice. That’s all I ever wanted.’
‘So you were hoping I’d...fall in love with you? The normal way?’ Kat tries to understand.
‘I guess? I know I didn’t do a good job, but I didn’t want to use my...inside knowledge, if you could call it that,’ Cathy averts her gaze, ‘I wanted it to be natural, unforced.’
‘Just...what was your plan? Make me fall for you and...never tell me? Didn't you think I would find out if we started dating? I mean, I did it and we are not,’ Kat gestures between the two of them instead of finishing her phrase.
‘I never said it was a smart plan,’ Cathy admits.
‘So...it’s a yes to a date?’
‘What if it doesn’t work out?’
‘What if it does?’
/
‘Oh,’ Anne whistles as Kat enters the room, ‘got a hot date?’
‘No, but her date does,’ Cathy answers in her stead, joining the other five queens in the living room.
‘Charmer,’ Kat turns to her, ‘and you do look particularly hot tonight too,’ she adds appreciatively.
‘Are you going out...together?’ Anna looks between the two of them, both very nicely dressed up.
They smile sweetly at each other before nodding at her.
‘Finally!!’
‘What?’ Catalina is the one asking but Jane and Anna are also looking at Anne, who had just shouted that, arms up in victory.
‘We’re going to give it a try and see if it works out.’
‘You're literally soulmates. Made for each other,’ Anne dismisses Cathy’s words, ‘of course it will work out.’
‘You're soulmates?’
‘Soulmates are real?’
Catalina and Jane ask at the same time.
‘Drat.’
‘What?’ Cathy looks at Anne worriedly.
‘I was going to threaten you that I’ll hurt you if you hurt Kat, but that would hurt her too. And you can’t exactly hurt her without hurting yourself...’ Anne grumbles, almost pouting at having her plan thwarted.
‘What??’
‘Go,’ seeing Cathy and Kat hesitating at Anna and Jane’s genuine confusion, Catalina pushes them towards the door, ‘we’ll talk to them.’
Anne nods. ‘Don’t make the universe wait any longer.’