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Catherine stormed into her bedroom, threw the door aside and banished the cringing lady in waiting with a snarl.
When she was alone, only then did she sink to her knees and seize a pillow from the bed, pressing it to her mouth, letting out a scream.
This.
Could not.
Be.
Happening.
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
She looked around at the room, it's trappings and the veils of gold silk that fell from the bedposts to the floor. Everything, beautiful. Everything shone.
Once upon a time it seemed gorgeous. But once he charmed her with his words and gifts and now?
Now Henry looked at Catherine as if she was nothing but a decoration in this resplendent, hollow palace.
It would all be burnt. She wanted it gone. Everything he had touched. Everywhere he had touched her.
Burnt. Until it was ashes under her heels.
But you will remember me
Remember me, for centuries
She vowed then. Already on her knees, she clasped both hands in prayer. Begged, even, more so than prayed. That he, Henry, would never be free of her. Whenever he looks at that green-eyed witch, I want him to remember me. How he looked at me like that, once. How he vowed until death do us part. And how that didn't come for either of us.
It was bad, but what could she do? He was the king, and as such God's representative on earth. She must obey her rightful lord.
Or must she?
No, that was wrong... But as the voice at the back of her head said, was he any more right than her? An annulment... As though the past 24 years were nothing! As if Mary was nothing... As if she was nothing.
Catherine of Aragon was not nothing. She was not some pretentious little pink-and-white English rose. She was not a princess.
I am the Queen.
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
This was not her dream when she left Spain as a teenager. In fact, Henry wasn't even her dream when she left. She only had eyes for Arthur. And then he, well, died.
And that was that.
A king for a king. Catherine was promised to Arthurs younger brother.
Henry became her new dream, and she lived only for him. So much for her sixteen-year-old dream, right?
She had to wonder if it was all her. After all, they'd had trouble conceiving an heir... Of course that must be all in her hands. And it was that, he claimed, that was the decider. For the good of England, she must leave. Well, Catherine thought as she hurled the stupid pillows from her bed and threw herself in it, bandaging her tired body in the sheets and attempting to breath evenly. Well, if this was for the good of England, what choice did that give her?
She only existed for the good of this country! She was the beating heart of the palace, of the people- She would not stand for this.
But how could she not? It wasn't up to her. It was decided, after all. Court life was a game. And she had lost to Anne Boleyn.
Mummified my teenage dreams
No, it's nothing wrong with me
The news spread like wildfire through the courts. The way her tale was told broke her heart to hear. Mary came in sobbing one day, fury in her burning tears when she heard how Catherine of Aragon was so useless as to be unable to conceive a son when Bessie Boulout was more than capable, it seemed. Anne Boleyn was the answer, or so she was told.
It gratified Catherine to hear the people did not agree.
The kids are all wrong, the story's all off
Heavy metal broke my heart
Children whispering when she passed about how the king was spotted arm in arm with Anne Boleyn in the rose gardens. And that's where Catherine found them, not that they knew she was there. The thorns of the flowers, red blood petals, masked her in her red gown well. No one could see her.
Even then, she doubted her philandering husband and that unashamed harlot would care.
She watched from between the flowers as the sun set. Far away, she could not hear what they said. But Catherine saw more than enough from where she was.
The way Anne leaned in to hear his whispers. His hand on hers. It made Catherine sick.
Come on, come on, and let me in
Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints
"Henry!". She strode down the palace corridor, ignoring the confused faces of the guards as she walked straight past them after Henry as he fled. "Henry Tudor, you utter disgrace, you come back here immediately! You can't do this!".
Falling nearly, caught only by a swift guards hand hauling her up again, she pounded on the door to his chambers. "Henry!".
She hit it with her fists, not caring any more what any of the palaces sycophants thought of her, letting her rage show in the way she was raised to prevent. Her r's rolled with her accent, strong, hard to decipher.
Catherine wasnt ladylike. She was furious.
She hit the door until her hands were raw, her throat aching. Her anger was dissolving, but not enough for when he finally opened the door to tell her simply that she was being hysterical, she lost it entirely and all but blacked out. Later, when she was in her own room, hair being brushed delicately by her lady in waiting, Janey Seymour, she vaguely recalled throwing a potted plant at him. He held no reaction when it hit him in the leg.
She hoped as she fell into a dark, disturbed sleep, that the bruise would remain longer than she would here.
And this is for to match
The darkness that you felt
I never meant for you to fix yourself
This wasn't right. Sure, she was aware the lack of an heir was an issue but one that they could have overcome together. He was never meant to go out and fix the problem.
Not like this.
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
So help her Lord, he would not forget her. When he was with that harpy, later, and yes she knew he was, Catherine hoped he felt what she did. She knew he wouldn't. But hope was free, it cost her nothing, and she would use whatever she could now.
Remember me, for centuries
Yes. He would remember her. They all would.
All at once Catherine knew what to do.
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
Mary was a good girl, Catherine had to admit. It was her who fetched the poison, her who laid the groundwork for her plan.
But Catherine herself would be the one to pour it in the girls glass.
A banquet hall.
Another feast.
Catherine sat by while her husband made ill-timed jokes with his men and her and Anne Boleyn sat side by side.
Anne went to speak but pointedlly, Catherine looked away.
The band struck up a tune and the room seemed to swirl as people took to the dance floor.
Henry was there, center of it all like always, king of the revels.
Twirling that Boleyn brat round and round until all that she was in Catherines eyes were smudges of green.
Emerald as her skirt flowed behind her.
Pale like petals when her eyes flashed in the light.
And that ugly jealousy she was marked with as she craved what was not hers and sought the king.
Mary, a bored expression as she was talked at by French dignitaries, caught her mothers gaze.
Do it, she mouthed.
And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name
'Cause I was only born inside my dreams
She had to do it. What else was there?
Fade?
Become dust and gold paint, a ghost, a ghoul? Worse, a memory? No. She was worth more. More than the pretty French upstart her husband couldnt detatch himself from. Then, where did it end? When her mortal soul was a blistered wreck, when blood stained her gloves, no doubt. She faced Mary. The hunger in her eyes frightened Catherine- the desire for what she saw as retrebution to be doled out.
Until you die for me, as long as there's a light
My shadow's over you
'Cause I-I am the opposite of amnesia
Her eyes were drawn to Anne. Limitless energy, twirling impossibly around on her toes. A break in the music and she gasped dramatically, saying something Catherine couldn't catch but it made the courtiers and Henry laugh helplessly around her. When they were busy laughing and chattering as the band prepared for the next song, Anne turned to gaze at Catherine. She seemed to have turned with exactly this purpose, and her mouth fell open slightly when she realized Catherine was already looking back. The two were lost for a second, unsure of what to say or do. But Anne was, well, Anne. Despite the odd air of happy-go-lucky naivety she was never caught off guard for long. Giving the Queen a grin and a wink, she faced Henry again and, with a whisper in his ear and one arm wrapped around his like ivy, she led him to another dance.
And you're a cherry blossom
You're about to bloom
You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon
So no, she couldn't. It was impertinance, it was disrespect but it was equally Anne. And try as she might Catherine could not hate Anne for the simple sin of being herself, if herself was enough to catch the kings already wandering eye. Not enough to poison her at any rate.. No. Catherine refused to contaminate her soul this way.
She may wish Henry dead in her mind alone, but she would not sin before the lord with her own hands. The vial of poison was replaced in her pocket, a dark bottle with liquid nightshade-black (fitting).
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me, for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
God, she just needed to get over it. He no longer wanted her. He said as much, in an argument as Anne watched with red lidded eyes and Mary stood in the corner of the room like a raincloud, scowling into the mirror.
This was it. Catherine was done.
Her father would be so dissappointed. What was it he used to call her? Fuego. Fire.
He used to call her fire. "Be a flame, Catti, my love," he told her firmly when she asked why. "Bring light to any man you choose, but when he dares touch you, burn him and regret nothing.". Then he laughed and told her to go play with Juan.
Catherine had forgotten her fathers advice in the messy business of fitting in with the English court and its damned ever changing values and standards. She was so long gone from her homeland she forgot it was her real home that made her this way.
Henry sneered at her, looking down on her the way he always had done. Anne winced as he told Catherine "It's over.".
She had an answer to that. "No.".
"No?". His voice was low and crackling. Catherine heard the warning, sure. She ignored it gladly.
Finally shedding that ugly English accent, she spoke up as she drew herself to her full height. She smiled. "Go burn in Hell.".
We've been here forever
And here's the frozen proof
Her story was constantly repeating. She felt like it was eons since she had came here.
She tried. That was all she could say to Mary when the news to the churches split reached them. Catherine tried. But what could she do against the king? Catherine told him no. But when he had it in his head to marry Anne Boleyn there was no way of stopping him.She'd done everything right. Followed the rules. Drew in the lines. Been a wife and a Queen and a mother and in the end, when that didnt work, she vowed to light his world on fire and damn him.
I could scream forever
We are the poisoned youth
The poison was gone, had been for five hundred years. Catherine died of something painful and unknown. Doomed to history to be the failure first wife.
Not if they had anything to do with it, anyway.
Now, Cathy was singing her line, the last line of the show as the golden confetti fell and the music made reality melt away.
"Surived! We're-".
"SIX!". The applause was going no faster than her heartbeat. Catherine (Catalina as they often called her now) was proud to bow to a room full of people. She saw when she looked a smiling girl, maybe six or maybe younger, wriggling on the front row, clapping hard enough to hurt her hands. She was beaming up at the wives, Catherine especially. Her t shirt even read ARAGON along the back in glittering gold. Catherine didnt see Anne, only heard her as she said over the band playing and the enthusiastic applause of three thousand people "She wont forget you.".
"I know.". Catherine blew the girl a kiss, which she clumsily copied. God she looked like Mary.
"We wont forget you either.". Catherine laughed as the curtain was drawn and the lights backstage came on.
"I know.". She felt Anne put her arms around her from behind and virtually heard the pout in her voice when she replied "Well okay then, miss Know It All, do you know that I wont forget you?". Catherine let the tear fall down her cheek without knowing if she was happy or sad or some ridiculous combination of both.
"I do.".
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries!