Work Text:
"So we're going to be performing Haus of Holbein. In Buckingham palace." Jane frowns. "Doesn't that seem a little… improper?"
Cathy could see where Jane's mind was going. The six of them, in ruffs and sunglasses, dancing like madmen in the Queen's gallery. Haus of Holbein was a lot of fun, but certainly one of their more eccentric numbers.
Cathy loved seeing Katherine's odd childish delight in wiggling around like a lunatic. Anne busted out the weirdest moves to make them all laugh. But funniest of all was the fierce determination and focus on Lina's face. She put her everything into each bit of the show. Even this one.
"Nah, the ladies in waiting have been working on a new version of it." Anna chimes in. "Not for the show, but for this one performance. It seems very chill and jazzy. New harmonies, too."
"Alright, then. I'm looking forward to whatever Joan's cooked up for us."
The usual chaos and noise of the Boleyn-Parr-Cleves dressing room is soothing in its familiarity. Cathy could almost pretend they were just getting prepped for their usual matinee show. Only it was several hours too early, and they were heading to the Palace instead of the stage.
"Thank god they figured out how to bleach hair without piss in the modern world." Anne laughs, running a hand through her hair. Her white ombre is in need of a touch up.
Cathy frowns at herself in the mirror. Foundation and contouring was done. Now where did she leave her eyeliner…
"Y'know, now that I think about it, so much has changed but at the same time… nothing has changed." Anna looks contemplative as she fiddles with her braids.
Cathy can trace the outline of her thoughts, and follow them to their natural conclusion. Anna's confidence was not a front, but even a badass like her could be insecure. Even though she got a pretty sweet deal out of her marriage to Henry, it wasn't all sunshine and roses.
The mocking voices of the court were loud. It was a good thing the rest of them were here to drown them out.
"You look beautiful, Anna. You always have."
Anna blinks in surprise, catching Cathy's gaze in the mirror. "Damn. I can't get anything past you, can I?"
"No idea what you mean," Cathy smiles as she expertly brushes on eyeshadow in her signature blue. "The makeup only improves what's already there."
"Oh, shush." Anna rolls her eyes at the admittedly cheesy line, but Cathy knows her words have struck true.
Satisfied that she's sufficiently silenced Anna's self-doubt, Cathy turns back to her dressing table. She could've sworn she left all her makeup in the one bag, like she always did.
It wasn't on her table, or on the floor around it. It wasn't on Anna's table, it wasn't on…
Cathy slowly turns in her chair.
"That's some really nice eyeliner, Anne. Where did you get it?"
Cathy likes to enjoy museums at a leisurely pace, reading each plaque and meditating on each exhibit. She intends to make use of the time they've been given to look around before the performance. She and Jane wander around, arm in arm, staying well away from the speed demon that was Anne.
The woman in question strolls casually towards the centrepiece of the whole exhibition. So casually. It would almost be convincing if not for the spark of mayhem in her eyes.
Catalina appears out of nowhere, neatly swiping the paint tube that was hidden in Anne's sleeve. "No, Anne you can't vandalize Henry's portrait."
"Boo, you're no fun."
"We'll get a poster at the gift shop instead. We can play darts with it."
"Now you're speaking my language! Can I set it on fire?"
Jane raises her eyebrows at that, but says nothing. She wisely steers them to the next room. The next part of the gallery had many of Holbein's earlier works. Cathy had seen many of these portraits in her first life, but never met their subjects. In the centre of the room was Henry's old garniture, as bright and polished as it was over four hundred years ago. The armour never saw any use, on account of Henry growing too large for it.
"It's uncanny," Jane murmurs. "How some things change so much, while others don't change at all."
Lina wanders over to join them, Anne reluctantly in tow. "Can I throw darts at this one?"
"You could certainly try. But not even arrows do much against full plate." Lina smiles. "I remember riding out to the front when I was seven months pregnant. Fully armoured."
"You did what?!" the three of them exclaim.
Lina never failed to amaze Cathy. Whether she was belting her lungs out or governing a country, Lina went above and beyond. Ever regal, ever constant. A cornerstone for them all.
"Guys, come look! I found Anne and Jane!" Kat's exclamation breaks the eerie silence of the gallery.
The six of them congregate around the sketches, which are hung side by side.
The Anne of yesteryear is dressed impeccably. Her collar was high and her hood neatly covered her ears, as was the style of the time. The details of the gown are lost to time; Cathy doubts that even Anne herself remembered what she was wearing that day. The monarch's expression was distant and blank.
It was a far cry from the Anne of now, jacket wrinkled and thrown over her shoulders. "Holbein totally got my eyes wrong."
"Yeah you didn't look anything like that." Kat says. "You were way uglier."
"Hey, you never even met me!"
"I remember the day you sat for that portrait." Jane intercedes before the pair can start squabbling, "It was when I was your lady in waiting."
Anne offers a tight smile in response. She and Jane got along well these days, complementing each other's energy and calm. But their past could still be a sore subject.
"You looked every inch a queen, of course." Jane says. "Just like you do now."
And there it is, a genuine smile. The crooked one, that turned Anne's eyes into little half-moons. Despite their fraught history and often opposing personalities, Cathy knew they would be alright.
"Alright, we're all set up." Joan calls from the other room. "Are you guys ready to start?"
Cathy knew the music director took a lot of pride in her work. Even the little things, like this one-off arrangement. They had a good score, and plenty of rehearsal. It was going to sound great.
"Okay, I think we got it." Lina says. "Are you guys happy with that take?"
A chorus of assent passes around the room.
"Good. Let's get out of here before the place opens."
Cathy starts packing away the music stands, loosening each fastener and folding them up. It's easy, mindless work and soon enough her eyes begin to wander. Joan and Bessie are carefully balancing the keyboard between them and shuffling towards the truck. Bessie almost walks into the doorframe, but they manage to course correct and make it out safely.
Anna and Lina are chatting while they pack away the microphones and in-ears. Jane is frozen mid-stride with a stool in her hands, gaze fixed on a portrait across the room.
Edward.
Cathy stands up, intending to check on Jane. But Lina beats her to it.
Jane flinches slightly when Lina touches her shoulder to get her attention. It's subtle; Cathy suspects that none of the others have noticed her tendency to startle. Jane offers a quick, sheepish smile. But soon enough, her eyes drift back to the portrait.
Edward was only a child in that painting. Cathy wasn't around when this was done, it would have been around the 1540s. But she remembers the kid well.
There's a fascinating disconnect between Cathy and Kateryn Parr. It's a topic she has researched and reflected on at length. She found that the memories and emotions of their past lives were somewhat dulled. Nearby, but not overwhelming. In this instance, she is grateful for the barrier between her past and present.
Rather than looking at the portrait of Edward and being flooded with emotion, Cathy feels only the shadow of grief. Like watching snow fall from inside the house, her sadness whispers rather than screams. She didn't know which was worse; not knowing what became of your child, or knowing exactly what became of them.
Lina and Jane stand shoulder to shoulder before Edward's portrait. If any words are exchanged between them, they are not for Cathy's ears.
"Alright, I think that's everything." Maria huffs, slamming the boot closed. "Cathy, can you find the rest of the queens?"
"Yeah, I got it."
Cathy wanders the silent halls. She would have to come back here again, once she had the chance to research more. The changes to fashion and portraiture across the centuries were fascinating. Kat was still looking at the paintings, seemingly lost in thought.
"Hey, it's time to go," Cathy approaches from the side, making sure she's within Kat's line of sight. "You okay?"
"Hmm? Yeah, just thinking."
"Anything in particular?"
Kat worries at the corner of her lip. "Nah. It's just, I'm the only one without a picture. Even Anne has a sketch that survived."
Cathy hums thoughtfully, looking at the miniature of Anna they'd mislabelled as Kat. It was sad that no painting had survived after her execution, but Cathy suspects there's more to this matter. Her time at court made her very good at hearing the things people didn't say.
Kat turns away, jaw tense. Her eyes drift to Henry's portrait on the other side of the room.
History had distorted all the queens into grotesque caricatures of themselves. The rumours and lies caused many sleepless nights and screaming matches between the six of them. Anne and Kat had it particularly bad. Throughout the centuries, historians failed them again and again. In Kat's case, the lack of accurate information about her just made it worse.
"I know having a portrait wouldn't fix anything. But maybe if they knew more, they wouldn't…" Kat trails off.
Always assume the worst of her. Belittle. Insult. Demean and degrade.
A portrait wouldn't change any of it. But Kat hoped, despite it all, that history's treatment of her was born of ignorance and not malice. If only her side of the story survived, people would see her for who she was.
Cathy was no stranger to if only. She was a fixer by nature. She saw a problem and tried her best to solve it. Overtime, she had learned how to silence insecurities and stop fights before they occurred.
But the most important lesson was when to stop. There was nothing she could do to take Kat's pain away, or to undo all the damage that was done. Cathy took Kat's hand in her own. She didn't need advice, or sympathy right now. This was something she had to work through herself.
After a minute or two of silent thought, Kat comes back to herself. "Well, you'll just have to take hundreds of pictures of me to make up for it?"
"That sounds like a reasonable compromise."
Kat laughs, turning her back on Henry's portrait without a second thought.