Chapter Text
"Shhhhh..." The new, younger Queen hummed and gently weaved her pale fingers through the actual, the lord's anointed, Queen's hair. Dowager princess. Catherine never accepted Henry's condescension. But it wasn't Anne Boleyn's fault that Henry was a stubborn child more than a wise old monarch.
She sighed.
Maria de Salinas, her dearest, oldest friend, was in the other room. Resting briefly after her escape from court to come and see her dying Queen. Catherine assured her she would be okay, that her time hadn't come, as she had Chapuys a few days ago. But she knew.
She had already written to Henry one last time - signed it off as ' Queen Catherine '.
"You're thinking too much... You should rest." Catherine smiled and leaned into the touch on her forehead.
She was beholden to her beloved friend - Maria. Eternally so. But, more than anything, she wanted Mary to be here. And, more regrettably, she wished she could see her husband one last time.
Anne . Oh, she had hoped to see Anne again as much. It had been so long now. Catherine often wondered how her lady had taken to court by herself, surrounded by sinister strangers and calculated whispers. She couldn't be angry with her.
"Shhhh", the gentle voice above her calmed Catherine's shivers once more.
"Allow me, your highness", the bed dipped slightly beside Catherine, and a warm embrace engulfed her. She could smell the same familiar scent of lavender that always lingered in Anne's bedroom, mixed with old candle wax and rosewater.
"It's okay... You're okay", Anne hummed, and Catherine buried her face in her neck as the two of them embraced. Arms, holding on tightly, clutching to this one last lifeline.
Catherine took a deep, shaky breath. It was getting harder to fill her lungs - again. Just a few days ago, she had felt so much better. But now? Every breath shook the cage that was her body.
"I'm dying, Anne", she whispered, and the hands around her shoulders tightened slightly.
Anne didn't respond. But the faint tremble in her fingers was answer enough. She knew it too. It was written all over Catherine.
She was pale, and her body grew weaker every hour. How much time did she have left?
"It's okay..." Catherine had known her lady to be an excellent liar over the years, but she wasn't now.
"Anne..."
"No, y-you deserve to rest." She could feel the honesty in her steady, rhythmic heartbeat against all plausibility.
Catherine smiled into Anne's neck. She was so tired. So, so tired. But the warmth around her, the love surrounding every ounce of Catherine's earthly being, kept the world's weight off her shoulders. All the worries splurged and shattered against Anne's steady comfort. Like waves, crashing. Shattering. Keeping her safe.
"I shall let you go", Anne whispered, hardly perceptible, "but wherever you go, I will find you again, my Queen. It's not a promise. It's fate."
Catherine opened her weary eyes - and Anne? Anne looked at her with such conviction in her eyes that it made Catherine's heart heavy. She could only hope.
"We shall meet again", somewhere in a distant world. Another time, where they can love one another beyond the shadows.
Catherine narrowly managed not to cough as the air grew scarce again.
Anne Boleyn just smiled, and the Queen felt light.
All the pain shifted and fell away.
"Rest", Anne ordered affectionately, pressing a long kiss on the older woman's hair. She looked sad, Catherine noted and smiled, too, slowly closing her eyes.
"Think of me, evermore, my love."
"At every breath."
Catherine sunk deeper into the pillows and Anne's warmth became all surrounding. It swallowed her whole. Wore her down to her most raw core and lifted her. Almost too much to bear.
Anne's hands retreated in Catherine's hair, playing with a few messy locks, as she hummed melodies of love and heartache alike. Theirs had never been a beautiful love story.
When Maria came back inside, she said nothing about Queen Anne beside her, lain in her bed, holding Catherine.
She wiped the sweat of Catherine's face and sat down to talk to her until sunrise. All the while, Anne continued singing quietly.
The sounds grew quiet, grew distant, grew silent.
When the birds started to stir - and a single ray of sunshine broke through those heavy curtains - Catherine no longer felt the constrains of an aching, dying body. She was lost. Lost, in the love that Anne and Maria bore her.
Lost in her deep affection for them and Mary filled her. It lifted her into weightless bliss, and she sighed as the world faded away one last time.
Think of me, evermore, my love.