Queen of Earthly Queens || The Tudors
ALL RIGHTS GO TO SHOWTIME AND THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS.
Synopsis:
AU-ish: Everyone said Catherine of Aragon was the Queen of Hearts. And she was.
Everyone said Anne Boleyn's ambition would be her downfall. And it was.
Everyone also said that the Queen could no longer give the King his heirs… maybe they weren't right that time. (Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII)
Part One: Dynasty
I: Hello, Welcome Home
Some days it's hard to see
If I was a fool
Or you a thief
Made it through the maze
Whispers of Hail Mary echoed through the otherwise silent chapel. The rosary's beads moved quickly through the Queen's fingers as she completed each prayer. Her ladies knelt behind her silently, occupied with their own thoughts as they prayed. When she reached the final bead, Catherine looked up at the figure of Jesus Christ who had been nailed to the Cross. Her lips quivered slightly the longer she stared, her lips moving in silent prayer.
"My Lord, please guide His Majesty's soul. Henry is straying from Your path, away from me. Please, please guide him back to me," she begged quietly, her hands gripping tightly at the rosary. "I pray for his soul and that of his Mistress Boleyn. May they both see sense and may You forgive them of their sins when they do." The Queen's ladies stayed quiet during this, but all of them had marveled at Her Majesty's compassion. She had been humiliated many times over by the King and the Lady Anne Boleyn and yet, she prays for their souls.
Swallowing thickly, Catherine continued her prayer silently, a request she did not want her ladies to be privy to.
"Oh, please. Give me a son, a son to fulfill Henry's greatest desire, a son to fill my womb. My Lord, please give me a son to inherit the throne, one that would continue the Tudor bloodline for the sake of England." The Queen prayed silently, her fingers clasped together tightly, the rosary trapped between her palms. Catherine held back the tears that started to sting her eyes, blinking quickly until they no longer threatened to fall.
"Amen," she said out loud, and her ladies behind her said the same. The Queen made the Sign of the Cross as she rose from her knees before curtsying in front of the altar and turning back to her ladies. She nodded to them once and walked out of the chapel without a word, the sound of rustling skirts indicated that her ladies had started to follow.
The Queen walked through the castle's halls silently, her rosary still tangled between her fingers. She nodded to those who had curtsied when she halted abruptly. Looking slightly to her right, Catherine bit the inside of her cheek as the Lady Anne Boleyn bowed low. It was almost mocking when the girl looked up slowly, her eyes meeting Catherine's, a twisted smirk forming on her face.
The former Infanta kept her face impassive as she held eye contact with the King's mistress. She kept her head held high in spite of the hushed whispers of the Courtiers behind them. Turning away from Mistress Boleyn, the Queen steeled her gaze as she broke her off their stare and continued to walk down the corridor, the heels of her shoes clicking against the marble floors.
•
Anne Boleyn slowly rose from her curtsey with a self-satisfied smile. She brushed off any imaginary dust and lint from her dress and straightened her back. Anne wasn't stupid, and she most definitely wasn't blind. Catherine could pretend all she wanted, but there was no denying that Anne's mere presence made the Spaniard's blood boil. She watched as Catherine continued to walk down the corridors and people slipping into curtsies as the Queen walked by. Smirking to herself, Anne turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction with her head held high.
"Lady Anne," a voice called from behind her and Anne didn't need to turn to see who it had been. But she did anyway and dipped into another curtsey and this time, she was glad to do so. The King chuckled lowly as his eyes followed Anne's chest when she bowed.
"Your Majesty," she murmured, bowing her head as a sign of respect.
"There is no need for that, my love." He told her in amusement, gently hauling her up by the elbows and Anne smiled up at him.
His Anne looked up at Henry with such passion, such devotion and he marveled at the adoration in her eyes. Henry cupped her face in his hands before kissing her passionately, much to the shock of everyone within the vicinity. They all knew of the King's "Great Matter" and of his liaisons with the Lady Anne Boleyn. But they never thought the King would be so bold as to parade his affair in front of whoever would be there to witness it.
"How I've missed you," Anne sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. The Courtiers looked away quickly, refusing to intrude on a rather intimate moment between the King and his mistress. "I've been miserable without you," she pouted.
"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Henry asked playfully, causing Anne to giggle lightly. "We can make up for the lost time right now," the King whispered. The brunette's smile was wide as Henry led her down the corridor, with their fingers intertwined.
•
The Queen's apartments were silent, save for the crackling of the fire as Catherine and her ladies sewed in peace. Catherine had been finishing up one of Henry's shirts when the door opened to reveal Elizabeth Darrell. The Queen looked to her Lady expectantly, dropping the mostly finished shirt into her lap.
"Lady Darrell?" She prompted. The blonde in question gave the Queen a shallow curtsy before speaking.
"His Majesty requests to dine with Her Majesty later tonight," the girl said, her voice brimming with excitement for the Queen. Catherine's brows arched up in surprise. The King wanted to dine with her over his mistress? It was a concept the former Infanta couldn't seem to wrap her head around, even though she's missed Henry and their intimate dinners for some time now. But she had to admit, it was a little hard to believe that the King would want to be in the same room as her without any foreign dignitaries (or family, even). Catherine pursed her lips in thought, oblivious to the expectant looks all of her ladies were giving her.
"Madam?" Elizabeth said softly, knocking Catherine from her reverie. The Queen blinked once, looking up at Elizabeth and nodding slowly.
"Yes," she breathed. "Tell the King I look forward to his company." Catherine continued and Elizabeth smiled at her mistress before leaving the room with another curtsy. The Queen turned to the Lady next to her, Margaret Smith. "What do you think the King wants?" She asked the redhead rhetorically. Unsure of how to respond, Margaret looked down and shrugged her shoulders.
The Spaniard cracked a small smile at her response, saying nothing and going back to sewing her husband's shirt. Whatever it was Henry wanted, she would soon find out later tonight.
•
"You're going to dine with her?" Anne asked the King in disbelief. Henry looked at the brunette with an impatient expression but stayed silent (for now).
"And why should that bother you?" Henry demanded as he leaned his hip against the side of the table with his arms crossed. "We are only going to be eating, Anne. Nothing else is going to happen," he attempted to reassure her. Unfortunately, his assurance did not placate the Lady Anne, who simply glared at him with a slight frown.
"It's bad enough you're still sharing a bed with her," the brunette started to rant. "Now you're to dine with her tonight?" Anne paced around the room, the palm of her hand pressed to her forehead. "What's next? You're going to start dancing with her at any of the gatherings you host?" With each sentence, her voice increased in volume, much to the King's annoyance.
"There is no reason for you to be upset," Henry interrupted her loudly and Anne's pacing stopped quickly.
"I have every reason to be upset!" Anne spat back venomously and Henry straightened his back, posture tense. "You promised me marriage and yet you still share a bed with her!"
"Lady Anne," the King said with a warning in his voice. But Anne paid him no mind as she continued to speak of the Queen.
"It's not fair, Henry! They won't grant you the annulment because of that stubborn woman so now I can't give you the sons you desire. I know you stopped caring for Catherine so long ago. Why do you still do this?" Anne looked to the King in frustration.
"Bite your tongue, Lady Anne." Henry snapped, fed up with her childish complaints. "Whether you like it or not, Catherine is still your Queen and you will treat her as such. As for the time I spend with the Queen, you-of all people know that I only do it for the sake of appearance. I may have stopped believing Catherine to be my wife, but that does not make me care for her less."
"You still care for her? After all that you've told me? After everything you promised me?" Anne yelled with quivering lips, tears starting to pool in her eyes.
"She is the mother of my child!" Henry yelled back, slamming his hands against the wood, causing Anne to jump back slightly. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, for God knows what Henry would think of her if she continued this line of thought. But she was too hurt, too frustrated to care.
"The only child she has managed to give you is a bastard," Anne spat out, contempt clear in her voice. "She is a bastard born of incest and Spaniard as well." The brunette immediately regrets her words the moment they left her lips once she saw the murderous expression on the King's face.
"You do not speak of my daughter that way," he whispered, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of the table. "She is still my daughter and the Princess of Wales. You will do well to hold your tongue, especially about my wife and daughter, the Queen and Princess. They still deserve that respect."
And with that, the King left the room, slamming the door closed. Anne stayed rooted to her spot, staring down blankly at the spot where Henry had stood not moments before. It was only when she heard the door slam shut did Anne let herself slide down to the floor. The tears that had started to pool in her eyes earlier had resurfaced and this time, Anne let them fall freely.
Henry told her Catherine meant nothing to him anymore and yet, he still held her in such high regard. He told her Mary was to be declared a bastard but when the words came out of her mouth, he did not tolerate it. As Anne wiped the tears from her cheeks she couldn't help but wonder if Henry still loved Catherine the way he so passionately had claimed to love her.
Anne shook her head at the thought, berating herself for being so weak. Of course, Henry loved her. She gave him the promise of sons, heirs to the Tudor throne. Together, they would keep his grandfather's dynasty alive.
She is the future. Catherine is the past.
•
Catherine waited silently for Henry in the dining room of her apartments. She was sorely tempted to allow one of the servants to pour her wine but managed to hold herself back. It was unbecoming for her to be so impatient and so instead the Queen stared at the wall in front of her, amusing herself with the flames of the fireplace. It was odd waiting for the King under such… mundane circumstances and Catherine had no idea what she should expect. As far as she was concerned, Henry would much rather dine with his mistress than with her. But Catherine said nothing; only a little bit grateful Henry would be eating with her.
The sound of heavy footsteps knocked Catherine out of her thoughts and the door swung open to reveal her husband. Her ladies and the servants dipped into curtsies and Catherine herself stood up in acknowledgment.
"Your Majesty," she murmured quietly and Henry nodded at her respectfully.
"Madam," he responded in kind. Catherine bowed her head slightly and they both took their respective seats. Henry at the head of the table with Catherine seated to his left. The Royal couple was silent as the servants poured them wine and their first course was served. They all stepped back, their heads down and hands folded in respect. Catherine's two ladies in attendance looked at each other as they placed the meal in front of their Majesties. The tension between the Royals was thick, neither had said anything for quite some time.
As the King sipped the wine from his goblet, he eyed Catherine as she slowly chewed the lamb, gaze fixed on her plate. His conversation with Anne Boleyn was still fresh in his mind. Yes, his marriage to Catherine is a sin in the eyes of the Lord, but she had given him the pearl of his world. Oh, how he adored Princess Mary and he knew he could say the same for his wife. She always spoke of their daughter in high regard and Henry couldn't help but feel the pride swell in his chest whenever he heard of his daughter's accomplishments.
She would still be his pearl, even when the day comes that he marries Anne Boleyn and declares her a bastard. Mary was still his only living child, nothing was going to change that.
"How is Mary?" Henry finally asked his wife, and he took great pleasure in the way Catherine's eyes lit up at the mention of their daughter. The Queen looked up from her plate with a small smile.
"Mary writes to me in perfect Latin," Catherine began and Henry couldn't help but smile. "She excels in all of her subjects, Lady Salisbury also writes that she has quite the aptitude for music and is a brilliant dancer." Catherine stopped to sip her wine before continuing. "You should be proud of her," she added in a much softer voice.
"I am proud of Mary," Henry assured his wife. "She is still the pearl of my world." The former Infanta offered the King a small smile before she continued to eat in silence.
Henry discreetly watched his wife between bites of his own meal, perplexed by her silence. Back when they used to dine together more frequently, she always found something to say, something to talk about. And she always found a way to make him smile. But at the moment, he was looking at a much more reserved version of his wife. The version that was usually silent among foreign dignitaries.
"Catherine," he called out. His wife looked up at him expectantly. "What is it?" Henry asked her and the Queen looked at him in confusion.
"What do you mean?" She asked softly, briefly looking up as one of her ladies took their plates and she offered the girl a slight smile. Catherine moved her wine goblet in front of her as she started to finger at the stem.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," he mused and Catherine's eyebrows arched in surprise. She really didn't think he would pay her any attention. "Is something the matter?" The Queen shook her head 'no.'
For Catherine's part, she had no idea how to talk to Henry anymore. He was no longer the boy she met when she first arrived in England all those years ago. Back when she still called him Harry and they would converse in Latin. Back when she was still his Catalina.
But with every stillborn, with her every miscarriage, she could practically feel Henry drift away from her. Away from her and into the arms of his many mistresses. And then she had given birth to a healthy child, to her Mary. The child Henry had claimed to be the pearl of his world. The same child he was willing to cast aside and name a bastard at the mere promise of sons from Anne Boleyn.
He was fully prepared to throw away over two decades of marriage. After everything they had been through together. It pained Catherine to know that in Henry's eyes, she was replaceable. She thought they built something, something unshakable. Apparently, they didn't and the past two decades were nothing but a perfect illusion.
Catherine stared down at the remaining wine in her goblet, swirling it around slightly as she ignored her husband's chewing.
"Aren't you going to eat anything else?" Henry questioned, prompting Catherine to look up from her goblet with a start.
"Pardon?" She responded, slightly embarrassed she had zoned out but refused to let it show. She was the Queen of England, and she would act accordingly.
"You've barely eaten," Henry commented once more and Catherine arched a brow. Had he been watching her all this time? "You've only had a handful of grapes and about two bites of the lamb before you started to stare at your wine." The King ignored his wife's slightly dumbfounded look and continued to eat his own meal.
Mentally shaking her head, Catherine took a moment to gather her wits before answering.
"I am just not very hungry tonight," she told him softly and Henry nodded as he drank his wine. The Queen pursed her lips as the minutes ticked by and neither of them had said a word. Catherine kept her hands on the table, her fingers locked together as she waited for her husband to finish his meal.
Once upon a time, Catherine would have been absolutely thrilled that Henry chose to dine with her again. But at the moment, all she wanted was for this dinner to be over. The tension between the two of them was thick and she wouldn't be surprised if the servants felt it too. She had no idea how much time had passed, all she knew was that it was tortuous sitting next to the King in complete silence.
When Henry finally wiped his mouth, Catherine closed her eyes in silent relief. As the King slowly rose up from his seat, the Queen did the same. The servants behind them dipped into shallow curtsies and Catherine gave Henry a respectful nod, a gesture which he returned.
"Your Majesty," she said, bowing her head slightly.
"Madam," Henry responded in kind. He nodded to her once more before exiting her dining room, leaving Catherine standing alone with the servants still in their curtsies. The Queen gestured for them to rise with a sharp flick of her wrist as she left, her two ladies in attendance during the dinner followed behind her.
•
Henry walked through the castle's corridors, muttering curses under his breath. Charles Brandon and Anthony Knivert walked a few steps behind him, exchanging glances with each other every so often. To the best of their knowledge, the King had quite an argument with Lady Anne. What the couple had fought about, they had no idea. Well, it was a stretch (in their opinion of course, but they wouldn't dare tell the King that) to call Henry and Anne a couple, considering Henry was still married to Catherine. But he absolutely adored Mistress Boleyn, and neither Brandon nor Knivert could do anything about it.
"Would His Majesty be interested in a friendly tennis match?" Brandon finally spoke up and Knivert sent a glare his way. It was obvious Henry was in no mood to have fun and he just had to bring up tennis. The King stopped abruptly, prompting the men behind him to do the same.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," they heard someone say and the three men looked at each other in confusion.
"It is my pleasure," a soft voice responded in kind. A voice that anyone in the Christendom would recognize in a heartbeat. "May God bless you," the Queen said with her Spanish lilt. Henry rounded the corner to find one of the castle's servants kneeling in front of the Queen… his wife. Brandon and Knivert peeked their heads around the corner as well, both slightly shocked as the servant boldly took one of the Queen's hands in his own and kissing her knuckles gently.
"Queen of Hearts," Henry heard the servant murmur into his wife's hand before standing up and bowing. The Queen stood up straight as the man took off in another direction.
"Sweet man," Catherine murmured to herself as she continued to walk the path to her apartments.
Once the Queen and her ladies were out of sight, Henry had emerged from his spot at the end of the corridor, scowling to himself. Was she carrying on an affair? With a lowly servant no less? Well, that was just unacceptable (never mind the fact that Henry had countless affairs with Catherine's ladies).
But really, why should Henry be so affected by this revelation? If anything, this affair would help his Great Matter. If he couldn't have the Queen beheaded on the grounds of adultery (he could, but then Spain would no doubt wage war against England and that was something the King would rather avoid), then he could certainly have his annulment quicker than he anticipated on those same grounds.
Brandon and Knivert watched in silence as the King continued to mutter under his breath. Henry paid them no mind, and the two men inadvertently started to listen to the King's musings. The words "beheaded," "annulment," and "Great Matter" came up and Brandon couldn't help but widen his eyes. He looked over to Knivert, almost certain his friend had heard the same things he did. The look on the other man's face told Brandon that he had indeed. Did Henry want Catherine beheaded?
"I have to pay a visit to the Queen of Hearts," Henry spat out suddenly, knocking the two men from the stare-off. Before either of them could say anything, the King had already started the route to the Queen's apartments. Brandon and Knivert stayed rooted to their spots, watching as the King's form got smaller the further he walked.
"We probably should have told him all of England refers to Her Majesty as the Queen of Hearts…" Anthony said and Charles nodded mutely.
God save the Queen.
•
"Where is Her Majesty?" Henry demanded after bursting into Catherine's bedchamber unannounced, the ladies present quickly slipped into a curtsy.
The door to the far left opened, revealing the Queen in a white nightgown and a robe made of red velvet.
"Henry?" Catherine asked in confusion, walking up to him slowly but making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of them. "Is something the matter?" She questioned and the King said nothing, merely crossing his arms. Catherine sighed heavily before waving her hand once, signaling her ladies to leave. They all curtsied to the Royal couple once more and left in a hurry, not wishing to witness what seemed to be another impending argument. Instead, the Queen's ladies sat around the table just outside of the room. They didn't want to witness the fight between the Royals, but they were willing to listen in from the outside.
"I never would have thought you would stoop so low," the King began in a harsh whisper and Catherine looked back at him, confusion coloring her features. "A servant," Henry continued on. "It could have been with a Duke, even a foreign royal! But why did it have to be a servant?"
"What servant? What Duke?" Catherine interrupted the King, her own patience was starting to wear thin. It was as if her husband were speaking in riddles, why couldn't he just tell her upfront? It was something he always managed to do every other time they met in her chambers this way. "What is it you are trying to tell me?" At this, Henry snorted.
"You think I don't know about your affair?" He demanded, stepping closer to his wife, prompting Catherine to take an involuntary step back. "With a servant I don't even know the name of?"
"An affair?" Catherine asked, scandalized. How on earth had Henry come up with that conclusion? "What do you take me for? I am no harlot, Your Majesty." The Queen responded, just barely masking the annoyance in her voice.
"You think I didn't see that servant kiss your hand? Call you his Queen of Hearts? Ask Brandon and Knivert, they were there as well," Henry demanded, his arms gesticulating wildly. Catherine's eyes shined in realization and the King thought he had one.
"Henry, that poor man just wanted me to help his daughter find a husband," she told the King in a much softer voice. "Whatever you saw meant nothing, I swear to you. I have been an honest wife all these years, and I still am." Catherine insisted, stepping closer to her husband.
Henry watched as his wife walked closer, stopping directly in front of him.
"Catherine…" He whispered, fixing his gaze to the far wall, there was no need to get caught up with her. Not here, not now, not ever.
"I love you, Henry." Catherine declared softly, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the King. "I never stopped loving you, and I don't think I ever will."
"Our marriage is a sin, Catherine." Henry argued weakly, a last ditch attempt at driving her away. "You are my brother's widow and that is all you ever were. You can't claim to love me, for we are sinning in the eyes of God." Catherine looked at him, a sad, almost longing smile playing on her lips.
"In the eyes of God, I am your wife." The Queen whispered back. "I was pure when I married you, Henry. As pure as I was when I first came here with no friends, no allies, not even a common language to share with the people."
"So you were a virgin! That's not the fucking point!" Henry suddenly yelled, causing Catherine to jump slightly.
"If it is not my purity you question, then what do you have against me in this annulment?" The Queen asked softly.
"You were betrothed to my brother-" the King began to say.
"But I never loved him the way I love you," Catherine interrupted. "Had Arthur survived, I think I could have loved him as a husband. But he didn't, and then I fell for you. I don't know how many times I have to assure you of this." The Queen reached out a tentative hand, gently stroking Henry's cheek with the back of her fingers.
"You were my first love," Catherine said softly as she continued to caress the side of Henry's face. "And you are my only love."
Swallowing thickly, Henry forced himself to look up from the ground, meeting Catherine's eyes. Legally, Catherine was still his Queen, she was still his wife. And right now, she was laying everything on the table. Her emotions, her thoughts, her love. It was an overwhelming feeling, Henry decided.
He loved her once as well. Back when their future was bright and they had everything to look forward to. Back when it seemed like they could take on the world together. They used to be unbreakable.
And somewhere down the line, everything started to crumble. With every failed pregnancy, Henry frequently found himself in the arms of other women.
But standing here, in front of Catherine with her hand on his cheek and the subtle scent of her perfume filling his nostrils, it was like he was meeting the Spanish Infanta he fell in love with all those years ago. He grasped the Queen's hand in his, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm and the King heard Catherine's breath hitch.
"Henry," Catherine breathed out, as if she had just run a marathon.
"Catalina," Henry whispered in turn. The King pressed another gentle kiss to the inside of the Queen's palm, keeping his fingers wrapped around hers. He missed her, as much as he hated to admit it. She was comfort, she was warmth, she was everything good in this world. And she used to be someone he would move the heavens for.
Catherine watched as her husband closed his eyes, lips still against the palm of her hand. As much as she wanted to relish in their contact, she couldn't help but feel the bitterness coursing through her veins. Was this some kind of sick joke? Had he wanted to break her? Why, just earlier today, one of her ladies had seen the King and Lady Anne running down the corridors with their fingers tangled together.
So Catherine stood in front of Henry, her face a stoic mask as Henry continued to hold her hand against his cheek. The Queen swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and quickly blinked away the tears from her eyes. There was no need to get emotional now, for her tears wouldn't salvage her marriage. Catherine sniffed lightly before she slowly started to pull her hand away from the King's cheek. Much to the Queen's shock, Henry would not let her go.
"Henry," Catherine whispered, bringing up her other hand in an attempt to disentangle her fingers from the King's. "Your Majesty, please let go," she begged. How could she be happy her husband was holding her so tenderly when she was sure that Lady Anne Boleyn plagued all of his thoughts? The King kept her hand to his cheek, ignoring Catherine's pleading request.
"Husband," she tried again, shaking her hand slightly. No matter what she did, no matter what she said, Henry said nothing.
After what seemed like an eternity, Catherine felt Henry's fingers slowly slip from hers and the Queen let out a quiet breath. She moved her hand away from the King's face and let her arms hang limply at her sides. Henry stared down at the floor, a blank expression on his face.
"I loved you once too," the King said quietly and Catherine closed her eyes to hide the unshed tears.
"I know," Catherine whispered brokenly and Henry finally looked up from the ground. His eyes met that of the Queen's, and he was taken aback by the pain that filled them. "And it kills me that you no longer do."
"I'm sorry," was the only thing Henry could choke out. What could he say to her? But there was no reason he should feel obligated to comfort her. They were husband and wife only in name and nothing more.
But when he looked at her now, he saw the Spanish Infanta that first came to England all those years ago. The Spanish Princess that had charmed all of the English at Court with her smile.
After over two decades of marriage, Henry watched as his Catalina became beloved Queen Catherine. He watched her mourn every miscarriage, the death of their son who was barely two months old at the time, and the final stillborn daughter she had after Mary.
And as he looked at her right here, right now. The King had come to a horrifying realization.
Catherine of Aragon, the Queen of England, the Daughter of Spain and the former Spanish Infanta was broken. All the happiness that was in her had disappeared, and it was all because of him.
All thoughts of Anne Boleyn, the Great Matter and his annulment to Catherine seemed to slip from his mind. He would allow himself one last moment of weakness.
The King walked closer to the Queen, stopping just in front of her. Catherine looked up at him with wide eyes, but said nothing otherwise. Henry's gaze flickered to her mouth then back up to her face before gently pressing his lips to hers.
Catherine stayed rooted in her spot, unsure of how to react. She felt his hands sliding down to her hips and the Queen placed her hands on the King's shoulders. They stayed like that for a few moments before Catherine slid her hands to the back of his head.
If this was their last hoorah, then the Queen would cherish it until her dying breath. For she might lose him in the coming weeks. But for now, she could pretend that Henry was hers again.
As for Henry, he thought nothing of the next day, the future, of what was to come. All that mattered at the moment was her. Catherine was still his Queen and kissing her, holding her again like this… it felt like coming home.
And just for tonight, they would pretend everything was going to be okay.
•tbc•