A/N: A Kitty Howard songfic set to Catherine Howard's Fate. I love this song so much. Thank you for reading, please review!

Catherine sat, alone, in her chamber. To all that observed her they thought that she looked like a statue, a classically beautiful silhouette framed in the moonlight from her window. The stars that sparkled in the sky had once glittered in her eyes, though now they were gone, and the luminous light from the moon had once given her skin a youthful glow, though now it sufficed only to make her look like a ghost.

She was a pathetic, pitiable figure. She had none of the strength of her cousin Anne, none of the haughty designs that had allowed Anne to float through a similar situation with her sanity, at least, intact. Catherine was not nearly as sane. She had screamed, she had wept, she had begged – when Archbishop Cranmer had come to Syon house to tell her why she had been imprisoned, she had fallen at his feet and clung sobbing to his robes; it had taken three of her new serving maids to remove her, and Cranmer's eyes had welled with tears. So young, so young, to have fallen so far. A child.

Oh, to my dearest ruler and lord
Merciful husband
Noblest of kings...
Your heart of gold has long since tarnished
In my chamber
What will the morning bring?

Catherine remembered a time when she had been the most powerful woman in England. Not so long ago now -two years. Hardly any time at all. Two years married to a fat, corpulent monarch that she did not love, no children, no real friends, none of the love, passion and affection she had been so used to at Lambeth. But Henry had pursued her, his hideous piggy eyes followed her, his flabby face bright with lust, an old man with a longing for a fifteen year old girl. And she had gone along with it, smiling and laughing and sparkling as she had been told to, pandering to his every whim. She had flattered him endlessly, she had gone to bed with him with a false, simpering smile, pretended to desire him, pretended to enjoy their nights together, when his massive body heaved above hers.

And now she was locked up, waiting for a verdict that she had already predicted. The morning would bring a blood red dawn, and soon after her own blood would run over the Tower green, and her life, so short and sweet, would be over. Over, with a swing of an axe, a flash of metallic light on a dreary February morning.

Was it my heart that doth betray me
'Cause I loved more than one man?
Is it true your wear a wounded spirit?
Pray let me mend it and make our love anew...

And then Thomas Culpepper had burst into her life. He had burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun. They had met once before, long ago, but this time was different. This time he was young, athletic, handsome, bright, witty, passionate...all the things that her husband was not. Henry might be able to put a crown on her head, might be able to buy her jewels and dresses, furs and horses, but he could not buy her heart. Thomas could not hope to compete with the riches that Henry lavished upon her, but he could give her love, affection, he could bring delight and pleasure to her bed, and that was more than enough. She gave him her heart.

Turned out, she should have kept it. Turned out, she might as well have given her soul to the Devil, for all the good it did her giving it to Thomas.

Allow me to be your humble servant
Once again, as before...
Are you like the others, so quick to judge?
And for this the queen must fall

And now she was reduced to begging, pleading. She had begged Henry one morning on his way to the chapel, the morning of her arrest, and he had just walked on by. But she had seen it, seen the softening in his eyes, the tear rolling down his flaccid cheek, his heart melting upon sight of her. If they had not dragged her away, she was sure she might have saved herself. She could have gone on to marry...not Thomas, not after he had blamed her for the whole affair, making her sentence more severe, but with another man, maybe. A young man. She could have children. She had never liked children before – ugly, squalling things – but now that her time was running out she became aware of a sudden, desperate desire to have children.

They all judged her and had sentenced her without trial, without mercy. Oh, and all she wanted was mercy! She would retire to the country, never go to court again, even accept exile in France, but she did not want to die! Not now, not when she had so much of her life left, so much love to give. So much joy that sang and laughed in her heart.

Oh, her foolish heart. Love was a daydream.

She had no time left for love.

The next time a maidservant walked past the young Queen, she became aware that the picturesque statue that was Catherine Howard was weeping.

Was it my heart that doth betray me
'Cause I loved more than one man?
Truth within the writings of a letter
Signed and sealed poor Catherine Howard's fate...
Truth within the writings of a letter
Signed and sealed poor Catherine Howard's fate...