For Assignment 1 on the Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum.
It's usually easy to separate the show—stories from the past—from real life. But every once in a while, those two worlds collide. And when they do, it always ends with a queen or two in tears.
Tonight, it seems, is Anne's turn. Jane finishes one of her many monologues about being separated from her dear Edward, and Anne's cheeks begin to flush and her eyes begin to water. She barely makes it to curtain call before her crying begins in earnest. She runs to her dressing room, ignoring the queens calling after her.
Even from behind the closed door, Anne can hear them. They're no longer calling for her. Instead, they're very loudly discussing who it should be to go in and comfort her. Anne's surprised when Catherine shushes them, volunteering herself. Moments later, she lets herself into Anne's room.
"Jane's not the only one who left a child behind," Catherine says quietly. "I left Mary. Though she was older, so perhaps it's different. And you… Anne, you left little Elizabeth. We all share the same pain, Anne. Jane just gets to sing about it."
Anne offers a watery smile. "I know. That doesn't make it easier."
"No. But singing about it certainly helps her." Catherine playfully nudges Anne's shoulder with her own. "Tell me about her, your Elizabeth."
"She was such a sweet child." Anne doesn't need any further encouragement. "Gentle and clever with a fair face and full head of auburn curls. Truly, I'd never seen such a beautiful baby. I didn't… I didn't get to spend much time with her, but I sent for her when Henry would allow. And when I couldn't see her, I showered her with gifts. Dresses and dolls…" Anne trails off with a sigh. "She probably doesn't remember any of it. Probably doesn't remember me."
"A child always remembers their mother," Catherine says softly. "Always."
Catherine wraps her arms around Anne's shaking body. The two stay like that—quietly entangled—until Anne finally pulls away.
"I left her my necklace," Anne responds. She looks sideways at Catherine. "You know the one. Freshwater pearls and the initial 'B' in gold. I gave it to some friends—some people I could trust. I don't know if she ever received it, but I always pictured her wearing it and thinking of me."
"Of course she thinks of you," Catherine says. "Each year on your birthday...each year on yours. Whenever she looks in the mirror and wonders where she got her eyes. Whenever she's being dressed and the colours remind her of her favourite childhood doll. She thinks of you, Anne. She thinks of you and she loves you."
And finally, for the first time since the stage lights went dark, Anne's eyes are dry. The two queens look at each other and, sharing the same pain, they smile.