#hhhghghh please reblog im desperate and really want this to get around

[yourdeepestfathoms]

We All Still Die (part two)

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Part 1

And, once again: Everything in this fic is to be seen as fictional. I doubt any of this actually happened historically. This is just me having fun and trying to entertain people. If this bothers you, then don’t read the story.

TW: Blood, abuse, PAINFUL ANNE ANGST

———————

She cried the entire time she was running to the castle. People glanced at her as she passed by or nearly barreled into them, curious or annoyed or even both.

She burst into the throne room, out of breath and weeping. She staggered forward, past the guards who had jumped to attention and were now pointing their spears at her warily, and toward the king and queen. Her knees buckled halfway there and she fell to the floor, openly sobbing.

“Joan?” Anne said in shock. “What’s going on?” At her side, Henry nodded slowly, although he didn’t look concerned at all, rather intrigued and almost amused.

“M-my brother-” Joan tried to say, but her words came out strangled and watery. She had to stop to get air because her lungs were burning more intensely. “M-my-”

Anne slid from her throne and slowly approached Joan, Maggie trailing behind her. She crouched in front of the trembling girl.

“Joan, it’s alright.” She said gently. “You’re having some sort of anxiety attack. But it’s going to be okay, I promise. Right now, I need you to breathe for me.”

Joan shook her head and wailed, “My brother is missing!!”

Anne frowned. Behind her, Maggie gave Joan a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry, Joan.” Anne said.

Joan suddenly grappled onto the queen so fast even Henry twitched a little in surprise. She gripped Anne’s sleeves tightly, not caring about the weapons now trained at her back.

“Release the queen this instant!” One of the guards ordered.

“Y-you have to send a search party!” Joan said, ignoring him. “P-please! H-he has to be found!”

“Joan...” Anne said sadly. “Honey-”

“Please!!” Joan cried. “Please, please, y-you have to look for him! I need him! H-he’s all I have left!”

Anne looked down at the girl clinging to her, then at her husband, and then back at Joan. Then, to the guards, she said, “Send a search party for John Astley at once.”

Joan wailed in relief and then collapsed fully into Anne’s arms. She curled into a tight, shaking ball, weeping uncontrollably. She can feel the queen rub her back comfortingly and Maggie even set a hand on her arm, but everything that’s said after that is a blur as she’s seized by her panic and fades into blackness.

———

A week passed. John doesn’t turn up. The search party stopped looking. Joan doesn’t say anything about her brother.

———

Joan was halfway down the stairs one morning, fetching sand and vinegar to help clean the knight’s armor, when she heard her name being called and turned to see one of the castle couriers at the top of the steps.

“Lady Anne requires you at once.” He said, overdramatically breathless and leaning against the wall. She looked at him with suspicion—most of the court had little respect for her or her family, especially since her brother’s disappearance—but she couldn’t take the risk. She abandoned her errand and headed back toward her lady’s chambers.

At the turn of the corridor, however, she saw a familiar shape blocking the passage ahead—the broad shoulders and sharp, glinting eyes of Princess Mary.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, street rat? She called out, curling her lips. “Going to steal some more pennies for your wastrel family, or are you trying to run away like your brother did?”

Joan’s blood boiled in her veins, but she just clenched her fists and marched on, not wanting to keep her queen waiting. Mary turned on her heels to leer at her.

“My daddy’s letting me go up north to a tournament—have you ever been able to go farther than the vinegar barrel?”

She wrinkled her nose and grins, anticipating Joan’s response.

But Joan merely strode toward her as if squaring up for a fight, causing Mary to raise her own fists ready; then, at the last moment, she dove to the side and swerved nimbly below her outstretched arms, escaping down the corridor before the swearing youth could recover.

She entered into the throne room, where Maggie and Anne are conversing with a woman Joan had never seen before. She almost looks like her, with golden blonde hair and steel grey eyes, but was a bigger and much prettier than she could ever hope to be. As she walked over, the stranger looked at her skeptically.

“Ah, there you are,” Anne said. Joan noticed the small bump curving beneath her dress- the queen was pregnant again. “Joan, this is Jane Seymour, my newest lady in waiting.”

Joan looked at the woman next to her and dipped her head respectively with a small smile. Jane did the same.

“Huh. Your names are even similar.” Anne said, wrinkling her nose in an amused way. “Jane, Joan is going to be your guide around the castle. She’s one of my best maids in waiting.”

Joan’s heart leapt in her chest when she heard that. The queen thought she was one of her best maids in waiting!! That was the greatest thing she’s heard since John disappeared!

Jane peered over at her, raising a brow. “You’re making a maid in waiting escort me?” She asked. “She’s awfully young.” She turned to Joan. “How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“I’m eighteen.” Joan said bashfully.

“I see.” Jane said. “Young face.”

“As I said,” Anne redirected them smoothly, “She’s one of my best.”

“Hm.” Jane tipped her head, but didn't give her opinion again.

“Go on.” Anne waved a hand. Joan bowed to the queen, while Jane merely nodded.

On their way down the main hallway, Joan and Jane pass by the king, and, for a split second, Joan thought she saw Henry and Jane exchange hungry looks.

What was that about?

———

It was a cloudy, misty evening and the back courtyard was a whirlwind of maids in waiting. Joan stopped under the shadow of a tall tree, reading a book she snagged from the castle library as girls swirled around her. Some called greetings to one another, tossed rocks, checked their reflections in puddles. A few settled on the low rock fence or benches to study, while others launched races around the garden. One was trying to convince her friends to try a washed out green, snarled vegetable. Jane was even outside, watching everyone with a curious, deep-in-thought expression.

Regardless of what the maids were doing, however, they all stopped and bowed whenever the queen and her right-hand lady in waiting glided through the pack.

“Hello, dear,” Anne said languidly as she passed by.

“My lady!” Joan looked up quickly, then immediately dipped her head into a bow. “H-hello. Hi, Maggie.”

“Good evening,” Maggie said with a small smile.

“Joan,” Anne tutted, staring disapprovingly down at the book in the teenager’s lap. “What have I told you about reading in the dark?”

“It’s an effective use of my time?” Joan guessed with an innocent grin, and she heard Maggie chuckle lightly.

“It will ruin your eyes.” Anne chided gently. “And then we’ll have a blind maid in waiting, and we don’t want that, do we?”

“But it’s not that dark!” Joan whined. “But...you’re right.” She sighed and surrendered the book to the queen, but she pushed it back to her.

“Keep it, dear.” Anne said. “Just get a candle, alright?”

“Alright.” Joan nodded. Her heart fluttered when Anne smiled at her. “What are you doing out here?”

“Punishing Maggie.” Anne grinned at her friend. “Can you believe she doesn’t want me to throw her a grand birthday celebration?” She said to Joan with exaggerated shock. Joan giggled. Maggie, on the other hand, blushed, and the shade of pink looked a little strange on her usually-stoic and calm face.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Maggie said dismissively. “I’m getting older. Who cares?”

“I care.” Anne said, reaching down and squeezing one of Maggie’s hands. Acts of affection like this weren't uncommon for the two of them, but they were usually a lot more subtle. It seemed that the queenly rules Anne had to abide by loosened up later in the evening, when prying eyes grew more sleepy and relaxed. “It’s important to me.”

“I don’t trust you with planning any birthday celebration ever since the goat incident.” Maggie struck back.

Joan blinked. “Goat incident?” She echoed.

“I was turning twelve,” Maggie began while Anne giggled into her hand at her side. “And when I was asked about what I wanted, I said a boat. Because I wanted to sail across the ocean.” She swung her head around and narrowed her eyes at Anne, who was barely able to contain her own amusement. “But this one thought I said goat. And so she smuggled me a goat from a neighboring farm. And when I clarified I wanted a boat, she said,” She does an amazing imitation of Anne, “‘Ohh! I was wondering why you wanted to sail across the ocean on a goat!’”

At that, the queen burst into loud howls of laughter. She doubled over, clinging tightly to one of Maggie’s arms, and laughed so hard she snorted, and several people whipped their heads over in shock, as most of them had never seen their mistress like this before. Even Jane was blinking in confusion from where she was standing.

“Oh my,” Anne said breathlessly, wiping her eyes. She stood up straight, still laughing slightly. “That was my greatest achievement.”

“Not becoming queen or giving birth to a living heir?” Maggie said, quirking an eyebrow, and that made Anne dissolve into laughter all over again.

It was such a pleasant experience, Joan had to admit. She couldn’t even begin to fathom how difficult being a queen must be, but it was good to see that they were still capable of being human.

“So, it’s really your birthday?” Joan asked Maggie once Anne had finally settled. “How old will you be?”

Maggie blushed a little. “Tomorrow, yes. And I’ll be twenty-nine.” She paused. “Oh dear. I’m old.”

“Not THAT old.” Joan tried to comfort her and Maggie wrinkled her nose in a happy, appreciative way.

“Maggie’s birthday: the best thing that’s ever happened in the history of the world!” Anne cried.

“You loon.” Maggie giggled. “Don’t let your husband hear that. Or your daughter.”

“Well, they can come talk to me if they have a problem.” Anne stated, then bumped Maggie affectionately.

“I don’t have anything for you.” Joan said to Maggie, her shoulder drooping. “For your birthday. I’m sorry.”

Maggie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “It’s okay!” She assured Joan. “Annie’s being dramatic. I don’t need anything.”

“You deserve everything,” Anne mused lovingly, kissing Maggie’s knuckles. Her friend blushed madly at the act of affection, while Joan had a weird, nagging feeling inside of her that sighed, “I wish that were me.”

“Well— maybe— what’s your favorite animal?” Joan asked.

Maggie blinked at the girl, then thought for a moment before saying, “Ferrets. I like ferrets.”

Joan nodded and began searching the tree she was sitting under. As she did so, she heard Anne say, “Do you even know what a ferret looks like, Maggie?”

“Yes, you jellyfish.” Maggie said back. “We’ve both seen one. You called it a ‘furry snake’ before.”

Anne tittered. “Well, it is.” She looked back at Joan, who was snapping off a thick branch from the tree. “What are you doing?”

Joan grinned at her. “You’ll see.” She sat back down in the grass, and she’s surprised to see that Anne and Maggie did the same—especially Anne. They both ogled at her as she took a hidden knife out of her boot and began slicing away at the wood.

“Oh my,” Anne said in an awestruck voice. “Look at how fast you can do that.”

“I’ve, umm, practiced a lot.” Joan said with a shrug, trying not to show off even though she desperately wanted to. “I had a lot of time on my hands when I was little.”

“Is nobody going to say anything about the knife-in-the-boot thing?” Maggie commented.

“Hush, my darling.” Anne shushed her. “Or I’ll kiss your hand again.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes at Anne and gave her a playful nudge. She’s nudged back, and that apparently sparks some kind of memory, because she began to tell Joan a story about when they were little and she, Anne, and her older brother, Thomas, played in this huge mud puddle after a storm and pretended to be ancient swamp dragons. Reciting the tale made Anne beam and smile brightly- it was so refreshing to see her so, well, human.

Eventually, the branch in Joan’s hands began to form into more of a distinct shape, like an actual creature was being born right out of the wood. She whittled the tiny ears, smoothed the long, winding body, and dug out little tufts of fur along the head.

“I’ve never made a ferret before,” She said apologetically after setting the carving in Maggie’s hands.

“No, no,” Maggie said, turning the ferret over and feeling the expanse of its wooden body. “I love it. Thank you, Joan. This is wonderful.”

“Th-thank you,” Joan said, blushing shyly. “A-and you’re welcome! I’m glad you like it.”

Anne curiously peered at the little carving. “Could you make me one of those?” She asked Joan. “Not right now, of course. Whenever you get the chance. I want a sheep.”

Joan’s heart leapt, doing gleeful somersaults in her chest. She stammered on her words for a moment, then sputtered out, “Y-yes! Absolutely!”

Anne smiled. “Thank you, Joan.”

A warm feeling bubbled up inside of Joan. It felt amazing to have friends to give her gifts to again.

Friends.

She didn’t know if the queen and noble lady in waiting could possibly ever see her as such, but she saw them in that way. And she loved it.

———

“Henry, dear. Please calm down.”

“How am I supposed to calm down? Another male heir is /dead/.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t want my baby to die!”

“It came out of you, did it not?”

“If I remember correctly, you helped in the process of getting me pregnant in the first place.”

Voices. Voices were echoing down the hallway. One was absorbed with worry and deep anger, while the other radiated resentment and hatred. Joan froze.

“It’s going to be okay. We can try again.”

“And have another die?”

“You don’t know if that’ll happen. It didn’t with Elizabeth.”

“She’s a female. I need a male heir.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

Joan set the basket of clothes she was carrying on the floor and crept closer to the source of the voices. They were coming from inside the king’s chambers, slipping through the cracked open door like hissing whispers whisking around a glacier.

“Please stop pacing. It makes me want to hit you.”

“Try anything like that and I’ll have all your teeth pulled out.”

A slight pause.

“Henry. I was just joking.”

“Right. Me too.”

Joan peeked in through the small crack in the door and saw the king and queen standing inside. Henry had his arms crossed over his chest with a hard look in his eyes, while Anne looked gentle, but nervous and angry at the same time.

Something very wrong was going on. Something very wrong was going to happen.

Joan remembered the week before. Anne had gone into labor despite only being three months into her pregnancy. It was a quick, but painful birth, and what came out was a bloody, disfigured, barely-recognizable baby boy.

Henry had been furious. Anne was distraught, but had looked more tired and used to the miscarriages than anything. She requested to be alone with Elizabeth and Maggie for the rest of the day.

Something bad was going to happen. But Joan could stop it.

“Maybe something is wrong.”

“Wrong with what?”

“You.”

“Me?!”

“Catherine was the same way. She had miscarriage after miscarriage after miscarriage. Maybe you’re just like her. Oh, I should have known...”

“Don’t relate me to her! She is gone, Henry. She’s dead. I am your wife. And you will not speak to me like that.”

A terrible, rumbling growl that would be more befitting of a wild animal came erupting out of Henry’s throat. Anne immediately took a step back, fear flashing in her eyes before she stamped it down to the best of her ability. But fear was consuming Joan from where she watched, and her mind kept screaming, “Danger! Danger!” on loop.

“You are nothing but a witch,” Henry spat. “That’s why our children have died. You did something to them, you temp-”

“Danger! Danger!” Joan’s mind wailed as something seemed to snap inside of the king.

Henry’s beard parted enough to show a black pit of a mouth that was yawning downwards into an elongated, upside-down ‘D’ shape that wobbled and distorted in the dim, flickering candlelight as he clenched ham-sized fists and howled so loud that it could be felt vibrating to the very soul.

“YOU LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU, SLUT!!”

Joan is rushing forward without even really realizing it. Liquid adrenaline poured through every vein, urging her to get caught in the crossfire and help her queen.

But then the entire left side of her face exploded into bright, colorful bursts of pain as a fist that seemed to be the size and solidity of a small boulder came swinging around towards her, and her whole body popped backwards and spiraled down until she was sprawled on the floor.

There was silence, aside from her weak moans of people.

At least they stopped fighting.

“Joan!” Anne spoke first, rushing down to her young maid’s side.

Above her, Henry was peering at his hand curiously. He hadn’t been expecting a maid in waiting to come in and take the hit that was meant for his wife.

“I’m impressed.” Henry rumbled, but Anne didn’t seem to care. She was holding Joan’s head in her hands, looking very frightened. When her fingers brushed a swelling area on her face, the girl shuddered in pain.

“Get the doctor!” Anne cried to her husband, to the guards who must have been nearby, to anyone, and her voice sounded very far away in Joan’s ears.

Joan mumbled something incoherent. Her head hurts so badly, but felt a little better when Anne was touching it. She leaned into the queen’s hands.

“Joan, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine.” Anne said to her. “I promise, honey. You’re going to be okay.”

Joan could only reply with a weak moan. The world was pulling away as the pain shoved itself back in.

“You’ll be okay, Joan, you hear me?” Anne was not shouting. “Don’t you pass out on me! Joan, your queen is giving you an order! JOAN!!”

———

Joan now knew where Mary got her vileness from. Her father has done horrible things, and he’ll do worse someday.

———

“Mama,” Elizabeth babbled, waddling towards Anne with her arms stretched out. Anne chuckled and scooped the three-year-old up.

“Tired of walking already?” Anne asked her. Joan looked up from the piece of wood she was carving away to smile at them. “Oh well. You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“Mama,” Elizabeth merely repeated, flinging her short arms around her mother’s neck and nuzzling her nose against her collarbone.

“Oi!” Anne yelped. “I’m ticklish, you little imp!”

“Oi!” Elizabeth echoed gleefully, then burst into a fit of giggles.

“Aaaand... Done!” Joan declared loudly. She jumped to her feet, proudly holding up a wooden sheep. “Here you are, my lady.”

Anne adjusted Elizabeth onto her hip so she could hold her with one arm and took the carving with her free hand. She gazed at it in wonder, smiling brightly.

“It’s beautiful, Joan.” She said. “Thank you. I love it!”

Joan couldn’t help the little happy dance she did. Anne laughed at the shuffle of her feet, then set the carving down on her nightstand, tapping its nose gently. “You will stay there, little one.”

And then, in a split second, her grin is gone.

“My la-”

“Shh...” Anne commanded, raising one finger. She crept over to the door and listened for a moment, then darted across the room so fast she nearly dropped Elizabeth. She grabbed Joan by the wrist, shoved her daughter into her arms, then flung open her wardrobe.

“L-Lady Anne?” Joan stammered. She’s never seen the queen look so scared before.

“Joan, listen to me very carefully, alright?” Anne said softly. “Stay in here with Elizabeth. Keep her calm. And stay quiet. Do not come out.”

“Wh-what?” Joan squeaked. She could hear the clanking of metal and scraping of steel blades in the hallway.

“Please, just listen to me.” Anne pleaded, gripping her forearms. She looked down at Elizabeth, who was fussing slightly, and cupped her cheeks. “Hey, hey,” She whispered. “Elizabeth, my sweet little princess, let’s play a game, okay?”

Elizabeth perked up and nodded her head eagerly.

“We’re gonna play hide-and-seek!” Anne said with heavy enthusiasm in her voice. “Mummy is going to go hide while you and Joey will count to...one hundred! That’s a big number, I know, but you’re a big girl!” She tickled Elizabeth’s belly. Joan thought she saw tears glinting in her eyes. “I know you can do it.”

“Okay, mama,” Elizabeth said.

“That’s my girl.” Anne kissed the top of her head. She glanced up at Joan and squeezed her hand, then pushed them into the wardrobe and shut the door.

“Start counting!” Anne called from outside.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

Joan braced herself against the back wall and edged upwards a little, but her limbs were tangled in the silk and bejeweled dresses around her and she couldn’t move without rustling the clothes around her. She rested her chin on top of Elizabeth’s head, breathing in the scent of the toddler’s hair oils and the lingering smell of her mother.

What was going on?

Through the small crack between the wardrobe doors, Joan could see Anne wipe her eyes, smooth out her iconic green dress, and sit down at the edge of her bed. She picked up the lamb and began to peer at it as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. A moment later, Henry and a flurry of guards burst inside.

11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20....

Joan jolted a little and felt Elizabeth’s head turn upwards to blink up at her curiously. Through the crack, she can see Anne look up with a mock-startled expression (she knew they were coming, Joan realized) as the guards pointed their spears at her. She tilted her head in confusion.

“Whatever is going on?” She asked.

“Anne Boleyn,” Henry snarled lowly. “You are under arrest.”

21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30....

It felt like the entire world was flipped upside down. Like someone had picked up the castle, turned it over, and shook really hard until all the pieces came falling out. And it felt like the walls were closing in on Joan, suffocating her, trapping her.

“What for?” Anne asked. She doesn’t look shocked at all.

“You know what.” Henry said. “Witchcraft, adultery, conspiracy against the court...” His lips twisted up in a wicked smile. “Incest.”

31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40....

“You lying bastard!” Anne suddenly exploded, leaping to her feet. Up until that charge, her face had been amused at the list of ‘things she had done’, but now she just looked furious. She gripped the wooden sheep so hard it was a wonder that the body didn’t splinter.

“I do not lie.” Henry said coolly. “So, which was it? Your little brother? Or your sister?”

“I have never-!!” Anne had to stop herself to breathe before her nerves took control. Her face was beet red with rage, a terrible contrast to the emerald green dress she was wearing. “I have never done anything with my siblings, you sniveling coward.”

41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50....

The guards shifted anxiously. None of them looked like they believed the incest claim, but they were too afraid to face Henry’s wrath if they stood down. When Anne glanced at them, she seemed to see that and her eyes grew slightly sympathetic. However, they turned right back into smoldering coals when she looked at her husband again.

“Do not spread lies about me, Henry.” She warned scathingly. There was a deep, rumbling noise that curled around her words, making her seem like a cougar that was about to pounce.

“What do you have there?��� One of the guards suddenly asked. Was he trying to relieve some tension?

51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60....

“Oh,” Anne’s anger is sniffed out for a moment. She held up the wooden sheep, smiling softly. “It’s a carving. My wonderful little maid, Joan, made it. Do you know her? She’s a sweet girl. Would you like to hold it?”

“No,” Henry answered for the guards. “You’ve enchanted it, haven’t you?”

“Of course not.” Anne rolled her eyes. “Listen to yourself, Henry. You sound mad.” Her slight smirk is then wiped off her mouth as she’s struck across the face.

61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70....

It took everything in Joan to not cry out or yelp or leap out of the wardrobe as she watched Anne fall to the floor.

The queen never fell.

“You do not speak to me like that, woman!” Henry roared. “I am your KING!”

Anne raised her head, her cheek welling up in a horrible shade of purple and red, and said, “You’re no king. You’re a DEVIL!”

71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80....

Henry’s boulder-sized fist smashed into the side of Anne’s face, sending her right back to the floor. He hit her and slapped her and beat her until sweat was running down his reddened face and a small puddle of blood was pooling around Anne’s head. All the while, the guards and the two stowaways in the wardrobe watched in horror.

Joan held Elizabeth closer, tucking her head underneath her chin, and shook all over. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she watched her queen get beaten senselessly.

It was awful. It was so horrible. She wanted to jump out of the wardrobe and save Anne, protect her from the blows she was getting, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even look away. But when she looked closer, she realized that Anne was clutching her lamb carving tightly in her hand.

81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90....

“Sir! That’s enough!” One of the guards yelled. He looked queasy at the violence set before him, despite being trained to fight and kill.

Henry stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow with one of his blood soaked hands. A smear of his wife’s blood is left on his forehead.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, witch?” He hissed.

Anne pushed herself up with her arms, took a few strained, heavy breaths, and then staggered up to her feet. She almost immediately fell back down, but managed to steady herself and look up at the king. Her face was swollen, dripping blood, and dyed in several shades of black, blue, and red. But even still, she managed to smirk.

“But of course,” She rasped and then spit some of her blood into Henry’s face.

91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99....

Henry lifted a hand, slowly wiped the blood away, and snarled, “Seize her.”

100.

In an instant, the queen of England is gone in a whirlwind of spears and growling and soft apologies. She leaves the sheep carving behind, drowning in her pool of blood. Somewhere down the hallway, Maggie could be heard screaming.

Joan doesn’t move. Even when silence fell over the hallway, she didn't move. She just remained perfectly still, frozen in horror, unable to breathe, while Elizabeth squirmed restlessly in her arms.

“Mama?” The toddler said softly.

Joan sobbed.

She threw her head back and began to cry even harder. Tears were now rapidly pouring down her cheeks. Her throat was clogged with anguish and panic and trauma- she couldn’t breathe. She was spiraling like she had when John went missing.

“Mama?” Elizabeth said again. She wiggled furiously and managed to get out of Joan’s arms. Before she could be stopped, she tumbled out of the wardrobe and looked around the room.

“E-Elizabeth,” Joan crawled after her. She couldn’t stand. The scene she had witnessed kept replaying behind her eyes over and over and over again, crushing her. “E-Elizabeth, I’m s-so s-s-sorry...!”

But Elizabeth didn’t understand.

“Ready or not, mama!” She cried gleefully, romping obliviously through the pool of her mother’s blood. “Here I come!”

Joan crumpled to her side, curled into a tight ball, and began to wail. Because something deep down inside of her told her that Anne was never going to be found.

#hhhghghh please reblog im desperate and really want this to get around #we all still die #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #elizabeth i of england #jane seymour #king henry viii #maggie on the guitar #joan on the keys #mary i of england #tudor history #tw: abuse #tw: blood #tw: violence