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themidnight-ghost · 3 years

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Chapter One |

Anne Boleyn lost everything when she accidentally resurrected Henry VIII. Now it's all up to her to fix her mistakes, but hopefully, she won’t have to do it alone.

When Catherine Parr walked downstairs that morning, she was met with the now-familiar silence and uncomfortable energy lurking around the breakfast table.

“Is everyone okay?” Cathy whispered to her Godmother as she turned on the coffee machine.

“It’s been a week, and Kat refuses to come out of her room.” The survivor chewed her bottom lip, “Anna believes it’s her fault for being so neglectful and won’t even mention her name. Jane is furious, not to mention depressed! And I’ve just ordered an extra security lock and one of those camera doorbells.” Catalina gestured to her iPad.

Cathy collected her coffee, “And has anyone seen Annie?”

“Anne.” Jane corrected from across the table. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“No one’s seen her since the incident.” ‘Lina placed a comforting hand on Cathy’s arm,

“Forget about her, Cathy. She’s probably off galavanting with Henry in malibu.”

Cathy’s blood boiled at Jane’s comment and her hands balled into fists, “You can’t say that.”

“Oh, can I not?” Jane sassed, “She had a choice of everyone! Mae, Liz, Mary and Eddie, but instead she chose the scumbag who got us here in the first place!”

“There should be a reason!” Cathy argued back.

“Then, what was it? What was worth losing everything?”

And with that, Jane Seymour stormed up to her room, only stopping to pull down a framed photo of the 6 queens at Disneyland from the wall. Anna of Cleves looked apologetically at both Catherine’s and followed Jane, resting the picture on the kitchen table as she left.

That night, Cathy slept alone again. She would usually try to get some sleep before a 2-show day, but the thought of Anne kept her head buzzing. The writer couldn’t help but wonder where her ex-girlfriend was, why Anne betrayed them or if she was ever coming back. The constant questions spiralled and confused the usually logical queen, forcing her to groan into her pillow. She still remembered the day when everything fell apart.

Anne rushed into the writer’s arms with tear-stains carved into her makeup. The Boleyn girl cried until her voice was hoarse and when she finally began to tell Cathy what she’d done - it was too late. A rough knock came from the door, and Jane opened it to reveal their ex-husband, resurrected. Anne burst into a fit of tears and screams as she clawed onto Cathy’s jumper in fright as Henry approached them, a merciless grin on his face.

Nothing had changed.

Anne eventually let go of Cathy, backing herself into a wall. Cathy still cringes at what Henry did next. The monarch stroked Anne’s cheek with his thumb, wiping off a tear.

No one helped her.

“Thank you, my dear.” Henry’s voice was deep, raspy and echoed off the house walls.

“You helped him?” Jane stated.

“He forced me!” Anne was on the verge of a panic attack.

“The universe gave her a choice,” Henry butted in, “Me, Mary, Elizabeth, Edward or Mary. She chose me.”

“You choose who you could resurrect?” Jane’s shout almost tore the house down.

“He- we- we had a plan-” Anne could barely speak, she trembled and clawed at her sides while attempting to back herself further into the wall. She could scarcely breathe between her tears.

“Jane wait-” ‘Lina grabbed the mother by her arm, pulling her away from the Boleyn girl.

Amongst the chaos, Henry snuck out the door. Anna of Cleves tried to contain herself as she comforted a sobbing Katherine Howard. Catalina and Jane were at each other’s throats about Anne Boleyn, and Catherine Parr just stared at the mess of a person she used to call her girlfriend.

The next morning, Anne’s bed was found empty, and most of her belongings had been taken away. The house was never the same after that. Henry was back, Anne was lost, Jane was mourning, Kat was scared, Anna felt guilty, Catalina didn’t go to church and Cathy was single.

Back in bed, the writer had just learnt to live with it, she concealed her thoughts and fears into writing and tried to trick her mind into thinking this was only temporary.

“Tomorrow will be different.” The writer murmured.

Tomorrow was different. The queens would do their first show as a group since Anne left and Anna somehow forgot to get oat milk before heading to the theatre.

“I’ll go get it, I need to clear my head anyway.” Cathy grabbed the spare keys, getting a headstart. The writer cautiously headed to the nearest tube station and took a metro to oxford street. Most of the queens drank oat milk because it was healthier and they didn’t want Kat to feel left out, so Selfridges was visited regularly on weekends.

Walking down the road, Catherine noticed something peculiar. A homeless woman was sleeping on the pavement, her back propped up against the building’s wall; she was covered in blankets.

Anna co-owned a business with Kat where they helped the homeless get back on their feet, and this often resulted in the queens knowing all of them by name. But this woman was different, and Cathy didn’t recognise her.

“Hello?” The writer cautiously approached, “Have you been here long-?” Cathy gasped when she registered the ebony hair which framed the woman’s face. “Annie?”

The 6th queen crouched beside the sleeping clump, carefully pulling back the hem of the blanket so she could see the owner’s face and her fear was confirmed right. Anne’s lips were chapped, there was dirt on her face, the faint remains of a bruise on her left eye and a cut on her chin.

Cathy entered a state of crisis. She still loved Anne, but she couldn’t forgive her for what she did. But then again, was she really going to let her rot on the side of the road? No one deserved that.

The Boleyn girl stirred in her sleep, and Cathy instinctively placed a small hand on her shoulder, “You’re alright.” She whispered, and Anne’s body relaxed.

Cathy felt around for her wallet and pulled out two £20 notes, proceeding to stuff them into Anne’s hood. She took one last look at the remains of Anne Boleyn before kissing her middle and index fingers and resting them against Anne’s shoulder as a goodbye. Cathy then pulled back the blankets and walked in the other direction. The oat milk could wait.

During the next few days, Cathy always passed Anne’s street corner on her way to the theatre, making it her mission to leave small amounts of cash in the 2nd queen’s hood.

On the fourth day, Cathy returned to see Anne awake and drinking something from a flask. Thinking fast, the writer pulled over a stranger and pressed the cash into their hand,

“Please can you give this to the homeless woman on the street corner?”

“I beg your pardon?” The stranger twirled the cash between her fingers,

“Would you mind giving that to the homeless woman?” Cathy pointed at Anne, “I used to know her and I’ve been stopping by every day to give her small amounts of cash.” The stranger looked doubtful, “Please?”

“You’re doing a good deed.” The stranger reluctantly accepted, and Cathy spied from behind a telephone box as the stranger crossed the road and handed Anne the cash. The 6th queen grinned as Anne almost dropped her flask to shake the stranger’s hand, the words ‘thank you’ escaping her mouth multiple times.

However, Anne’s face dropped slightly as the woman shook her head and gestured to the surrounding area, and Cathy couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. But at least Anne had something to eat that night.

The cycle continued for weeks. Anne was dropped secret amounts of cash from random strangers each day until Catherine finally decided to face her fears.

The survivor had just ordered a pair of sausage rolls from Greggs, and it took everything in her not to turn back. Cathy felt like she was walking in slow motion as she approached, her heart was thumping in her ears way too much, and she clenched her jaw. What if Anne didn't want to see her again? There had to be a reason for her continuous absence and even worst, what if Henry was lurking in the bins.

“Annie?” Cathy’s voice was barely a whisper as Anne whipped her head around, her jaw-dropping.

Both queens starred in silence before Cathy inaudibly handed Anne the sausage roll, sitting beside her on the pavement.

“Thank you.” Anne tensed her shoulders and hid her face, “I wish you didn’t see me like this.”

“It’s alright.” Cathy awkwardly assured, “Is it warm enough?”

“It’s great, thank you.” The conversation was horribly formal. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“A few weeks ago I went to buy some oat milk and passed you. I’ve been leaving cash in your hood.”

Cathy swore she could see Anne tear up.

“That was you?”

“Yeah, sorry if it was weird.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciated those! With that money, I brought a flask, gloves, a new coat, blankets and even a sleeping bag!” Cathy tried to stifle a laugh as Anne showed off her possessions with pride, “And next, I’m gonna buy a tent! So, thank you, Cath.”

The nickname struck a nerve and Cathy tried not to cry as she finished her sausage roll.

“Is there anything I could bring you tomorrow?”

“Deodorant!” Anne quipped,

A smile graced Cathy's face, even after so long the pair fell back into their casual conversation as nothing had happened. So much had changed but their relationship was still stable as both queen's pushed past their doubts in exchange for an unfamiliar feeling of home and familiarity.

“Yeah, but you’ve always needed that!” Cathy fired back. Anne dramatically gasped and held a hand to her chest. “Seriously though, what do you need?”

“You’ve done too much for me already.” The Boleyn girl grasped Cathy’s hand before she could go. “It would be rude to ask for me, especially after… well, you know what. So thank you.”

“Anytime.” Anne’s hand lingered longer than necessary, and in any other circumstance, Cathy would’ve kissed Anne’s knuckles and told her she loved her. Instead, Anne let go, and they parted ways until the next day.

_______________

It got to the point where Cathy would leave the house an hour early to see Anne.

The lonely, gay, writer leaves her found family to pick up the pieces from her ex-girlfriend’s destruction while she shares a sausage roll with said ex. It sounds like a news header.

Every other day, Cathy would supply Anne with the daily essentials and Anne would take her on a walk around London, showing her all the city’s secrets.

Like the money, this continued until Cathy saw Anne packing up her belongings and blankets.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re moving me. They want me gone by the end of the day because it looks bad for their brand.” Anne explained.

“Who? Selfridges?”

Anne nodded solemnly.

“We are never buying from them again. Come on, you can stay with me.” Cathy picked up a blanket.

“You know I probably have fleas, right? There’s this homeless man who I’m friends with, and his dog is always scratching. I can’t stay at your house.” Anne grabbed the blanket from Cathy’s hands.

“We have flea spray at home from when Kat found that puppy.” Cathy snatched the blanket back.

“Have you forgotten the four people living there who hate me? One of them is my cousin.” Anne claimed the blanket.

“Big deal, don’t think I haven’t noticed those bruises on your neck and wrists. I know what you’re doing. 40 quid a week isn’t enough to buy a tent, Anne.”

The energy dipped and reclaiming the blanket was annoyingly easy.

The Boleyn girl hushed her voice and twiddled her thumbs, “That was uncalled for.”

“Please?” Anne practically melted when Cathy cupped her cheek, “Come home with me.”

“Okay.”

Smuggling a gremlin into the house was more problematic than Cathy thought. Anne had to wait in the garden until the queens had gone to bed and then climb up into Cathy’s window without making a sound.

“Put your leg up!’ Cathy whisper-shouted.

“Do you really think I'm THAT flexible?!” Anne laughed, “I haven’t done the splits in 5 weeks!”

“Lower your voice, you crackhead! Jane is right below us.”

“Oh, fuck Jane!” Anne winked at Cathy who almost dropped the Boleyn girl back onto the grass.

“Just pull!”

Finding strength, Cathy pulled Anne through the window, so she landed on top of her, the pair erupting into fits of laughter.

“I swear someone would’ve heard that!” Anne worried,

“Holy mother of god- you do stink!” Cathy slid out from under Anne and closed her nose.

_______________

“Do you still have that coconut shampoo?” Anne fidgeted around their bathroom, liked she belonged there.

“It should be under the sink.” Cathy scrolled through her phone.

“I still don’t get why you have to be in here,” Anne muttered.

“Because someone has to be in a bathroom for it to be locked! That’s just basic knowledge!” Cathy glanced up from her phone as Anne removed her top, “besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“You’re lucky I’m only letting that comment slide because I haven’t felt hot water in weeks.”

Cathy knew she shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop her from wincing at the bruises on Anne’s back.

“How’d you get those bruises?”

“Looking already, are we?” Anne turned the shower on.

“I’m just curious.”

“I was given the last packet of socks at the homeless shelter, and some dudes were pretty desperate. Which is stupid because I would’ve given them a pair if they’d asked.”

The writer nodded but needed to ask one last question.

“What about the cuts on your arm?”

“What cuts.”

What should’ve been a question came out as a statement, and Anne quickly ended their conversation. Still, that didn’t stop Catherine from eying the vertical cuts above Anne’s wrist which were carved into her skin like the scar on her neck.

Cathy stayed silent for the remainder of Anne’s shower. The stream of water calmed her, and the steam put her muscles at ease. Anne hummed the faint tune of a lullaby, and for once, everything was back to normal.

Anne was sunk back into Cathy’s room smelling of strawberries and coconut, they sprayed flea killer on almost all of Anne’s belongings (despite Cathy’s protests). Before ending the night on Cathy’s carpet eating ice cream and watching Tangled.

Once Anne had passed out on the writer’s shoulder, she began scribbling down her thoughts in her notebook:

‘Why do we fall in love so easily? Even when it’s not right? I don’t know how it all turned to lies, and sometimes I think it’s better to never ask why. And even though Anne hurt me, I can’t help but forgive her.’

☁️ I hope you liked... the first 3 chapters are already on ao3 but i figured i’d post to tumblr too! Let me know about tag lists! xx ☁️

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