Work Text:
The wonders of court never stop to amaze Katherine. The liveliness of the ball, the stunning gowns of the ladies, the jovial mood brightening up the entire castle.
The air around her thrums with joy and excitement, her heart matches to the beat of the band, exhilaration--and expensive, imported wine--coursed through her veins. Her feet find the rhythm as she moves around, accompanied by one of many courtiers.
But even through that all, through her pure unbridled happiness, her eyes never stray far from The King. Checking every so often if her new dancing partner is up to standards for him, and if he isn’t, she’d move on to the next courtier to continue with her next dance.
And when her feet start to hurt--because they still somehow do that, even walking in the most expensive shoes in all of England--she walks up to the throne to greet her husband, as she’s accompanied by one of her ladies-in-waiting who she shares a laugh over a simplistic jest.
“My King,” she murmurs with a bow--she wobbles slightly--and a grin. She feels emboldened by the wine, as she places a hand on his cheek and leans forward to greet him with a kiss. For a moment, a flash of panic goes through her at her own actions, but it’s soon forgotten, as she feels his lips move against hers.
A heavy arm snakes its way around her waist, pulling her closer, closer, closer, until she can’t help but be pulled into Henry’s lap.
“My dear Katherine, how lovely of you to join me,” he says when his lips separate from hers, his foul breath fanning across her face.
She doesn’t let herself be deterred, instead letting out a small giggle as she gets overwhelmed by the giddiness of The King reciprocating her advances--they haven’t been nearly as affectionate the last couple of weeks, as opposed to the month after their wedding. Katherine doesn’t mind it per se, Henry’s company leaves much to be desired, but she still has her marital duties to fulfill--such as giving him another heir.
“Of course, my love. Dancing with these courtiers isn’t anywhere near as gratifying as the dance we shared at our wedding,” she quips, her hand running over his chest. She feels delighted when he seems satisfied with her tending to him. “I’d rather spend some time with you.”
“Very well then,” Henry says with a big, boisterous laugh, by extension the courtiers surrounding them break into a laugh too. “Another drink!” he barks out, the hand that’s not around her waiting expectantly for a servant to hand him one. He takes a large gulp from his new drink, before holding the goblet to her lips.
She leans forward a little, gulping down the wine he pours into her mouth. A little bit spills down the corner of her mouth, as she tries to raise the back of her hand up to catch it, worried it might get onto the beautiful gown he had gifted her--Henry stops her.
His face moves closer to her, that stenchy breath drawing closer to her face, as he plants his lips where the red wine trickles down. His beard pricks at her fair skin.
She stiffles a surprised gasp, but doesn’t move away in any way. She couldn’t, even if he didn’t have his arm around her.
Henry moves back from her with a mischievous grin, licking his lips, before exclaiming, “this wine tastes much sweeter coming from my beautiful bride!”
Once more the courtiers burst into laughter, humouring their King.
Sometimes she wonders if Henry can not tell they’re only doing it to stroke his ego.
Katherine gives him a radiant smile--it’s practised, but he seems none the wiser. She lets herself be pulled against him as his pompous hand runs up and down her side, his thumb just barely grazing over her bosom whenever it wanders up.
Her most favoured lady-in-waiting--Lady Rochford--hands her a goblet of wine of her own, a knowing glint in her eye. It’s easier to pretend when there’s enough drinks in her system, and the nervousness of being in close proximity to The King falls away.
He resumes his prior conversing and jesting with the courtiers, while his hand continues its shameless path up and down.
Katherine rests her hand upon his chest, her other hand cradling the goblet close. Even when she directs her eyes towards the other members of the court, she makes it a point to never face away from The King. She laughs when it’s appropriate to, but never speaks up, unless addressed directly and The King expectantly waits for her to chime in.
She says something, directed at one of the younger members of the court, eliciting some laughs. A small feeling of pride tugs at her chest--and the corners of her mouth--at their clearly more genuine laughs. She turns back to catch Henry’s eyes, only for the feeling to quickly be replaced with a pool of dread in her lower stomach.
His eyes have darkened, oddly focused on her face, his lips slightly parted as he lets out small, yet heavy, breaths.
Katherine knows that look a little too well. Knowing what’ll follow next, she lets her eyes cast down to his lips, before looking back at his eyes--a silent request at permission. When she is granted an upward twitch of his lips, she lets the hand on his chest go to his cheek, feeling his scruffy beard underneath her palm. She moves to kiss him.
He captures her lips like a starving man--although his circumference proves that he is anything but starving.
His hand grows more firm, shamelessly feeling her up. Until he finally draws away, breathless, despite the short duration of the kiss.
Katherine gives him a sultry smile, not paying mind to the uncomfortable pit in her stomach. In a hushed voice she says, “I’d say it might not be proper to be indecent in such company, but then I remembered…” her hand goes down from his cheek, playfully stroking along the collar of his shirt. “You are The King.”
He barks out a laugh, loud, penetrating through the entire ballroom and receiving full attention from its occupants. Katherine can feel the eyes burning into her back, even whilst she’s turned to Henry.
“Right you are, my love!” he remarks, his hand resuming its ministrations, going up more and more, until he’s groping at her chest through the corset.
Behind them the band plays on, the court keeps bustling with life, goblets clink against one another, as Henry’s mouth latches onto her jaw. His beard scratches at her skin as he moves his mouth lower.
Katherine lets her head lean backwards to grant him more excess, making sure to make the right amount of sound to keep Henry satisfied and wanting more, while also making a scene for the court to show how good of a lover he is--even if it is at the expense of how she’ll be perceived.
She exaggerates her breathlessness at the display when he moves away, his features more dark and wild than before. Deep down she knows what’s coming, her heart flutters giddily and treacherously. “Is it time to retire to your bedchambers, My King?” she asks, when she’s mustered up the courage.
“We shall,” he says, voice almost a growl. “Let the festivities proceed in our absence!” he announces.
Katherine takes it as her cue to dismount his lap, waiting patiently for The King to get up--which seems to take him a great amount of effort, she hasn’t noticed it on previous occasions.
She follows him out of the ballroom, as His Majesty's departure is announced. She stays a footstep behind him, in turn she’s followed by the servants assigned with tending to The King’s personal needs and her lady-in-waiting.
He keeps up his stride, walking through the corridor with the authority of his title, not at all mindful of Katherine’s stature causing difficulty with keeping up.
Halfway to his chambers, his stride starts faltering, Katherine notices it immediately when it becomes easier to stay close to him. She tries not to let her nerves grab a hold of her, even when her mind starts to supply her with reasoning for his slowing pace--did he grow bored of her advances already? Did he not feel excitement at the prospect of lying with her anymore? Should she have been walking beside him instead of behind this time?
She directs a doubtful glance towards Lady Rochford, who only nods her on to keep her focus on The King.
So she does, she directs her attention to him, watching as his step becomes slower, seemingly favouring one side over the other as one side starts to slump with each step.
Katherine quickens to walk beside him, offering him the same sort of smile he had before referred to as dazzling. She intentionally brushes her hand against his, watching as he offers her a smile in return, not as darkened by lust as before, but still gentle, as if gazing upon a prized possession.
Nerves fall away again, replaced by a small amount of hope. She did not screw things up, he still wants her.
“My love, did you enjoy the festivities?” she asks, putting some of that childish curiosity into her voice.
It has the effects she wants it to have, he looks at her, genuinely seems to consider her words for a moment, before answering, “I did, especially towards the end. You really bring as much joy to my days as I hoped you would.”
Katherine can’t help the giggle that rips itself from her throat. These short moments of affection coming from The King, the gentleness with which he spoke, the verbal confirmation that she is performing well in her role, took a big weight off her shoulders--counteracting against all the burden of being the fifth wife to The King. “I’m glad. It’s such a joy to me too, to get to spend my time with my beloved husband.”
He lets her latch her hand onto his arm, walking in amicable silence, something that was rare with Henry’s ever growing temper--and that goes without even mentioning his physical ailments of which he appeared self-conscious about.
The start nearing his chambers, the growing thrum of nerves at the marital duties they are about to perform overshadowed by the alcohol still fortifying her.
Suddenly, Henry’s face morphs into one of pain, as the side Katherine is walking on dips down and he almost loses balance, off throwing Katherine’s too.
“My King, are you-?”
“Get off me you wretched thing!” he shouts at her.
Katherine instinctively takes a step away from him, petrified. His temper is a scary thing--fatal to anything it comes in contact with. In an instant she’s completely sobered up.
She glances at Lady Rochford for guidance, who waves her hand in the direction of The King, egging her on to make him placate again--stick to her wifely duties.
So she tries again, the way Lady Rochford had taught her to, “Love, let me accompany-”
Henry cuts her off again, seething, “Silence! Get out of my sight, before I’ll have your head and those of your family!” His nostrils flare in fury, his face reddening rapidly. “Leave! You- you harlot!”
Katherine tries to give him a bow, wincing as he throws more threats of death at her. She hastily starts retreating back where they came from, trying not to let it show to the servants how affected she is by his sudden enragement.
All the while tears cling to her lashes, her hands shaking in terror.
Lady Rochford follows in her wake, keeping herself silent and composed. Her presence brings both comfort and modification.
Neither of them say anything, while Henry’s shouts at his servants continue further down the corridor.
When arriving at her quarters, she doesn’t slow down her pace, doesn’t heed any mind to her additional ladies-in-waiting and trudges on to her bedchamber, Lady Rochford still hot on her heels. She throws herself onto the bed, anxiety hot in her chest.
Lady Rochford slams the doors closed behind them. “Katherine, collect yourself,” she says firmly.
Panic claws at her chest, she shakes her head rapidly. “He- he is so mad! Whatever shall I do? He probably won’t want to see me again. What if he-?”
“Katherine,” Lady Rochford hisses again. She marches over, pulling at Katherine’s wrist to get her upright again. “You are not at fault, you know how he is with his ailments.”
Katherine lets out a whine, one very unbecoming for a Queen. “But he’s cross with me nonetheless!”
“In that you stand correct,” she agrees, bluntly. “Which means you’ll have to give your best efforts to make sure this won’t affect the rest of your marriage to The King. If you ruin this now, he’ll have you replaced without as much as a glance. All our efforts will have been for nothing.”
Katherine shakes her head, helpless, hopeless. Desperation threatens to double her over into herself.
“Here’s what you shall do,” Lady Rochford continues, placing her hands on Katherine’s shoulders solemnly. “You’ll get ready to meet him in his bedchamber, soothe him, stroke his ego, and seduce him.”
“I can’t do that, what if he gets angry at me again? What if he comes for my neck?” Katherine asks worriedly, her hand coming to rest on her neck. She’s been Queen for half a year, and even now, she still worried about Henry withdrawing his affections for her. She couldn’t become a second Anne Boleyn. She wouldn’t.
“That’s why I’ll go and check in with his entourage, to hear how he is faring.” Lady Rochford places a hand on her cheek. “I wouldn’t let you head over there if he is in too sullen of a mood,” she reassures.
Katherine gives her an appreciative smile, despite her doubt and the tears. “I know, although I still think-”
“Katherine,” Lady Rochford says, this time with more force, resulting in Katherine seizing up once more. “I know you are scared, and your fears are not unfounded, but you have to do this. This is your duty as a Queen and wife. You need to bring him children before he thinks you unfit. Whether you like it or not, you will perform your marital duties.”
Katherine opens her mouth once more to retort, her lower lip trembling, tears still stinging painfully in her eyes.
“Am I to be understood?” she asks, her features sharp and unrelenting. Before Katherine can give as much of a nod, she calls out, “Ladies! Get The Queen disrobed!”
Katherine stands there wordlessly, as her ladies-in-waiting rush in to get her ready for bed--or in this case, to be had by her husband.
She stands there, trying not to be encompassed by her emotions, as her ladies wordlessly get her ready. Taking off her beautiful dress, now tainted by the mistakes that had preceded. Wiping her down with washcloths, though her body had long been tainted by the men who had had her before The King. Putting her in a fresh shift and taking down her hair, placing it in a new hairdo that is not intended for sleep, but for keeping a male company.
“Your Majesty?” one of her ladies calls her away from her internal panic. She holds up an evening robe, made of the finest silks, meant to catch everyone’s eyes--show she is a wife to be had.
Katherine lifts her arms a little, letting her ladies put it on her. She knows what is to come, and never before did she feel such dread at the prospect of it, never before was she to intimately face The King in such a furious mood.
Lady Rochford enters just as the ladies assist her in putting on her footwear. “Good, you are ready,” she says, beckoning Katherine to her. “Allow me to escort you to His Majesty's chambers.”
Katherine nods weakly as she lets herself be guided through the palace corridors. She tries to make herself tall, tries to exude confidence. It feels like the whole court is holding its breath, everyone they pass in the corridors falling silent.
They all know what is about to transpire, something she takes pride in, her status to be with The King in that regard--now their eyes feel judgemental, burning on her skin.
Right when they near his quarters, in the same corridor where The King had made a scene not very long ago, Lady Rochford speaks up, “You’ll do good, Katherine. I’m certain you will.”
Katherine gives a nod in acknowledgement. “I must,” she agrees.
Lady Rochford stops, her features softening as she tucks a loose hair behind Katherine’s ear. “He adores you already, you fret too much, my dear Queen. Be your charming self, keep him company, even if it is not of that nature, and don’t make him feel inferior because of his condition, okay?”
Katherine smiles unsurely, frayed at the edges.
She leans forward, placing a chaste kiss to Katherine’s forehead in that delightful motherly way that manages to ease her a little. “That’s a better smile,” she remarks and falls back into stride.
With confirmation that The King is in a better mood than he was previously, they head into his quarters, escorted by one of his lords-in-waiting to his bedchamber.
Lady Rochford stops him from announcing Katherine’s presence, “The Queen will announce herself.”
Katherine pushes out a breath, hesitating to knock on the door and let herself in. She knows this tactic, letting her go into his room on her own to make it feel more spontaneous and out of her own initiative. The fact she had done it a few times before, does not make it any easier this time around.
She forces down the dread pooling in her lower stomach, bracing her fist to knock on the door.
When she does so it takes a moment for The King to call her in, she opens the heavy door to his bedchamber and puts on her sweetest smile. “My love,” she starts, coming in, but not quite closing the door yet, in case he did not reciprocate her advances. “I came to make sure you do not go to bed with a heavy heart. I wish not to let your sleep be unrestful, because of me.”
Henry is seated on his bed, prodded up by plush pillows. He lets out a huff, clearly his servants’ meaning of a better mood differs from her own. “I wish not to see you tonight,” he retorts.
“If you want me to retreat to my own chambers I shall,” Katherine starts, uncertainty concealed under a cordial smile. She came here with reason, so she does not pay heed to his warning, closing the wooden door behind her. She toys with the knot of her evening robe, opening it as she moves towards his bed. “But please let me ease your mind with some… entertainment.”
His expression remains unreadable, even when she comes close and discards her robe on a nearby chair--yet his eyes flicker downwards.
“Perhaps… you’d like me to recite that sonnet you so endear, or play you one of your favourites on the lute?” She draws nearer, her voice dropping lower, more sultry, loaden with different intent. “Or perhaps… you desire to be entertained in a different way, my King?”
His lips quirk up into a small, predatory smile, his eyes growing more lustful like they were in the ballroom an hour earlier. He holds out his hand, gesturing for her to come closer. “Then perhaps I shall indulge.”
Katherine smiles, she’s in The King’s good graces again.