Winter Holiday Catch All 2.0
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/19433048/Monroe_1.jpg)
[It's Fall-ish Winter-ish, which means it's time for the biggest holiday bash of the year! This time, Anna's actually hosted it at her place-- The Castle is bumping with holiday music of just about every kind, and Anna's gone all out with the decorations. She's even toned down the baby jesuses of the entire event-- but what may be missing in religious decor, she's made up for in shimmering ornaments, fake snow, way too much glitter, and a sick playlist.
This year, the party feels... twice as big. That probably has nothing to do with the fact that she passed out invites to all three rounds of the murder musical game, and then some. Probably.
Exchange gifts, have a drink, and be sure to get down]
(no subject)
Aunts, on the other hand, are allowed a bit more leeway.
Red is beloved by birthright-- She is a daughter of the country Anna once served as queen to, after all. Anna had been fiercely protective of her from the very moment she knew it-- it hadn’t been enough to protect the girl from the opera house, but she finds some bit of joy in knowing that the girl had Richard with her, during those horrible weeks-- and that Richard had opened his kingdom, his home, and his heart to the brave young girl. Anna may have fought him for custody, if she knew about custody battles, but her lifestyle wasn’t yet suitable for children. Instead, she happily watched her blossom into a lovely young princess-- and when that princess begins to grow up, Anna dutifully shares with her all of the advices that her mother, a german princess herself, had shared with a young princess Anna von der Mark.
Rowen was the first that she got to see as an infant-- a real life baby, small and perfect and amazing, even when he spat up on her fancy, sparkling gowns. Anna would spend hours singing to him, taking him on walks in the garden, and on more than one occasion, Roberta wondered to herself if Anna remembered whose baby this was. While she always returned him (with the exception of one time when she very nearly did not), there was always a bit of a pout accompanied with it. As he grows, her pride in him blossoms— she sees him become a boy that reminds her of William, passionate and duty bound, and into a dashing young man, with the wisdom his father had taken fifty years to form. She teases him about every maid she sees, and when he’s old enough, she brings him sprigs of Edelweiss to give to whomever he wishes— but not before reminding him firmly of the symbolism. Growing only in the highest mountains of the alps, collected only by the most daring of mountaineers, it’s a sign of love and devotion.
The only thing that makes Anna weep more than him giving half to his mother is when he returns the other half to his beloved Aunt Anna.
Regina comes next— Richard’s joyous announcement that it’s a girl, the sincerity in his voice, makes Anna kiss him with pure joy. Rumors are sent through the castle and the countryside for months, as a result. For what it’s worth, she also kisses Roberta when she gets the chance. She does pout quite a bit, when she hears the child’s name—- but having now met Regina herself, she understands some of Richard’s fear of his ex wife. So, with little complaint other than her expressions, she teases Richard about the importance of ex wives, of second born children (Anna being the second of the von der Mark children) and rocks Regina carefully. As she grows, Anna feeds her a steady supply of stories of powerful women, of girls who could, and did. She grew up in a household with powerful, inspiring and unique women, and she intends to make sure her niece has the same opportunity. It wasn’t infrequent at all for one of the other Queens to make an appearance, with toned down versions of their stories and gifts. Anne Boelyn doesn’t tone it down because she’s Anne Boelyn, and when Richard tries to send Princess Regina to bed early one night for being a menace, she wails “Don’t take my head!!!” and everyone looks at Anna, who raises her hands in defense. “It wasn’t me!”
Rosanna is the child that makes Anna stop pouting about names. She is the second Anna to have a godmother Anna, and everyone hears about this fact constantly. She is proudly holding Rosanna and cooing at her when her brother is announced, and Ransom shows up— Anna is nearly removed from the delivery room for the amount of yelling she does while holding a newborn. The twins are a delight— and not just because having double babies means Anna has double the opportunity to hold a baby. She relishes in the fact that neither of them will ever have to be alone, and as both newborns, and their family sleep, Anna stays up throughout the entire night, hunched over a blanket with a needle and golden thread. It’s worth it—- in the morning, Ransom has a blanket that matches the one Anna has made for Rosanna. Both children are swaddled safely within blankets embroidered with the symbol of Cleves. Anna falls asleep in her porridge at breakfast, causing a good bit more scandal, but it’s worth it. She keeps them both fed with stories from home— a particular favorite is of the Swan Knight, a beautiful and spectacular knight who rescued an equally beautiful princess. They fell in love, and he promised to always stay, as long as she never asked his origin story. Anna leaves off the ending, as it’s always seemed too sad. When Ransom cries because Regina’s been picking on him again, Anna soothes him with gentle words, and the story of the time where her sister chucked her pinking shears at Anna because she was so annoyed with her—- Anna even shows him the tiny scar on her forehead from it.
But there’s something of a special connection between Anna and Rosanna. She knows better than to express, or give any hint as to having a favorite in front of any of the other children. But there’s something there. One night during dinner, a “Ja!” rings out— and the entire family freezes, because Anna is not visiting at that time. The source was little Rosanna. Rosanna always laughs at Anna’s jokes, and Anna always laughs at hers. As soon as the Princess is old enough for her own room, Anna’s visits often contain slumber parties with Rosanna, and on her twelfth birthday, she’s given a locket with Anna’s personal seal engraved upon it. Cleves may be gone, and Anna may not have the land to pass on— but she does still have her title. With Roberta and Richard’s eventual blessing, she leaves it to Rosanna. But she waits to reveal this, leaving the title as a gift only revealed in Anna’s final will.
Rosanna's not surprised when she finds out. But she is touched, even if it’s hard to express it in the moment. She’s always in a part of her heart known this was who she was.
Rosanna of Cleves.
(no subject)
“If you like it, and you keep practicing, maybe you can be my alternative!” Anne gives Santana a big thumbs up.
“Thanks, but no thanks, Anna. I want to be a C/Katherine. Aragon sings in spanish. And did you see K Howard’s performance?”
As Anne of Cleves melts into her dressing room vanity in a wave of dramatic depression, Christine hops around her energetically, trying to raise her aunt from her depression— and keep her from smudging her makeup before it’s sealed. “I’ll be your alternate, Anne! You’re my favorite Queen!”
——
She hadn’t missed out on too much, in the weeks she was gone. Sure, two months is a long time to be missing from a tour, but she’d made it to opening night at least. She was right— those bitches had replaced her, but they were all happy to see the real Anna von Kleve. And after Anna looked the girl who had been playing her over, she had huffed, and announced “She doesn’t look a thing like my picture!”
They forgave her, even after she sent the poor replacement Anne of Cleves off in tears. How could they not? They were one of a kind, no category. They had spent too many years, lost in his story. And now-- here they were again. Six. So what if Anna had a new, weird, eccentric family that she brought along to shows, and was clingier than they remembered? She was still Anne of Cleves, who had suffered the same husband as the rest of them. And more importantly, she was still loud, boisterous, cracking jokes, singing opera, always loving, and-- she could still get down.
In a twist of irony, the alternate that Anne sent away crying when she replaced her, looked almost exactly like the portrait. It was uncanny. Anne claims she never saw it, but she had brought Christine along, who still whispers in shock about the entire thing. Yeah, sure, Anne looks like the picture, except for, maybe just a little off—- she’s too polite to say anything, but when Mephisto asked her about it, she caved. “What was different about them?” He asks. Christine shakes her head, not wanting to betray Anna’s trust, but also--- “I think-- the hands?”
-----
There are always free tickets to go around. Anna has to hire extra help at The Castle, because of how often she’s out-- and it’s not like she can have Christine cover on her own. Christine’s with her at almost every show anyway, soaking up as much of the stage if she can. A pop concert’s not quite what she has in mind for her future, but if she ignores what she knows of Anna for a few minutes, she can almost pretend this is a Broadway extravaganza. It’s a taste of what’s waiting for her, and Anna’s more than happy to accommodate the young performer. She and Santana are such common fixtures backstage that once, a new, confused hairstylist tries to pull Christine away for space buns, instead of Anne B. She’s rescued last minute by the real Boelyn-- exactly the same height as Christine, who gasps, and swats at the hairdresser’s hand. “Racist hairdresser! That’s not the woman that tore England from the church!” But she winks at Christine, who feels strangely awed.
It’s not unusual for Parr to sweep in with snacks or scholarship information for the girls, or for Aragon to include them on her latest very dramatic, very important news -- normally about what nonsense the church is getting into. K Howard calls them to sit on either side of her while her perfect high-ponytail is gathered, enjoying the company of other girls her age for once, prattling on about something that none of the other Queens can even dream of understanding (except Boelyn maybe, but she plays it cool, disinterested and tapping on her phone-- the only hint that she’s listening, a loud laugh timed in a way that it can’t be for anything except what they’re talking about). Jane’s there to oversee it all, and make sure nothing too uncouth happens -- that the other queens watch their language, that everyone’s hydrated and sleeping well, and always inquiring genuinely about how everyone’s mothers and significant others are doing.
After the first few performances, Anne realizes something is missing and arranges for tickets and a place backstage for Shilo. She intends to make good on her offer to make her a Lady in Waiting, and sets her up with music lessons with Joan. K and Santana get ahold of poor Shilo one night, and when they return her to the dressing room, she’s been dolled up like a total badass, plus glitter, and she’s beaming. Anna almost cries at how happy she looks, and Jane, overcome with maternal emotions for no reason other than being Jane, joins Anna in hugging Shilo and trying not to cry.
Mephisto’s the one who’s seen the show the most times outside of the teens. He says he’s there to make sure the teens get home, but Anna catches him cheering for her more than once. He only makes the mistake of coming backstage once, all five other queens instantly mobbing the poor man, wanting to know what kind of a guy Anne of Cleves was living with. There’s more than one ‘Tall, Dark, and Steamy’ comment, and he barely makes it out of there, but not before snapping “She does not live with me!” But before he slams the dressing room door shut, he has the misfortune of hearing laughter, smacking kissing noises as at least one queen blows him a kiss, and “Wow Anna, I need to get me one of those.” and “Did you see--- Ass better than Henry’s!”
Perhaps as part of Stephen’s punishment for murdering them all that one time, the next time he comes, he brings Stephen, and sends him backstage instead. The scene’s pretty similar, except poor Stephen doesn’t get to escape. “Two of them! Who else are you living with, Anna?” Catherine whoops, and K just laughs-- if it’s at Anna, at Stephen, or if she’s just laughing because Santana is is anyone’s guess. “We never thought you had it in you. Literally. Never thought it.” She quips finally, and the other Anne comes to her defense. “Oh, guys, don’t be so mean. Anna, I always believed in you. I mean, look at him. Total nerd!” Anna ends up being the one to kick him out at that point, announcing that they need to change, and he needs to go find Mephisto.
When they finally convince Sigyn to leave her wife behind for a night out, she’s given the same treatment by Stephen and Mephisto. Here’s your backstage pass, go see Anne in her dressing room. Sigyn’s treated a little differently, though, when she walks through the door, and Anna flounces over to give her a hug, there’s silence. When Anna and Sigyn look at the other five, they’re all staring at her. “Damn, Anna--” Catherine mutters, and even Jane’s a little pink, as she mutters something about that explaining it, and a little out of character, it’s K and Boelyn that don’t totally lose their heads. “Katherine Howard, Fifth, and best looking wife!” K announces, reaching to shake hands and introduce herself, right as Boelyn’s introducing herself as “Anne Boelyn, Second and most important wife” and going in for the hand shake, too. Cathy Parr, for what it’s worth, looks ashamed of the rest of them. “Cathy Parr, sixth wife--- Anna, do you live with anyone else we need to meet?” Sigyn and Anna both look at each other, then Anna grins. “Not tonight.”
Because it’s not enough. She may have brought a good chunk of her friends and family to come see the show already, but there’s still people missing. And after checking the show’s schedule, she has a very good idea, one that’s going to take a lot of work to pull off.
-----
The first step is the hardest. Stephen and Anna spend a good hour picking an outfit for Mephisto that looks respectable, formal, and straight-laced. Stephen has to call in Christine and video chat both Claudine and Nana to dress Anna down enough to look less club-chic or Jojo Siwa but older and hot, and more “wealthy aunt who definitely visits a country club”. He coaches them both the entire drive to the facility where Riley was, rejects Anna’s suggestion that they just swing by the bank and get a bunch of cash she can “make it rain” with instead of writing a check, and finally, when they head in, despite himself, says a silent prayer for both this plan working out, and that the warden isn’t too shook by this.
For what it’s worth, Anna plays her role of southern-belle wealthy country club aunt a little too well. While they discuss Riley’s progress, how wonderful this has been for her, the growth, the development, she’s swooning and flattering and charming like it’s her job to do so. Mephisto’s surprised he only has to keep her on script once or twice, when she gets carried away with an extra-dramatic storyline of her character’s backstory that has nothing to do with their conversation. She says she’d like to make a large donation to the facility, for their hard work-- and then, as they’re about to leave, drops that she only wishes her dearest niece could come see her perform on her birthday -- she misses her so very much, and poor Riley’s done so well--
When Riley sits in the visitors room ten minutes later, Anne’s grinning ear-to-ear, and Mephisto looks proud of himself. She feels sick looking at them. “Guys, what’s going on-- Dad, why’s Anna here instead of---” Anna bounces in her seat. “Your Birthday! We have a surprise for you-- we got a supervised visit home for you! And! It’s the night of my concert, And! Mephisto’s the supervision!” Riley somehow doesn’t feel better with this information-- even if it sounds like good news. It feels like it could go horribly wrong. But the way Anna’s getting-- there’s no telling her no.
------
It’s easier after that. Which is funny, because it involves world-hopping. An invitation has to be dispatched to Angus’ world well in advance, so if he’s off on some adventure or flying into the sun, there’s time to get ahold of him. There are flights to be arranged for Nana and Claudine, and someone has to get over to Steven’s world to invite him, Spinel, and Squipinel, because like hell it’s getting to say she treated it any different. Richard, Roberta, and Red are all issued an invitation-- with enough time to corral a babysitter. Tickets are sent to Michael, Jermey, Squaro and three to Evan Hansen-- this one signed with a note from… Loki? Asking him to bring his mom. There’s even an invitation issued to Jonny, one to the LP, and Anne of Cleves, a devout Catholic, summons a demon in the middle of her club--- both to party for a while, and to give Beetlejuice the invitation he deserves, damnit.
One Night Only --- lol jk i’ve been at this for months and will keep at it for months
Anna von Kleve, & five other queens in:
SIX , HERSTORY REMIX!
March 23rd
PRIVATE SHOW: Riley’s birthday/Opera House Reunion Concert
------
Anne of Cleves is blessed. She believed it when she was given a second chance at life. She believed it when she left the opera house with her friends by her side, alive. She believes it as she pulls a disguised Riley on stage and sings her Happy Birthday pre-megasix-- and knows it, when the rest of her guests are called up on stage for the megasix. She has them all here. Her family, her friends, her quirky robot acquaintances-- Evan Hansen and his very pretty mother, and her five queens.
This is all she needs.
-----
Almost. There’s still something missing. A night later, Sigyn’s on the couch with Loki in the penthouse, showing her pictures of the show, when they hear Mephisto and Anna arguing in the next room over. “Anna. I am not--- no. No to the confetti and glitter. I draw a line.” “Fine.” She hisses back. “Just hold the spotlight and do the airhorns, ja?” There isn’t any more arguing. Instead, Mephisto comes in, with a ladder and a flashlight. Then Anna, wearing the same costume she wore the night that Loki met her-- except instead of ruby slippers, she’s got the sparkly boots that she always performs in. Then--- five more women. Then Shilo, with her keyboard, and then four more women, with instruments.
Anna smiles at Loki. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with not seeing the show, did you?” And then--- she whips around to Stephen, who is standing by the lightswitch, trying not to laugh as he dims the light.
“And tonight, Loki---- We are!” Anna calls out, before six voices ring out in unison.
“LIIIIIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEE”
At the end of the show, Anna does without Mephisto’s help, and throws an entire container of confetti and glitter in the air. She, Boelyn, and Howard pose in it-- Aragon catches on a little too late, and Parr and Seymour both panic, mostly at Stephen and Mephisto’s reactions-- there’s cursing and fumbling, but it’s too late.
The glitter never leaves.
(no subject)
Anne of Cleves is the most well-adjusted person to make it through the opera house. Arguments can be made for some of the others, but we should point out that Anne never:
-Deliberately placed herself into harms way for “the sake of others”
-Murdered any of her opera housemates
-Activated a robot in her brain to help her cope, or--
-Murdered all of her opera mates due to delusions of heroic grandeur,
In fact, the one time that she did experience delusions of any kind was the same week the rest of the opera house was suffering from delusions, and even then, her fear was based on real-world experience. Sometimes a king realizes your purpose is no longer greater than the irritation you provide him with and tries to chop off your head. And even when Anne believed that to be true, she remained calculated-- even in her less-than-cool and panic fueled desperation, she kept true to her colors, protecting others, making plans to keep moving. But aside from those few days of panicked intensity, she handled the distresses of the opera with the same well-practiced coping mechanisms she had used to get through life in, and after court. She kept her hands busy. She prayed. And she made the people around her laugh, and smile. Those are the things that kept Anne alive, and kept her herself, all the way until the very end of it.
But even Anne left the opera house changed. Even Anne bore the scars of trauma, though hers were more easily concealed than the others. In her previous life, she had spent a great deal of time alone, in whatever palace she called home at the time. There was company to be had if she requested it but for the most part, she read books on her own, focused on her needlework, and if she was feeling especially lonely, she may write a letter home. She was terribly homesick, but she was content. There was not great distress about being alone. After seven weeks with people around her, constantly, four of which she had Tad Cooper’s excellent company-- Anne could not say she felt the same way anymore. Being alone was insufferable. Her apartment felt barren and lonely, no matter how many soft blankets and pillows she filled it, or how loud she played the music. There was no one to fuss over, no one to play pranks on, no one to share a meal with. Once, she had been content with this sort of thing. Now, she just aches.
It’s nice, that the penthouse isn’t too far from The Castle. She had done that on purpose, though the intent hadn’t always been to be so close that she could head there straight after she closed up. It just oftentimes worked out that way. Tonight, she closes up, then heads upstairs to her apartment-- looks in the fridge, sits on the sofa and flips through endless channels of television with nothing to watch, looks in the fridge, takes a shower, changes something comfortable, looks in the fridge again-- eventually, her chest feels like it’s going to explode if she stays in this unit for a single moment more, so she tugs on her jacket, and after making sure everything is properly locked up, heads for the penthouse.
She feels better before she’s even there. Just passing by people on the street makes her feel less anxious, less panicked, and when she can see the familiar building, the tension she had been carrying leaves her shoulder. There stood a place where not only did she not have to be alone, but where there were people she cared about, and she was close enough that if something terrible happened, she could do something about it.
It’s ridiculously early, and Anna doesn’t expect anyone to be up when she lets herself in through the door. She leaves her shoes by the door, abandons her jacket a few rooms later, thrown over a piece of furniture, and eventually stops in the kitchen. For some odd reason, the food is always more appetizing here, even if it is the same stuff she has in her own fridge. She helps herself, making herself toast with an absurd amount of jelly on top, and when the light down the hall comes on, she’s surprised. It’s absurdly early, like 3:45 am early. “Mmfmmm fffmmmm mmmmm” She manages, through her full mouth of toast.
Sigyn raises an eyebrow. “Try again?” She asks, looking at Anna expectantly. Anna manages to get the toast down, flashing a bright smile of apology. “I didn’t expect to see you up. Midnight snack?” Anna asks, cheerfully, and Sigyn shakes her head back. “No. I haven’t been able to sleep, and I heard someone out here, so I came to see who was up.” Anna responds to her with a little wave. “Just me-- I---” She pauses, since she’s got another mouthful of toast and jelly. Sigyn waits patiently for her to finish with that. “-- Thought I might have left something here? Ja, that’s it.”
“Really? What did you leave?” Sigyn asks, barely masking her amusement, as she watches Anna flounder, then fail to come up with anything. She laughs, shaking her head. “You don’t need to make up excuses to come over, Anne. You basically live here.”
“Tell that to Mephisto?” Anna asks, her voice gaining a kind of whimsical pitch to it, and Sigyn laughs quietly, shaking her head. “You know how he is. I think even he enjoys having you around.”
“Ja, I know. He loves me.” Anna says, presenting pursed duck-lips and batting her eyelashes in a dramatic fashion, before she abandons her plate full of crumbs and jelly in the kitchen sink, to deal with later. Or for someone else to deal with later. Sigyn barely controls her temptation to mother, and send Anna back to it, but what the hell. She’s tired, and Anna’s already plopped herself on one of the more comfortable couches. She settles in next to the smaller woman, who quickly invites herself to lean against her side, so different from the more distant, stiff woman who had tried to snub Richard’s hugs during that first trial. Sigyn gives her a look, but doesn’t ask. Anna, unable to sit with silence for long, begins to fill it with her own words, confessing finally--
“It’s too lonely above The Castle. I don’t like it much.” Anna mutters, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement at her own reference. “I worry about everyone else. And it’s so quiet.” Sigyn gives her a little comforting pat on the arm, nodding. She knows something about too quiet-- is a little too quiet herself, right now. Anna notices, and frowns, wrapping her arm around Sigyn to give her a quick squeeze. “Loki still sleeping?”
Sigyn’s breath catches, just slightly, but she nods. Anna hadn’t just been referring to sleeping because it’s three in the morning. But neither of them says anything about it, Anna quiet for a few rare moments, which almost makes Sigyn uneasy— but then Anna begins to hum, filling the silence before it can stretch too long between them. It’s nice, to have someone around, without risking waking anyone, to have something to think about other than worry. She can just breathe, and listen to Anna’s quiet melody, until the song comes to an end. “Most of us stopped singing so much, after the opera house. Not you.” She observes, and Anna lets out a laugh. “Were you always musical?”
Anna shakes her head in response. “Not always. Music wasn’t part of a Lady’s proper education, where I’m from. Not like in England! It was a love I gained in my newly found freedom, post-Henry. Amalia though—- my younger sister. She had a lovely voice. She loved to make rhymes and her own hymns. She was the musical one.” Her voice gets quieter, and less Anne like. It’s late, and emotions have a tendency on sneaking up at this time.
“You miss her.” Sigyn observes, gently, and Anna nods her head. “Ja—- which is silly, I know. I knew I’d never see her, or any of them again, when I left home.” Now that’s a feeling that Sigyn can relate to. Missing someone, and knowing you’ll never see them again. Or— at least. Thinking you’ll never see them again. Now she wraps her arm around Anna, and they sit there, side by side, squeezing each other on the couch. “It isn’t silly.”
Anna smiles despite herself. “I guess not too much. We were so close growing up— the four of us. I miss them all very much. It’s easier here, than it was in England.” Sigyn flashes her a smile in return. “No Henry?” She asks.
“No— Well, ja— of course no Henry! But I’m thinking more about—“ Anna’s grinning now, she can’t help it. It seems ridiculously cheesy, but now seems as good a time as any. She’s not alone. Sigyn’s beside her, warm and solid and real, and always nice smelling. “I have another sister, now.”
Sigyn registers the cheesiness, but doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t really have time to, either, because Anna’s interrupting the moment with the next thought, clarifying: “And I’m the big sister, not the little one!”
Sigyn laughs. “Sure.” Her voice says it all though. Anne of Cleves is definitely the little sister here.
in which evan hansen gets what he deserves: someone w a crush on his mom
“Why is Anna at Evan Hansen’s house?” Stephen asks. This time, it’s Mephisto’s turn to give him a knowing smirk.
———
It begins thanks to Richard, as much as Anna loathes to admit it. She knocks on Evan Hansen’s door, and is stunned when it’s opened by a woman she only knows from photographs. Heidi Hansen’s plea had moved Anna so deeply when she’d read the news clipping about him, that it’s jarring to see her in real life. She reminds Anna even more of Jane in person— with the blonde wavy hair, standing at a similar height, the way she wore a kind but tired smile, but was definitely still undeniably solid as stone.
“... Can I help you?” Heidi asks, for the third time. Anna jolts back into reality. “Ja! Sorry! Is Evan Hansen home?”
Heidi, who has now become doubly suspicious and protective of Evan, eyes this strange, small, sparkly woman with caution. “How do you know my son?” She asks, and Anna’s quick to wave a hand dismissively. “Oh! My cousin brought him home. You remember Richard, ja? I’m here to give him this.”
Heidi does remember Richard— how could she forget? Even if she ignores the fact that he had been the hero to hthat brought her baby home to her, he had also been a very strange person. He looked nothing like the woman on her doorstep now, but they both were matching in terms of strangeness. And now that she thinks of it, he had mentioned a cousin in New York City, if she or Evan needed anything. “He’s out right now, but he should be home soon. Did you want to come in?”
Anna doesn’t need to be asked twice. She flashes Heidi a bright smile, nods, and slips in past her. Once she’s inside, she makes a bee line for photos of baby Evan to coo at, and Heidi can only watch with that nervous ‘what the fuck have I done’ expression.
When Evan stumbles in through the front door hours later, he’s surprised his mom isn’t waiting for him. Instead, she calls from the kitchen “Honey, Anna von Kleve’s here!”
“....Who?” He calls back wearily, and Anna paws at Heidi’s arm before she can panic, whispering something at her. It doesn’t make sense, but Anna’s been kind of weirdly charming, so she calls out in a confused tone. “Queen…. Anna von Kleve?”
Evan feels a single fear. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he feels two fears. Queen Anne is having coffee with his mom—- but she’s not sitting across from his mom like a normal human being. Instead, she’s pulled her seat around to sit beside his mom, and they’re leaning over a scrapbook together, looking at his baby photos together. Queen Anne’s arm even brushes against his mom’s arm when she reaches to hold out a gold embossed envelope to him, and he feels sick, angry, and confused at the same time. They aren’t doing anything weird, but he doesn’t like that one of those opera house people was so weirdly close to his mom. He doesn’t like that anyone is so weirdly close to his mom.
Neither of them seem to notice, as Anna goes back to the album, laughing in delight— “You were so small Evan!” As Heidi turns the page, smiling up at her son. “It sounds like Richard has an invitation for you this summer.” As he flips it open, he pales. Summer camp. Yay?
—-
Before Anna leaves, she passes her business card to Heidi, with its own flashy gold embossing. “You could use a break. Come to The Castle sometime. Bring Evan too, he can hang out with Christine or Shilo backstage or in the apartment. Drinks on me!”
——-
On the ride back to New York City, Anna’s hands tremble. She pulls her phone out, and texts the only person she thinks can help her in this situation
sos how do i know if my type is blonde busty moms??????
At home, Mephisto spits out his drink.
this one made ME cry so thats not a super great sign for everyone else
Anna hates February 13th.
Those around her have assumed it’s the upcoming valentines day holiday, which she has scheduled dates for-- but on February 13th, she cancels them all. Is it the rage of living around so many people in relationships, while she’s a woman known for her famously failed marriage? No-- but the marriage thing does get closer to the real issue at hand. When Stephen finds her in the kitchen, scarfing spätzle and wurst out of a takeout container, she’s already halfway through a bottle of wine and has a dark expression on her face.
The dark expression is alarming, but there are other worrying facts at play here. When she announced that she’d thrown away all of her plans for tomorrow, the entire household had balked -- Anna had seemed genuinely excited about some of them. She hadn’t been the most successful at dating, but she loved the thrill of it anyway. There was also the idea that Anna would have gotten takeout from the German restaurant, instead of eating in, shouting at the cooks in the back in German, and excitedly chattering away with anyone’s immigrant grandmother in their native tongue. She was a local celebrity there. Then, there was the fact that Anna was drinking alone. That wasn’t like her at all.
He briefly considers turning and running. He probably should have. But instead, he gets her a mug for her wine, a nod to a time long ago. She peers at him suspiciously, but takes the thing-- on a better day, she’d laugh, maybe make a joke about the tables turning. Instead, she pours a good bit of wine into the mug, then shoots him a particularly scathing look. “You can join me, or leave while you can. Last warning.”
He takes his chances, gets his own wine-mug down and lets her pour a little bit in there, though he doesn’t drink like she is. Instead, he takes a sip, looking up at her, wondering what, or who has possessed Anna von Kleve. “Valentine’s Day has you down?” He asks, taking a guess.
“No. February 13th.” She retorts back, mouth half full of spätzle. She narrowly avoids biting her tongue off, and thankfully, decides to finish chewing and swallowing her food before she replies for the rest of the conversation. She says it in a way that he should know what that means, and he takes a moment to think before he remembers something on public radio earlier that day. “...World Radio Day?” He asks, hesitantly, though he’s pretty sure Anna hasn’t seen a radio before coming to New York, and she likely hasn’t formed such a resentment for the invention that it might cause her such anger.
Anna’s mid chewing when he makes the suggestion, but her face tells him it’s the wrong answer. She pushes away her food when she’s done, taking her time before she answers. “No. February 13th is the day Katherine Howard was executed.” He knows that name, but it takes him time to remember which of the other wives this was-- three of them were named C/Katherine, you can’t blame the man. Anna watches his expression, and fills in the blanks for him. “Wife number five. Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced--” as always there’s a thumb pointing at her own chest “Beheaded. …. Survived, but who cares about Kathy Parr?” She takes a chug of wine, but doesn’t wait for Stephen to answer. “Katherine was sent to court to be one of my Ladies in Waiting. She was sixteen when she arrived. Ja-- I know.” She was responding to the disturbed look on Stephen’s face. “He liked her instantly. She was everything I was not. Pretty, young, educated in music and dance, and spoke perfect English! A few months in, my jewels started going to her. Another 3 months, and I had divorce papers.”
Stephen isn’t sure how to process this information, in combination with Anna’s anger. She never seemed this angry about Henry, just aghast at the disrespect and the tragedy of it all. “You didn’t like her?” He asks, wondering if maybe this is Anna’s expression of jealousy. Instead, Anna laughs, though the laugh doesn’t sound right, and he’s starting to feel even more worried about this situation he was in.
“I loved the girl! I showered her in gifts for her seventeenth birthday too. I shouldn’t have, all that was mine ended up being hers, in terms of the Queen’s supply of jewelry and clothing, just a few months later. I signed the divorce agreement, became the richest woman in England, and nineteen days later, Henry made Katherine Howard his fifth wife. Second, in his mind, Wives one, two, and four didn’t count.” There’s the dramatic eye roll that normally accompanies her talk of Henry, and he feels relief for half a second, but then she’s talking again. “I came to see them both a few months later. She was lovely. She gave me a diamond ring, and when Henry gave her two puppies as a gift, she handed one to me. She was a child. I stayed away after that. I had a bad feeling. And I was right. She’s the one they accused of adultery, though-- her song always breaks my heart. Henry was always full of shit, and court was always full of monsters. They took her head on February 13th.”
A long silence stretches between them. Anna isn’t crying, but she doesn’t look right either. He reaches for the wine bottle, intending to pour the rest into his mug just to keep it away from her, but she swats his hand away and pours the rest for herself. He opts to speak, instead. “And that’s why today’s so difficult.”
Anna laughs. It’s not a kind laugh. It’s the kind of guttural laugh that makes his stomach twist, makes him briefly doubt his sanity, reminds him of the sound he had made, way back--- her voice again distracts him from his panic.
“No. It was sad. I felt terrible for the girl. But February 13th wasn’t about Katherine to me. It was….” Even drunk, she’s stronger than this. She lifts her head and looks him in the eye. “February 13th reminds me of what I escaped. It reminds me of why I accepted the divorce. Why I only returned to court on occasion, when it suited me. Why I didn’t push my brother’s agenda to become wife number six. February 13th is all about what I avoided.” His stomach twists. He knows what she’s going to say next. She’s said it in jest more than once, but never in this way. “Seventeen years.” She whispers. “Seventeen years after my divorce, I lived, and even though I was remembered as the second Divorced, I outlived Kathy Parr, the Survived by nine years. I converted back to Catholicism, to keep Mary’s favor. I distanced myself from Elizabeth, to keep rumors at bay. I played the game, so I would never. Ever. Have my own. February 13th.”
He can’t do anything. He’s paralyzed, too afraid to bolt, held in that seat by her gaze. She cracks. She sobs. “And then-- you---- you just….” She buries her face in her arms on the table and lets out a wail, one that makes him glad that the others are out, sans Mephisto, who he’s sure is lurking around the corner, eavesdropping.
“Anna---” He musters, and she only wails more. She can’t even remember it, but the knowledge that her greatest efforts had failed in the end, that she had spent a life so lonely to avoid such a fate, only to meet it after being thrust into a situation that kept her closely with other people-- she hangs onto the knowledge that she had been executed, a mere week after she had sobbed to Stephen in fear of Henry doing the same.
He’s not sure if he should leave, but he half fears that she may take some homicidal action if he tries to do that. He’s the worst person to be there for her in this situation, but he’s the only one there right now, and at least he has experience with trying to comfort her when she’s like this. He stands from his seat, taking the opportunity to move the wine out of her reach, and after pulling another chair beside her, cautiously wraps an arm around her. Surprisingly, she accepts it, and after raising her head from the table, she ends up crying into his shirt.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” He whispers as she cries, politely ignoring her wine and bratwurst breath. He’s said it before, but he’ll say it again now, say it as many times as it takes. “I didn’t know it--” He swallows. He should have known. “...Impacted you so much.”
Now that she’s cried her feelings out, she seems to have returned at least somewhat to herself. She nods, lip trembling with an overdramatic effect that seems somehow reasonable right now. When she talks, it’s back to her regular quick, musical pace. “Ja. I try and… make it funny. Make it easy. But… My greatest fear happened, and I don’t even remember, and I’m being sad about it on the anniversary of a teenager dying!” More waterworks. Stephen feels sick, but also relieved that this all has finally come out. Put into the context of her life, and the way she had been during the sickness motive-- he gently pats her back until she’s done crying, until she sits up, and wipes her eyes with her arm.
“Sorry. I’m just really really really sad today. Not just about dying. About Katherine. And Henry. And the Opera house, and---” Fuck. How does he keep her from crying again? He squeezes her hand, which seems to at least keep her from wailing again. And she doesn’t stab him with her fork either, which is a nice plus. Instead, she whispers another “Sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s okay, Anna. It’s okay to be sad today.” She nods, going to wipe her nose with her arm next--- he delivers a napkin into her hand instead. “I’m sad, and mad at you, but I still love you. And I’m not normally mad at you. But today...” She confesses, after blowing her nose in a less-than-royal fashion. Stephen smiles wearily, reaching to adjust some of her hair that’s fallen way-side in her meltdown. “You can be mad at me today, too.” He hesitates just briefly, then gives her a little squeeze. “I love you too Anna. It’s going to be okay.”
And it was.
(no subject)
Anne of Cleves has her own place. There’s a spacious unit above The Castle, filled with her clothes, shoes, and makeup—- and there’s glitter on the ceiling! The centerpiece of it all is above the fireplace in the living room: her portrait, a Hans Holbein original, watching over her, her motto inscribed beneath. “God Send me Well to Keep” The motto has been particularly apt in her lives, if you ignore the little hiccup with Stephen and-- that’s another story, we aren’t here to hurt Toni for once. The furniture is draped with luxurious furry blankets and fluffy pillows, almost every surface has rhinestones, and she has a full audio system built into every room. The bathroom doubles as what is practically a professional spa, with fluffy towels and robes, fancy bubble baths, and all the accents in real gold. It’s the perfect space for a Queen—- and right above her palace, at that.
Yet somehow. Somehow, for some reason, she is always at the penthouse. On their couch. Eating their food. Hogging the remote control. Leaving glitter in her path, quoting scripture, singing and dancing, constantly, in the penthouse. One night, after a night of particularly hard-partying, she and Mephisto even stumble through the front door together, before he seems to come to his senses, glowering at her. “You live above the club we were in!” He had hissed, and she only muttered something drunk and sleepy, before passing out in an armchair. He doesn’t know why he put the blanket over her.
He also doesn’t even know how she got the damn key— or if the doorman just believes she lives there now and keeps letting her in. She begins to get mail there, in an absurd twist of fate, because who is writing mail to a queen from the 1500s? Each time, he tells her “You don’t live here, Anna!” and each time, she just gives a sheepish giggle and shrug, and then goes back to watching The Real Housewives.
A line is finally drawn on the Sunday that Riley returns home. When he brings her bag into her room, the initially happy moment is shadowed, when he notices there’s something slightly off with Riley’s bed-- closer inspection finds an abundance of glitter on the pillows, and in the sheets, and when he turns, the closet’s slightly ajar and when he whips it open, it’s full. Of Anna’s extensive wardrobe. Riley finds her stammer back as she tries to assure him that it’s fine-- she wasn’t home, no harm done, really, and he does make a slight attempt at reassuring her too. But then he’s hauling armfuls of ridiculous sequined and gemstoned and gauzy outfits and high heeled shoes into the hall, dropping them in a heap in the entryway.
Not much later, Anna sweeps in the doors, returning home from mass, and completely steps around the heap of her clothing, as if it doesn’t exist. She steps around where Mephisto stands, glowering, waiting to tell her what exactly he thinks, too. Instead, she sweeps Riley into a tight hug. “Oh, Riley, my beautiful girl, I’m so happy you’re back.” Riley just laughs nervously, giving her half a hug back, because while Anne can’t see Mephisto’s face, Riley can. It’s not going to look good to her parole officer to be witness to a murder the very first day she comes home.
“Anna.” Mephisto says, more darkly than usual, and Riley is once again frighteningly aware of the situation, while Anna seems to not notice at all. “Dad, it’s okay…” Riley manages, as Anna releases her, looking back at Mephisto.
“It’s so great that she’s home, ja?” She asks, grinning. Mephisto does not smile back. “Yes, Anna, and do you know what would be greater?” Anna purses her lips in thought, looking back at Riley. What would be greater? “... Nothing?” She asks, batting her eyelashes in an action that may have made Mephisto laugh, were he not already so angry at her.
“If she came back to her room in proper condition, instead of being used as a dumping ground by someone who--” Anna seems to have stopped listening again already, fussing about Riley’s hair. “It’s fine, Riley didn’t mind--”
“ANNA. THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME.”
The room stands still. Riley looks like she wants to crawl the whole way back to juvie. Mephisto and Anne both don’t move. Then, Anne’s head tilts to the pile of clothing, and she walks to it demurely, scooping up a shimmery cardigan, and a swirly skirt with rhinestones on it. “I think these will look good on you, Riley.” She says, gently pushing them into Riley’s arms. She considers the pile for a moment, picking up a few of the more absurd items of clothing-- then she leaves through the front door. Mephisto and Riley look at each other.
“I’ll wash the glitter off your sheets.” He says, turning abruptly.
----------
There’s no sign of Anne for the rest of the day.
The next day, there’s a knock at the door, and Mephisto briefly considers, for a fraction of a second, maybe Anna’s learned some respect-- but when he answers it, it’s not the queen herself, but a singing telegram apology for Riley, who showers glitter and confetti across the entryway when he’s done. It takes Stephen and Sigyn both to hold Mephisto back.
But then the rest of the day, Anne doesn’t show up either. The next day, Riley gets an invitation to Anne’s apartment, since she knows she can’t be in a bar during her probation. When she returns home, Anne leaves before they get to the door, and when Stephen asks her how it was, Riley fidgets. “It was good, but she didn’t seem like herself.”
“Really? How so?” Stephen asks, mid-dishes, because he always has to do the dishes. It’s part of his punishment for the timewarp. Riley shrugs. “She seemed…. Not sad. Not lonely. But something close? I don’t know!” Thankfully, they have Sigyn there to say nice words to Riley, and once Riley’s gone to her room, to text Anne. When she replies, all four of the adults lean over her phone to try and read it.
“I…. don’t know what this is.” Sigyn says, and Mephisto groans. “It’s. Lyrics to her song.”
nm u?
all alone
on my throne
in a castle i happen to own
---
They don’t see Anne the next day. Or the next. Or the next. That evening, as Mephisto and Stephen get ready for bed, Mephisto frowns and stares pensively out the window. “It’s…. Too quiet.” He mutters, feeling uneasy. Stephen knows better than to laugh, but he knows what’s up here.
“Maybe you should go check on her tomorrow.” Mephisto just rolls his eyes. “Who?” Stephen shrugs, but doesn’t argue. Silence passes between the two of them, and Mephisto finally finds his voice again. “She’s the one, always--- making Riley feel upset -- leaving her things all around.” Stephen gives him the look but doesn’t say anything. Mephisto hates the look. He doesn’t want to think about any of this, wants to feel relaxed about the fact that the penthouse is his again, that there aren’t any unexpected visitors--- but the relative silence is unsettling. Even more unsettling is Riley’s description of Anna, and Sigyn’s text message, which somehow disturbs him. He should be pleased by the silence, by the opportunities it invites. Instead, he has a feeling in his stomach he hasn’t felt since the opera house, and when he lays down, he turns his back to Stephen, and Stephen has to keep himself from laughing at how obvious the situation is.
Someone misses Anne of Cleves.
----
Anne shows up half a week later, with a dubiously large bag of clothing, and sunglasses on, even though it’s the middle of the day. “Is Riley home?” She asks, when Mephisto answers the door, pursing her lips. When he shakes his head, adding “No, she’s in class”, Anne tries to hand over the shopping bag of clothing, with the price tags carefully chopped off, to Mephisto.
He can only sigh, stepping back against the door to hold it open. “Anna. Stop. Come in.”
“I thought this wasn’t my home.” She says, her lip trembling just so-- but she walks through the door, regardless, and drops herself into a nearby chair, gently setting down the bag of shopping for Riley. Mephisto makes a noise that’s half a groan and half a snarl, but follows after her. “You shouldn’t— She deserved something nice to come home to.”
“I was going to clean it up before she got here! It’s not my fault she got an early release! And— I know. I felt really bad! I apologized, and got her gifts, see?” Anne pauses in her sulking to pull various pieces of clothing from the shopping bags to show off to Mephisto. Shockingly, she’s matched Riley’s style pretty well, and managed to fairly toned down things, nothing like the type of thing Anne normally brings out after shopping. No bedazzled fishnets for Riley. Instead, everything has a nice sparkle and the occasional rhinestone, but nothing too dramatic. Just. Nice. He doesn’t know why she’s showing him this, so he just kind of stares at her as she pulls them out and shows them off, then folds everything nicely up and returns it to the bag. “She forgave me. I explained it was only because she was gone, and that I knew it was her room, and—-“
“Anna.” He says again, halting her rambling. “Where have you been?” She frowns, but sits up straighter, as if she’s moving to go.
“Well—- you were right. This isn’t my home! I have my own Castle now, ja? I don’t….” She trails off, and he makes another small, annoyed sound—- that at least makes her smile, slightly. Frustrating him is a familiar feeling at least. “Anna. You have to use. Your words.”
She groans at that, dramatically falling backwards into the chair. “Well. You said it wasn’t my home. And you were right! You and Stephen, and Sigyn and Loki… This is your home, ja? It’s always full of life here. I love it. It reminds me of the opera house, but without the feeling of being trapped, and without the murder. Having so many people around. So much life. It’s comforting, and safe, and… Well. I’m the Queen of my own Castle. It’s what I do best, ja? Sitting all alone, on a throne, in a—“
“In a palace that you happen to own.” Mephisto finishes for her, and the tears that were welling as she rambled hold off a bit more, and she nods. He looks exhasperated. “Anna. You can stay here. You just can’t use Riley’s room as a dumping ground for your shit.”
“But——“ She begins, and he steps to stand over her, trying to be intimidating. It doesn’t work on her. He knew it wouldn’t. “Anna. Listen to me. You don’t live here. But if it’s so important to you— it can be your home.”
Anna stares at him like he’s grown an extra head. Which really would be remarkable, since in her experience, people lose their heads, and don’t grow new ones. Then, she’s blubbering, and up to her feet, and hurtling herself against him. Mephisto is way too cool for this, so he just awkwardly pats her on the back until she calms down, and maybe, just maybe, wraps a single arm around her back.
“I’m…. so glad I’m not—-“ Anna sniffs against Mephisto, while Stephen rounds the corner behind her back. He assesses the situation, give Mephisto a thumbs up, and Mephisto returns with a much ruder gesture, behind Anna’s back still. She thankfully doesn’t notice. “—- I’m not alone anymore.” She musters, and Mephisto once more has to encounter one of his most loathed feelings: guilt. He remembers the talk they had in the opera house. Her insistence that she did have friends, that she was content in her life before. As he releases her, and steps back, he gives her hair a good ruffle, thankful her hair is no longer holding literal spikes in it.
“You’re not alone.” He repeats. She grins, relieved, scooping up the bag of clothing.
“I’m going to surprise her by putting these in her closet.” She announces, bolting off quickly. Mephisto’s left standing there, feeling very uncomfortable. He’s invited an annoyance back into his life. An annoyance he’s gotten used to. Stephens so rarely right, he hates it when he is.
He missed Anna von Kleve.
OHANA MEANS FAMILY
When she was 11, two prominent life events happened: Sybille, her older sister, left their household with a large dowry, to be married to John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, in an elaborate ceremony. The second? Anne was betrothed to Francis-- the 13-year-old son and heir of Antoine, Duke of Lorraine. After seeing her sister enter wedded bliss-- their marriage producing healthy heirs, Anna could only dream of the day when she herself would have her own family. She busied herself in prayer and duty-- assisting her mother and father, and eventually her brother in official business, and helping raise Amalia into an eligible young bachelorette herself. It wasn’t all work and prayer, though-- Anna could read and write in German and read not just the Gospel, but other works. She loved playing cards and created masterpieces of decoration through her skill with needlework. It was never lonely-- she had both parents, and both William and Amalia.
In 1535, she received news that might have been expected but was heartbreak no less. The betrothal, which had never truly been official, was canceled. She had not known Francis well enough to be upset with actually losing him-- instead, the idea of marrying him, or the resulting joy and family-- it was a blow. Thankfully, she still had her family-- and her mother, a devout Catholic, kept her ears full of scripture that made Anna believe all would be well. God had great plans for Anna von Kleve-- she just had not been set upon those plans, just yet. So she sewed, she told Amalia jokes, and she prayed that God would deliver William a loving wife, who would provide her with an abundance of nieces and nephews for her to enjoy.
1539 brought about a bustle of activity to Duren-- lively, and vibrant after the loss of Anna’s father the year before. It was time for Amalia to marry-- and the King of England, Henry VIII was seeking potential brides. His court painter, Hans Holbein (the younger) arrived to paint Amalia, and Anna, as both met the king’s qualifications -- young, fair, unwed, and willing to not be Catholic. Anna would have been blind if she didn’t notice the other qualification she and Amalia held-- William was The Duke of Cleves and held connections to the Holy Roman Emperor. Reformation had swept England much in the same way it had swept through Clevesburg, and there were rumors of the English king feeling anxiety about neighboring Catholic countries. It would do him well to marry someone like Amalia-- Sister-in-Law to the leader of the Schmalkaldic League, and sister of a Duke with ties so close to the Holy Roman Empire. It even soothed some of Anna’s deepest worries, about saying goodbye to her sister, even if the rumors were true about Henry. He surely wouldn’t risk an alliance such as this by angering William. Amalia would be safe-- and happy.
So it was a surprise, and a bit of sorrow when the arrangements started being made that March, and it was Anna who the king had selected to be his wife. She took it with strife. Family was the most important thing, and her heart ached terribly to leave hers, as well as to hurt Amalia by being the one chosen, but this was an opportunity to have a family of her own. It was with a brave face that she faced the preparations, choosing those who would accompany her to her new household. She was fitted for new gowns, and tried to make Amalia laugh at the ridiculous English fashions, tried to pass along whatever advice she had left for her sister, while she still could tell her in person. She prayed at her father’s grave, read her mother scripture, and tried to make suggestions of wives to William. In December of that year, she squeezed her mother’s hands, kissed Amalia and William each on the cheek, and she left home.
It was the last time she saw her family.
Her hopes of having a family with Henry were quickly dashed. He did not seem to like her much (he said as much), and when she asked if the young princesses might join them at court, she was reminded of their status as ladies, not princesses-- and it was made clear she would not ask again. While Henry’s son was present in the palace, Anna could not spend time with the child-- her hopes of becoming a surrogate mother to the child dashed by the king’s lack of amusement with her. We all know how the rest of that marriage went-- with only chaste kisses on her forehead, and then, with an annulment, and the gift of multiple palaces, and more money than a woman could spend in a lifetime.
It did not ease her ache for family. She made a mistake of writing a letter to William, once, without first reporting its contents to Henry, and found herself accused of betrayal. Thankfully, the contents were proved to be meaningless-- and she was forgiven. After that, she could not even write home, without the contents being reviewed beforehand. She did find some semblance of family, through the Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth-- but Mary, with her Catholic sensibilities, was a poor replacement for Amalia’s bold, protestant spirit. Still, it was lovely to have a friendship with one of similar age, who had been similarly spurned and cast aside by Henry. They enjoyed the same things, and Mary as a young woman had lacked some of the judgments that the court had held. Lady Elizabeth was easier to love-- she was only a child when she came to stay with Anna, and Anna enjoyed doting upon the girl, even though she was such a solemn child-- there was a glimmer of life behind her eyes that Anna found refreshing, that made her heartbreak each time Elizabeth left her care. When she became Queen, Mary treated her with honor-- she followed directly behind Elizabeth in the coronation procession-- but then, Mary no longer had time to be around her, and dangerous rumors cursed Anna’s life. When she fell ill, she retreated to Chelsea Old Manor, to die in the company of her few closest servants.
Until the very last moment, she wishes she were less alone. Still-- she is a woman of God, and she must not worry about herself. She includes in her final will money for an education for her servant’s children and spends her very last days ensuring that both the Queen Mary and Lady Elizabeth have positions ready in their household for her servants, lest they lose their mistress and their livelihood in the same swoop.
In a particularly cruel twist of fate, she is buried at Westminister Abbey, far from home, surrounded by members of a royal family she was a member of for only six brief months. Her grave bears the name that history remembers her for-- Anne of Cleves.
--------
Anne’s pacing the room probably as much as Richard had been a few hours ago-- brow furrowed, she only pauses a few times to adjust things on the walls of Richard’s home, to peer at a painting and muse that she should give him a copy of her portrait, that would look much nicer there. She’s fidgety to a flaw, and she’s trying to save her phone battery for later, so she can’t even crank on some tunes and get down while she waits. Plus-- the music might cause a commotion, and after having her airhorns confiscated by a very annoyed physician, who she can only assume Roberta had made the suggestion of confiscating said-airhorns to, Anne was trying to keep a low profile.
When the door finally creeks open, and Richard steps through, Anne practically bull-rushes him, a million questions flowing from her. “How are they? What do---” Richard shushes her, and she freezes, as she focuses in on the tiny, absolutely perfect bundle in his arms. Her heart feels like it’s going to come out of her throat, and her legs may be trembling.
Richard’s seen Anne go through a lot of very dramatic situations-- both actually dramatic situations, and then extremely normal situations that she was acting very dramatically about. But he’s not sure he’s seen her like this before. But-- in her defense, he’s never felt like this before, either. He finds himself chuckling at her, and smiling-- “Do you want to hold him?”
Anna von Kleve is stunned into silence, a true feat, but her head bobbles up and down, and her body moves seemingly on its own to reach out. She seems so shaky that Richard almost wonders if he should put his son in her arms, but as soon as he does, Anna is holding him expertly, holding the little bundle against her chest as if he were-- and he is-- the greatest treasure in all of the worlds she’s seen. She still doesn’t trust her legs, so she eases herself into a nearby chair, while Richard helicopter parents by both of them, just in case. He’s so small, so warm, and so real-- she takes a deep breath, then grins up at Richard. “He has that amazing baby smell.”
Richard isn’t sure what she’s on about, some sort of woman nonsense, but he nods. “He does smell good.” He agrees, a proud glimmer to his eyes. Anna finds herself slipping into a gentle rocking motion as the new prince stirs slightly, but doesn’t begin to cry yet-- and begins to try and scheme a way to make sure Richard does not take this baby from her arms.
“Prince Rowen. Is Roberta going to be missing him?” She asks, trying to decide how much time she has. Thankfully, Richard shakes his head. “She’s asleep-- finally. Red too.” Anna’s laugh is quiet, so as not to disturb the infant prince in her arms. “Why don’t you get some sleep too? You’re tired, ja?” Robert looks as if he’s considering it, and before he can consider too much, Anna speaks up again. “Don’t worry about it, cousin. I have him. If he wakes up and seems hungry, I’ll bring him to you.”
He is awfully tired. He feels all of the anxiety of a first-time father, but something about the way Anne of Cleves looks with a baby in her arms, something about the way she was glowing, made him nod. “If you’re sure, cuz.”
“I’m sure! Shoo! Get out!” The last part is half-sung, in the same melody that she once sung Get Down on stage. With his arms raised in mock defense, Richard leaves to join the rest of his family, leaving Anna von Kleve alone with the baby. A feeling stirs in her chest, and she finds herself humming a few bars of another familiar song. “You know I love you, boy, in every single way….” Little Prince Rowan stirs once more but doesn’t seem disturbed, not yet crying out for his mother. She can finally feel what she has been missing, here in this room, alone with Richard and Roberta’s baby, with Red’s new little brother. She feels it again when Rowan starts to cry, and she’s forced to walk down the hall with the wailing little bundle, peering into the room where Roberta is asleep, Red conked out beside her, and Richard passed out in a nearby chair. When she passes the baby to Roberta, and says her goodbyes, pressing a kiss to each of the family member’s cheeks.
She feels the feeling again, when she stumbles into the penthouse in the wee hours of the morning, tired from interdimensional travel-- and she finds Sigyn and Loki sprawled on the couch together, watching television. When Sigyn turns to her, smiles, and asks “Got pictures?” Anne bobs her head up and down with excitement, wiggling into the empty space on the corner of the couch, under part of the blanket wrapped around Sigyn’s shoulder. “Ja! You know I do--- Prince Rowan! Red’s little brother!” She coos, pulling out her smartphone to show off photos and videos of the baby. When the cooing and chatter of the women gets a bit too noisy and draws Stephen and Mephisto downstairs, Anna waves them over, the feeling resurfacing in her chest once more. “Come look! It’s Richard and Roberta’s new baby! Prince Rowan!” Once she’s shown each picture three or four times, and Stephen has shown her how to email the photos to the teens (he’s shown her so many times how to email photos, but what else do you expect from a Queen from the 1500s?), she finally settles down and makes her own comfortable spot on the couch, complete with pillow and blanket. She hears Mephisto grumble something like “You don’t live here, Anna--” and it’s only then, that she realizes what this feeling in her heart is.
Family.
She has what she's always wanted.