Sorry it takes me so long to update, kitties. I'm traveling at the moment (Ireland, oh Ireland), but the good news is: all the stories are finished. So I'll be uploading them sloooowly and painfully LOL. Don't forget to check out other fanfics I've written about Catherine: Condemned Woman, Do Nothing and I'll Die, Window, Forest for a queen... And of course, I'm always looking forward to your reviews - good or bad :D

...

When Catherine expectantly lifts her chained hands the king's face breaks with a contemptuous smirk: "You'll never learn to be greatful for what you get, will you?" and as if to make up for the cruelty he's just said, Henry pulls off his fur coat and places it on the shoulders of his wife.

She smiles at him with a catlike gratefullbess, bowing her head and wrapping herself deeper into the warm clothes of the King. Catherine's body shivers even stronger when Henry takes off her wrist shackles, exposing her skinned wrists. Looking at his wife, he sighs - Henry hasn't seen his wife so vulnerable before - not even during her multiple birthgivings, the first few of which Henry stayed next to his wife's chambers. Perhaps back then it was't Catherine being so very strong, but the potions she was given made her look like it – Henry couldn't tell, but he knew his wife was always a tough one.

Caring, sometimes ingratiating, always ready to support her husband...

"You'll freeze," she interrupts his thoughts, and Henry catches her sad look on his hands: without knowing it, he's squeezed his fingers on his wife's injured wrists - slightly, painlessly - he hopes - just to support her.

Perhaps.

"Tomorrow I will have my head chopped off, it won't matter whether I am sick with pneumonia. Get dressed. You still have France and England to rule," - Catherine continues and Henry realizes that fretting, ready to manipulate and bite anyone woman is still here. Taking a deep breath the King sits next to his wife – on top of the stinking rags that the bed is covered with - still holding Catherine's hands.

" How did we come to this?" - he asks bitterly, moving forward and trying to kiss the forehead of his wife. She turns away at the last moment, and Henry buries his nose in her hair - the scent of mint, flowers and youth dizzing his head. "I still don't want to do this to you," - he whispers to her ear and rests his forehead on her temple.

"A little late for that," - Catherine snaps, jerking her head to the side - the shacklesare removed now, and nothing restrains the movements of the queen. "You asked me to trust you, but you never gave me such a luxury." She tries to get out of the bed but her legs do not obey as her head becomes even more dizzy. "So why are you here? To soothe your conscience?" - the woman continues, pulling her hands from the grip of Henry's and slowly walking away from the bed on her stiff legs. "Tomorrow evening, you want to make it easier for yourself to fall asleep, so you must hate me. You must despise me not to stop the executioner at the last moment, is not it what it's about? And you come to me hoping I'll help. A man who kills his wife is afraid of his own remorse. Afraid of his own pity ..." - she says it faster and louder with every next word, her arms folded across her chest, her back leaning against the wall.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I had to see if my decision was right, for the last time," - Henry spits sharply, jumping out of bed and heading to his wife." And you know, you almost convinced me," - he comes close, and before she can dodge, he kisses her on the lips. Strongly. Passionately. Making sure she can't stop him.

Catherine's head meets cold stone of the tower wall, and the king, clasping his wife's shoulders, moveds to kiss her neck now. The woman doesn't resist - she knows that his majesty will disdain to take her here on the dirty prison sheets. She knows that if she does not respond to his caresses, he will soon get bored and, having received the necessary disappointment in her, the king will retire to his chambers where he probably has a young mistress waiting for him. The girl will probably hav a hard time this night, but why should Catherine worry about silly little flys being attracted to the flames of her husband?

But she loves him - and no matter how many times the queen tells herself otherwise, she misses his touch. She misses him . Everything. And last night showed her all the colors of the world. Within a few hours the sun will rise, counting the last moments of her life, and for some reason Catherine doesn't want to be alone now . She does not want to die - because her death will not do any good. And because she is afraid...