Disclaimer: I do not own Reign (in case there was any confusion about that)

AN: This is set during 1x13 "'The Consummation'. In my version Henry's symptoms begin to show earlier than in canon. The bold text is dialogue from the show.

She flashed a condescending smirk. "Then I'll continue with the seating chart."

Henry's glare bore into her, not that she paid him any mind. Irritation pulsated through his mind watching her carry on devoting her full attention to extravagant floral arrangements. Only Catherine could manage to be flippant over something as grave as her own execution.

"Everyone out! NOW!" The bellow he immediately regretted, as it exacerbated the throbbing in his temples, also triggered a mass exodus. Servants and nobles alike scurried from the Great Hall as swiftly as their feet would carry them.

Catherine understood that this display was meant to leave her quaking in her heels as much as it was to gain them some privacy. Disregarding these intentions, she dropped the roses she had been fiddling with and turned lazily to exit.

His hand gripped her tender flesh just above the elbow, preventing her departure. "Not you, Catherine." An exasperated sigh poured from her lips, but she remained. Releasing his hold, Henry moved to his throne where he slumped with his eyes closed.

Without a moment's hesitation Catherine ascended to the throne on his left, her rightful place, sending the message to her husband that she would continue to assert her claim to this very throne until the executioner held up her head.

The Queen drummed her fingers rapidly losing patience with his continued silence. "What is it, Henry? I have quite a lot to get done in a relatively scant amount of time, so if you could get straight to it-"

Cutting her off, Henry slammed his fist against the chair. He winced and pressed his cool goblet over the offending temple. His voice was hushed when he finally spoke. "I'm so tired of this. It's ridiculous. All the noise, table legs screeching across the floor, clattering dinnerware, a legion of gadding servants, it's giving me a headache. What is this all really about, Catherine?"

Over the past several weeks she had taken note of his masked discomfort. Anyone else may have missed the subtle signs: his aversion of direct sunlight, his desire for solitude, only wearing his crown for formal occasions. A wife notices these things. She also notices when they escalate. For a moment, his pain stirred in her heart a pang of sympathy, but a glance at the block upon which her life was to end quickly banished such feelings.

Her familiar sarcastic tone came out to play. "I suppose I'm just getting in a lifetime's worth of irritating you. Consider it a parting gift."

"I'm serious, Catherine. All of these lavish preparations, are you just trying to drain the coffers before you go?"

She cocked her eyebrow and, with a half-smile, reminded him of what he was casting away. "I'd say I have a right to a bit of what is mine. Or have you forgotten who funds France?"

"Money will do you no good where you're headed." He had meant it to sound cold, but it just came out tired. This business was exhausting. "What is it you're really after?"

The humour in her tone hardened. "I suppose keeping my neck intact would be asking too much, yes?"

Henry huffed and brushed off her question, refusing to meet her gaze. "You know we cannot afford this."

She almost laughed, 'We cannot afford this'. He spoke as one would about renovations to a chateau or funding a tournament, as if this was something they had decided on together.

The truth was that none of this was what she wanted, but experience taught her that nothing in this life ever turned out the way she wanted. The only exceptions, all that tethered her to this world, were her children.

"Grant two requests and you can do what you like with my funeral." Catherine's hands gripped the throne as the last word passed her lips. "First, I wish to be interred with Louis and Jeanne and Victoire." Her stare was distant, but soft as a wave of remembrance submerged her. It no longer pained her to think of the children she had lost, they seemed closer and more tangible than those she was leaving behind.

Henry allowed several moments to pass in an honoured silence before answering, his manner gentler than it had been in years. "Of course. And the other?"

Catherine had little doubt that he would agree to her first request, but he would surely resist the second. "Let me see our children."

Shaking his head, his mouth agape, Henry was about to argue in favour of a farewell letter or token instead. Her visit would raise too many unanswerable questions for their young ones. "Catherine, it would onl-"

Anticipating his reluctance, she had prepared her argument beforehand. "I am their mother, the only parent they have ever known. I would ask you to care for them in my absence, but I do not wish to delude myself. Anyway, it would probably only frighten and confuse them if you showed an interest at this point. They deserve to receive a fleeting moment of affection before they are declared bastards and rendered little better than orphans." It took every bit of her considerable will-power to maintain her placid expression. Flying into a rage would only serve to make him less agreeable so she kept her tone civil, but gave no sign of relenting. "You owe them that much."

He swallowed hard, wanting to dispute her claims, wanting to say with assurance that he would be the parent they needed. His tongue wouldn't form the lies. With a quick nod, Henry stood and stepped down. "Come, then. Let's go."

Bewilderment leapt into her features as she rose from her throne. "Now? You aren't seriously intending on listening in on my goodbye to our children?"

Waving her forward impatiently, "Yes, now and, yes, I'm coming."

She moved towards the corridor, keeping her distance, as confusion gave way to suspicion. "For what possible reason? I would rather not have you intrude on something so personal."

His wife's reluctance combined with his lack of sleep and the pain coursing within his skull incited Henry's paranoia. "And why would that be? Hmmm?" Henry began a predatory circle around her. "Would I be interrupting your plans for another escape attempt? Have you bribed the nannies into abetting you this time? Or is it so that you can poison our children against me? Francis already hates me, are you hoping to convert the others? Or has my adulterous wife taken a new lover now that I have dispatched her former playmate?" He couldn't even think of Richard without grimacing. It wasn't just the infidelity, as though that weren't enough. Together his wife and a man who had been his friend conspired to make a fool of him. For years he had believed her to be faithful to him, the realisation that he was not the only one in her life shook him to his core.

He would fault me for his failures as a father. "I wonder, does anything go wrong in your life that I am not to blame for? Pity you didn't think of murdering me sooner." She met his glare with one of her own.

Henry strode menacingly close, invading her personal space. "And what makes you so sure I haven't considered it before?"

Catherine had to crane her neck, looking almost directly up, but she was determined to meet his livid scowl. "As to lovers, unlike His Majesty, I value time with our children over a hurried romp in the sack." She drew in a deep breath giving herself time to rid her voice of malice. What she had to say had far more impact when delivered as an indisputable fact rather than another jab in their verbal sparring match. "They are much more than heirs to me."

AN: So I hope you enjoyed! I may continue this one if there is interest. Xoxo