Fallen ~•A Good Omens Fanfiction •~

Chapter 13: Battling for the Crown

Chapter 13: Battling for the Crown
Almighty's narration

  Henry VIII was himself influenced by Hell. Or at least, Hell was willing very much to influence him. They sent the demon Crowley, who seemed to be their greatest at the moment, on the case. Heaven, on the other side, wanted to prevent his wives from dying because of him - which was not, after all, very efficient, but the point is not here. The point is, Crowley was in charge of suggesting the king to act, and in this precise case, to execute Anne Boleyn, his second wife. Aziraphale, on the other hand, needed to help her survive.
  Crowley was an eminent member of the king's court, and as so, he didn't need to put much effort into his work, not to mention the king's counselor who made it even easier. For Aziraphale, it was harder, the king's ability to get rid of his wives already being well-known. He had been introduced to the palace as a stableman, and though he didn't know much about horses, it had been an inventive and effective way to approach the queen. The two became close as the queen liked the angel's company. He was her confidant, and she listened to him. One night, she ran to Aziraphale, almost literally, making the other servants suspicious something might be on between them.
  'My queen, what is happening?' he enquired.
  'My husband is mad at me, really mad,' she murmured. 'Would you, by any chance, know a place where we wouldn't be disturbed?'
  'Of course.'
  Aziraphale led her through the corridors and made her get in a small room. He closed the door after him. Nobody used to go there, except for him and Crowley.
  'This is serious, this time,' started Anne Boleyn. 'At this pace, I doubt I'll be able to pass the year...'
  'Oh, I'm sure it can't be that bad,' he assured her. 'What if you explained to me what happened, for a start?'
  She opened her mouth to answer but started crying. She let herself fall to the ground, face buried in her hands. The angel hesitated and took her in his arms. It was forbidden, but she wouldn't bother.
  'Do you want me to go grab you something? Biscuits? Apple juice? Wine?'
  'You're so good to me,' she sobbed. 'Biscuits, please... and a tissue would be appreciated, too.'
  'I'm going then. I'll be back in a snap,' he promised.
  He got out of the room, closing the door very carefully. He needed to find Crowley, as quick as possible. As always, Aziraphale knew where to find him and not long after, he finally caught a glance of him. Crowley was alone, reading in the library.
  'What are you playing at?'
  'What do you mean?' Asked Crowley.
  'The queen, she and her husband fought again,' he explained. 'Has it got anything to do with... your behavior?'
  'Oh, come on, you know I don't have anything against Anne,' replied Crowley.
  'Well, I thought maybe Hell... forcibly made you do that.'
  'No, nothing to do with me. Where's she?'
  Aziraphale took him to see the queen and miracled a plate of biscuits before entering. Anne Boleyn had stopped crying and was sitting straight on the floor, her presence was intact. When she saw Crowley, she stood up quickly and asked sharply:
  'Why is he here, Aziraphale?'
  'I expressed the desire to see your Majesty,' answered the demon. 'Actually, he didn't have a choice.'
  He approached her.
  'I heard what happened between the King and you,' he added. 'Are you alright?'
  Her eyes were red and her make-up was slightly changed, showing she had cried. However, she stayed strong and nodded.
  'I perfectly know your husband can be tough and incredibly stubborn, too,' Crowley continued. 'I live that as well. He shouldn't treat you like that.'
  'He is the king,' answered Anne. 'He does what pleases him.'
  'And you are the queen,' insisted Crowley.
  The queen looked at him. What was he up to?
  'What side are you on?' she asked.
  'Never been on any other than my own,' he replied. 'By the way, people are starting to think you and this stableman have a thing.'
  'Me and Aziraphale?!'
  'Me and the queen?!'
  'I know it's not true,' continued the demon as if he hadn't heard. 'Still, you should be careful, if the king heard about it...'
  'Is this a threat?'
  'No, a fact. I'm not going to tell him such a thing - that's not true.'
  The demon rapidly glanced at Aziraphale, who was feeling so unwell he was trying to disappear behind the curtains. Unfortunately, he couldn't.
  'I'm not yearning for anything bad to happen to you, my queen,' he continued. 'I'm pretty sure he knows I'm sincere.'
  'Is he?'
  'Yes, my queen. I've known him a long time, and he means it.'
  Anne Boleyn didn't ask anything, neither for how long they'd known each other or how they met, though it would have been a legitimate question. She was reassured, she trusted Aziraphale with her life, literally.
  Months passed by and the animosity between the demon and the queen was beginning to fade completely. She now trusted him enough to be able to talk about private things with Aziraphale in his presence. She somehow felt safe when he was around, just like with Aziraphale. Her relationship with Aziraphale had amazingly improved as well. If she had ever suspected him of being a supernatural entity, she was about sure he was an angel sent there to protect her, and maybe even Crowley was one. She felt free to be herself with them, more than with any other. Anne never let it through - she was a queen, she couldn't.
  The year ended and she was still alive. She knew it was all thanks to Aziraphale and Crowley's interventions. She also knew the year that was to come would probably be the last, so she decided to live it as she intended. "1535 will be my year," she told herself. And she was happy. All year long, she lived the day like it was the last one. She, the angel and the demon became close friends. Of course, Aziraphale and Crowley already were, but it seemed like being around Anne Boleyn brought them even closer. So, on New Year's Eve, Anne took them to the room where they had talked almost freely for the first time and talked to them. The things she said there would never get out, and nobody apart from them would ever hear it. What is known by at least three others is that they all looked more sad when they got out. The queen was trying to be impassive and Crowley's face was impossible to read as always, but the signs didn't lie – and Aziraphale's expression confirmed them.
  The two tried to keep their queen alive as long as they could. Despite all their efforts, Anne Boleyn died on may the 19 of 1536, at the age of 35*.

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*Anne Boleyn's real death age is unknown as we don't know her birth year, but the most plausible possibility is that she was 35 years old.