SiX: The Musical One-Shots

• The Ballad of Anne Boleyn •

!! TW: Implications of murder !!

Anne Boleyn was definitely the most popular bitch in school, a girl with a refined, curvy body, sharp cheekbones that could probably cut through ice if that was in any level possible, sly gray-green eyes, and a perfect, charmingly wicked grin everyone knew oh-so-well and had feared for the past four years, all of her high school career. Apart from that, she had the hottest girlfriend in school, a tall girl with dark caramel skin as soft as satin and a glowing smile by the name of Catalina of Aragon, or simply Catherine. She also happened to be head cheerleader, and a filthy rich girl descended from the Royal Courts of France.

She had everything she could possibly wish for, from cars to designer clothes to expensive trips across the world. She had everything until, hiccup and hitch, sensible Jane Seymour lost a leg in a terrible car wreck. Of course, Boleyn paid no mind to it. She had tons of things to keep up with, and besides, she honestly couldn't care less. She hardly knew Jane, and she did not have the time, energy, or the slightest interest to get to know her. Eventually, prom time rolled around, and Anne had only one thing in mind; being crowned prom queen. As a senior, it would be her last and greatest honour, and quite honestly, something she had looked forward to almost her entire life.

Bearing the  weight of a jewel-encrusted crown, having a crowd cheer for her, having a satiny sash and a scepter, the music and dance that was sure to follow her crowning... it would be like ruling all of England. She desperately wanted this, and there was no absolute way she would let anyone take this from her. She was the one and only Anne Boleyn, and nothing she asked for would ever be denied. 

"I heard they're planning to name Jane queen of the prom this year,,," She stopped dead in her tracks as the whispers and murmurs of stirring gossip filled the crowded hallway. Jane? As in, Jane Seymour, who had lost her leg? That couldn't be right. She sauntered off, ignoring all the little comments of "I'm voting for poor Janie," and "Jane for prom queen!" It was certainly just a pity vote! Nobody in the right mind would vote for Jane.

One afternoon, while she was doing her homework, her dad approached her desk with a quiet chuckle and a small bouquet of roses. "Anne," Her father said. "Life is a prom. I know you won't disappoint me and mom." He tossed the flowers beside her and walked off, ignoring her for the rest of the evening. Something about the flowers was off... Then she realised, to her horror, that they were dripping with fresh, wet blood. It was a sign. Now her father expected her to win this... if she didn't , she'd certainly be in some sort of trouble with her dad. That terrified her. And who could blame her for feeling so scared? Her entire life had been devoted to winning everything from horseback racing to junior beauty pageants to golf tournaments, about being better than everyone else. And this, she hoped, would be no exception. She would win for her family's sake.... Even if being crowned that meant getting blood on her hands...

Check Anne, choose Anne! Vote for Anne Boleyn! Check Anne, choose Anne! Vote for Anne Boleyn!

Everyday, Anne would practise flashing winning smiles in front of her vanity mirror, sigh, let her face rest for a few seconds before rerunning the smile, trying for a more convincing look. She shoved everything aside, everything un-prom-related was irrelevant. She stopped hanging out with her friends, gave Catherine zero to no attention, stopped going to cheer practise all for fake smiling and being dress fitted over and over again. But no matter what she tried, injured and wheelchair-bound Jane still had a fair hold on the lead.

Anne was going insane, quite honestly. She slept almost nothing, paid zero attention in all of her classes, stopped caring for herself, and even stopped going to social gatherings and parties. Her sanity was, quite literally, hung by a thread. Some girls were rational, but Anne was certainly not. Her friends all proclaimed that the once-great Anne Boleyn had taken a fall and was now socially-dead. Even her girlfriend- now ex-girlfriend- was through with her. On one hazy, cloudy afternoon, she received a text from Catalina: I'm taking Jane to the senior prom. Her parents, especially her dad, did nothing at all to help, and instead pressured her even more. "Anne, darling, why be so calm?" He grinned. "There's just no room for a princess at prom."