Chapter Text
It hadn’t taken long for the other queens to learn that Anne Boleyn was something of a tumultuous presence. The sound of Anne’s hollering voice and thundering footsteps had become as ingrained into the ambient noise of the house as the humming of the furnace or passing of a car. Although her average demeanour in the house was reminiscent of the Tasmanian Devil, the queens had accepted it as part of the routine. Which meant that it was wildly destructive when her behaviour reached a boiling point.
It all started on a Saturday afternoon, when Jane returned from the store to find Anne’s gangly form sprawled out on the couch, still in her pyjamas - the Power Rangers ones that matched with a set Katherine had, of course. Jane tutted at her, setting the grocery bags on the counter.
“Anne, it’s almost 3. Shouldn’t you be dressed by now? I did a load of laundry last night, I left your clothes on your bed.”
Anne shrugged, not looking up from her magazine. “You didn’t wash them right.” She replied, turning the page.
Jane stopped in her tracks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t wash them right.” Anne repeated, as if it was obvious. “You made them too scratchy. I can’t wear them.”
At this, Jane abandoned her groceries, walking into the living room. “What’re you on about? There’s nothing wrong with the clothes, love, I didn’t do anything to them.” She folded her arms, unsure if Anne was messing with her or not.
Anne cleared this up for her by snapping her magazine shut and clumsily rolling off the couch, somehow managing to stumble to a standing position.
“You don’t get it, okay? Just...leave it!” She shoved past Jane and stomped up the stairs, ignoring the cries of Aragon, who was on her way down and had nearly been knocked down half the stairwell. Aragon sighed, heading into the living room where Jane was still stood, chewing her nail in thought.
“Anne on the warpath again?” Aragon snorted, snapping Jane out of her daze.
“Hm? Oh, I...I don’t know, really. She was...being sort of strange.”
Aragon shrugged, turning towards the kitchen to help put away the groceries. “Nothing new there, then.”
Jane sighed, lingering for a minute before shaking her head and following Aragon into the kitchen, deciding to leave it for now.
—-
The next incident that sent up red flags for the queens was when Anne came home from a walk in the park to find the living room in disarray - or at least different. The surfaces had been adorned with various sizes of houseplant, new curtains were hung, and Parr was currently positioning a fairly large, wooden clock on the mantel. She saw Anne come in, and beamed. “Anne! Jane and I ran into a sale at the store. Like it?”
Anne looked around, taking in the decor. “Yeah.” She said finally. “Yeah, it’s nice.” Parr’s grin widened, clearly proud of herself.
Later that day, the queens were all relaxing in the living room, enjoying a peaceful day off. Anne, Anna, and Parr were sitting on the couch, each silently reading a book. Jane and Katherine were putting together a puzzle on the coffee table, and Aragon was absentmindedly sewing a hole in one of her skirts. The silence of the room was comforting, and was broken only by the brand new clock.
Tick...tick...tick...tick…
The rhythm of the clock was subtle in reality, easily ignored by most of the queens. To Anne, however, the ticking was all she could seem to hear. She twitched in her seat, gritting her teeth together.
Tick...tick...tick...tick...
Anne let her book fall into her lap, the action going unnoticed. She squeezed her eyes shut, so hard that pinpricks of light appeared against the back of her eyelids.
Tick...tick...tick…
She twitched again, and began clawing at her forearms, rhythmic scratches against her skin that were slow at first, but quickly became harder and more aggressive. Her eyes still squeezed tight, she didn’t see the other queens beginning to notice her behaviour.
“Annie?” Came Katherine’s worried voice, but it fell on deaf ears. Anne continued tearing at her arms, small pinpricks of blood forming.
Tick...tick…
Parr leaned forward, tentatively placing a hand on Anne’s knee. “Anne?” She said, her voice an anxious whisper.
Tick…
The contact was all Anne needed to turn back on. She flew up from the couch, whirlwinding along the floor to the mantel, and in one aggressive, much less than graceful movement, slammed the clock from the mantel onto the ground, where it burst into a mess of shattered glass and springs.
Katherine shrieked, and the rest of the queens were nearly too shocked to even register what had happened. Jane was the first to get a proper sentence out.
“Anne! What on earth has gotten into you?”
Anne looked out at the living room with watering eyes, at the five shocked queens staring back at her, expressions ranging from fear to anger. Anne choked back a sob, and sprinted up to her room, ignoring the cries of protest from the others.
The remaining five sat in silence for what seemed like hours, the echo of Anne’s explosion hanging in the air.
Parr was the one to break the silence. “That...there’s no way that was, just...normal, right?”
Her question was ignored, until Jane shook her head, standing up. Outbursts from Anne were definitely not unusual - the girl was partial to what the others viewed as a harsh temperament and brash, opinionated stances. But this was cause for concern, even in Anne’s case. Jane smoothed out her shirt and cleared her throat.
“That’s it. I’m calling the doctor.”