"Catherine? Why are you here?" asked Henry VIII. "I have come to see my daughter. You have not always been kind to her." Catherine spoke in her strong spanish accent. -Well, I suppose that is not a reason for suprise," Catherine continued. Henry now spoke in his deep, coarse voice. "That is only because she is illegitamate." Catherine, so good in producing a great, logical question, had already had something planned. "That remark is made of the utmost stupidity; how can Mary, become the most beloved child in England, and then- at least a decade later- become the hated daughter of the most incompetent, fat, ugly, and vile man in the whole universe?" Catherine yelled. "She is a whore." cried Henry. "Oh, if she is a whore, then you must be the damn bastard." Catherine remarked.
"You were never a true wife, that title goes to Jane Seymour. The beautiful, dead woman who gave me a son." Henry nearly started crying. "I see, your third wife. So, you divorce me, you behead Anne, and you just let Jane die. I gave you a son." Catherine yelled. "He died not even seven weeks later, in the nursery." Henry said, dramatically stamping his hand onto his head. "That isn't my fault, though, is it? Henry. You seemed to recover from the death of your son, within a few days. While, I mourned it, till the day of my death!"
"Jane died, Catherine! I prayed and prayed, but God seemed chose not to save her." Henry shrugged. Catherine immitated Henry's shrug. "When God sees evil or bad, praying to fix something, he does not answer." Catherine smirked. "You have sent me away before, you know I loved you." Catherine folded her hands. "But, I was still your wife in God's eyes; I still am."
And with that Catherine was gone.