It was her wedding day. The end of November.

The small Scottish train had arrived in grand pomp, but no parents - they were back in Scotland, along with his brother and sisters. They were to meet Thomas and Mary when they completed the journey to Alwin Hall..
Thomas was greeted by Mary's cousin, Richard, and Henry de Tieuleor, the latter was set to become the new Master of the Horse at Alwin Hall at Mary's request of course.
Mary was nervous when she met her betrothed, who had been waiting at the end of the altar, which was dressed with flowers of white.
Sir Thomas Alwin, the Viscount of Moyen. His rat-like nose was the first thing Mary saw as they stood before each other. Both dressed in their finery of white satin. Her diamonds glittered near the candle light, the latter did not soften his ugliness at all.
"Màiri" he said - his accent was thick but like silk, as he bowed - low and formal.
Mary replied with her sweetest smile and deepest curtsy, as she took his hand before the priest.
She kept her eyes down during the ceremony, which was in Latin. Her husband was Catholic and Mary was to remain as one, something which upset the English King.
Her Lady Mother, Richard, Henry de Tieuleor and his wife, were the only family to attend this wedding. A small group of couriers stood in the back, all staring and judging. One woman stood out to Mary, - She had long, brown hair hidden under a deep, golden-red, French hood. The woman looked on with heavy-hooded eyes, filled with jealousy and a tightened, angry jaw, as Mary and Thomas kneeled before an altar, declaring their vows to God and one another.

The rest of the wedding was plain, Mary was glad it was over quickly. Her kiss was brief - a brush across the lips, her husband smiled bright.
Thomas ordered no dancing but only music. Only a small feast of chicken and ale was to be served as well. Mary sat obediently beside her new husband, opposite a very gloomy and tear-stained Lady Mother.

Mary was relieved that their first night together would be a private affair as Lady Mother ordered. She could hear the noise below in the courtyard. Mary stood beside the window, watching as peers were drunk and yelling for their valet for more light, making their way across the cobblestone to the Kings celebration.

When the glow left her sight, she went on to quickly washed her face, preparing herself for the next step. Mary looked plain in her nightgown, her hair swooped into a long braid.
Her maid, Jane, placed sweet-smelling oil of waterlillies behind her ears.
"Just breathe miss" Jane whispered
There was a comfortable silence between the two girls. Jane only slightly reminded her of Mary's beloved half-sister, Margaret - now a nun in the north.

There was a soft knock at the door, her husband walked in, a little unsteady from the ale, and wearing his night shirt of linen and gold threaded.
Jane bobbed her head towards him, quietly leaving the room as Thomas's eyes never left Mary's.
He walked over to her and stroked her face. He kissed her softly. Mary could taste the bitterness in his mouth.
After a few moment of kisses and touching. Thomas became rough as he led her to the feather marital bed, a bed Lady Mother ordered especially from France. It was draped in cloth of blue and silver - Mary's house colours.
She was nervous, gripping the linen tight as he roughly kept kissing her lips and neck. Mary imagined it differently before, but Thomas was always rough. The way he pulled off his night shirt, kissed her breasts and pushed her lace up, holding her down as she whimpered underneath him.

He didn't look at nor kissed her, just did his duty. She was grateful that Thomas didn't last long and he quickly finished with sharp thrusts. After a moment, he just reached for his nightshirt and cup, stumbling out of the chamber with no farewell, most likely to seek the company of another.

When the door shut behind him, Mary laid there for a moment, looking up at the dark wood ceiling, studying the rich lines.
All she could smell was his sweet on her. It burned between her legs. She secretly hoped there wasn't a child growing in her belly as she rolled over on her side, drifting to sleep after a few tears.

After being awoken twice during the night by her husband, who had returned to their chamber, to take her again and again then sleep, the morning was busy. Mary attended mass and then court. The new couple matched in green. Her Henry had joined them after mass, always two steps behind her, eyes always alert, while his arm linked to his wife.
The grand hall was in celebration for Sir Henry FitRoy and his new bride, Mary Howard. The match was a triumph for the Boleyn family once again.
Mary curtsied deeply to the King, his eyes dull.
Thomas flirted with many women in front of her, notable the woman who attended their wedding. Her jaw was tight every time when Mary danced with her husband or brushed against his sleeve.
By midnight, Mary learned enough about this woman from court spy - The Viscountess Rochford. She learned her name, Elizabeth Stone and she was the "current" mistress to her husband and mother to his bastard child back in Scotland, possibly carrying his second children.
Elizabeth saw Mary walking towards her, the two women faced each other. Her black eyes filling with rage
"Lady Elizabeth" Mary said, as Elizabeth curtsied, submitting to her rank.
Her face was watery as she rose to face Mary, there was hurt in her eyes.
"I understand you will be one of my ladies-in-waiting" Mary said, feeling numb as her Lady Mother joined the conversation.
"The Dame d'honneur....after your mother-in-law of course" Elizabeth whispered, as if she had venom between her teeth.
The famous Lady Agnes Staton, Thomas's mother, was rumoured to have a "strong iron grip on the Alwin household"...making even Mary was scared
She nodded, walking away as her Lady Mother walked two steps behind her.
"Mary. Do not make an enemy out of your husband's mistress" She whispered quietly, just before Mary glance back at Elizabeth.
"Lady Mother....she will be useful later" Mary whispered in response. She acknowledges that as least for now.