21st of March 1532 - London, England

Staring at herself in the mirror, Mary Boleyn could not quite believe that she was being allowed to marry the man that she loved; she had feared that her family would disapprove and she would be forced take matters into her own hands. 

She had done her duty the last time when it had been arranged for her to marry William Carey, she had married him when she had been told to and given him two children before he had passed. 

The gown that she wore today was very different to the one that she had worn when she had been married to Carey; there was no denying that her family had risen high since then. 

Her sister was Queen of England, her brother and father were Dukes and Mary would be a Countess once she was married to her William; she could not be more thankful for Anne's support at this time. 

It was the birth of Anne's son that had secured Mary the life that she had always wanted, she didn't know what would have happened if Anne had failed the King in giving him his desired heir. 

Now not only would she marry the man that she loved but she would also be Countess of Buckingham, a position that would see her and her children from her first marriage comfortable for the rest of her life. 

Mary held her head high, she was being allowed to marry for love and she very much doubted that many around her could say the same. 

William was everything that she had ever wanted and they would be able to retire quietly to his new estates, he treated her children from her first marriage with great kindness and it gave her hope that he would be an amazing father when the time came for them. 

The very idea that they would have a house full of children pleased her and she adored the idea of them living in peace at their estate away from court. 

If she never returned to court again then that would be fine for her, she would happily attend to her sister of course but she preferred the quiet life that one could not find living at court.

"It's almost time," George stated popping his head into the room, a smile on his face at the sight of his older sister who looked beautiful in her gown and he knew that her William was a lucky man. 

He had never seen Mary this happy and after everything she desired this, she deserved a man that would love her and not see her as a step on a ladder to gaining favour with the King or the Queen. 

"Father is waiting," George continued doubting that this match had truly pleased him especially with the grand plans that he'd had for her second marriage; the fact that Mary would be a Countess made it easier for him to swallow. 

All three of his children would be married off again and George could not imagine that it would be long before Thomas started to consider the future of the Boleyn clan. 

When his father passed the duty would fall to George and he swore he would be kinder to his daughter than his father had been to his sisters; he would make sure that her marriage would not just be a political match. 

Contessina was the best thing to happen to George and he adored his daughter, he loved holding her and couldn't wait to experience life with her. 

"You look beautiful sister," George informed Mary, he kissed her cheek and offered out his arm for her to take as she approached him; he would not voice it even though his sister was a beautiful bride, he couldn't help but compare her to his own wife. 

It was strange to think in the year that he had been married that he had grown fond of Clarice, she was not what he had originally expected when told that they were to be wed. 

Exiting the chamber where Mary had dressed for her wedding, the two siblings made the short walk to the chapel where a small gathering had come together for the wedding. 

It was too be a small wedding even though King Henry and Anne would be in attendance, mostly family attending as well while they celebrated the second wedding of Mary. 

However, the smile did not leave Mary's face as they approached the chapel, she was getting what she wanted and she could not quite believe that this moment had come; she had waited long enough and she would wait no more. 

***

The celebrations for Mary Boleyn's wedding were not as grand as they had been for when the Duke of Bedford had married the Countess of Kendal, they were more muted but this wedding was no less attended. 

This might have been Mary Boleyn's second marriage but the bride looked just as joyful as if it was her first; she looked resplendent in the cream gown that her mother and sister had helped prepare for her. 

Ippolito watched the celebrations and sipped on his ale, his eyes taking in the sight before him pleased to see that his own sister was back at court with her husband. 

Clarice had remained at Beaulieu for as long as she could, wishing to remain with her daughter for as long as possible before she was expected to return to her duties back at court. 

Ippolito could imagine how proud their parents would be if they were here now, she was secure in her position and her husband treated her with great care; the birth of their daughter had not changed that. 

It warmed Ippolito's heart that she might find happiness after everything that she had endured, he wanted her to be happy and he had no doubts that George would continue to do so. 

Watching as Clarice danced with her husband, Ippolito could not imagine that she would have found happiness if she had been forced to marry another; nor did he think that she would have married so well if she had stayed in France or Italy. 

"My Lord Hertford. When do you suppose that we might celebrate your wedding?" the King called approaching with a smile upon his face, the celebrations were in full swing but he couldn't help but notice that the Duke of Hertford was stood off to the side. 

In the time that Ippolito had been at court here in England, he had served well and with his help they were starting to set about a Golden Age that King Henry would one day pass to his son. 

"When I have time to find myself a willing bride, Your Majesty?" Ippolito replied shrugging his shoulders, he had not found the time to actively seek a bride here nor was he sure how he wished to do so. 

Any bride that he took would need to be one that not only benefit him but the fact that his sister was married into the Boleyns; he had no interest in anyone who would seek to make their own play at court.

"Then perhaps I have a solution for you," King Henry mused handing Ippolito a fresh drink, he had been thinking of this for a time and he saw no reason to delay such a talk with everyone distracted. 

They were at a wedding and he could think of no better place to discuss his proposal for Ippolito; he signalled to the man to follow him so that they could speak without being overheard 

"I find myself in need of a man of your breeding," King Henry told him, he rested a hand on Ippolito's shoulder as he led him away from the main party so that they could speak freely. 

There had been much thought and he had spoken with his trusted advisors considering the issue that he found himself with; he was more likely to consider all of this now that Anne had been delivered of a son. 

"A Bastard you may be but you are a Medici, a fine family name behind you and a fine reputation if I may say so," King Henry explained, he had everything that Henry needed and he knew that there was no way that such a marriage could backfire from them. 

The issue of a husband for his daughter Mary had been something that had plagued his mind a lot since his marriage to Katherine had been proven unlawful. 

"You have proven most loyal to me and England since you arrived here and your help will be most valuable if we wish to continue with our work to free ourselves from the corrupt Pope," King Henry continued, he would not say more about their plans but he knew that their work would change things for the better for everyone. 

They could not continue to bow to Rome when it was growing clearer with each day that the Pope was corrupt as much as any man could be and would work against England because they would not bend to his will. 

The Medici had done wonders in Italy and now they would do the same for England, that King Henry had no doubt and he was certain it would be most needed now that there was so much riding on it. 

His son would be King after him and the King wanted to leave a secure throne for him, there were many threats that must be taken care of and he was starting with the most obvious one to him right now.

"My daughter, the Marquess of Winchester, is in need of such a husband," King Henry explained, he could not allow her to marry a man that might one day put an army behind her and would led to his son being overthrown. 

Not only would marrying Ippolito stop that but his family name would be enough to pacify those who would complain that his bastard daughter was not being treated as the daughter of a King should be. 

"I know not what to say Your Majesty," Ippolito stated, it was a great honour to be considered worthy to marry the King's natural daughter; he had never considering that a possibility nor would he ever have dared ask. 

The very idea that he, the bastard son of a Duke, was in anyway worthy to marry a woman such as the Marquess who was the daughter of a King and held royal blood was ludicrous. 

In another life perhaps the Lady Mary would have been destined for a throne of her own and would have married the most handsome prince in Christendom but that was not something that would happen now that she had been revealed to truly be a bastard like he was. 

The damage that had been done once it had been revealed that her mother had lied to gain her throne would certainly be fresh on her mind despite how well she had adapted to such change. 

"And when the time comes and you wish to perhaps return to Florence and regain that which was taken from you, then I assure you that you shall have all the help you need in that endeavour," King Henry continued with a warm smile on his face. 

His offer tempting and he patted Ippolito on the back and nodded his head, he would do anything to see the Pope and Emperor made uncomfortable. 

There were whispers about what the Pope planned to do next and the fact he had arranged for Catherine de' Medici to marry into the French royal family was just the beginning. 

If the Medici were good enough to marry into King Francis's family then the King saw no reason that they could not be married into his own; his Mary was sixteen, not much longer than Ippolito. 

Their children would be blessed with blood that tied them to most of Europe and if Ippolito took back Florence with his help then his legacy would spread further than England. 

His son would be King of England and Mary would be the wife of the Ruler of Florence, the Tudors and Medici rising higher than any could imagine and their legacy would be written about in history. 

Ippolito was unsure how to reply to that, he didn't think that this was anything more than an instruction from his King; he wouldn't be surprised if the young woman in question was completely unaware of what her father had planned for her. 

He glanced back to where his sister was dancing with her husband, he had not thought about what would happen to her should he go back to Florence but he knew she would support him. 

This could be just what they needed, the push that they required to secure the main line of their family and he would not have been the first Medici to have married a noblewoman. 

They had to take what they could get and Ippolito knew that the Pope and the Emperor would simply not allow him to waltz into Florence and unseat Alessandro. 

"Your offer is most kind, Your Majesty... I do not know what to say," Ippolito said shaking his head, it was the most surprising offer and the very idea that he would be married to a woman destined from Kings was intriguing. 

The Marquess of Winchester was not someone that he had paid much mind to since arriving in court, she had not been of much consequence to him once her mother was no longer Queen of England. 

King Henry did not reply to Ippolito's words, he patted the younger man on the shoulder again before moving away to think about what he had said so he could find Anne. 

His wife waiting patiently for him by the dance floor with a smile on her face while Mark Smeaton started to play the most joyful tune unaware of what had just been discussed. 

Watching the King walk away from him, Ippolito sipped on his drink thinking just how glorious his future seemed to be now; his children would be destined from Kings and not just nobles and merchants. 

His mark on history could be great and perhaps if he played this right then he would be remembered like grandfather and great, great grandfather. 

It seemed only right that it was him that corrected the damage that had been done to their family, a new age starting with what he and Clarice had started here in England; if they were to do that then he needed a wife that would also make him stand out.