Deirdre twitched at his long, encumbering skirts for a moment to rearrange them into a more comfortable fit as they settled into place with a soft, feminine hiss of silk and satin. After that he gave his bodice a little tug to straighten it and move the scratchy, tickling lace away from the bare flesh of his upper chest. A tug to each sleeve, followed with a hesitant pat at his newly curled and upswept raven hair seemed to finish the ritual of discomfort.

“Very good, Deirdre,” Katrina beamed with halfway sardonic amusement in her pretty face as he continued to fuss with the feminine garments she had helped him put on. “You’ll get used to all this soon enough, dear. Now please stop fussing over your gown and let me finish your ensemble. It is very important that you make a good impression on Their Majesties or all this will go for nothing.”

“That wouldn’t disappoint me at all,” Deirdre, formerly Derek, grumbled quietly as he complied and carefully seated himself on the same padded bench Garret had used earlier and nearly sprawling on his pretty face when one slipper clad foot tangled with a wayward petticoat. “Gods! How in the name of every holy shrine in the realm do women get around in this stuff without seriously harming themselves?”

”For one thing,” Katrina chuckled as she gracefully seated herself on the bench opposite her charge, showing him how to smooth skirts and petticoats with one fluid motion and lifting her skirt slightly to prevent it or her underskirts from impeding her motion. “We were born to it, and have a lifetime of practice in doing so. For another, we ladies always lift our skirts just a bit whenever we move at all to keep from doing what you just did.

Now try it again, dear, and do try to get it right. I don’t know how I’d explain it to Sir Garret if his lady broke her lovely little neck because of wearing a proper gown.”

Deirdre replied with a very pungent - and shockingly unladylike - expression, but arose, gracefully - if gingerly - then seated himself correctly. “Better?”

“Much,” Katrina nodded with a smile that became a frown after a moment. “And I’ll hear no more such unladylike spewings from that pretty mouth of yours, missy. If I do you will be taught the error of your ways in a most conclusive manner. Do I make myself clear, Deirdre?”

“Yes, Katrina,” Deirdre meekly answered, while watching his taskmistress, teacher, and friend through lowered lashes and covering his smile with a small, immaculately cleaned and tended hand. “I have no desire for the taste of soap in my mouth, even if it is prettily scented.”

“I thought not, My Lady,” Katrina grinned as she used the title, much to the femininely clad youth’s chagrin. “You aren’t a little tomboyish gamin any longer, Deirdre. You are a very beautiful young lady who should wear her clothing with style and grace.”

“Yeah, right,” Deirdre, still getting settled into the idea of even having a girl’s name, let alone answering to it grimaced as Katrina moved behind him and gently lifted the tantalizing curls left at his neck.

“You are, dear,” Katrina seriously repeated. “Very lovely. You are every bit as beautiful as your sister Ilene and a bit more thanks to your more mature shape.”

“Thanks to your padding and a corset so tight I can barely take in a decent breath....Owww!” He flinched as a sharp pain hit his right earlobe, quickly followed by another in the left before he could recover enough to even move away. “What are you doing?”

“Why I’ve already done it, M’Lady,” Katrina chuckled as he felt something pushed through the newly pierced holes in his earlobes then a weight swinging from each one. “Now you are able to wear the lovely earrings Lady Jessica loaned you.”

“Wonderful,” Very carefully reaching one dainty hand to one ear, he let out a suffering sigh when it encountered a gold pendant earring with a gemstone in its center. The other, he knew without checking, matched perfectly. “Another distraction.”

“One that is both necessary and very enhancing for your appearance, dear,” Katrina pointed out with a smirk. “They aren’t as huge as they feel to you now, in fact they are quite delicate little things.”

“Maybe,” Deirdre allowed as he hesitantly touched each one again. “But they still feel very heavy and they pull at my ears.”

“One of the prices we pay for beauty, my little lady,” The dressmaker replied in all seriousness. “Discomfort is a small thing compared to being admired and possibly taken for a wife by a strong, rich lord.”

“Like Garret,” Deirdre grumbled, mostly to himself.

“Exactly, little one,” Katrina agreed as she placed a necklace around her new charge’s slim, elegant throat. “You would have a far better life with him than any you might contrive on your own.”

“But it wouldn’t be my life,” Argued the feminized youth. “It would be a lie, me living as Deirdre, and -- married to Garret. It wouldn’t be real, or anything I’d worked for myself.”

“Oh it will be real, dear,” Katrina corrected, “As real as you and Garret make it. As for working for it, missy, I can promise you that getting to that stage of things will involve more purely hard work on your part than if you had managed to apprentice yourself to the blacksmith or chosen to be some knight‘s squire.”

“I have been chosen by a knight,” Deirdre sighed grumpily, lightly rubbing his forehead with scented fingertips to ease the headache he had from too much ale, then Lady’s Ease, with the subsequent head dunkings and vomiting induced by the potions Katrina had brought with her to sober the youth up enough to be coherent again. “I think I would have rather stayed with you, learning to make ladies clothing.”

“That option is still open to you, dear,” Katrina pulled his hand away from his head with a light negative shake of her head to indicate that rubbing one’s forehead was not at all in character. “But if you take it instead of the one given to you by Garret, I am afraid that you will still be doing it as a girl.”

“Why?” Deirdre plaintively questioned, looking almost pathetic in his very feminine dress, cosmetics, and jewelry with his shining raven hair put up and styled. Almost pathetic, in actuality, the expression and gestures he was using were quite fetchingly lovely. “Why does everyone who knows me seem so intent on making me into a girl?”

“For your own safety and well being,” Katrina flatly stated with almost no expression in either her voice or face. “Had you run off, as your mother and sister feared you would, some unscrupulous person would have seen your beauty and had you in skirts anyway - in some brothel catering to men who like their boys to be pretty and girlish.”

“I’ve learned to take care of myself,” Deirdre began to argue, then gave his garments a rueful look as he stopped his tirade before it really got going. “All, right, I’ll admit to that possibility, though it was something I never considered could happen. I was going to join a thieve’s guild somewhere, and make a name for myself.”

“Which would have put you right in the hands of people like I was just telling you about,” The dressmaker replied softly. “Or in prison, maimed, or even dead in some gutter. Would you prefer that to the life you have a chance at now?”

“Well...” Deirdre let out a breath and made himself relax, arranging his skirts and toying with the amethyst studded necklace around his slim throat in a very revealingly feminine manner. “Since you put it that way. I never really thought about things much beyond getting away and becoming a thief.”

But at least it would have been as a man, he thought to himself one last time.

“Now, dear, let’s stop this griping and self pity so I can get this hat on you properly to complement your face and hair to best advantage.” Katrina was good as her word, fussing with the silly little rounded cap and the gold threaded veil that covered his hair and the back of his neck for what felt like a week to the youth before stepping back with a sigh of satisfaction.

“Well, M’Lady,” Katrina uncovered a full length mirror in one corner of the tent with a flourish. “Come have a look at yourself then we must meet Garret and his men for the trip to the castle.”

Deirdre already entranced with the feel of soft fabrics against smooth even softer flesh, made his way to the mirror without embarrassing incidents, or even stumbling. The advice on taking smaller steps and lifting the hem of his gown a little had paid off once he accepted it. He halted beside a beaming Katrina, fearing to look at the boy in a dress he expected to see no matter how hard the dressmaker had worked on him then steeled himself to take at least a quick glance. Just to see how bad it really was.

It was bad. But not in the way he had feared, and hoped. A slightly older version of his lovely sister stood in front of him, clad in the violet satins, silks and velvets of Garret’s household colors and blushing at the picture of delicately feminine beauty in front of him.

Slender, but with curves in all the proper places, with a doll-like face framed in thick night black curls and the veil descending from the rounded velvet cap, it really couldn’t be called a hat, he knew, it wasn’t big enough, this was a lady without doubt. And a very desirable one, even if young and obviously not into her full maturity - a state that promised to be nothing short of awe inspiring once reached - with a hint of defiant mischief in her large blue eyes.

“I - I look like Ilene,” He softly moaned.

“No, dear,” Katrina gently turned him away from the mirror with a sad smile. “You look like your mother when she was younger and had just married your father.”

Picturing the care and work worn face of his mother, the faded hair, and her already bent but still slender frame, Deirdre saw the resemblance, and fought off the beginning of tears as he considered what it would have taken to change such beauty into a near crone.

“She was stubborn, too,” Katrina continued, as if speaking to the air. “Wouldn’t remarry after your father’s death, or even take a position with my shop that would have led to a partnership eventually. She loved your father very much, and his children even more. Still does, and works ceaselessly to see that you each have the chance in life that she lost.

So please don’t be a stubborn little ass over all this, Deirdre, as I know you are thinking of,” She finished while leading the bemused newly made lady towards the opening to outside. “Life would be much worse for you if you did, and neither I nor your mother and sister could really bear that.”

Deirdre wanted to ask more questions, about a thousand of them, actually, but Katrina would have none out of him. Instead, she gave him that curiously sad, gentle smile and led him out to his new life.

“What, exactly,” Hands on hips for lack of anything better or more useful to do with them, Deirdre stared in outrage at the waiting horse, saddled and ready for him to mount. “Do you expect me to do with that?”

“That M’lady,” The guardsman who had first spoken to him in the tent, Hemish, pointed out with a straight face, “Is a horse, a mare ta be more ta tha point. Her name is Glorious Beauty in the Wind, but we jest call her Glory fer short. A finer and more gentle tempered or loyal mare won’t be found anywheres round here, and if ya keep calling yer own lovely mount a that, you’ll hurt her feelins.”

“Did you say she’s mine?” Deirdre questioned with the softer carefully coached voice Katrina had taught him to use while giving the long legged, champagne colored mare an appreciative looking over.

“A gift from Sir Garret, M’Lady,” The guardsman confirmed.

“She’s beautiful!” Deirdre momentarily forgot the actual reason for his outburst to move closer and hold out a hand for the - his - mare to sniff. Which she did, then nuzzled and lipped at the offered hand.

“An spoiled,” Hemish chuckled, handing Deirdre a piece of hard candy. “This be what she wants, or a fine apple from the King’s own orchards whenever she can reach em.”

The mare greedily slurped up the offered candy, crunched it contentedly in her teeth then gave her benefactress a pleading look before lipping at the outstretched hand again.

“Not just spoiled,” Deirdre laughed, the first real one he had let out in several days. “Greedy, too. I’ll have to find some more of those for you, Glory.”

“Ere ya go, lass,” Hemish held out a linen cloth folded over several more of the treats. “Keep em outta her sight, though, or she’ll like as not nose ya ta tha point a bruisin ta get em from ya.”

“Oh is that so?” Deirdre asked the mare, who returned an innocent look at the question, then snorted.

“Well,” a familiar and still somewhat uncomfortable voice for Deirdre to hear approached. “I see that you two are getting acquainted already. And matched up quite well, I might add. Beauty and temperament together in each of you.”

“Thank you,” Deirdre primly answered the knight then turned his attention back to the silk covered saddle on his mare. “That is what I was talking about earlier, not Glory.”

“A lady never rides astride,” Katrina put in with clear amusement in her voice. “It’s a sidesaddle, dear, so you won’t ruin your gown while riding. Or have it all rucked up around your thighs when you do.”

“A sidesaddle,” Deirdre parroted without enthusiasm. He had only the faintest idea of how to use a - to him - real saddle, never having the opportunity to do more than admire horses and dream of riding one of the gaily caparisoned mounts. Now that he actually had the chance, it was in a way that he would never have agreed to in the past.

“Here,” Garret put his hands around the slender waist of his new lady and easily lifted the young beauty into the waiting saddle with a few hints on how to ride. “Just hook one knee over the horn, sit back into the cantle, and hold the reins gently. Glory will stay with the rest of the horses, so for now you have no need to guide her.”

The high backed, padded cantle supported his back quite comfortably, though it held him very erect in the saddle, while the knee and leg wrapped tightly around the horn were both sufficiently padded by the skirt and petticoats he wore that the position was actually comfortable. Physically, anyway.

Garret gave the now mounted Deirdre and the patiently waiting Glory an appreciative look then reached up to gently place a cloak of dark violet wool across the now distaff youth’s shoulders. “It’s getting a bit cool, dear lady. I thought this would go well with your gown.”

Fastening the ornate clasp with the hand not occupied in holding the reins, Deirdre nodded her thanks and managed a weak smile for the man. “I find myself thanking you again, Sir. Or should I thank the Lady Jessica, instead?

The question drew a rich peal of laughter out of the man, much to Deirdre’s surprise and - dare he even think it? - pleasure.

“Ah, now you have me there, Lady Deirdre,” Garret, still chuckling, gave his lovely companion a broad smile. “Yes, the gown, the jewelry, the ‘darling’ little cap, Glory, and the cloak were my sister’s doing. She wished for you to make a very favorable impression, so insisted on giving them to you.”

“I’m flattered and grateful,” Deirdre responded, not really thinking that it had been such a favor, but still acknowledging his debt to Jessica. “Please thank your sister for me, and tell her she is far too kind to a stranger.”

“Oh, I think you’ll have the chance to do that yourself,” Garret replied as he mounted his own Palfrey with a flourish that had the lovely boy thinking bad thoughts all over again as the man continued. “Once we reach the King’s Castle. She’ll be there and is very anxious to meet you.”

“I’ll look forward to it then,” Deirdre replied. Luckily, the other part of what he had nearly blurted out was held back by the jolt of Glory beginning to move with the others.

“You should, you know,” Mounted like Deirdre, Katrina guided her own mount to a spot beside her new creation. “You are absolutely stunning in that ensemble. You’ll be melting men’s hearts and hardening other parts of them from the moment you reach the main road.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Fanning himself with his one free hand, Deirdre faked a girlish giggle that came out far too convincingly for his comfort. With a put upon glare for his new mentor, he finished. “Are you happy now? I’m even giggling like some brainless little girl.”

“Girl, probably, little, in stature only I hope, and brainless?” Katrina shook her head in denial. “I think not, my dear. You always were much too bright for your own good. Just try and curb that incessant digging for knowledge a bit, could you? A lady simply does not do some of the things you have shown interest in before.

Now you need to turn your attention to sewing, needlework embroidery, managing your lord’s household and learning to be the finest, most gracious lady you can possibly be.” With a wink, the dressmaker began to leave her protégé’s side. “I think all that will be keeping your busy mind and hands well occupied over the next while.”

“Ohh, I can’t wait,” Deirdre cooed in an exaggeratedly feminine and empty headed lilt.”

“That’s the spirit, dear.”

He couldn’t even kick her, the way he was riding. A biting comment died unborn on his painted lips as the source of his present difficulties rode up beside him.

“You are very lovely, Deirdre,” Garret offered then grimaced at the thunderous expression that brought out in the newborn lady. “And do try to accept compliments without glaring daggers at the unfortunate who gives them to you, please? I will hold to my end and do nothing ungentlemanly in your presence, nor will I force my attentions on you beyond what is expected of us. Fair enough?”

“Are you trying to offer me a truce?”

“You could say that,” Garret grinned, drawing a white silk cloth from inside his cloak and waving it in the air. “Deal?”

“Like I have a choice,” Deirdre/Derek laughed at the man’s antics in spite of his discomfort at being dressed as a female. “All right, Sir. I accept.”

Their journey from the outlying pavilions through the city to reach the palace was an eye opening experience for the newly christened Deidre.

First, the sheer novelty of riding a horse eased the reluctant lady’s fears, then seeing a few familiar faces among the crowd lining the street in the quarter he had lived in for all his life brought them back to the forefront of his thoughts.

Most of those familiar ones favored him with a perplexed look before resuming their cheering. Others, only a few, gave him looks of disgust but made no move to cry that Garret’s new lady was really a boy. Still others he knew gave him encouraging smiles and nods of approval.

Leaning over in his saddle, Garret laid a hand on Deidre’s shoulder. “You could try to smile and wave instead of giving everyone that deer caught in the lantern expression. They are cheering for you, after all.”

“For me?” Deidre shook his head and sighed. “I thought it was for you.” But shouts of his new name came clear and those fairly well equaled the ones cheering Garret.

“Oh, great.” Smiling in spite of his discomfort, though weakly, he gave the crowd a tentative wave then shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I? May as well get started now.”

“That’s the spirit, my love.” Garret approved with a mischievous smirk and sparkle in his eyes that had Deidre laughing in spite of his current predicament.

With a femininely defiant lift of his chin, Deidre widened his eyes and put on an innocent expression while still smiling and waving. “As for that ‘deer in the lantern expression’ my good sir. You try parading down the main street of town in this getup and see how you’d like it.”

“I’d feel foolish.” Garret nodded in agreement. “Which I’m sure you are feeling just now. However, I would be nowhere near the delicate beauty you are in those garments, m’lady love.”

“Hah!” Deidre snorted in response. “I’m no delicate flower of maidenhood and you know that all too well, sirrah.”

“People see what they expect to see.” Garret grinned at his conflicted lady. “What they all expect is seeing my lovely young Lady properly at my side. Stop worrying about this and just let yourself enjoy it as I see you’ve been trying not to admit that you are.”

Deidre started to deny that, then startled himself by running a softened hand lightly over the silks and satins he was wearing. “But it just isn’t right. I shouldn’t like this. I’m not a…”

Garret shook his head while placing a finger softly to Deidre’s lips to stop what was coming from them. “I know, I know. If you find it so onerous, I can arrange for a quiet exit from the palace for you and no one will blame you for that. Just try to endure this for a while longer. Please.”

“No.” Deidre, still getting used to that name and using it to describe himself shook his own head gently. “I mean that won’t be necessary. I agreed to do this, Garret, and I’ll see it through. With all the proper smiles, gestures, and manner of dress required to do so. Even if I think I’m going to be a real challenge to whoever tries teaching me to be a proper lady.”

“You already possess the proper sense of honor.” The knight answered with a genuinely admiring look to his still reluctant lady that dissolved into another mirthful one. “And you certainly do look the part, my dear. You’re really quite beautiful you know. Perhaps you were meant to be a girl but the gods made a mistake of some sort. Or made you as you are specifically for some reason.”

“Whatever.” Deidre returned the smile a bit sourly. “I’ll put in my year with you then we’re quits, right?”

“As my lady wishes.” Garret lifted one of Deidre’s hands and softly kissed its palm to an increase in the cheering from the onlookers.

Now why? He wondered as the little shivers of pleasure ran from his hand to other parts of his body on tiny, caressing feet. Do I feel this way when he holds my hand? Or get such a warm feeling in my stomach when he kissed it?

That was something he preferred not to think about too deeply. The former Derek pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on smiling, waving, and not embarrassing himself and Garret by falling off the horse or throwing up.