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The Smith (me and Temara)

An hour? No dress could be made in an hour. Perhaps one could be altered. But no lady would give even one of her old dresses to a female blacksmith. Especially not one that had the prince's attention to the point of bringing her breakfast. She looked at him, and she didn't have the heart to tell him that it was pointless. She was a short woman and more curvaceous than was fashionable. But looking into his eyes, she couldn't tell him the truth.

"I like silvers and blues." To match her eyes and hair; although it was hard to tell in the dim light, her hair was a shimmering shade of platinum blond. She didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes when he could not find a dress to fit her.
 
He listened. Silvers and blues. Common and fashionable colors, so this would be easy. He already had the perfect people to come in contact with. It would be maybe a few minutes past the hour before he came back. "Ok then, go back to your room and... put a top on. I will be back in a hour." He left quickly then, leaving her to do as he ordered.

The next hour was a flurry of movement for him, going from person to person, getting the right fabrics of the right shades for Devon. A lot of people thought his idea was ludicrous, that it couldn't be done in the time needed... for their standard pay, that was. He offered somewhere around 4 times as much. That was enough palm greasing to get them to work fast enough, and they agreed.

He was back when he said he would be, and he was tailed by around 5 maids and 5 seamstresses. "Ok, we have a lot of work to do, so let's get to work!" He left, because of what was going to be needed, and while the seamstresses set up, the maids took Devon to the bathroom, getting her in the tub and spending the better part of a half hour scrubbing, getting the soot and dirt off of every inch of her body, especially her face and hands.
 
She glanced at the forge. She wasn't working here officially yet, so she could play along with the prince's game. She obeyed, going back into her room, and slipping down to her night shirt including removing the binding. Laying down, she rested upon the bed. Likely as not, this period of luxury would be over soon. But upon his return, she saw several people trailing after him. "Oh no, I didn't agree to this..." but already she was being tugged towards the tub by three of the maids. What the hell? She was likely stronger than all three, but she didn't want to hurt them or get them in trouble, so she went but made clear that it was under protest.

Once in the bathroom, she glared at the ladies who suddenly seemed much more intimidating than they had previously.

"Hold on, Miss. This needs to come off..." And then her only shirt was ripped as she struggled to keep it. She had no other clothes with her, and now it was ruined. What was she going to do? She was really hating being as short as she was at the moment. This was ridiculous. Two of the maids lifted her by her arms and dropped her into the water, wading in themselves to keep her in there. Don't get her wrong, she enjoyed baths, it was the manhandling she objected to.

"Do you MIND!" Glub glub glub as her head was dunked into the water and brought back out again. "I know how to take a bath!" But as the third maid went to scrubbing her head, Devon relaxed, okay, that felt good. Finally, resigning herself to whatever plans the prince had, the other maids could see that she was more compliant now and left the water and began scrubbing her hands and wiping her face.

It was a bit later that Devon and the three maids emerged, one of them supplying her a linen undergown to wear for propriety's sake. She gave the prince a glare. "They ruined the only shirt I have here." her tone telling him that she demanded it be replaced. After all, currently she didn't have the good fortune to have another shirt, and the knight hadn't given her a chance to spend her new wealth yet.
 
He saw her coming out in a newer, clean linen nightgown, and he was thankful that it was supplied to her. She definitely looked cleaner, the maids did a good job with that. "Don't worry, I will be back with more for you later, but you need to be fitted for your dress. They'll make it right here for you, but don't fight with them." He bowed and left, hearing the Seamstresses telling her to remove the linen so they could fit her correctly.

This was one of the first times that he left the castle in the year, and it was already halfway through. He took his horse down to the village, knowing where her Smithy was because of some of the reports. They had to have some documents on who made what armor. He found one of the Knight-errants in the house, under guard, probably. He thanked the knight for watching the house, getting him to help him with the bags of Sterling, tying them onto his horse before going back inside. He bagged as much clothing as he could find before locking the Smithy, heading back towards the castle.

When he got back, he made a detour to his room, searching for a few extra shirts for her. He grabbed one, a long, midnight blue shirt, and folded it up and put it in the bag. He knew they would still be working on her dress, so he waited, getting changed into dark, more formal clothes. He looked like a prince now, his hair pushed back, his body straightened in the stiffer and finer clothes. He paced and waited, and finally, just as the sun was going down, and the festivities would soon start, he went downstairs, with the 4 bags - two of sterling, two of clothes - and walked into the room.
 
She glared at the princes back as he left; after all, if this was what it meant to be a fine lady, she could do without it. Being manhandled by other women and then stuffed into clothing that wasn't comfortable was not her idea of a good time. But she did as he requested and let them take her measurements. She was amazed at how quickly they worked. First came the underdress from one of the seamstresses, a fine linen of a silvered white that shone against her tanned skin. No matter how ill fashioned the hue of her skin, the silver shone it off to best fashion. And then the corset that went beneath; even watching the woman work, she was amazed at the speed, and exactly how much boning went into a single corset. And then finally the dress. Simple to suit her personality, the gown draped softly at her hips, while showing her bust off to best advantage. There would be no doubt as to her gender this night.

One of the maids even worked a pomade into her hair, and curled each ringlet by hand, before placing small violets between the curls as a crown. And then cosmetics upon her face. Something she'd never have done before, and made the creature that looked back from the mirror a strange wonder.

~~~

When the prince got to the Smithy, he would find some interesting things. There was only a single shirt, and another pair of pants; after all, she did her own washing and clothing, and as a peasant there was only so much income to be had and spent freely. She had no husband, and so her wardrobe did not need to expand unless she changed sizes.Which is why the loss of one shirt distressed her so.

~~~

Upon his arrival, the maids were putting the finishing touches upon Devon's figure, and hemming the skirt. The last one had sat back on her heels just as the prince approached and knocked. Devon was admiring herself, and even the seamstress seemed rather pleased with her work. The healthy glow of Devon's forge fired tan made the pale silver sparkle and glow, while the deep blue brought out the highlights of her hair, making the curls almost seems as if they were made out of her hammered silver metal much like his armor.
 
His knocking had been unanswered by denial of entry, so he walked in, not looking forward for a moment as he put the four bags down by the nearest wardrobe. "I went and received your clothes, and the m-" His sentence was cut off when he lifted his head and body and looked at the figure that radiated from near the mirror, the seamstresses stepping back and the maids giggling in the corner as they watched what was going on. Alexander hardly realized that the figure in front of him was Devon, her hair seeming to shine with the light from the gods, her bodies natural curves and beauty being brought out by her dress. The only thing that he could freely recognize were here eyes, shining and emphasized by her dress.

"By god..." He whispered to himself, as he slowly walked forward, then knelt down, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a brush of his lips. "Such a heavenly gift hidden away from man until now. It is a honor to be able to escort you to this ball." He kissed the back of her hand once more before slowly standing, his eyes locking with hers as he offered her his arm.

"Nobody will recognize you." He whispered to her, smiling rather brightly at having such a beautiful woman on his arm. "Nobody will expect this. And nobody will question your ability to be there, either, because you're with me. But first is the feast."
 
She squirmed a little. The last time she'd properly worn a dress had been over ten years ago before her she'd been given as an apprentice to her uncle. So she wasn't sure what to make of his gaze at first. But as he knelt, she became even more uncomfortable. "Please stand, your highness. You do me too much honor..." her flushed cheeks visible even through the tan coloring as he finally stood. She was just a peasant, this behavior was unheard of.

"Would it be an issue if people did recognize me?" She hadn't thought about it, but a blacksmith at a ball would be a big deal and Devon wasn't sure she was ready to deal with that. "I don't know if I can go through with this....I don't belong here."
 
"No, it wouldn't be a issue, at least with most people." He said with a smile, turning to face her. "But there might be people that would give a little... stiffness, if they knew, because they're edgy about change. Don't worry, you're fine with me. You look like you could be royalty, anyway."

He led her upstairs and soon he was opening the door to the main Dining room. It was already full, except for two chairs at the very end of the table. There was a loud cloud of voices, but as heads turned and saw the Prince with someone that they did not know, the voices quieted. The faces of some of them women fell, and some of the men stood up to get a better look. Alexander made sure to lead her around the table so he was in the way of some gazes, just to help her compose herself. They were soon seated, and the King leaned over to whisper to his son.

"You're lucky we have a empty seat. Who is she?"

"Just a friend of mine, father."
 
She managed to keep her composure; after all, she was here by the Prince's own invitation. She was more grateful than ever that her mother; a woman who had married below her station for love, had thought to teach her daughter the finer manners that were expected of her now. A few men attempted to catch her eye but she simply kept her eyes roaming around the room, trying not to be too overwhelmed by the opulence around her.

It was then that she noticed first one piece, then another. Some of the ladies of the court were wearing pieces of jewelry that she had created. That gave her a small smile that some of the pieces of the ladies who were glaring at her with jealousy were wearing items that she had made. Her smile was almost demure as she let the prince seat her, that was a small something. She heard the prince whisper to the King and smiled. Was she really that different from how she'd been before?
 
After the few hushed words with his father, he smiled as he turned to Devon. "I think you have just about everyone's eye." He whispered low to her, a smile on his face. It was because of him that she was having this experience, though he didn't care if she forgot that and just had fun that night. He wanted to spread a few rumors, actually, and to send some shock through the crowd - and hopefully stop some of the princess' from trying to woo him, he kissed her on the cheek, a blatant thing that was only a half second, but done non-the-less.

Before anything could be said of it, though, dinner came, the first serving being of the potato soup that his father enjoyed, followed by roast pig and potatoes. The night sure was starting off well.
 
Devon had been about to put her napkin to her lap when Alexander reached over and kissed her cheek, startling her and almost everyone at the table. Her fists gripped the napkin tightly in her lap as she felt the hot sting of tears well in her eyes. She would not be made a fool of by this princeling, this she vowed. First, the dress and now this. He was playing at some game she could not comprehend and it frustrated her so. But for the moment, she remained silent, and sipped her soup, taking care to bring no shame to him despite her anger.
 
It was from the corner of his eye that he saw the tears that were forming in her eyes. He needed to ask her about it, to see what was wrong, but he couldn't do it here, he had to bide his time. He knew something was wrong, knew it wasn't some sort of feeling of happiness in her. A distraction in the form of a war discussion caught him, but he found it oddly boring and less than helpful. Thankfully, the dinner was soon over, and the King led their guests into the Great Hall, with Alex and Devon at the rear.

He made sure to be a few steps behind everyone, so he could have a private word with Devon. "What is wrong?" He whispered to her. "I saw the tears you shed at dinner. Did I do something to offend you?"
 
"Of course not, your highness." She gritted out, her teeth tight. She would get through this night if it killed her without shame. "How could one such as you possibly offend one such as me by honoring me with your presence as well as a new dress." Like she was some common trollap to be bought and sold. It had finally occurred to her why the prince wished her company and she was overly proud of the way she'd turned out to think upon it. She was a novelty, and novelty wore off, especially after one's virtue had been given. The tears after all, had not fallen, but had only shimmered at the eyes.
 
He deliberately slowed his pace, forcing her hang back while people filed into the Great Hall. "Don't lie to me." He whispered. As he was kind and even giving at times, he could easily hear sarcasm in peoples voice, especially when it meant ill. "Tell me what I did to offend you so much. I did this to give you a night where you could relax and enjoy yourself like you should instead of working in front of a forge. People would kill to be in your position, you know, and I chose you to accompany me."
 
((Sorry, was stumped for a long while. If you don't want to continue, that's fine too.))

"Yes, your highness." She nodded her head, most would kill to be in her position. "But a blacksmith is what I am. I am not some lady or princess to be used to these fine things. I don't know what to make of all of this, why I was chosen for my skill, and yet I am not putting that to work. I appreciate your thoughtfulness." She sighed, she wasn't sure she could make him understand.

"It seems a cruel game to turn a sow into a silk purse." She smiled, trying to weaken the blow. "I am not anything but what I am, and I'm proud of what I am. But what I am is not this. But thank you." She at least left out the part where most would just think he was buying her body, and not her skill and how that felt. Men did not understand that. It was why she did not correct people when they simply thought her a pretty male.
 
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