Donna on Her Way

May 2006

Written for Tigerbright's "Let's Give Them Something to Talk About" fic challenge.

Note for LMB fans: This is set sometime before _A Civil Campaign_ but after _Memory_, so Miles Vorkosigan is probably on Komarr on his Auditorial case.  The setting for the first part is a Vorish dance hosted by the Emperor, but probably not associated with any particular holiday. 

This started as a simple piece about Lady Donna Vorrutyer taking her lawyer, Ademia Castor, to a Vor party -- as a date. That was in keeping with the challenge theme.  And then.... it all got a lot longer and more complicated, as I used this as a springboard to explore one possible way Donna could have decided to change her sex.  Once the story gets into that territory, as you will see, it isn't just a smooth little piece of glee anymore.  And it's definitely not finished.

Ademia (Greek for "without a husband") is what I have chosen to name Donna's lawyer, who is mentioned once in _A Civil Campaign_.  As such, she is more or less my own creation.  All other characters, settings etc. are copyrighted by Lois McMaster Bujold and used without permission...

Lady Donna Vorrutyer settled into the roomy backseat of the groundcar, next to Ademia Castor, her lawyer and sometimes girlfriend.  Ademia was lovely as usual, pale and glowingly blond in a blue velvet dress, a gift Donna had chosen to match her own ensemble, which was quite deliberately done in Vorrutyer House colors of blue and grey.  In these outfits, Donna and Ademia resembled any High Vor couple, with one obvious difference.  Undoubtedly, Ademia was a bit nervous at being included at a High Vor society event for the first time, even though she'd served as the wives' lawyer in several high-profile Vor divorces -- including Donna's most recent -- so she wasn't exactly unknown. 

As if reading Donna's mind, Ademia asked her, "Isn't it a bit ... outre, for you to take me as your guest to this party?"

"Oh, don't worry; the men won't even notice, because they can't ever acknowledge that a woman who wouldn't love them just because they are men exists," Donna snorted.

"What about the women?"

"Well, there will be some clever ones.  Alys Vorpatril, for instance."

"You're not exactly talking ordinary women here."  Ademia quailed a bit, clearly unnerved by the thought of being evaluated by that particular Vor luminary.

"No.  But Lady Vorpatril is still sufficiently annoyed at me -- after how many years? -- for swiving her son that she'll probably just be happy thinking I've gone down another path."

"And the other women?" Ademia asked, still with some concern.

"As willfully ignorant as their Vor men.  And if they do pick up on it, they'll probably be relieved, just like Lady Vorpatril..."

"Because you are such a naughty girl, making time with their husbands like you do."  Ademia smiled prettily, and Donna chuckled at her in return.

"And if they think I've given up on men, all the better for me to have fun, right?  Actually, if the silly things would just understand that I am merely borrowing their husbands ... I'm done with being any man's wife, ever."

"Listening to you, I'm happy I figured out that being a wife wasn't going to work for me before I ever became one... and isn't it better like this?"  Ademia took Donna's hand and kissed it.  She was quite a romantic, this one.  The professionally cool demeanor Ademia cultivated in public vanished in private, replaced by dimples and shy eyes and softness.  Donna felt blessed to enjoy this secret side of the woman, and further blessed that Ademia did not get the slightest bit jealous when Donna occasionally took up with a man. It was, in fact, better like this. Ademia kept Donna's attention in a way no man ever had.

They'd met under simple enough circumstances: Donna needed a good divorce lawyer when her third marriage fell apart, because her then-husband, by marrying her, had given himself a chance at the Vorrutyer Countship, if Donna's brother Count Pierre would name him as heir.  It was not unprecedented for a sonless Count to name his brother-in-law as heir, especially when the alternative -- his and Donna's despised cousin Richars -- was so distasteful.  Count Pierre had encouraged Donna's marriage, but when her husband proved to be a dolt, both Pierre and Donna became less enamored of him.  Finally, Donna told her brother that she was no longer willing to stay married to an idiot just out of loyalty to her family.  It didn't seem worth the trouble, given that the Vorrutyer dynasty consisted of a smallish, not too wealthy district, a well-deserved family reputation for being a bit mentally unstable, and, through marrying off daughters to the Vorbarra and Vorkosigan families every other generation or so, close enough ties to the Barrayaran Imperium to keep an otherwise marginal entity politically viable.    

A few discreet inquiries had led Donna to Ademia Castor.  Throughout the preparation of her case, Donna had been aware that there was a subtle flirtation going on between them.  Ademia's professional image had finally crumpled under the influence of a few celebratory drinks, the night after the divorce judgment (which was very much in Donna's favor) had been handed down.  They'd essentially seduced each other, and Donna had been left wondering why she'd never before considered having a female lover.  Ademia, for her part, had always preferred women, and was utterly captivated by Donna.  Since that time, they had carried on a quiet but joyous affair, primarily in the privacy of Ademia's apartment on the edge of the old Caravanserai in Vorbarr Sultana, in a neighborhood that casually accepted people who were different in various ways.

Ademia drew Donna out of her reverie with a simple question. "Why do you put up with it all?"

"The High Vor circus entertains me.  It's more a question of why do they put up with me, and that has everything to do with poor, dear Pierre.  The more political Vor have figured out by now that if they want an alliance with the Vorrutyer district, trying to go to my brother is useless; they need to talk with me.  Even the stiffest old sticks can be alarmingly progressive if they think it will help them win power.  But in public, they all have to pretend that I'm an embarassment to the Vor legacy.  And in public, well, I am a Vorrutyer, and everyone knows that the entire lot of us are crazy anyway, so I can get away with all kinds of trouble."

"Such a cynic you are!"

"Makes it easier on all of us."

A few minutes later, they pulled up to the Imperial Residence.  Donna put her arm through Ademia's as they headed for the entrance.

They worked their way through the crowd, occasionally stopping so Donna could introduce her companion.  Donna noted various Vor men -- mainly those with less savory reputations -- eyeing Ademia nervously and sidling away.  She was collecting their names in her head, so she could ask Ademia about their legal transgressions later.  Given that Ademia's legal practice seemed to specialize in an odd combination of unhappily married Vor women and high-class whores whose customers would do just about anything to remain unnamed, she'd no doubt have an amusing tale or three.

Alys Vorpatril approached them ...  "Lady Donna, and ... who is this?"  

"Speaking of ouch.  Let's try to forget all that tonight."  

As the party swirled around them, Donna found it hard to pull her focus from her companion.  She would have much rather been alone with Ademia at her apartment; she would have rather been alone with Ademia anywhere, or at least anywhere she could slide the blue velvet off Ademia's shoulders and let it drop to the floor, and trade the most tender caresses with her.  Maybe she couldn't have that much now, but that didn't mean she could have nothing at all, if she were clever...  Donna stumbled slightly, and exclaimed "Ow!" as convincingly as she could.  She gathered the fabric of her dress and stared down towards her left hip.

"What's wrong?"  Ademia sounded very concerned -- exactly what Donna wanted.

"A wardrobe failure."  Donna lowered her voice.  "There's a bit of boning in my undergarments that seems to have come loose... Maybe we should find someplace to see if it can be put back?"  

The moment the lock clicked, Donna stood up straight and grinned.  "Gotcha," she said, as she pushed Ademia against the vanity, and kissed her until she flushed ever so prettily.  

"You are wicked," Ademia gasped.

"Of course I am.  And you love it, I know you do."  Donna continued her gentle assault on Ademia, and her heart sang as she felt Ademia yield to her.  Getting out of these fancy dresses could be simple, but only if one had no intent of getting back into them, an impossibility under the current circumstances.  But Ademia's bare shoulders -- and the utter longing in her blue eyes -- were quite the enticement for Donna to do as much as she could manage while keeping them both fully clothed.

After a few unbelievably intense -- and tantalizingly frustrating -- minutes, Donna paused.  At Ademia's questioning glance, Donna turned her to face the mirror, and whispered to her, "Darling, don't you agree that you needed a bit more color in order to be presentable to the Highest of the High Vor?"  An echo of Ademia's initial flush rose across her skin, as Donna hastily finger-combed and re-pinned a few of Ademia's curls that had come loose.  Donna unlocked and opened the door, and led Ademia towards a cluster of people that was forming in one corner of the ballroom.  The glances and murmurs of the other guests had multiplied, but Donna did not care.  Let the ignorant fools have their gossip.

Soon they were near the front of the line to chat with Emperor Gregor Vorbarra himself.  Completely by accident, they'd reached this place in the company of a few very old-fashioned Counts, who were desperately trying to ignore Donna and Ademia, and failing.

"Sire, may I present my lawyer and ... ah, friend, Madame Ademia Castor."  Gregor took them in, his eyes alight with humor.  He knows, dammit, how does he always know?  But of course he had matured into the most subtly perceptive man Donna had ever met -- and, thankfully for her sake, one of the most discreet.  Ademia made a little curtsey, and gave him a shy acknowledgment.

Gregor then turned to Donna and asked, "Milady, your brother is still unwell?"

"Ever unwell, I think.  He hasn't left the house in months."

"How does the District manage?" he continued.  Donna silently blessed him for handing her this opening, right in front of some of the most unbending conservatives in Vorish society.  

"They have me, Sire."

"Lucky they are for that."  Gregor favored Donna with the slightest smile, and an open-handed gesture towards her outfit.  "And no one would think otherwise, given how well you dress the part."  His smile broadened, before he gave her and Ademia a small wave of dismissal as he turned to his next guest, Count Vorkalloner, who was second only to Count Vorhalas in the unbending conservative category, and who currently looked like he was choking on something vile.  Donna felt quite satisfied.

When they were out of earshot, Ademia commented, "I had no no idea how intense the Emperor would be."

"Very, yes."

"And ... perceptive.  He commented on your dress."  

"Exactly my hope.  My seamstress down in the District worked for days to make this outfit the best approximation of a Vorrutyer house uniform as she could."  Donna recalled the woman's raised eyebrows, and then her fervent support.  What had she said?  "Milady, you would have made the best Count Vorrutyer, but for your sex."  Although Donna heard these comments often, especially from the District's women, it never hurt to hear them again.

With her eyes lowered, Ademia made a lovely gesture of encircling herself and Donna.  "I don't think he missed anything."  

"Of course not.  But he's a man whose favorite sentence, I am told, is let's see what happens.  There's a more adventuresome spirit in there than anyone would guess.  He's probably rather tickled by us."

Later, when they'd returned to Ademia's cozy apartment, had a chance to shed their dresses -- very easy now that they didn't have to put them back on -- and lay togther in Ademia's large and comfortable bed, Donna finally felt relaxed.  Standing in for her brother at various High Vor social events was inevitably entertaining to her, but also frustrating, as she rarely felt that anyone valued her much more important role in managing the District.  Tonight, there had been the Emperor -- she was still astonished at how very public he had been with his approval -- but that was really about it, for the High Vor.  The others, the ones who came to her to make deals and political alliances, only did so because they had no choice.  She sighed in frustration.

"Worrying about the inheritance mess again?"  Ademia asked her.

Ademia quirked an eyebrow at her.  "You know, this would be a lot easier if you were a man.  Richars wouldn't even be in the running, and it would all be yours." 

Donna laughed. "Well, I certainly haven't been much of a success as a Barrayaran woman."  She let herself imagine, briefly, what she could do with the District if it were hers.  It only made her angry.  "Feh!  Barrayar!" She meant it as a swear word, just as she'd heard Vicereine-Countess Cordelia Vorkosigan use it.  Now there was a woman who saw through all this madness ...  

In the morning, Donna would return home, to continue her work, hoping against hope that her brother would rouse himself from his funk for long enough to find a solution to the inheritance question -- a solution that would keep her at the center of the District's affairs.  With a sigh of resignation, she turned to Ademia in the bed, and soon forgot anything but the feel of Ademia's soft, yielding flesh against her own.

And then Ademia's words echoed in her mind.  "You know, this would be a lot easier if you were a man."  This was followed by what her seamstress has said to her, when she was making up the female Vorrutyer House uniform.  "Milady, you would have made the best Count Vorrutyer, but for your sex."   And the many, many variations she had heard, from everyone from Pierre's Armsmen to the butcher to the District's financial officer to the woman who owned the vegetable shop and the simple girl who took care of the chickens.

A man.  To protect the District, she needed to become a man.  

The physical change could be had with a trip to Beta Colony; Donna knew a few Barrayarans had done it, though none of them had returned to Barrayar.  As for the rest of it... Donna really had no idea; her general failure as a Barrayaran woman gave her no confidence that she could do any better as a Barrayaran man.  Politically, she'd have to convince a majority of the Council of Counts that she actually was a genuine man, and her cousin Richars would do everything he could to stop that.  It would be a huge gamble; if she failed in her bid for the Countship, there was no doubt that Richars would "arrange something" that would lead to her death; Donna was sure that Richars had been behind Pierre's last fiancee's "accident," and he'd gotten away with it.  But if she pulled it off ... it would be the sweetest possible revenge on Richars for all the terrible things he'd done to her and Pierre, from when Richars had tried to rape her when she was only twelve, to his interference in all three of Pierre's attempts to get married and produce an heir.  

She needed to talk with Ademia.  In person. Now.  Using her house comlink, she called for the Armsman on night duty, who turned out to be the young but quite talented Joris.  She asked for an aircar to be readied as quickly as possible, and two Armsmen to accompany her.  Joris volunteered immediately, and said he'd rouse Szabo, one of the senior men who had been at Donna's side for almost every difficult task she'd needed to do in the District.

When they arrived in Vorbarr Sultana a few hours later, Donna took Szabo aside in front of Ademia's apartment building.  "I am going to be discussing some very personal matters with Madame Castor.  Very personal, but with serious implications for the District.  I can't tell you much about it now, but I want you in on the plan from the start, and I just wanted to let you know ahead of time that you may find it all a bit shocking.  And I need your word that you will not tell anyone."

"Even your brother?"  Szabo asked pensively.

"I have thought about that.  He's not likely to ask, with the state he's in these days.  But even he must be kept in the dark."

"I can give you my personal word, milady.  But if he asked me directly, I'd still be oath-bound to tell him."

"I am willing to risk that."

Donna activated the built-in communications link to Ademia's apartment.  It chimed and chimed, but eventually Donna was able to announce herself.  Ademia's very sleepy voice came on the line. "Donna?  It's barely six! And I thought you were staying in the District for another week..."

"I need in.  It's urgent."  The outer door unlocked.

When they got up to the apartment, Ademia was stumbling around her kitchen in a bathrobe, looking adorable even as she went searching for coffee.  Szabo did his best to fade into the wallpaper, but Ademia seemed especially flustered having him there.  Eventually, having handed off steaming mugs to both Donna and Szabo, she settled on a chair.  

Donna was having fantasies of having Szabo do his guarding outside as he'd usually done before, getting Ademia out of her robe, and proceeding in all kinds of deliciousness.  And then it hit her.  I'm going to have to give her up, if I go through with this. 

With great effort, Donna put this distraction aside.  There was no way to go but right to the point.  Her voice shook.  "Ademia, I think you were right.  I want the Countship more than anything, and to get it, I have to become a man."  Szabo's jaw dropped.

All the color drained out of Ademia's face.  "But I wasn't serious ..."  Donna could tell she was not the only one who'd been hit by grief.  "You mean... go to Beta and ...?" 

"Yes.  I have to, I can't help it, I'm so very very sorry..."  Unexpected tears were starting to leak out of Donna's eyes, and she paused to dab at them with a tissue.  "And I am going to need a lawyer.  The best I can afford."

"I'm sure you can find someone... else," Ademia spat out.

"No.  I want you, I know you're the best for this, and who else could I trust?" Donna said, as steadily as she could manage.  

Ademia gave her a heartbreaking, shocky stare.  She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, and lowered her head, so all Donna could see was the blond curls bobbing slightly as she wept.  Donna felt terrible for not having even considered the implications for her lover.

Eventually, the weeping stopped, and Ademia raised her face to Donna.  As Donna stared at the red eyes and blotchy face, Ademia said one word: "Why?"

"I am -- as much as any of them -- Vor.  I serve.  I don't question it; even when it seems like I'm putting the rest of them down, it's there.  I failed at a Vor woman's duty.  As a girl, I was told to be modest, prudent, and chaste -- and I failed.  My father married me off to the highest bidder -- a Count! -- to make more little Vor lords, and I failed.  I tried to make friends with the High Vor ladies, go to their teas, get drawn into their gossip, and instead I got too friendly with their husbands, so I failed.  I pulled myself into the mold of what everyone expected of slightly damaged Vor goods, married again -- twice -- and I failed utterly.  The kind of service I can do, everything I'm best at --- managing the District --- it's worth nothing if I'm not male."

"You know I'll have to leave you."

"I know.  Please, darling... this it wrecking me, you know it."

"And not just because I'll be your lawyer, it's not just a matter of professional ethics that could be put aside later.  It would be forever this time.  Because I don't ever want to be with a man, any man.  Even ... some version of you."

"I could ... I could switch back, if my case failed."  Well, if Richars somehow spared her...

"No.  I wouldn't come back to you.  It could never be the same, knowing you'd chosen that before me."

Donna sighed.  "I can't see any other way, but ..."  She noticed that Szabo was recovering, his shock replaced by intrigue.  She hadn't thought before that the Armsman might be one of her greatest allies.

After a moment, Ademia softened a bit, and looked thoughtful.  "I could start some research for you on the legalities, so you'd know what you'd be facing if you challenged Richars."  Donna recognized this as Ademia transforming into Madame Castor, the lawyer, the sharp mind so worth paying for.  "And you need to talk to the clinics on Beta."

"I'm not sure I should do that myself.  I'll need an agent ... but not you, I don't want to put you through that part of it."  Donna pondered this for a moment.  "Byerly!  I'll ask my cousin Byerly.  He hates Richars as much as I do, and no one pays him any mind; they think he's even crazier than I am.  He plays the part well, but he's clever.  You'll need to work with him pretty closely, but I think you'll like him..."

Ademia stood up and took Donna's hands, and kissed her on the cheek.  "You should go."  Donna understood that simple sentence.  It meant Ademia was pulling back, protecting herself.  God, but the woman had to be tough.  "If you change your mind, I'll still be here."

"I didn't understand why, until I actually met the woman.  But I suppose that this, um, new-found preference of yours could serve you well, once you make the transition.  You'll be needing a Countess, after all..."  He was leering at her.

"Oh.  I hadn't thought about that ...  Even if I became Count, without an heir, Richars or one of his idiot sons would inherit the District after all, eventually.  But what woman would want a freak, a man who used to be a woman?"

"Hah.  Like whom?"

"You need a bit,"  By made a face at Donna, "of Pierre, to grow your new organs."

"A bit?  Not a bit from...."

"No!" By had reflexively crossed his hands over his crotch, and Donna used a finger to guide his gaze down to see what he was doing, at which point he spread his fingers into an even more protective gesture.  Donna started to giggle.  By snickered, and then snorted, and before Donna could do anything, the two of them were consumed by laughter, so much so that By slipped right out of his chair onto the floor and grabbed Donna's knees as tears of glee streamed down his face.  Each time their laughter died down, one of them would splutter, and that would get the other one started again.  They only stopped when they were both so out of breath they were gasping.

By returned to his chair and sprawled out, chest heaving.  When he finally had enough air to force out a sentence, he said, "No, Donna, any bit of Pierre will work, but I'd avoid anything near his poor demented brain."

"Right you are, about that.  Although I'm sure that however I end up, I'll still have my own portion of Vorrutyer dementedness... though, come to think of it, if the Betans can use their genetic manipulations to remove our tendency towards heart problems, they might be able to get rid of our mental problems, too.  Imagine, a Vorrutyer who wouldn't be considered half-mad by the rest of the Vor."

"Indeed it does."

Pierre's death came within weeks, during the night.  Armsman Szabo woke Donna from a luscious dream -- about Olivia Koudelka, who had been making regular appearances in her fantasies ever since By had mentioned her.  By the Armsman's apologetic demeanor, Donna knew before he spoke his first word.  She asked for a few minutes to get herself dressed, but when Szabo closed the door, she burst into sobs.  She would have to get off-planet immediately, before her brother's funeral -- before his death was even announced publicly.  It was only later that she realized there was some sadness for the impending loss of her own female persona mixed in with the understandable grief at the loss of her brother.  Since she'd signed the surgery contract and put its safe delivery to Beta into By's hands, she had mostly been focusing on the advantages that would come with being male, which went well beyond a chance at the Countship.  Armsman Szabo, among others, had been filling her in, and were already coaching her towards a more masculine demeanor.  The view from the top of the Barrayaran food chain would be a welcome change, she thought... and what was she losing, anyway?  Ademia.