This fic is based off a major what if. What if Oscar was raised as a woman? Hopefully, Oscar will still be Oscar, just in a dress. Of course, I welcome someone to blow the whistle on characterization within reason of course. Some things will be different I believe.

Please enjoy.

"God created woman from a crooked rib; and any one who trieth to straighten it, breaketh it."

-Somali Proverb

Crooked Rib

Prologue

Oscar may have been young, but she was observant. Seeing her Nanny, who was usually loud, bright and chipper so quiet and sullen when brushing her hair in the morning set the eight year old on edge. The older woman smiled gently, and didn't pull at the knots and snarls in her hair quite so harshly. The girl wanted to drum her fingers on her vanity out of uneasiness but it was considered unladylike and rude, so she kept her hands folded very tightly. Girls should be seen and not heard and if they spoke it should be scarcely above a whisper. Oscar knew that her smiling face alone would not cheer Nanny, and she wouldn't be heard if she whispered. Oscar cleared her throat a few times in hopes of getting her attention. When this failed, she sighed and finally decided to speak.

"Nanny, what's wrong? Are you afraid I'll get skewered by my fencing instructor? Because if you are, don't worry, I'm a thousand times better than I was last week!" the girl declared. The innocence and sincerity of the statement made the older woman smile and she turned Oscar's little face toward her so that she could stroke her cheek.

"You are the last person I'm worried about, Mademoiselle," Nanny told her charge. "I'm worried about my daughter and her family, that's all."

Oscar looked at her quizzically and responded with an, "Oh…" The idea that Nanny had family wasn't new; she'd go on and on about her grandson to the maids. What was so wrong that she had to worry and look so distraught? Oscar decided to enact the "seen and not heard" rule and mull it over in her head. She created several scenarios, one involving pirates, the other involving bandits and before she could come up with another, she blurted out, "What happened?"

She instantly regretted it, for Nanny's eyes welled up with tears. Oscar feeling guilty over making the older woman cry and wanted to cry herself, but she held back.

"I'm sorry," Oscar whispered. The older woman kissed the top of her head and continued brushing her hair. Oscar fought tears valiantly, her father tolerated no crying from her. She wasn't his son, but she was going to be as close to one as he insisted. Which meant, she could not be a silly magpie like other girls, she must study Latin and Greek, read good literature, study history extensively, learn how to fence, be an expert horseman, and once she was old enough, she would learn how to shoot guns. Right now she was working on her archery. She was allowed other boyish freedoms; such as she could wear breeches when no company was expected, climb trees and have adventures. Sometimes she'd climb trees and have adventures even if she wore a dress—which worried her mother and Nanny to no end.

To their consolation, Oscar was quite the accomplished young lady. She was able to dance, play piano and properly serve tea. The girl refused to take up needlepoint, and her mother did not push it. She was glad enough that Oscar, despite her rough upbringing had fairly good manners when addressing adults.

Oscar looked up at Nanny as she styled her hair. Oh how she wished to make Nanny smile again.

The next day Nanny was gone. Oscar wisely did not throw a tantrum as was her first impulse, but waited until her mother explained that Nanny had only gone to her daughter's funeral. Madame de Jarjayes explained that she would be back in a few days. A few days turned into two weeks. Nanny's son in law fell sick and died shortly after the funeral. Oscar felt her little heart wrench in pain for her Nanny. Vaguely she wondered what would happen to the little boy, Nanny's beloved grandson. She knew if her parents died she'd live with one her sisters, probably Hortense. Maybe he would come live with Nanny? Would her father allow it? Oscar sincerely hoped so. No one deserved to be alone in the world.

Two weeks after her departure, Nanny returned with her grandson. Oscar was with her tutor dissecting Latin phrases, when she saw the carriage pull by in the rain that had began to fall that morning. She wanted to bolt out of the room and go to them immediately, but she knew what her father's reaction would be to such disrespect for the tutor and she stayed put. As soon as she was given a break for lunch, she exited the room calmly, but as the door closed on the drawing room, Oscar took off down the hall, slid down the banister and headed for the kitchen.

Sure enough, Nanny was there, pouring some milk for a boy, whom Oscar assumed was her grandson. There were no other children close her age for miles, save maybe Girodelle whom she had heard of a while back. Girodelle from what she remembered was fourteen or so, and this kid couldn't have been much older than her, so it simply had to be Nanny's grandson. For the time being she pushed all other thoughts aside and crushed the older woman in a hug and gave her kisses to make up for the ones she didn't receive since she had left.

"I worried for you so much, Nanny!" Oscar declared. "I'm glad you're back."

Nanny kissed Oscar's forehead and smoothed her hair

"Honestly no one knows how to take care of you while I'm gone…" she remarked meaning she didn't like the way the maid had styled Oscar's hair. She shook her head and Oscar turned her gaze to the boy sitting at the table watching them with his deep green eyes. His food was untouched, his face was tired and somber. Oscar smiled at him anyway hoping to get some sort of reaction in kind. When he didn't smile she held out her hand.

"Hello, I'm Oscar François de Jarjayes. Pleased to meet you," she said. The boy blinked, obviously confused. Such a girl dressed so elegantly, didn't curtsey and speak softly, as he would have expected. That was the way the other Madame's daughter was. Instead she offered her hand, a manly mannerism but polite nonetheless. He shook Oscar's hand a little apprehensively.

"I'm André," he replied, surprised at the softness of his own voice. He felt like he had been silent for so long, he had forgotten how to speak properly.

"Well, André, it's good to have you here. I'll see you around," she said. André nodded. She curtsied and left. The boy stared after her for a long time. What a strange girl.

"I think Mademoiselle likes you. She only shakes hands with people she wants to be friends with," Nanny told André.

"Friends? With Mademoiselle? Is that allowed?" he asked. The other Madame would scold him if he so much as glanced at her daughter. What made this girl so different? Was it her name? Was it her parents? André decided to look closely and find out.

For two weeks André stared and stared and stared at Oscar whenever she came to the stables for her horse or when she came to visit Nanny in the servant's quarters. She didn't know what he was staring at. She was herself, and that wasn't anything new. Certainly André had seen girls before so she couldn't understand what was so special and different about her that he had to stare. It got so unnerving that she resolved to confront him about it.

Finishing up her lessons for the day, she decided to wait for André to come out of the stables and ambush him. She'd beat the truth out of him if he refused to answer her questions. Oscar, still in her studying dress climbed into the apple tree just beside the entrance to the servant quarters and lay in wait. André came soon and she felt a mischievous grin stretch across her face. She took an apple and threw it at his head.

"Hey!" she cried as the boy stopped dead in his tracks and held his head. "What's with you?"

André was a little less than amused with Oscar's greeting and glared up at her, "You threw an apple at my head!"

"I know," she replied crossing her arms and smirking.

"If you weren't my mademoiselle, I'd…" he trailed off and lowered his head. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I didn't mean to speak so rudely to you."

Oscar didn't reply immediately, instead, she took another apple and tossed it to him, "I was rude to you. It's only natural that you want to be rude back."

He caught the fruit she threw and stared at its red skin, "No…it was wrong."

"Why was it wrong? If you threw something at me, I'd be so angry I would have beaten you into a bloody pulp already," she said.

"You are a lady, I could never do anything bad to you," he said.

"So you're sorry you were rude to me not because rudeness should not beget more rudeness, but because I'm a lady?" Oscar replied, climbing down out of the tree.

"Ah…well…" André mumbled, unable to look her in the eye.

"Suddenly you can't even look at me. But all week you've been staring at me. Why?" she asked putting her hands on her hips. He gazed back sheepishly.

"Well, you're very different, Mademoiselle…" he confessed. Oscar clucked her tongue and crossed her arms.

"So you tell me I'm a lady and I'm different and you stare at me and treat me differently because of all that? You're not being fair to me. I am Oscar and you are André. I'll bet you're not that different from me."

"I work all day, you study all day. I'm a boy, you're a girl. You're a noble and I am not," he pointed out. "We're really, really different, you and I."

"Well…" Oscar began. "We're both alive. We're both kids. We live on the same manor. You speak French like I do."

"Not really…you speak super proper…like a scholar."

Oscar snorted, "My tutors tell me I speak to boldly. All the other girls they tutor aren't nearly as outspoken."

"It must be fun to do all that learning. Mademoiselle…I mean the other Mademoiselle told me my brain wasn't made for books."

"That's stupid. What proof does she have? I bet you can do almost anything I can do. Wait…hold that thought."

She left him to marvel after her as she began to hatch a plan in her curly blonde head.

"Father, I believe I need someone to study with me," Oscar declared after her request to see her father was granted. Monsieur de Jarjayes was torn between being shocked and enraged at her declaration.

"I have received no complaints from your tutors. I will not be paying for you to irritate another man of learning," he told her.

"Allow me to explain," she said. "I asked Monsieur Rousseau what made him so good at Latin. He explained that he spoke Latin everyday with his classmates. Teaching someone else always helps him to keep his knowledge of the language fresh. Father, I know you understand Latin, but you are too busy. Mother and Nanny do not know Latin and do not have time to learn it. I propose that I teach Latin to André, Nanny's grandson. By extension, I believe it would be beneficial for me if I taught him everything I know, to keep my knowledge sharp."

"Teach your servant girl everything you know. That boy has no need to learn how to dance, sing or play piano."

Oscar resisted the urge to pout and declare defeat, but cleared her throat and stubbornly persisted.

"Father you know how to play piano and dance," she said. "A boy could always do well to learn how to fence and read. Besides…Annette's so much older than me but she can barely count her fingers much less learn everything I'm learning."

"What makes you so sure that boy can keep up with you?" he asked.

"He…" Oscar kicked herself, she didn't know what to say to that. "I just know, Father."

Monsieur de Jarjeyes fell silent, "You are dismissed."

She curtsied and left her father's study. It was times like this he regretted allowing Oscar to be so educated. At nearly eight years old she shouldn't be able to orate and reason the way she did. He feared when she got older, if she continued to learn and study philosophy, she could convince the nation that she was actually the king of France. No, no he was exaggerating, but she was rather convincing. He could not allow his authority to be undermined and André was still a servant. Perhaps…Oscar could stand to have a playmate at least.

Oscar had just finished her fencing lesson for the day and bid her tutor farewell. Nanny served her lunch all the while complaining of how, "nice young ladies have no need for fencing." Oscar wasn't so sure of how true that was. Her mother said at the last ball they were throwing daggers at her. All right, Oscar knew she said "glaring" daggers, but the girl surmised that if they knew she was good with a sword they'd think twice about giving her dirty looks. It was all protection. She could certainly make good use of such talents as a lady.

The thought of having useless talents brought up what she and her father had discussed earlier that day before he departed for Versailles.

"It would be utterly pointless for a servant to learn how to dance and to speak Latin and Greek. And when would he ever need to know how to fence?" he told her. Oscar looked down at the fencing foils lying on the floor. She sighed and picked them up and went outside, André should be passing by any minute. She put the foils at the base of the apple tree and climbed into the branches, trying to find the perfect one to throw at him. She found one just in time, for just as she pulled it free, André started down the path with that sullen yet dreamy look on his face. With one well placed hit, she smacked his forehead and he yelped in pain. André immediately looked up into the branches of the apple tree as Oscar snickered.

"Mademoiselle, not this again…" he mumbled. She climbed off the branch she was sitting on and picked up both fencing foils.

"Here," she said tossing one to him. "We've got a lot of work to do."

"Mademoiselle?" the boy said questioningly. "I don't know what to do with this…and…why are you wearing breeches?"

"We are fencing, André. I'm going to teach you everything I know," she explained. "Reading, writing, history, and Latin. Father says he will allow me to continue teaching you if after one month you show good progress."

"Then why are we fencing?" André asked.

"Father said you absolutely must learn how to fence. And from now on, when I have dance class you must be my partner. Got it?" she said. André gave her an odd look, as though he wasn't sure whether he should be grateful, but he bowed and held his sword sheepishly with both hands. Oscar rolled her eyes.

"Come on, you'll never beat me if you stand like that!" she chided. "You're not wielding a broad sword. Fix your stance."

She adjusted him, tapping his limbs lightly with her practice foil. Once she was satisfied with his positioning she took her place as his opponent.

"Yes, André, I believe we shall be good friends," she said. He gave her another wide eyed and frightened look as though being her friend meant being stabbed like a pin cushion.

"Oh and André?" she began.

"Yes, Mademoiselle?" he said in a hesitant, shaky voice.

"If you call me 'Mademoiselle' one more time, you'll sincerely regret it," she replied. Oscar lunged forward without another warning. "En guarde!"

Notes, notes notes: I tried to picture how "girly" Oscar would be raised. I don't think that the good General could ever fully give up the idea of having a son. Oscar probably would spend most of her childhood in a "limbo" as though he couldn't decide whether or not Oscar was going to be his "son" after all, or his daughter. Because of his indecision, Oscar's mother probably had more of a say in her upbringing. I'm certain she would learn almost everything a boy would have learned, but she would have learned the courtly manners expected of a woman and of course dressed like a girl. Of course, she doesn't spend her whole life in a genderless limbo, her path gets chosen eventually.

Edit: Some words, and the fact that Nanny has a daughter and not a son.