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Chapter Text

He was nineteen when his Aunt Bobbi brought him to the house on Scoone Avenue. Lord Ramkin had been generous in his offer, and it was clear it wasn’t to be a traditional betrothal agreement.

If Havelock wanted to court Lord Ramkin's daughter that was fine, but nothing was promised outside the right of first refusal. If anyone wanted to marry Sybil Ramkin, he would be offered the option to marry her first. If it was a good match, it was an offer that he could easily refuse in good faith. As a result, he would be able to keep unsavory suitors away from the young heiress. Sybil would never know about the arrangement unless he told her so he would not feel any undue pressure from her to marry.

The agreement was quite generous, a quarter of a million dollars would be transferred to his accounts and he would have the backing of the Ramkin's regiments when he became Patrician. The Ramkin family would support him in any of his political ambitions and provide his Aunt with a property in Genua.

The only two ways the contract would be voided would be upon the death of either party with a clause to protect each party against assassination; or through an act of narrative causality. The narrative causality clause was precise; a life debt gave the first refusal option to Sybil’s or Havelock’s savior and the right of second refusal would go to Havelock. Exceptions were made to this clause in cases where the hero was undead or married.

After the contracts were signed, Bobbi escorted him down the hall to meet his potential bride. He laughed at the thought. He knew basics about her, according to her father she was a sturdy girl, who was very smart but very young and naïve. The ballroom was empty except for a solitary figure working.

Bobbi called out to the girl. “Sybil, I would like you to meet my nephew, Havelock.”

Havelock bowed. Sybil stood and curtsied.

Bobbie turned to her nephew and whispered in his ear. "Give her a chance, she has more worth than you think." She then announced into the room so Sybil could hear. “I will leave you to get acquainted.”

Havelock didn't say anything to the girl but nodded that she should continue whatever it was she was doing. She nodded her thanks in return and went back to her project.

Later in life, Havelock would acknowledge that his view of women was rather jaded as a young man. He always compared the women around him to either his mother or Aunt, which only made the girls of his society look dim-witted and foolish. As a result, he was used to assessing society girls on their physical form, rather like one would assess a dog or a horse. A wife in the upper classes was no more than a glorified pet.

He took a minute to study her. She was a big girl, plump but not obese, sturdy with wide shoulders and hips, and tall, very tall. She had to be an inch shorter than he was and he was tall for a man in Ankh-Morpork. Her overall look was intimidating, but her ancestors wanted children to ride into battle not host tea parties. She wasn’t hopeless, there were always those in the market for a draft horse. Though she struck him more like one of the working dogs found in the hubward countries, something regal like a Cori Celesti Mountain Dog. Buxom and curvy, if she learned to be confident in her body he could see her appealing to a selection of men, even a few of her own class. She wasn’t pretty but handsome and easy on the eyes.

And then he noticed, she hadn't come over to fuss over him. All girls of marrying age, unless they were already spoken for or incredible beauties, fussed over any eligible man. Society functions were like walking into a flock of carrion birds, looking to pick off the weak and the easily confused. She should be pumping him for information or at least chittering at him like a myna bird, but she was working on her project in comfortable silence.

He walked over to see what exactly had her so enthralled. He was impressed, she had set up a pantograph and was copying Methodia Rascal’s Battle of Koom Valley.

“That quite the undertaking. Most masters do not attempt that until their fourth or fifth year . How old are you?”

Sybil cocked her head and gave him a slightly puzzled look. “I just turned 14.” She frowned for a moment at his reaction. “I look old for my age. Daddy says it's because I have an old soul. I think it is probably just because I’m a big girl.” She self-consciously covered her bust.

He nodded. She looked like she was at least his age, but this revelation only confused him and made him question his earlier appraisal of her.

“What are you working on?’ he said indicating the project.

“School project. It is a better use of time than flower arranging.” She looked up at him thoughtfully. “I like to look at them. Most of them look so fearsome but you can see doubt and sadness playing over the faces of some dwarves and trolls towards the back. I figure that is closer to the reality of battle.” He was struck at how profound this was for any eligible lady he had met yet alone for a 14-year-old. “I have been trying to read up on Koom Valley, we only learn human history at Quirm College for Young Ladies." She gave a small sigh indicating mild disapproval at this fact. "Anyway, it’s a challenge.” She said as she returned to working on one of the troll faces.

He sat next to her and watched her work.

He gave her an appraising look. "You do realize that as a hostess, it is your job to keep me entertained."

"I am sorry. Did you wish to discuss something?" She looked at him and gave him a gentle smile. "You indicated that you wanted me to go back to what I was doing, I thought you wanted to contemplate your own thoughts."

She was clever and that made him want to challenge her. "Since you are reading up on Dwarf History, what do you think of the new trend of performing Dwarf Operas?" He asked conversationally.

She looked at him and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I think it's Shatta."

Havelock choked in response and she laughed. "Shatta. You know, dwarvish for an unexpected treasure. The operas are not of the same caliber that they would be if they were performed by dwarves but I still think they are very good." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There are more dwarves in the city. They are such wonderful craftsman and artists, I think they should be able to share their culture with the city. Although, most of my friends would disagree with me." She looked at him anxiously trying to gauge his response.

He laughed and proceeded to embark on the best conversation he had had in months. They talked for the next few hours. Mainly about the city and him, she pulled him out of himself. She made him feel important and bigger, better somehow. He relaxed and let his guard down barely noticing the time passing.

When his Aunt Bobbi retrieved him, Sybil promised to write. He hadn’t thought too much of the encounter at the time, it was enjoyable but his future interactions with Sybil would be limited. He would help her find a good husband, her family would help him secure the city in a few years, and the city would be on the road to being great again.

Chapter Text

He had been in Überwald for weeks and he was most definitely in love. She was beautiful, exotic, and older. Margolotta was his dark muse, the passionate embrace of twilight. She was beauty and elegance distilled and personified.

He taught her about control, she taught him about experiencing. They spoke of philosophy and politics. She was the first woman to ever challenge him and it was exquisite. It was all so dangerous, passionate, and intense. He was living on a knife's edge and he had never felt more alive.

He was at a loss though because he had no one to talk about these new feelings and ideas. Everything was old hat to Lady Margolotta. He tried writing to Bobbi, but that was like talking to a schoolgirl. She was distracted with her own doings. When she did focus on him, she was too wrapped up in the romance and political intrigue of it. He had given up hope of finding someone to talk to when the first letter from Sybil arrived.

Dear Lord Vetinari,

I hope this finds you well. I have returned to Quirm for school and have received full marks on my project. Upon your suggestion, I found a copy of Rascal's biography in the library. I have been trying to make sense of it, although it is hard to track whom the chicken is at any given moment. It is a wonderful example of what Von Sliss described as "the one, when carefully considered, may in fact be a many in different clothing." Well that, or there are simply just too many chickens.

Oh to be in a world or part of one where the biggest problem is too many chickens! Before I left the city for school, parts of the Shades burned down due to a bread shortage. They called the regiments up for two days, I suggested to Father that it would have been better to give the people bread and save three-quarters of the cost of standing up an army for less than 50 hours. He disagreed and said I was being naive.

Please write back with news of Überwald. I envy your access to such an exotic land with such a great history of philosophers. I mentioned the Bonk School to one of my form mates and she thought I was talking about the Courtesan training they offer in Genua. If you have time, please write and tell me of your adventures.

Ever your friend,

Sybil Deidre Olgivanna Ramkin

Havelock reread the short letter and looked up all he could find on Von Sliss, an Uberwaldian Philosopher focusing on the existential. He spent the afternoon reading up on the Bonk School and replied to her letter by the end of the week.

Dear Lady Sybil,

Thank you for your letter, so many do not keep their promises to write. Überwald is a truly remarkable land with a wonderful people. I find myself becoming more and more entranced with it by the day. Upon reading your letter, I have familiarized myself with the Bonk School and I must thank you. You have provided me with the start of many enjoyable conversations over the past week. How do you feel about the talking cure being suggested by the Bonk School? Do you really believe it could make one a better person or settle disputes? Imagine wars fought with words rather than weapons but then any wizard will tell you that words have power.

I find myself with free time in the day and I would like to correspond more if it is amiable to you. You are a kind girl, though I would agree with your father in that you are naive as to the ways of the world. Men must earn their bread, otherwise, it is meaningless. Please write back with more news of the City and of yourself. Although we spoke for several hours months ago, I know very little about you.

Awaiting your response. Your loyal and faithful friend,

Havelock Vetinari 

Her response arrived two weeks later with some letters from his Aunt. Halfway through one of the pages, he laughed out loud startling his lady.

Margolotta smiled at him. "Should I be jealous?" she said mischief in her eyes.

He shook his head. "No, my love, she is just a friend and a child at that, regardless of how clever and witty she might be."

"Ah, Havelock. You forget, you are but a child yourself." She purred and he shifted uncomfortably. "May I?"

He hesitated before handing her the letter. She quickly read and smiled wolfishly. "Vell, it is clear she is quite innocent but young girls tend not to read philosophy. Is she a maiden?"

"She's only 14." he said protectively and she laughed.

"Not to vorry, your Liebchen is safe from me." She looked at him intensely. "Now come here Schatzi, I have much to show you." 

He didn't know why but he hoarded his letters after that.  In the mornings when his lady was asleep, he would write to the girl that was slowly becoming his best friend. It began with philosophy and theories but slowly evolved into discussions of feelings, she gave him humor and insight. They played chess via letters and she was surprisingly good. The hard views he learned from his love, she countered. Not looking for some utopia that didn’t exist but shooting for a better version of what already existed.

Sybil conceded that all men may be evil but she would not let go of the notion that they were good as well. She argued that those that know how to do evil things and chose not to are probably the closest to being truly good. To Sybil, every single day was an opportunity to choose good actions, and although the general perception of those actions depended on your side of a battle, there were basic ideals that all good men tried to follow.

This reminded him of John Keel. He wrote to her of the man and his role in the Glorious Revolution. He thought she would have liked Sergeant Keel though he could never imagine her around such a man.

She opened up to him about school and he shared his own stories of tormented years at the Assassins Guild. He didn’t realize it until almost a half-century later but she was helping to form him. While the heat of passion forged his cool exterior and the wisdom on his lover shaped his view of the world, Sybil’s gentle guidance sculpted his ethical core, he challenged himself to be better than the gods based off her ethical yardstick.

She was the first person he shared Margolotta’s nature with, he had been cautious of sharing that Margolotta was a vampire with anyone but he didn’t want to keep it from her. Sybil’s response made him smile, it was written as a postscript at the bottom of one of her letters.

You deserve love, Havelock. As long as she makes you happy, she could be a terrier for all I care.

Chapter Text

At 17, Sybil completed her schooling and spent the summer at the Ramkin country estate. In accordance with genteel traditions, Roberta Meserole was invited to Ramkin Manor in the Quirmian countryside to help Sybil prepare for her first season. After three years in Genua, Bobbi jumped at the opportunity to be nearer to Ankh-Morpork.

Bobbi also saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with her nephew. She did her best to convince Havelock that he should accompany her trying every angle, he had been away from the city too long, it was a good opportunity to become entrenched with the gentry, and all relationships need quick breaks. Nothing seemed to work. In the end, it was a letter from Sybil that convinced him to spend a week in the countryside.

Dear Havelock,

I hope this letter finds you and your lady well. My apologies for its shortness but my sanity is in the balance. Bobbi thinks it is in my best interest to transform me into a meringue. If I have to try on another dress that makes me look like a flotila sized layer cake or suffer through another conversation on what not to say to men that are courting me, I will go mad.

Did you know that men are only intrigued by conversations about estate sizes and the weather? So far I have been banned from expressing my opinions on education, politics, social justice, civic responsibility, history, philosophy, religion, other cultures, the poor, and anything that might give the appearance that I read or think in my free time.

When I asked why I couldn't speak of such things, Bobbi said such subjects are not appropriate for a wife and are the realm of courtesans. When I asked if that was an option, Daddy choked on his coffee and Bobbie scolded me for trying to kill my father.

As my friend, I am imploring you to step in on my behalf or at least come and visit to laugh at the process. If I don't have some relief from this torment, I may run off to be a handmaiden to Blind Io.

Your Friend, even if you are unable to save me.

S.R.

When he arrived, Havelock was shocked by how little Sybil had changed over the past 3 years. There were little things, she was now taller than him by an inch and her figure had blossomed more, a feat he didn’t think possible. She carried herself with greater confidence and the timid girl of three years ago now had an unconscious regal bearing. Even with these changes, she was still a child in his eyes and it was like being welcomed home by a little sister.

The conversation at dinner the last night of his visit was lively and interesting. He smiled and laughed easily, and everything seemed to be going wonderfully.

After dinner, Havelock asked Sybil what her plans were now that her schooling was complete.

Sybil smiled and blushed. Havelock chuckled assuming she was going to go on about some boy or her dragons.

“I was meaning to talk to you about that.” She said addressing her father. “I am really good at antimony and at healing, Brenda says she’s never seen someone with as good of a touch.” She bit her lip nervously. “I was reading that they are willing to train female doctors in Genua. I thought that maybe a profession…”

“NO!” Lord Ramkin cut her off.

“But Daddy, I really think I would be good at it.” Sybil said sweetly.

“I am sure you would be, sweetheart.” He stated in gentle yet patronizing voice. “But it’s too dangerous and your responsibility is to the family and Ankh-Morpork.”

“I would be careful, and Aunt Bobbi lives in Genua. We have friends there.” She looked at her father imploringly. “I would be a brilliant doctor and I could make a real impact. Just think of how many people I could help.” She pleaded.

Havelock looked across the table and saw the same girl he had met 3 years before. She was too naïve for the world out there and it was his duty to keep her safe. “I have to agree with your father. Ladies do not work outside the home, even in established professions. The respectable and responsible thing is to stay in Ankh-Morpork. There is a lot of charity work that needs to be done.” He smiled at her gently. “Anyway, who would care for the little dragons if you weren’t here? I read that article you sent me about preservation. You are helping here at home that is what is important.“

Lord Ramkin nodded. “Quite right. Listen to Havelock, sweetheart. He has your best interests at heart.”

Bobbi took this as her cue and directed the conversation on to a safer topic.

Havelock glanced over at Sybil. She smiled and nodded as expected, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes the rest of the evening.

Years later when Sybil approached him about expanding the hospital with a series of strategically positioned clinics over the next 15 years, he would ask her about it. It was just after the Koom Valley accord, and she had young Sam on her hip. She was standing next to a map of the city and explaining each of the locations, the populations that would be served, and value to the city in both the short and long term.

He didn’t know why but he asked. “Do you ever regret not becoming a doctor?”

Sybil gave him a surprised look and thought for a moment. “I did, I did for a long time but..” Young Sam made a fussing noise and she quickly moved to adjust the boy so he sat at her waist. He reached up and played with one of the strains of hair from her wig. She smiled down at him and then looked at Havelock. “Not anymore. I wouldn’t risk not having him for anything on the disc.” She said gently and kissed her son on the top of his head. The boy let out a cooing laugh and she smiled even brighter.

She then smirked at Havelock. “Stop trying to change the subject. How much is the City willing to chip in to make this happen?”

Chapter Text

Lady Margolotta hadn’t spurned him exactly but she wouldn’t marry him either. She said he was far too young and had his whole life ahead of him. More importantly, she would never leave Uberwald. Not that he blamed her he could never leave Ankh-Morpork. That didn’t make it all sting any less.

He had been invited to visit Ramkin Manor as a distraction. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working. The library was quite fine and the bathroom was very distracting but he was there with Bobbi and Lord Ramkin. Much to his dismay, Bobbi and Lord Ramkin were friendlier than he previously thought so he was overjoyed when Sybil arrived.

Sybil gave him the space he needed but also brought back a feeling of joy and wonder for the world. They went on walks and picnics. They discussed her work with dragons and his plans for the city. They spent hours together in the library. He laughed more around her than he had in years. The more time he spent with her the less he missed Margolotta and the more time he wanted to spend around his little Sybil. The problem was she wasn’t so little any more. Well, she never was little but she was almost 19.

Havelock sat in the library trying to figure out what it was he felt for the girl. Young woman, he corrected himself. He had just spent 2 hours with Lord Ramkin refusing offers of marriage from various noble and well-appointed families. A few had gone to school with him, although at least one was old enough to be her grandfather. He tried not to cringe at the idea of Sybil being yoked with Ronald Rust or worse that sadistic prat, Downey.

Lord Ramkin had lamented that she would wind up a spinster at this rate. Havelock thought that if all that was out there were men like Rust or Downey, maybe she would be happier alone. Lord Ramkin had suggested that Havelock think about the agreement and assured him that he would fully support the match.

The problem was he didn’t love her. Actually that was inaccurate, he did love her. He just wasn’t in love with her because he was in love with Margolotta, wasn’t he? He liked being around Sybil and there was a desire for her company but that was it, he liked her company. She was a good companion; she listened and he could let down his guard around her. He did not desire other things from Sybil, the fact that other men might made him slightly uncomfortable.

Havelock had been left with Sybil at the manor when Bobbi and Lord Ramkin went to meet with friends on one of the many riverboats.

Havelock was fine with this arrangement until his aunt teasingly whispered, “Be good, and if you can’t be good, settle for safe.” and winked at him. Only his assassin training kept him from blushing. He quickly brushed it off; Sybil was the very definition of safe. She wasn’t the type of girl men would launch ships over; she was sturdy and dependable. Nothing was going to happen.

It had all started innocently enough. He and Sybil had settled down in the library for the day.

They had been reading for several hours when he started the conversation.

“Do you think the people have the right to kill the king? “ He asked looking over the top of the history he was reading.

“The king or the ruler?” she replied not looking up from a copy of Tacticus.

“The king. Do you think that the king can be killed?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“He was wasn’t he, that is why we have Patricians after all.” She said nonplussed and turned the page.

“You know what I mean. Do you believe Suffer-Not-Injustice had the right to kill Lorenzo the Kind?” Havelock put the book down and stared at her.

“Yes.” She finally answered and looked up from the page.

“That’s your entire answer?” The question was tinged with exasperation.

“Yes, he had the right to kill Lorenzo the Kind. The man was a monster. Maybe it should have been done in a more civilized manner, but the city was suffering. Anyway, according to noble lore, he had to kill him.” She stated calmly and went back to reading.

“What?” He did his best not to sound shocked at the statement.

“Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes was the father of Lorenzo the Kind’s.” She paused for a moment and counted to herself. “fifth wife, they had two children. She expressed dislike about his.” She looked uncomfortable as she tried to think of an appropriate word. “habits and he had her executed.”

“That isn’t true.” Havelock laughed.

Sybil looked at him and rolled her eyes in a very unladylike fashion making him laugh harder. “Yes, it is. It is in the Uberwaldian translation of Twerps Peerage from 1685 that you sent me. “ She said and got up from her chair.

“Is it?” He chuckled and followed her to the bookcase.

“Yes, it was taken out of all later additions along with any mention of Suffer-Not-Injustice’s family. Here, I will show it to you.” Sybil pulled the book from the bookcase and began looking up the fact in question.

Havelock teasingly grabbed the book and tried to keep it away from her.

“Give it back, Havelock. This is important.” She laughed and grabbed around him.

Their bodies grazed each other and Havelock took in a sharp breath. He felt two soft yet heavy objects press against him as she tried to take back the book. He pushed her against the couch and she fell backward pulling him with her. They wrestled on the floor and laughed like children. She was strong and although she could have easily overpowered him, she was gentle giving him the upper hand.

He stopped when he realized he had her pinned. She was on her back and he was straddling her. She was still laughing, not quite getting the implication of the position. He looked down at her, her chest rising and falling, her eyes bright, and her cheeks flushed. She smelled like lavender soap, powder, and sunshine. She felt like nothing he had ever dreamed he wanted but he did want her. He jumped off her and caused her to startle.

“What’s wrong, Havelock? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Sybil asked concern flooding her face.

Havelock hadn’t bothered to answer; he just stalked off to his room, which was where he was now. He didn’t know what had come over him. This was Sybil for Io’s sake. She didn’t even realize what was happening. He cursed his aunt as he poured yet another jug of cold water over himself. He sought Sybil out later that evening and apologized.

As Havelock rode away in his carriage, he was lost in his thoughts. He knew he couldn’t have a normal life if he wanted to be patrician. Yet he loved Sybil a little more each day and now he lusted…No, this was not lust. This was simple hormones and proximity. It would go away with distance. He reminded himself.

The problem was Sybil was becoming a beacon to him. If Margolotta was the passionate embrace of twilight and the call of the exotic, Sybil was the warm embrace of dawn and the comfort of home. Unfortunately, he couldn’t have either and fulfill his dream to make the city great again.

He looked in his bag and pulled out the ancient copy of Twerps Peerage.

Chapter Text

When Sybil was 21 he realized he was in love with her.

It had been at Downey's wedding. She often accompanied him to these types of events. After his first few events with Sybil, he could clearly see that she hated them. She wasn’t good at small talk, she could push through it but it did not come naturally. She also felt uncomfortable being the center of attention, and would volunteer at some point to taken on some hostess role or another. When she would take part in conversations, her natural command and the crispness of her voice would make her appear to be overbearing. It also didn’t help that she would become slightly too loud to make up for natural quietness.

As a result of Sybil’s quirks, she would often be viewed as matronly or brash and was often laughed at by her friends. And that was part of the problem; all nobles were “friends” until you saw the assassin heading towards you. While Havelock distrusted almost everyone, Sybil worked hard to see the good in everyone; she could find a redeeming quality in almost anyone. This meant that she would listen to their cruelty and although her nature confidence never faded she doubted her own beauty, grace, and confidence.

No one really saw her, though, and to her credit, she did her best to hide both herself and how much the words of her so-called friends hurt. She wore light blue to blend in. The wigs she started to wear to cover her short hair, while lovely they were far too old for her.

The men he went to school with would compliment him on being such a gentleman as to escort poor Sybil. It stung that it was actually the reverse; she went with him because he needed to go for his plans and she was one of the few people he could stand to be around for long periods of time. He didn’t like admitting to himself that he was glad that they couldn’t get passed their own shallowness to see her real value.

The ceremony had been the standard affair. The reception had been held outside. Sybil had worked her way to the edge of the crowd and he moved over next to her.

He had expected to startle her but she looked at him with a smile. “Havelock.” She said with a nod.

He returned the nod. “Lady Sybil. Would you accompany around the grounds?”

“Of course.” She replied gratitude shining in her eyes.

The had walked a few moments when she turned to him. “Do you think there is a word for friendly enemies?”

Havelock said in his usual deadpan. “I think it is just enemies.”

“Oh no, these are friends. Friends that will turn on you and push in the dagger once you back is turned but friends.” She smirked at him. “We are civilized.”

He chuckled and they continued on in silence for a while.

He looked up after a while. “It looks like rain.”

“Afraid you are going to melt, Havelock?” She said coquettishly.

“No, I wouldn’t want you to get wet.” He said quietly and raised an eyebrow.

Sybil coughed and looked away to hide a blush, which caused him to laugh. She adjusted her dress and held her head high as she moved forward.

She turned and looked at him. “Are you coming?”

He smirked and pushed his luck. “No, just breathing hard.”

She gave him a blank look. “Are you alright?”

He tried to hide his laugh. “Yes, I am fine. Let’s keep going, shall we? I hear there is a good view of the city.”

They were standing on the edge of the grounds and looking out at the city when a sudden cloudburst soaked them both. Her clothes clung to her so all the bulky layers flattened to show her shape. He was admiring her, when her wig, which had gotten drenched fell off.

He was expecting her to get upset but she just said “Oh bugger” and started laughing. She raked her hands through her short curls pulling off the excess water.

His eyes met hers and although far from a romantic soul, he was drowning in the dark blue laughing pools, her eyes were full of love and promise. She was so beautiful to him at that moment. He stepped forward and tilting his head up, he kissed her and felt as if he had been lit on fire. If he were to be asked later, it would rank as one of the top kisses of his life.They held hands as they walked back to the main hall.

Later that evening, Havelock escorted Sybil to the wedding dance. He was quickly pulled away by one political connection after another.

Havelock looked for Sybil later that evening but was distracted with news of the Patrician. There were rumors that there would be an opportunity for a coup within the next two months and there was so much to organize.

He passed her as he was talking with a supporter. She smiled and nodded at nodded at him. He reassured himself that Sybil was dependable and steadfast. She would be there and the one thing he did have was time. The city first and then everything else would fall into place. He held fast to this idea until the next day.

Havelock met with other nobles that were worried about the state of the city under Snapcase. Amongst them were members of the assassin guild. Everyone close to Snapcase was a target. As he left, all Havelock could think of was putting Sybil in danger. He vowed never to marry while Patrician and decided to do whatever he had to keep his loved ones safe.

He still saw Sybil at social events, but he was careful to be seen with other women. He was on Snapcase’s radar so letters were few and he had stopped almost all visits to the Ramkin estates. To the rest of Ankh-Morpork Society, Sybil was just another woman to him.

Havelock asked Bobbi to check on her. She reported back that Sybil was well. She missed him but took his distance as disinterest. Sybil made it clear to Bobbi that she understood and if Havelock ever needed anything, he need only ask.

Chapter Text

She started talking about traveling when she was 23. Her father had passed and she wanted out of the city. She wanted to see the world and learn about other cultures.

With Bobbi’s help, Havelock had convinced her that she should wait for the spring and then fall and then the following spring. He could always find some pressing matter to keep her close to the city but it was getting more difficult. He found this difficulty to be directly related to the fact that while Sybil would sacrifice her own immediate desires for the greater good, she would gladly stand up for others. So when suitors started coming out of the woodwork, he worried she would move to be with a potential husband.

He had anticipated and dealt with the gold diggers and those just wanting a wife of the proper station. However, he wasn’t ready for the ones that took a genuine interest in her.

The first was a dragon fancier from Genua that was introduced to her by Bobbi. The man was the younger brother of a talented wizard and the heir to a large shipping company. Fuoco Macarona was tall and olive-skinned, he was taken by Sybil’s inner beauty at a Friendly Flame-Throwers’ Association show in Quirm. They maintained a friendship via letters, which soon blossomed into romance.

The next was a minor noble from Sto Lat, Lord Von Zaftig. An artist at heart, Zaftig had visited Ankh-Morpork to view the newly displayed Rascal’s The Battle of Koom Valley at the Royal Art Museum. After interviewing the curator, Sir Reynold Stitched, Havelock found out the man spent a longer than usual amount of time also viewing Caravati’s Three Large Pink Women and One Piece of Gauze. The young lord asked to meet Sybil when he learned the Rascal had belonged to her family. He fell for her quickly, claiming that she was his muse[1].

The last suitor that Sybil knew of was a captain in the Light Dragons Regiment. Captain Charles Fyre and Colonel Charles Makepeace visited Sybil at Ramkin Manor for more information on the use of swamp dragons in combat. Captain Fyre returned several times for the pleasure of Sybil’s company. A dour and cynical man by nature, Captain Fyre was entranced by Sybil’s good humor, kindness, and beauty[2]. It was clear that Sybil was taken with him as well. She confided in Bobbi that in addition to enjoying his company and respecting him as a person, she felt the novel sensation of being dainty and protected around him.

Havelock had dissuaded all of them from pursuing her. All three men would take her from the city and the city needed Sybil. Zaftig was the easiest since his was a simple case of lust. Macarona was a little bit of a challenge and required a carefully placed letter to the man's grandmother threatening access to ports on the Ankh. The most difficult had been Captain Fyre. A man of lower birth but higher honor, he couldn't be bribed or threatened away from her. He had accused Havelock of using Sybil and not having her best interests at heart. In the end, the man never agreed to stop courting Sybil but had agreed that he was currently not good enough for such a fine Lady.  He had promised that he would make his fortune and be back. Fyre was so angry when he left Havelock's study the force of the door closing cracked all its hinges.

Ever practical, Sybil seemed to move on as each suitor announced to her that they only wished to be friends. When asked she would simply say that she must have read them wrong. Being a creature true to her word, she maintained friendships with each man through letters.

The only time Havelock ever saw evidence that this was a façade was on one of the few occasions he risked having tea with her. Colonel Makepeace had called during the visit. He brought a letter to Sybil from Captain Fyre, who had been killed in a dragon explosion.

As she escorted Colonel Makepeace out, Havelock read the letter, which was a quick note jotted down on the man’s deathbed.

Dearest Sybil –

My life was so much better for having seen your light; don’t hide it from the world.

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more.

Charlie

After the Colonel had left, Sybil quietly listened and asked the right questions but her voice was distant. Havelock turned to see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Sybil?” he asked not sure what to say.

“I am fine.” She said with a weak smile. “Please excuse me, I need to get something from my room.”

She left the room and he followed. He hovered at the door to her bedroom for a second before walking in after her.

“Sybil?” He asked again.

She was turning a small metal clasp over in her hands. “It is to help pin the gloves back to prevent burns. He made it for me, his father was a blacksmith.”

Havelock nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss, my dear.”

She gave him a weak smile. “It is just life, no one ever said it was fair or promised a fairy tale ending.” Sybil sighed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Some of us are just destined to be loved only by small children and animals.”

“Where did you hear that?” he replied.

“Something Brenda said a few weeks back.” She said lost in thought.

What he said next, he regretted for the rest of his life. “Nothing wrong with that, Sybil. After all, if you weren’t there for them, who would take care of all the little dragons?”

Sybil nodded. “You are quite right, Havelock. We all need to know our place. ”

There were others that would have pursued her but the poison of self-doubt had already set and she couldn’t see their interest. She threw herself into the care of dragons. Over the years, it would border on an obsession that pulled her further and further out of society. The few interactions she had with the outside world were with fellow dragon-fanciers, a group traditionally composed of women. By the time Vimes knocked on her door, she was considered an eccentric recluse and what Fyre had considered her light was slowly dying under the pressure of her self-imposed exile. 

He was not proud of himself but it for the good of the city. She was necessary for his position in the city. She was necessary for his future in the city. He owed it to her and her family to keep her safe. He could not keep her safe if she was outside the city. Or at least, that is what he would tell himself when he saw her alone at parties, when he would see the flash of hurt at the pitying looks of her society “friends”, when he saw the loneliness in her eyes, when the part of him that was her friend questioned why he felt the need to lock her away, and when part of him would reply back because she is mine.

[1] Zaftig's Goddess of Fire was revealed at an exhibition in Genua 20 years later. It was purchased by one Lady Roberta Meserole for her nephew.

[2] Captain Fyre was originally from a small hubward village, where women of Sybil’s build were the archetype for regional goddesses and were prized as partners.

Chapter Text

Havelock looked out the window at the city. It had been an exhilarating and horrible first year. Just in the first two months of taking office, he had to thwart over 70 assassination attempts.

He could trust almost no one and those he could trust he had to keep at arm’s length. Everyone close to him was in danger. Bobbi had to hire bodyguards and she was in Genua. Sybil would have been a target if anyone knew of their friendship. She understood of course and kept a respectful distance.

He remembered his conversations with Sybil about the reasons the other Patricians went mad. They both agreed one had to be a bit barmy it start, it wasn't the type of job a completely sane person would desire. Sybil was convinced the separation Patricians experienced pushed them over the edge, she honestly believed that people needed connection to thrive. He had just laughed at this idea at the time, the job of Patrician required isolation, any good Patrician would be strong enough to do it alone. After a year of interactions that were limited to underlings, political rivals, and assassins, he worried that she was right.

Lupine Wonse escorted one of the new undersecretaries into the Oblong Office. “What is it?” Havelock asked testily.

“Another one of the nobles wants to file a complaint about the current magical situation,” Wonse said with a sneer.

Vetinari internally groaned, he had been dealing with this for weeks. Thanks to a magical incident the city was covered in round balls of purring fur that did nothing but eat and multiply.

Wonse continued in a huff, “Lady Ramkin is upset about the situation. Evidentially these were on her property and disturbing her dragons.“

“Just leave it on the desk will you.” The hamper was left on the desk. He was both happy and worried to see it. He had commissioned the basket specifically for her; it was full of secret compartments in case she ever needed to reach him.

He went to the secret compartment on the lid and retrieved a note.

Please take care of him.

Be safe and mind how you go.

-S

Havelock opened the basket to reveal a small terrier puppy, curled up among the balls of fluff. He lifted the puppy out of the basket and pulled it up to his chest, where it nuzzled him. In his first unguarded moment in weeks, he smiled and kissed the puppy on the top of its head. He moved the puppy so its nose touched his. “Now, what am I going to do with you, you little scamp?”

Once Drumknott officially became his secretary, Havelock learned that Sybil had trained the puppy to lie low. She had filled the basket with balls of fuzzy gray yarn so it was barely detectable and arranged for Drumknott to make the delivery. It was a very small gesture but it was one of many.

Years later, Havelock looked at the vase of flowers on his secretary's desk. He had dismissed Drumknott for the evening. The man needed his rest, but even after being stabbed he insisted on checking in on the office to make sure everything was still running smoothly. Havelock took advantage of the empty office to look at the card on the flowers.

Just as he thought, they were from Sybil. Well, technically, they were from the Duke and Duchess of Ankh but it was clear Sybil was behind them.

His thoughts turned to the Duchess. It wasn’t until after Sybil married Vimes and all properties were officially transferred over to the newly minted Commander of the Watch that Drumknott shared how much she had done those first few years.

She had put her monetary weight behind him. She created a series of proxies and lawyers to covertly support and protect him. With their help, she had put a contract out on any person to succeed in assassinating him and threatened to raise the rent of the Assassins Guild upon the completion of any successful attempt. She provided Bobbi with funds to entertain and charm nobles in Quirm, Genua and Uberwald. She purchased properties throughout the city from nobles that disagreed with his governance and as a result limited their sway. She did this along with a thousand little actions that worked to cement his position. 

But in his opinion, the most important thing Sybil did for him was installing Drumknott at the palace. It took six months. Sybil bribed officials and called in favors to get open a position for Drumknott. She had worked with her under-butler to pick out a young man that had come out of one of the rougher areas of the city but had gotten out through service. He had worked his way up to be a secretary for a solicitor near the Crundells. To make up for the loss in prestige at his new position, he was well compensated by Sybil until he was appointed Havelock’s secretary after Wonse's poetic demise.

After hearing the story of his initial appointment, Havelock asked Drumknott if she had said anything else when she had hired him. The clerk shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his spectacles. “She said she could only do so much to protect you and you needed someone in the palace to take care of you. You needed someone to be on your side even when she couldn’t be.”

The clerk shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his spectacles. “She said 'You needed someone in the palace to take care of you. You needed someone to be on your side even when she couldn’t be.'”

Havelock shook himself from his revelry and it was frightening how right she could be at times. He walked over to the window and looked out over the city.

Chapter Text

His aunt visited him two weeks after the departure of the dragon. She was on her way to business in Uberwald. Bobbi was as charming and witty as ever. The evening was enjoyable and Havelock relished dining with someone he trusted.

Towards the end of the evening, Bobbi decided it was time to advance her agenda. She smiled and adjusted her skirts before saying. “So, what’s this about offering me as a reward for defeating the dragon?”

Havelock tried not to laugh. “I did no such thing.”

She smirked at him. “Are you sure? Genua is a buzz about you offering me and your little dog up to the city’s heroes.”

“Unless you really want to go to a small band of Night Watchmen, I believe you are safe.” Havelock gave a wry smile. “In any case, I believe they are content with their dart board.”

“Well, that is a relief.” She chuckled for a moment and then glared at him. “Since that is the case, why did you offer Sybil up as a sacrifice? ”

Havelock frowned. “She was kidnapped while I was being held prisoner in the dungeons. I didn’t learn she had been chosen until after the Watch arrived to arrest that fustilarian, Wonse. ”

She looked relieved. “ Whose idea was it?”

“According to the conspirators, it was the dragon’s idea.” He said darkly. “Though I am quite sure they are no longer available to comment.”

“Well, it was a good thing it worked out then.” She took a sip of wine and smiled impishly at “Is that how she met the dashing captain she fancies?”

Havelock’s expression went blank.

Bobbi smiled brightly. “Surely, you know all about the dashing captain of the guard that saved her from the dragon. When we visited, it was all she could talk about. Not that she talked much, she was lost in thought most of the afternoon.” She picked up her wine glass. “Quite out of character for her.”

“You must mean Captain Vimes, he is in charge of the Night Watch.” He said cooly and took a sip of water.

Bobbi looked intrigued. “Vimes? Wasn’t that the scrawny, shy lad that followed Keel like a puppy?”

“I have no idea.” He blandly replied.

“And that is very much not like you.” She said sweetly. “Well, all I know is that I hope this bout of lovesickness gets out of her system soon. I had to listen to Brenda drone on and on about the upcoming dragon show in Genua for most of the afternoon.”

“I am sorry you were tortured so.” He did his best to hide a small smile.

Bobbi waved off this comment with a flick of her wrist. “Not torture at all, Brenda isn’t overly discrete so I learned quite a bit. Did you know Sybil is pursuing Captain Vimes?” She waited for a response but after a moment of silence continued. “Brenda said Sybil was having the house redone and started going out again. She also said Sybil was trying to make her feelings known but was worried about scaring him off.”

“Well, the man is shy and Sybil is a powerful woman.” He replied nonplussed.

“Very true. I’m guessing that she must have “scared off” young Lord Macarona then? And here I thought that you were the scary one or at least that is what his grandmother told me.” She glared at her nephew.

Havelock shrugged.  "I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Will you be scaring this one off as well? Or just writing a sharply worded letter to his mother?” She asked a hint of snark in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow. “No, I will not be scaring him off as you put it. And I am fairly sure the man is an orphan so no letters will be necessary.”

“Interesting, so you approve of the match?” Her face became a smiling mask as she did her best not to betray anything. “What is this man like?”

“Captain of the Night Watch" He stated matter-of-factly. He took a sip of water and continued. "He is around my age.  He is best described as a scruffy, uneducated, cynical, scrawny, and bad-tempered drunken bastard, who is constantly in need of a drink.” His voice was darker and more strained than he wanted it to be.

She chuckled. “Jealous, darling?”

“No!“ Havelock snapped before composing himself. “No, I am worried about Sybil. She in naïve about these things and I do not want her to get hurt.”

“I see. Have you thought of telling her how you feel?” She asked gently.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How I feel is not important, I cannot safely court or marry her.”

She looked at him like she did when he was a boy. “You know marriage isn’t the only way to have someone in your life?”

“Bobbi” Havelock said his voice full of warning.

“Hear me out. “ She said sweetly. “Sybil is too independent to be a wife but she would be a wonderful companion.”

Havelock glared at his Aunt.

“Just listen, darling. Please.” She straightened up in her chair and gazed at him intently. “She is smart and well connected. You wouldn’t need to keep her. For heavens sake, I’m sure if you asked she would keep you.” His glare intensified but she didn’t pay him any mind. “You both care for each other. You enjoy her company and she has her own life, which would give you time for the city. Not to mention she cares for the city, she could help you.“

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It is not respectable for Ladies to be mistresses.”

“Gods, you sound like Fitzwilliam! May I point out that all courtesans come from the noble classes. If you aren’t interested in her, step aside and let Vimes have a go at her.” She said exasperation creeping into her voice.

“Aunt Roberta” he snapped.

“Would you rather she be fed to another monster? Or end up a sacrifice on the Island of Gods? This is Ankh-Morpork, trust me, she is in far more danger as a known virgin in this city than she is from having an innocent tryst with the Captain of the Watch.” She snapped back. “You promised her father you would keep her safe.”

“He is Captain of the Night Watch.” He growled.

“I don’t see how that should matter.“ She replied. “He’s still a captain and he is the first man that she has fancied in almost a decade." Bobbi looked concerned. "She isn’t doing well, Havelock.”

“I am sure she is fine.” He said as he dismissively waved his hand.

“Did you know she was living out of three rooms on Scoone Avenue? The two servants she has on staff occupied five times more space than she did.” She stated worry in her voice. “Having an actual tryst would probably put her out of harm’s way and do her some good. If nothing else it would get her away from those bloody dragons and put her out into the world for five minutes. I am for keeping her safe, Havelock. Even if it means her having a tryst with a lowly Captain of the Guard.”

Havelock hit the table. “He is the Captain of the Night Watch, Captain of three men. She can do much better.”

She smiled fondly at her nephew. “I am suggesting much better. The question is are you going to be clever enough to pursue it? If she is anything like her ancestors, she should be quite good.” She winked and Havelock raised his eyebrow. “Her father was exceptional.” She said as if lost in a fond memory.

Havelock sighed. “I will take it under advisement.”

Bobbi took the hint and changed the conversation to political affairs in Genua.

After dinner, Havelock contemplated the past two weeks. He hadn’t realized that Sybil would be chosen as a sacrifice to the dragon. He should have known better, but he had kept her hidden for so long. Not to mention, she didn't exactly look like a sacrificial virgin. Sacrifices were usually chosen among younger maidens, gods and monsters supposedly wanted nubile young girls, not women old enough to be grandmothers in some corners of the city.

He cringed as he thought of the implications of Vimes saving her. Half the kingdom and his daughter was the standard fee for the dragon hunters. He had no daughter and the city was bankrupt so money wasn't available. No, the contract was explicit; Vimes had saved her so the option to marry her would go to the blasted man first. If Vimes wanted her, she could give him a third of the city.

Unfortunately Bobbi was right, Sybil did like the man. For the first time in years, she attended a civic event at the palace. He wanted to believe it was simply to support him. He knew he was part of the reason she was there but it was clear she was trying to make an impression. Instead of her usual understated light blue, she was a vision in black velvet and diamonds. She even winked at Vimes during the ceremony.

He tried not to worry about it. The odds weren’t in Vimes’s favor. He was middle-aged, drunk, course, prone to fits of anger, and cynical. He hated money and the aristocracy.

Vimes and Sybil had nothing in common, the Captain’s ancestors were king killers and Sybil’s were the breeding stock of monarchies. Not to mention the man was terrified of her, after she had winked at him, Vimes snapped to attention faster than a steel trap. Vimes would probably  run away from her the first time she spoke of her feelings.  Any relationship between the two of them had less than a million to one chance of working.

Havelock thought over what his aunt had said. It would be a very agreeable understanding if Sybil was amiable to the arrangement. All Havelock had to do was wait.

Chapter Text

Havelock walked towards the gate in the Cemetery of Small Gods. Every May the 25^th, he did his best to remember. He remembered the spirit of John Keel and his men, who fought like tigers. But he was also careful to remember that if a Patrician doesn’t care for the city, it will seek out another guardian using such men.

Per Bobbi’s annual request, Havelock brought a small wreath to Keel’s grave. In addition to her request, Bobbi’s letter contained interesting details about Sybil. Sybil had confided that Captain Vimes did not seem to be interested in her although he was proving to be an interesting friend.

Havelock smiled slightly, things were working out better than he could have hoped. Sybil was letting go of her illusions about the Captain and under Sybil's influence, Vimes was proving to be more useful than he first thought possible. With young Carrot’s help, Vimes had transformed the Night Watch enough to be of some benefit to the City. Havelock had even agreed to expand the Watch. Of course, that served other purposes. The new recruits would come from the minorities that screamed the loudest about underrepresentation. He chuckled when he thought of Vimes’s reaction to a dwarf and a zombie in his squad.

Havelock stepped into a shadow as he heard drunken singing accompanied by stumbling footsteps approaching from the other direction. He hadn’t planned on encountering anyone at the cemetery but he was paying his respects far later than usual, generally, he would leave the wreath a little after dawn and be back at the palace by full sun up. He had spent most of his day dealing with the damage caused by the giant woman that had trampled have the town and climbed the Tower of Art.

He looked down the path and saw Vimes swaying and stumbling towards Keel's gravestone.

Vimes stopped singing long enough to take a long pull from the large bottle of whiskey he was holding and began again. “They rise feet up, feet up, feet up, they rise feet up, feet up high!” He lifted the bottle high and stumbled into the shadow Havelock was standing in.

“Oy! Watch where I'm …you're going!” He yelled.

Havelock stepped forward and the officer took a step back as if he had seen a demon. “Captain Vimes.” Havelock said with a slight inclination of his head.

Vimes stood at attention and attempted salute. “Sir!”

Havelock stepped onto the path and moved to walk around the man.

As he passed Vimes, the man mumbled. “And Sybil says you ain’t a complete bastard.”

“You were saying something, Captain Vimes?” Havelock asked sizing Vimes up.

Vimes noticed the look the Patrician was giving him. “Sybil says you have a good heart and that you care for the city a great deal.” Vimes glared at him as if remembering something. “But you don’t believe in good, do you? ”

“No, I do not, but that is still high praise from anyone, especially, someone like Lady Sybil. Please send my thanks and regards to her.” Havelock said with a polite smile and took a step down the path out of the cemetery.

“Are you courting her?” Vimes asked suspiciously.

Havelock wanted to laugh. “No. Long ago, when she was a child, I simply promised her father I would keep her safe.”

Under his breath, Vimes snarled. “You did a bang up job of that.”

Havelock took a step towards Vimes and glared down at him. “Are you courting her? Captain?”

Vimes swallowed hard and put the bottle between them like some kind of protective artifact. “No, Sir. Sybil is just …well, she’s Sybil ain’t she. She’s kind and dependable. Nothing wrong with her, she's nice to talk to. We are just whatitis mates….no, not that…companions…friends. We are just friends” He took a drink to punctuate the statement.

Havelock smiled a little too knowingly. “You should consider yourself fortunate. I have know Lady Sybil for many years and she is a very good friend.” Vimes grimaced and Havelock moved to walk down the path.

“I live with her.” Vimes said with a hint of possessiveness in his voice.

Havelock’s face went blank. “Hmmm?”

Vimes backpedaled. “I have a room at her house. I kept falling asleep when I would visit her so she thought it for the best if I just had a safe place to stay.”

“Really?” Havelock flashed a vicious grin and Vimes stumbled backward.

Vimes swayed for a moment. “But not to worry there is no whatisit….panky-hanky…hanky-panky…there is no hanky-panky. I even told her she can’t be…is not my type"

“I have no doubt Lady Sybil’s virtue is safe with you, Captain. You did save her from the dragon.” Havelock could feel his control slipping and moved to leave.

“She is still kind to me.” Vimes blurted out. “Too kind to me.” He added guiltily under his breath.

Havelock sighed and forced a smile. Under the contract, barring specific circumstances, he couldn’t outright kill the man until he declined marriage to Sybil.

Vimes rambled on. “But she is kind to everybody, isn’t she?.” Vimes looked thoughtful for a moment then shook his head. “I mean she listens to Fred’s stories and she…she has Carrot over to tea once a week and has taken to sending food back to the Watch House for him. If she keeps that up she’ll be bankrupt soon...” He took a quick drink from the bottle. “And she is kind to Nobby…Nobby! Hells, even Nobby’s mum wasn’t nice to Nobby let alone kind. Only person I ever saw be kind to Nobby was…” Vimes vanished into his thoughts and stumbled on to the ground.

“This is all very enlightening, Captain, but I must be headed back to the palace,” Havelock said curtly.

Vimes didn’t seem to hear him. “You know Rosie Palm once said that Keel was the most married man she had ever met.”

 Havelock froze. He had always tried to puzzle out John Keel. The man was an enigma. What was it that Bobbi said had? Vimes followed Keel around like a lost puppy. “Captain?”

“Hmmm..” Vimes responded pulling himself up.

“You mentioned Sargent Keel.” Havelock tried to say in a friendly tone.

“Uh…Umm…He was married. Very married, though he never talked about her. I think she might have been a big girl.” He hissed the last part as if it was a secret.

Havelock nodded and Vimes continued. “We were all around one of the bonfires. A ways off were some seamstresses and one was this tall plump girl and …” Havelock was dumbfounded that he had stayed for this but continued nodding in hopes that Vimes would say something interesting. “Billy Wiglet, little bitty bloke, pointed and said she was great big biddy. So Dickins, he cuffs Wiglet in the ear and says “Listen lad, comfort is comfort and all women are beautiful. You’re just cross she wouldn’t give you the time of day but when you’ve been out in the world and it has really kicked you in the teeth you will be grateful for any gentleness you can get. “

Havelock raised an eyebrow. “What did Keel have to say about this?”

“Sarge didn’t say anything. He was just staring at this cigar case he found and turning it over in his hand. He then got this funny look. He looked me right in the eye and said all quiet like “When you find the one that feels like home hang on tight, lad. You don’t let her go no matter what and you always think of her first.” He then looked at Billy and yelled “Are you as daft as you are short Wiglet? At the end of the day, we are all the same height lying down.’” Vimes hissed out a laugh. “I thought Fred was going to choke to death right there.”

“I see” Havelock replied dryly.

Vimes took a swig from the bottle and proffered it to Havelock, who politely declined.

“I supposed Dickins was right, all women are beautiful in their own way.” Vimes said wistfully.

An idea struck Havelock, now was as good of a time as any. He could take advantage of Vimes’s condition and get more information about his feelings toward Sybil. “Since you are not courting Lady Sybil, would you be opposed to someone else courting her?”

Vimes’s expression grew serious and he seemed to sober up for a moment. “Sir?”

Havelock smiled. “After the incident with the dragon, several prominent men have expressed interest in her. Since you live with her, I only thought it polite to ask, though the decision is entirely up to her.” He feigned concern. “She is my dearest friend and I wouldn’t want her to be offered up to another dragon or worse.”

Vimes glared at the Patrician. “She isn’t some property you can pass off to your friends. She’s a person, a good person.”

“That may be true but I also know that Sybil isn’t as young as she used to be. Even with that to consider, she is beautiful and charming in her own way so she would probably make a good wife.” He said in an attempt to goad more information out of Vimes. He didn’t add that he believed she could be an even better mistress.

Vimes looked at him intently and said, “She is beautiful.” As if it were some absolute truth and that saying anything less was blasphemy. Out of shock at his own words Vimes took a drink.

“Well, we agree on something.” Havelock said

Vimes opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He took a long pull from the bottle and groaned before attempting to speak again. “She is just so…” The man seemed to be too drunk for words. “and..and it isn’t fair, is it? I mean she is supposed to be whatisit…tidy…clean…pure. “ He moved his lips without saying anything for a moment and let out a groan like a frustrated teenager. “She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. When she’s concentrating, she bites her bottom lip and it bruises just a little then she runs the tip of her tongue over the mark. When she’s interested in something, she gets all excited and her eyes go really bright but really dark at the same time. They are this really pretty shade of blue, almost cobalt but sparkling like the ocean.”

Havelock frowned as he remembered time spent in the Ramkin Manor library and a long ago rainstorm. “I thought she wasn’t your type, Captian.” The chill in his voice was palpable.

Vimes shook his head. “She can’t be…she isn’t my type. My type is petite and dark and comes in little glass bottles.” Vimes lifted up the whiskey bottle and kissed it. “When I was younger and looking for it. I liked ‘em little and mean. Shrewish women that would rather stab you than look at you most days and that would drink a man under the table just to bleed him dry. No better than what I deserve.” He took a drink and gave a dry chuckle. “Nothing like Sybil.“

Havelock cocked an eyebrow. “So it is safe to say that you have no intention on marrying Lady Sybil?”

Vimes glared at the Patrician. “What?! Do you?”

Havelock gave a light laugh and dismissively waved his hand. “With all honesty, Captain, it is very safe to say that I have no intention on marrying Lady Sybil.” He looked expectantly at Vimes.

Vimes’s expression darkened and he looked down at the bottle. He took a long drink and before woodenly saying. “I couldn’t ask Lady Ramkin to marry me.”

Havelock nodded at the man. “Thank you, Captain.” He motioned towards the bottle. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.” Havelock moved away from the man, who seemed lost in thought.

At the gate to the cemetery, Vimes caught up with him. The man had a righteous anger radiating off him. “I have one more thing to say.”

Havelock pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly, the man is insane or suicidal. I have a stiletto in my boot and he’s drunk. Who would really miss him or think twice about his drunken body being found stabbed in the cemetery? Cemeteries are very dangerous places. He thought to himself before turning and giving the man a look that made the stiletto look like the gentle option.

Vimes wasn’t dissuaded and met his gaze. Liquid courage. Havelock thought to himself before Vimes started to lecture him. “No one is good enough for her. Just remember that.” He was slurring his words and attempted to poke Havelock in the chest. “She is a city…a beautiful, gleaming and bright city. Not this cesspool that we live in. Not like this bitch of a city that we would die for even though it would stab us in the heart and leave us in the gutter to die. She is the type of city that deserves to be saved by a king in shining armor. A king that slays the dragon and works to right the wrongs of the world. She deserves a hero, not some drunken, stupid bastard that just stands there as the dragon buggers off with the ruddy Watch mascot.”

“Do you love her?” Havelock asked his exasperation no longer even thinly veiled.

Vimes froze under the weight of the question. He quickly grabbed the bottle and gulped down a fifth of it in one go. He looked up at Havelock, “I can’t love her…I mean …I do not love her. I have been in love and what I feel for Sybil…Lady Ramkin is nothing like love. Love rips your heart out just to show it to you and you're daft and horny enough to be happy about it. Love is nothing but pain broken up with shagging.” His gaze softened for a moment. “And I haven't even so much as kissed her...Sybil is just...Sybil is just comfortable, she’s safe and warm. Whatever that is, it can’t be love.”

Havelock didn’t know where the next words came from but he would regret them for years. “Your star is rising Captain, you could be a great man. Why settle for comfort, when you could have the world? Love only settles for home when it dies.”

Despite having four-fifths of a very large bottle of whiskey in him, Vimes seemed to sober again. He looked towards Keel’s grave and just mouthed the word “home” for a moment. A small hopeful smile quirked at the corner of his mouth for the briefest second before his expression went wooden. “Goodnight Sir, I need to go back to the Watch House.”

Havelock raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Do not let me detain you any further.” When Vimes was out of earshot, he cursed under his breath.

Havelock thought over the situation as he walked back to the palace. What had gotten into the man? Gods willing, Vimes would forget this little encounter and his behavior could be written off as just a side effect of the day.

He paused at the gates of the palace and remembered all he had accomplished in such a short time. His thoughts then turned to what he wanted and Sybil. Vimes does feel something for her, which puts her in danger. He is an unstable drunk and most likely insane, it would be for her benefit to keep him away from her.

Havelock continued to ponder the facts as he sat at his desk. I could use this to my advantage. Due to the contract, killing him outright would be a mistake. However, if he were to die for the City, he would be a fallen hero. He would be an inspiration for the New Watch, the next John Keel. Corporal Carrot would no doubt step up to the task of being Captain. He opened the file with the listing of possible new recruits.

“Drumknott” he called out and his new secretary appeared. “I need to make some changes to the new positions in the Watch.”

“Yes, Sir,” Drumknott said dutifully and came to the desk with pen and pad in hand.

“To be fair and for the sake of interspecies relations, I am adding a troll representative, please change the number of new recruits to three and add Detritus.”

“Sir, wasn’t he the splatter at the Mended Drum?” Drumknott asked trying to mask the worry in his voice.

“Excellent, he has experience then.” He read the profiles again. “Also change the undead representative to Angua Von Uberwald.”

“The werewolf, sir?” Drumknott checked. "Her family isn't the most stable, Sir."

“Yes, but whose family is and more importantly she is a woman. We can represent more of the population with her than with Mr. Shoe.” Havelock steepled his fingers.

“Yes, sir. I will take care of it immediately.” Drumknott replied and quickly turned to leave the room.

Havelock smiled to himself. Vimes would not be a problem. After that much whiskey, he won’t be able to remember his name let alone their conversation. Although he might feel more than he would admit to himself, the man had made it clear that he would not pursue Sybil. And at the end of the day, Vimes was living on borrowed time. The drinking, the nature of life in the City Watch, upset influential and powerful people, and now the new recruits do make life very dangerous for a man. 

Chapter Text

Havelock was in a foul mood. The temperatures were soaring and making an already hot blooded populous edge closer the boiling point. He stood at his desk feeling almost naked in just his shirtsleeves and trousers having discarded his frock coat and vest an hour ago due to the heat.

The day was not going well and it was only a few hours after dawn, the business with the gonne was adding to the unrest caused by the unseasonably hot weather. He had managed to wind up Vimes beyond his breaking point and the man had disappeared. And now this, he reread the report from Drumknott and groaned.

He yelled out for his secretary. “Drumknott!”

“Yes, Sir. “ Drumknott replied as he appeared beside the Patrician.

“Is this correct?” Havelock asked indicating the report in his hand.

“Yes, Sir. “ His secretary answered solemnly.

“I see. Please send a courier to Lady Sybil’s home to inform her that she has an immediate appointment with me. “ Havelock said testily.

Drumknott gave a curt nod and hustled out of the room.

Drumknott reentered the room a half-hour later and politely coughed causing the Patrician to glare at him. “Sir, the courier has returned.” He said looking at the floor.

Havelock stood. “Good.” He replied and after deftly buttoning his vest and reaching for his frock coat. “Is Lady Sybil in the antechamber?”

Drumknott hesitated but finally answered. “No, Sir. “

Havelock raised his eyebrow. “Why not?” He calmly asked.

Drumknott grimaced. “She refused to accompany the courier to the palace.”

“He urged her to accompany him?” Havelock asked with a forced smile.

“No, Sir. He was quite terrified of her. “ The secretary responded and shifted uncomfortably.

Havelock groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did she say exactly?”

Drumknott pulled out a paper from his vest pocket and read. “She told the courier ‘An appointment requires both parties to agree to the meeting. I was not informed of this meeting so therefore, it is an audience and not an appointment. If the Patrician wishes to have an audience with me, he should ask for an audience or stop wasting my time. As Patrician of the city, Lord Vetinari should know the words.’ She then had her manservant escort him off the property, Sir. “

“Where is the courier now?” Havelock asked as he sat back at his desk.

“He is in the infirmary. He seems to have fallen down the flight of stairs leading out of the Ramkin Estate after suggesting to Lady Sybil’s butler that he would physically remove her to the palace if necessary.” Drumknott replied woodenly. “Lady Sybil’s butler was polite enough to escort him back to the palace.”

“I see. “ He wrote a quick note and sealed it with his stamp. “Drumknott, personally deliver this.”

Drumknott took the note and exited the room.

 Havelock stood behind his desk as Sybil was escorted into the Oblong office. She was cheerfully chatting with Drumknott about his three-week-old nephew.

Sybil glanced at him as she entered the room. She wore a light colored day dress and was carrying a leather portfolio. She gave him a polite nod and then returned her gaze to the clerk. “Please pass on my congratulations on to your sister, Rufus. And let me know where I can send some baby things."

“Yes, Lady Sybil.” The man said with a smile.

Havelock cleared his throat. “That will be all Drumknott”

“Yes, Sir.” The secretary gave a quick nod and nearly ran out of the room.

“It is good to see you, my dear.”  He took a moment to admire her and his expression softened. “It has been too long, you haven’t been making your usual circuit of parties. “

Sybil stiffened and gave him a forced smile. “Terribly sorry, I have been quite distracted with the wedding.” She responded icily.

Havelock’s expression hardened. “I see.”

“Just out of curiosity, what caused the damage to the wall in anteroom?” Sybil inquired in a forced airy tone.

“That would be your fiancé.” Havelock frowned causing Sybil to chuckle. He took advantage of her softened mood. “Speaking of which, have you seen him lately?”

“Not since the dinner party the other night.” She replied. He noticed a flash of concern cross her features. She was worried about the blasted man.

“Sorry, I wasn’t able to make it.” He said lightly and then looked at her intently. “The invitation didn’t make it to the palace until an hour before it started.”

“Heavens, I will have to find a new courier service in the future.” The chill in her voice was returning. “Did you receive the wedding invitation?”

“Yes. Although, it seems as if you have been avoiding me since the announcement of your engagement.” Havelock smiled at her. “You are not embarrassed by him are you?”

 “Oh Havelock, I have seen you the same amount as I have in the past. It isn’t uncommon for us to go a year or more without seeing each other. “ She took a deep breath. “As far as being embarrassed by Sam, nothing could be further from the truth. I am very proud of him. He is an honorable and gentle man.”

“Quite.” He scoffed.

Sybil straightened and swept back towards the door. “I have a wedding to pull off, Havelock.” She turned and forced a smile. “Why did you send for me?”

He sat back down at his desk and steepled his fingers. “I heard a rumor concerning you and I wanted confirmation that it is false."

“Yes, this is not my real hair.” She replied sarcastically pointing towards her wig. “What? Not that one?” The chill in her voice was enough turn the Klatchian Desert into a glacier.

“No!” Havelock snapped. “The rumor that you have transferred all your property over to Captain Vimes pending the formalization of your marriage.”

“My goodness! You were so right to check with me.” Sybil replied in a sing-song voice before continuing in a low growl. “It is actually all Ramkin land holdings, titles, and property.”

Havelock slammed his fist on the desk. “And why did you feel the need to transfer all your property to him?!”

“I suppose, I am dreadfully old fashioned!” She answered.

“Have you gone mad?!” He rounded the desk and moved towards her.

“No! I have just made a decision, a decision that is mine to make!” She yelled back and stepped forward.

He threw his arms up. “It is bad enough that you agreed to marry the drunk, now you want to give him half the city!!”

“A decision that was also mine to make.” The volume in her voice quieted, she looked down at the ground and shook her head. “Havelock, is there a reason why I am here?”

“I am Patrician of this city, you are my subject!” He composed himself and gave her a withering look. “You are here at my leisure.”

“Yes, my lord.” Sybil acquiesced.

“And may I point out that, while you do have the power to gift Captain Vimes whatever you wish, that power ceases with your life.“ He said with vindictiveness he never thought he would use towards her. He instantly regretted it.

Her expression and voice calmed “So you mean to kill me. “

“I have the power to.” Havelock said not able to stop to words from tumbling out automatically.

Sybil walked back into the room and regally sat down on a chair in front of the Patrician's desk. She radiated confidence and bravery. “Do it then.” She said defiantly.

Havelock just stared blankly at her. He would never cause her any harm. “What?” He was dumbfounded.

She shrugged. “I am not afraid to die and it is more accommodating to let the guests know the bride is dead before they leave for the wedding.”

He laughed, this was absurd. “Do you have any idea what you are saying?”

“Yes, and I know that I will have to live with the consequences for a few moments. You, on the other hand, will have to live with your consequences for the rest of your lifetime. Quite frankly, you are getting the worse end of the deal. But by all means, please do the job you have to do. “

“You think I would harm you?” He stared at her.

“I don’t know if you would, Havelock. I just know that I play roulette with my life every day working with dragons so I have learned not to worry too much about dying.” She said solemnly. “I would prefer not to die. However, as you said the decision as to whether I live or die is up to you. Any way you broke rule number one so you are passed the point of logic.”

“Rule number one?” A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“You remember rule number one, we talked about it for hours one afternoon when you heard that Snapcase had started picking people up off the street and killing them for the smallest infraction.” She looked at him with nostalgic eyes. “What was it you said? Never lead with your final resolution. Once I know you are going to kill me, I really do not have any motivation to cooperate because no matter what I do I am going to die anyway.” She flashed him a feral smile. “Also upon my death at your hands the 1.5 million dollar contract that my father put out on you per the terms of the betrothal agreement go into effect.” She reached into the portfolio and handed him several thick files. “It is all there in black and white.”

Havelock took the top file and was flooded with guilt. “How did you get these?”

“Part of the contract, should I accept an approved proposal of marriage after the age of 35 I am allowed to view all my own financial and legal documents." She tapped the portfolio. "Of course, Mr. Morecombe gave me a nudge in the right direction by telling me to ask for my entire file.”

Havelock blanched. The look on her face wasn’t anger, it was betrayal. “You read the entire file?”

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“Is this why you have been avoiding me? Why not just confront me?” He asked gently.

“Because you are still my one of my oldest friends. I didn't want to say something that cannot be taken back. Trust me if it had been anyone else!” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

He nodded. “Are you still angry?”

She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “Livid.”

Havelock sat down hard on his chair. “Damnit Sybil! Why are you marrying him?”

Sybil gave a snort of derisive laughter. “I love him and he cares for me. Isn’t that enough?”

“That is no reason to chain yourself to such a man.” Havelock took a sip of water. ”When did you ask him?”

“The marriage was his idea, I had proposed just being paramours.” Sybil replied matter-of-factly.

He did his best not to cough. “You what?”

Sybil smiled. “I proposed that we should just be lovers.” She chuckled to herself. “Right after he kissed me for the first time.”

Havelock leaped out of his chair. “I am going to …”

“You are going to do nothing.” Sybil rose and looked him in the eye. “I have done everything by the book.” She checked off points on her fingers. “The big wedding in a house of gods or civic honor, ceremony performed by a priest or a wizard of good standing, a large tithing to the city, even my virtue has been saved for my wedding night. And once the marriage is consummated the Ramkin fortune that was given to me by my father will be transferred to Sam. “

“That was never part of the contract!” Havelock growled.

She gave him that determined look again. “No, but it guarantees that if you or anyone else thinks he has risen too far from his station that you will have one devil of a time getting rid of him. I will be his wife and as his wife, I will protect and support him. He will have a voice.”

He was disappointed. “It sounds like you have gone all out for him.”

“No less than what I have done for you over the years.” She said with a bittersweet note to her voice. He wanted to ask but he couldn’t get over his puzzlement of her choice of Vimes.

He tried to understand again. “Why him?”

“Little things.” She started ticking items off again. “He saved me from being eaten by a dragon, I love him, he makes me laugh, he makes me want to be out in the world again, and he makes me want to be a better person.”

He sighed. “That may be so, but you are making a mistake. Sybil, this marriage will be your ruin.”

“Mistakes can be rectified, Havelock. Once you decide not to act, you are just as stuck with what happens.” She looked sadly down at her hands for a moment. “I could have fought for Charlie, I could have persuaded him to stay or at least tried. I didn’t because it wasn’t proper. I could be married with a houseful of children right now. She sat up straighter and looked at him with a ferocity that he had never seen in her. “But I have never regretted the past and will not start now, I have an opportunity in front of me in the form of a decent man that cares for me. “

Havelock shook his head and took her hand. “He told me he doesn’t love you.”

Sybil shrugged. “He may not love me, but I love him and it will either be enough or it won’t .”

“And if it isn’t?” Concern flooded his voice.

She sighed. “I can always walk away if it doesn’t work."

“What?” He was dazed at the statement.

“There is no law against walking away.” She said reassuringly. “Separations are common as are annulments, divorces are even becoming popular in Genua. I might get hurt but at least I will have tried.”

“Walk away with what! You will be penniless, Sybil. He could put you out on the streets or worse. You cannot go through with this!” He implored.

“I am more resourceful than you give me credit for, I will be fine. “ She said confidently.

He looked at her like she was marching off to war. “There is no dissuading you then?”

“No, Havelock. I am getting married tomorrow.” She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “You are invited to attend and I hope you do. I might be angry with you but you are still my dearest friend.”

Havelock nodded, not knowing what to say.

She moved a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “Is it safe for me to go or do you still have plans to kill me? “

“You may go. I will not detain you any further.” She rose and walked to the door.

When she got to the door, he called out to her. “Sybil?”

She turned and looked at him. “Yes, Havelock.”

“I will do everything in my power to help you and keep you safe.” He stared at her for a moment before continuing. “I am sorry, I …”

Sybil smiled and nodded. “I know. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

The door closed quietly behind her and despite the sweltering summer heat, the room seemed to grow colder in her absence.

Chapter Text

Havelock sighed and nuzzled into the soft warm pillow he was lying against. Everything felt and smelt so good. It was a glorious summer day and he couldn’t be more content. He sniffed the air and smelled ladies powder, sunshine, fresh herbs, honey, fire, leather, and something metallic that didn’t quite fit.

His eyes fluttered open and he saw the library ceiling. Looking down he saw the book he had been reading when he fell asleep on his chest. Sunlight was streaming in through the large bay windows and there was a cool breeze coming in from the Quire. He was lying on the overstuffed leather sofa that had always seemed to be there. He smiled to himself, he had done more than nap on this sofa. In fact, he was fairly certain, his eldest boy and youngest daughter were conceived on it.

Happy memories seemed to flood his mind. He was a noble and a member of the landed gentry. He had managed to grow the family fortunes with the help and savvy of his beautiful wife, and together they had created a loving happy home full of children.

Oh yes, the children. So many happy and healthy children, it was an absolute scandal among the other nobility but he didn’t mind. There were six of them. He could hear young John, Margo, and Fitzwilliam in the garden. Little Roberta was sleeping in her bassinet. Young Havelock had just started the Assassin’s school in Ankh-Morpork and was studying in his room. Deidre was probably out with the dragons. It was all so perfect, everything he had always wanted deep down.

Havelock turned his head. He was lying on a white silk skirt. His smile turned into a large grin, he must have fallen asleep on her lap.

He heard the voice of his wife floating over him, he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but it was ever so soothing. He was fighting against drifting back to sleep. He was suddenly cold despite the summer day. Her lap was soft and warm, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

He felt something wet on his cheek, he touched it . It was a tear but he wasn’t crying. He looked up at his wife. Tears were falling down her pretty face, which was framed with a veil. There was no reason for her to be crying. This wasn’t right. He had just been to see the newly crowned king in Ankh-Morpork and things hadn’t looked brighter in years.

She looked so beautiful, just like their wedding day. He had given up the dream of becoming Patrician that day and embraced a better dream. Now, his influence and therefore, power was greater than it could have ever been as the ruler of a single city.

“Sybil, love. What’s wrong?” he asked, she answered but he could understand what she was saying. It was clear that she was afraid. “Sybil! What is it?” Havelock asked louder, slightly panicked at her expression.

“Havelock, stay with me. Open your eyes. Please Havelock, you need to stay awake.” She spoke again and her voice was so sweet but he had to strain to hear her. It was like she was at the end of a tunnel.

The room was blurring out of focus. He closed his eyes and upon opening them found himself in the foyer of the Great Hall at Unseen University. He moaned as he felt the pain in his leg. The smell of blood was overpowering. He looked to the corner of the room and saw a cloaked figure reading a book.

‘OH! HELLO, LORD VETINARI.” It said with a slight wave. “PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME, I REMEMBERED TO BRING A BOOK.”

Havelock shifted his head and saw a doctor working on his leg. His head was in Sybil’s lap, she was holding his hand and smoothing his hair. She murmured soothing noises and did her best to keep his attention.

The doctor stood up and looked at Sybil. “I’m sorry my lady, all we can do is make him comfortable and wait.”

Havelock felt his head being gently moved and placed on something soft yet cool. Sybil had stood up, she still sounded far away and he could not make out what she was saying.

Havelock blinked and he was standing with the cloaked figure on the edge of a great desert.

“ARE YOU READY, MY LORD?” the figure said.

Far away, Havelock heard Sybil yelling. “You are going to do exactly as I say, because no one is going to die at my bloody wedding!” Sybil commanded. “Bring me clean water, towels, bandages, and send for the Archchancellor”. The men stared at her for a moment. “NOW!”

Havelock opened his mouth to speak, when from the corner of his eye he saw a light forming behind him. “Do I have to?” He mused mostly to himself.

He then heard her voice again. “Havelock Vetinari, you will wake up this instant! You have not survived this long as Patrician to be killed by a lead pebble.” It was the angriest he had ever heard her and he chuckled.

The cloaked figure tilted its head. “NO, YOU DO NOT.” It looked towards the light. “YOUR WIFE?” It asked.

Havelock shook his head and the figure nodded. “PITY.” Havelock just stared at him for a moment and the figure pointed towards the light. “IF YOU WANT TO RETURN NOW WOULD BE THE TIME, MOST PEOPLE ONLY GET ONE.”

Havelock’s eyes fluttered open to see Sybil leaning over him, a vision in white. “My angel.”, he whispered.

She smiled down at him through her tears. “You daft bugger. Don’t you ever do that again.” She scolded.

___________________________________________________________

Three days later, she came to check on him and in her words "boost his morale". When Sybil left the Oblong Office, Havelock was sitting comfortably at the window. Her time with her little swamp dragons plus her years of studying art and anatomy had given her skills that outshone the doctors in Ankh-Morpork. After mending his leg, she sat next to him and did her best to keep him comfortable. More importantly, she kept the aristocratic vultures from getting too close until Drumknott arrived with a carriage. As he was taken away, she kissed his forehead and told him she loved him.

After he left the wedding, Drumknott and his army of clerks kept him appraised of the wedding. It was nearly three hours before the groom showed up covered in muck but very much alive. Vimes cleaned up and arrived just in time to keep the bride from calling off the wedding.

Havelock wished he was a better man. He had hoped Vimes would run away from the wedding or that he would have died in the line of duty chasing the madman with the gonne. He hoped it all would have been enough to push Sybil into calling off the wedding. He knew it was selfish and unfair to her.

Havelock had always embraced his selfishness, it was a necessary part of staying alive at his job. He wanted the life he hadn’t chosen. He wanted her to himself.

Havelock then had a chilling thought, he would have been happy if things had stayed as they were before the dragon. He shuddered at the thought of how lonely she was and how much damage he had caused over the years. During their fight, she had said she wasn’t afraid to die. He remembered the report of the vial of Iocane powder in her bedside table, he hadn’t thought much when he initially read it but things were different now. He didn’t need to ask to know why it was there.

Most of what he had done in the name of protecting her were just bars in a gilded cage designed to keep her close. He was evil, he had become the damn otter and her cubs feasting on the salmon and her eggs. He hadn’t sacrificed her to the dragon but he might as well have, he had sacrificed her little by little over the years.

Despite all he had done, she hadn’t abandoned him. She was his angel. She might not be in love with him but she loved him, which was more than most men could ask for. She had saved him, let the groom run off to capture his would-be assassin and even sacrificed her wedding dress and reception.

What had she said about marrying Vimes? I will not live in regret. Gods, it sounds like she has been attending temperance meetings. He thought to himself with a dry laugh.

Years ago, he tried to convince her that all men were evil. She still believed that all men were both, good and evil. The side that won was the side that was nurtured and chosen. Could it be as easy as choosing differently?

She was happy today, most likely the effects of the honeymoon period he supposed. She was concerned about Vimes though, she had asked him if there were projects that might keep her husband occupied. Something about him not being the sort of man to relax and Vimes needing a cause in his retirement.

A thought came to mind and he called over his shoulder. “Drumknott. Who is my next appointment?”

His secretary stepped in the room. “Captain Carrot, Sir.” Drumknott helped Havelock to his desk.

The Patrician settled into his chair. “I suppose a wedding present is in order.”

Drumknott looked at him quizzically. “Sir?”

Havelock smiled. “Never mind, Drumknott. Just thinking out loud." He steepled his fingers and schooled his expression. "Please send the good Captain in.”

Chapter Text

He barely remembered when they had moved him out of his room. Havelock shook his head and immediately regretted the action, The poison had given him a headache. As the pounding eased, he took a moment to exam the room. Everything was new or at least new to him, most of it had to be over a hundred years old.

Havelock sat up in bed and inspected the pillowcase. His eyes were drawn to the color. Pink? He thought for a moment. He rubbed the material in his fingers. The sheets were old at least two decades maybe three but fine quality. They smelled of lavender, rosemary, and campfire, it was the smell that sparked fond memories and he smiled. He closed his eyes and relaxed remembering friendship and less troubled times.

He awoke the next morning to his secretary fussing about the room.

“Drumknott?” He asked trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

“Yes, Sir.” His secretary replied and walked towards him glancing behind him at the two guards stationed in the room.

“Where did the items Commander Vimes replaced come from?” Havelock asked with a barely noticeable smile.

“Everything came on a wagon escorted by the Watch, Sir..” Drumknott replied glancing at the guards.

“Thank you, Drumknott.” He said before tracing the initials SR on the corner of the pink pillowcase.

The secretary went about his business and one of the guards left.

Probably off to fetch Vimes. He thought bitterly. It wasn’t that he disliked Vimes, he just couldn’t bring himself to like the man but then he could count the people he actively liked on one hand.

In a way, he was relieved Vimes was on the case. Since his marriage, the Commander had become a valuable tool and resource for the city. The man had even managed to stop drinking, though it often puzzled Havelock how a man who had given more than 20 years of his life over to the bottle could let it go in what seemed an instant. What had changed? Hell, the man had drunk himself into a stupor at his own wedding reception.

The rumor mills were still running over that fiasco but it didn’t seem to slow Vimes down. In the past few months, his star had risen far beyond what Havelock could have imagined possible and he was proving more valuable by the day. Yet even with all this success, Havelock was still wary. Vimes was useful but he was a loose cannon, and then there were the rumors. A man that never came home, missed engagements, and a wife left unescorted to social functions. Speculations flew that the man was romantically linked to nearly everyone in the Watch and half the officials in the city. It all pointed to infidelity, a trait that Havelock would put up with amongst nobles but had little patience for among subordinates. A man that would be unfaithful to his wife would be unfaithful to the city. The fact that Havelock's heart went out to Sybil when he thought of how much pain it would cause her made the accusations that much more damning. Some were clearly ridiculous, the worse of which involved the nickname Vetinari’s terrier.

The Watch entered the room hovering near the door. Vimes broke from the group and marched over to the curtains pulling them back zealously. Havelock cringed as the room suddenly became blindingly bright. The headache caused by the poisoning roared back to life and his eyes felt as if they were going to burrow into his skull. Grimacing from the pain, he shouted “Commander!”

“The doctor recommended fresh air.” Vimes replied far too cheerfully and crossed his arms indicating the curtains would stay open.

The bastard was enjoying this. Havelock thought as he shielded his eyes. “And when exactly did Donut Jimmy recommend this?” Havelock replied doing his best to remain calm and ignore the fact that the fresher air[1] was helping.

Next to the door, Sargeant Colon cleared his throat. “Right after he talked with Lady Sybil up at Scoone Avenue.” He said before receiving a dark look from Vimes that could have melted iron. Back peddling, the old watchman continued. “I mean, he stopped by the Watch House and …”

Vimes stomped back towards the guard and grabbed him by the arm . “I think that’s enough, Fred. Why don’t you go check in with Littlebottom to see if he needs anything?” He said nearly throwing the man out of the door.

Vimes whispered something to Captain Carrot and turned towards the Patrician. “Sir, if there isn’t anything you need, we need to head back to the Yard. There is a guard posted and we will have people checking in on you.”

Havelock waved his hand dismissively. “Very well, Commander.”

After his eyes fully adjusted to the light, he picked up a book from the table. It was new, not only to him but it couldn’t have been engraved more than few months ago. He looked at the title and author. Discourse on Historical Inevitability and Other Papers by Ibid. He frowned. Why would Vimes give me a book on Epheban Philosophy? He pinched the bridge of his nose. Probably planning a revolution.

Havelock sighed and turned to a section marked by a lavendar ribbon and began reading. In the margin in very neat cursive script, it read It is an interesting theory. Although it looks like some people never made it to the end of chapter 7, otherwise they would know how this turns out. S.R. He smiled and traced the inscription. Gods, I miss her. Once he realized that she was happy with her choice, he had given up hopes of romance but he missed his friend and confidant. Now that she was married and keeping a respectable distance his world was a little darker. My clever kind girl. He thought to himself before beginning to devour the book.

After some time, Drumknott returned and confirmed that Lady Sybil had made the arrangements for all the items herself. Drumknott also pointed out that not everything had been replaced as there was still a full box of candles. Havelock had wanted to know more but they were interrupted. The Commander had returned with Sergeant Angua.

He looked up at them. “Good Afternoon, Commander and Sergeant.” He said affably and returned to his book.

Both nodded and replied with a curt “Sir.”

A smile quirked at the corners of Havelock’s mouth. He didn’t need the Watch to figure this out, he just needed someone to talk it through with.

“Commander Vimes, can you please send for Lady Sybil? “ Havelock said not looking up from the text. “I would like to thank her.” After not hearing a response, he looked up at Vimes expectantly.

“Sir?” Vimes said with his customary wooden expression although the man’s body was tensed as if he were about to pounce.

“For the linens and such.” Havelock continued trying to be polite.

Vimes stared at him. “No need, Sir.”

"Very well." Havelock nodded. “In that case, please thank her for me.”

“Sir.” Vimes said crisply. It was clear the man was trying to stare him down.

Vimes finally looked away when Sergeant Angua put her hand on his forearm.

Havelock stared blankly at them. So that is why he isn’t going home at night.

Captain Carrot came into the room and requested to speak with Vimes and the Sergeant in the hall. Vimes returned after a few minutes and stood guard at the door.

After a few moments of silence, Havelock cleared his throat. “Are the rumors true, Commander?” He asked pointedly looking at the door to indicate Sergeant Angua.

Vimes coughed caught off guard by the remark but quickly recovered. “They are adults, Sir. It isn’t anyone’s business.” He walked towards the window. “And I wouldn’t pay attention to rumors, Sir. Rumor has it that you have been dead since Tuesday.”

Havelock smirked. “Excellent point, Commander. Perhaps, if you let an outsider in to see me, Lord Rust or Lady Sybil come to mind.”

Vimes had turned to face him. A flash of protective anger played across his features for the briefest of moments. “I think Lord Rust would be a good choice, Sir.“

Havelock raised an eyebrow in response and Vimes continued. “Considering the rumor is I killed you, I don’t think Sybil would be a very credible witness. Being my wife and all.” He said as if issuing some challenge.

The sun was beginning to set, Vimes pulled a cigar case out from behind his breastplate and opened it. He took a cigar and placed it in his mouth but stopped to trace something on the inside of the case.

“If you would like to smoke, Commander, by all means.” Havelock offered.

“It can wait until I am outside, Sir.” He replied still looking out towards the city.

Havelock was struggling to remember what was in that direction. He spent so little time in this room.

Captain Carrot entered and Vimes turned to the young man. “Any word?”

“Yes, Mister Vimes. Littlebottom is outside.” Carrot said quickly, handing him a sheet of paper.

Vimes read the sheet and sighed. “Well, at least it is something. Stay here, Captain.” He left the room and closed the door a little too forcibly behind him, leaving the Captain in his place. The young man walked over to the window and looked out.

Havelock was intrigued. “What do you see, Captain?” He asked thoughtfully.

Carrot looked at him with his usual mask of concussed good nature. “The city of Ankh, Sir. If you ask me, it is a good view of Scoone Avenue.”

The events of the next week played themselves out and at the end of it, he was still alive. He had to give credit to the Watch. The City certainly was, the whole ordeal became part of the narrative of the place. According to the masses, Vimes had personally saved his life. He hadn’t of course, not on his own anyway. The Watch played an important role. Of course, it helped that Havelock had figured out the poisoning after seeing the candles Sybil had sent over. That being said it worked in his favor to have the City believe Vimes was his savior. In the eyes of many, Vimes was the Watch, and it was clear that the Watch was becoming the guardian of the City. If the Watch was behind him, people knew he was acting in the best interests of the City.

__________________________________

Lady Sybil entered the ballroom quietly, although not unnoticed. Havelock smiled as he saw several heads within the Klatchian delegation turn. Of course, she caught his attention as well. She looked lovely, she had reverted back to her standard light blue but the dress was stylish and complimented her figure.

It was over a year since the incident with the candles. In that time, he had only seen her a handful of times but he was grateful to see her tonight. The City was a powder keg and seeing a friendly face in crowd relieved him greatly. He looked at her side and noticed that Vimes was missing. He made his way towards her.

“Lady Sybil” he said with a small bow.

“Havelock” she replied a wide and welcoming smile, stepping forward she took his hand. “It is wonderful to see you, it has been too long.”

“As it is to see you, my dear. Is Sir Samuel with you this evening?” He said nonchalantly.

“He was pulled away on Watch business.” She said stoically.

He nodded in response.

“As you know, the city is always in need of protecting, especially, with the current problems.” She said with a smile. Havelock frowned as he saw the small flash of concern in her eyes.

“Not to worry, my dear. I am sure the whole Klatchian intrigue will sort itself out.” He lied as if he were reassuring a child.

She smiled. Eyes far too old and wise for their owner looked back at him and communicated that she knew damned well this wasn’t going to magically blow over. She turned away and scanned the room.

Turning back to him, her smile was beneficent. “Perhaps, you could introduce me to the wife of the ambassador. I have heard many wonderful things about her."

Havelock did his best to hide his smile. She is up to something. He thought before responding. "I would be happy to make the introductions, but I am afraid that she does not speak Morporkian."

Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight and she almost looked mischievous. "Wonderful! I have been working on my Klatchian and could use the practice. “

He chuckled quietly. “Of course, Lady Sybil. I would be honored to do the introductions.”

Havelock escorted Sybil to the delegation and began his usual rounds of the room. If nothing else, Vimes could be credited with pulling her out of her seclusion and the city was better for it.

In a free moment, he stopped to watch Sybil work her magic on the diplomatic envoy. She was still the same girl at heart that thought the impossible was ordinary and sincerely believed anyone could do what she did. She could see good in almost anyone and found everyone genuinely interesting. By the end of the evening, Sybil had dazzled most of the Klatchian envoy.

Havelock caught up with her as she was getting ready to leave. “Lady Sybil, I hear you have been making friends?” He said with a smile.

“They are very lovely people.” She said with a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. “Hopefully, we will be able to sort all this out.”

He looked around the ballroom. “Do you need to leave so early? I am sure this will go on for another two hours at least.”

“It’s getting late, I should head home.” She said gently. “I am sure you will be able to survive a couple hours on your own.”

“Of course, you are right. I am sure your husband will be worried about you.” He said this a little more sharply than he wanted and noticed a hint of pain flash in her eyes. He paused for a moment and gathered the courage to continue. “Now that you are married, I know that it wouldn’t be proper to see you unescorted but I would like your input on some matters. Are you available for tea a week from Thursday?”

“Oh course, Havelock.” She laughed. “I very much doubt anyone would see it as inappropriate.”

“I look forward to seeing you.” He said with a quiet smile and a bow.

“Until next Thursday.“ She laughed and curtsied.

Unfortunately, it didn’t blow over but Vimes did fix it in quite ingeniously. The man was transforming into something remarkable, maybe even worthy of her.

When Vimes came back from Klatch. Carrot approached Havelock about making Vimes a Duke. It was perfect. The elevated position would make Vimes that much more valuable. It would also make Sybil, a Duchess, and allow her to do more for the City. Of course, as an added bonus, Vimes would hate it.

________________________________________

Drumknott escorted Captain Carrot and his Grace, the Duke of Ankh into the Oblong Office. Havelock didn’t bother turning and continued looking out at the city. Without being prompted, Captain Carrot began his report a little more quickly than usual.

Using the reflection off the windows to look at his guests, Havelock noticed that Vimes wasn’t bothering to hide his anger.

He waited for Carrot to finish before turning and looking at the two men. “Thank you, Captain. All seems to be in order.” He turned his gaze to meet Vimes’s eyes.

“Your Grace, you seem upset. Is there something else we need to discuss?” He asked feigning concern.

Vimes glared at him. “No, Sir.”

Captain Carrot smiled at the Patrician. “We met Lady Sybil in the waiting room. She said she had a meeting with you.” He said this brightly as if it explained everything.

“Lady Sybil is a remarkable woman, Captain.” He walked to his desk and sat down. “Did you know she speaks Dwarfish fluently?” Captain Carrot nodded and Vimes stared forward. “I invited her to tea today to ask her some questions on a situation in Uberwald. Do you take issue with this, Commander?” Vimes was gripping the chair so tightly it looked like he was leaving impressions. Havelock stifled the urge to laugh. The man was actually jealous of his relationship with Sybil. Didn’t he realize he had already won?

Vimes started straight ahead. “No, Sir.”

“Good.“ He cursed himself as that last part came out more bitterly than he had planned.

Carrot cleared his throat. “Sir, we have important business to attend to. Do you need anything further?”

Havelock sighed. “No, Captain. Please do not let me detain you any further.”

After they left, he didn’t hear the usual thud against the anteroom wall as Vimes left.

How dare he? Doesn’t he know anything about her, she is loyal and faithful to a fault. Havelock cursed under his breath. She is my dearest friend and important to the City. I will be damned if that man’s petty jealousies are going to impact that.

He looked up as the door opened. Drumknott escorted a visibly shaken Sybil into the room. “Havelock, am I interrupting anything?” She asked.

“Just a standard meeting.” He quickly forced a smile. “I am afraid affairs of state can be very demanding, the City is not a kind mistress.”

Sybil nodded and looked towards the ground. This wasn’t his confident and cheerful girl. He pulled a chair next to her and patted her hand. He wanted to ask if Vimes had said anything to her on his way out of the room but thought better of it. “Are things between you and Sir Samuel alright?”

Sybil kept her gaze pointed downward. “Everything is fine.” She forced a smile and looked at him. “Thank you for asking. How are relations with the new Klatchian Prince?”

She was a born diplomat. He smiled and beaconed for Drumknott to bring in the tea. “Actually, Lady Sybil. I wanted your input on a small concern we are having in Uberwald.”

[1] Clean air not being found anywhere near the city.

Chapter Text

Upon her return from Uberwald, Sybil brought news. News of a trade deal that would have made a less composed man gape, news that she was with child, and a letter from Lady Margolotta.

Havelock just stared at her. “How did you?”

Sybil chuckled. “Oh it was nothing really. Did you know she once fought my grandmother? She was only 16 at the time, my grandmother that is. It was quite an interesting story.” Sybil smiled as she handed the letter to him. “I am going to need to review her diaries when we next visit the country.”

Havelock frowned and edged away from the letter as if it were poisonous viper. “You know it is too dangerous.” She continued smiling and holding the letter out. He shifted uncomfortably. “Anyone I am involved with will be in mortal danger.”

She chuckled and gave him a mischievous grin. “Good thing I picked out someone almost immortal then.”

Against his better judgment, he took the letter and began turning it over in his hands.

She pressed a light kiss to his cheek and moved to leave. When she was at the door, she gave a little cough to draw his attention. “It’s just a letter, Havelock. Read it and then decide what to do.”

“Of course, Lady Sybil.” He said with a slight nod. “Until next week?” He asked hopefully.

“Of course, Havelock.” She crossed the threshold out of the Oblong Office. “And Havelock?” She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Please don’t get in your own way. You deserve to be happy.” And with a few brisk steps she was gone.

It was a few days to Hogswatch when Havelock found himself entering a small inn on the edge of Uberwald. It was a waypoint between Ankh-Morpork and Bonk, and seemed the most convenient for a meeting.

He caught himself checking his reflection in the window as he walked into the main meeting area. Pull yourself together man. He admonished himself and wondered for the 10^th time that day if this was a prudent idea. But is it necessarily a bad one? A little voice inside him retorted.

It had been a quick journey by broomstick, although they were not his favorite mode of transportation and it proved to be exceptionally cold given the record temperatures this winter. He would only be gone at most a day and a half that put him safely back in the City before anyone had the chance to miss him. Most importantly it gave Drumknott a chance to give Charlie a test run, the man was a dead ringer but his impression could do with some fine-tuning.

He took a breath. I am the ruler of the greatest city on the Disc. I can handle drinks with an old friend.

Looking about the room, it was clear that his arrival ruffled a few feathers.

The barkeep ran up to him as he entered the pub. “Listen, my lord. I do not want any trouble.” Havelock cast the man a cutting glance and he took a step back. “Begging your pardon, Sir, but when your Duke…”

The man stopped as Margolotta approached them. “Not to vorry, Kristoff. His Grace vill not be joining us anytime zoon.”

“Yes, Milady.” He looked between the vampire and the Patrician, the look of sudden recognition spreading across his face. He bowed to Havelock “My lord” and ran to duck back behind the safety of the bar.

Havelock turned towards his former paramour and admired her. She was as lovely as ever and only seeming to have aged one year to his almost thirty. Her hair was still raven and wavy. Her eyes were still dark and mysterious. Her smile was as sharp as ever but sparkled like moonlight. His heart fluttered and he felt like he was 19 again.

“You look beautiful.” He said with a bow. “Pink is an unexpected but excellent color on you.”

She unconsciously primped her sweater. “Always ze charmer, schatzi.” She said with a warm smile and led him to a private room.

As they sat across from each other, it was as only a week had passed since they had last seen each other. He listened as she discussed the changing state of affairs in Uberwald and her time in the black ribboners. He spoke of the City and how he had improved it. She almost spat out her drink after being told he had spent time as a yellow-green lizard.

After several hours, the topic of conversation turned to Vimes.

She took a sip from her glass. “He is a very intriguing man.”

Havelock raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

She laughed. “No, Schatzi. You have nothing to vorry about. Although for diplomatic reasons, I did try.” She pouted slightly. “I must be loozing my touch.” Havelock’s heart skipped at the way she delivered the words causing her to laugh. “Or not.” She said with a wink.

She took another sip. “His vife is quite persuasive.” She looked at him. “I don’t believe I have ever met a voman like her before.”

Havelock nodded. “Sybil is quite singular.”

Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Sybil? Your Sybil?” She flashed him a wicked smile. “She vas your lieb schien, no?”

“Yes.”

“Ze little letter viter?” She let out a gale of light laughter. “You know King Rhys is still angry over ze deal she struck? I should tell him he got off easy.”

Havelock gave her a curt nod.

“Do you know zat she is ze first voman in 75 years zat hasn’t been intimidated by me? Her grandmother vas ze same vay. Though she greeted me vith a broadsword and holy vater, I zink zat vas the fastest I have ever flown from a village.” She said looking slightly nostalgic and very guilty. In that moment, she looked far older than Havelock had ever seen her.

Wishing to change the subject, Havelock broke the silence. “I have heard stories of Lady Olgivanna. Sybil says she gave Sir Joshua as good as she got and he adored her for it.“

Margolotta heard these words and the spell was broken. “Lady Sybil vas a more gracious hostess zan her grandmother. She introduced me to zis new drink, Klatchian Coffee. It vas quite excellent.”

“Before I forget, Lady Sybil sent this with her regards.” Havelock handed her a package. “For Hogswatch.”

Margolotta opened the top of the package and peaked inside. “Please give her my zanks.” She said sniffing the package gleefully and placing it to the side. “Lady Sybil is very kind …and sveet.” Her eyes were tinged with red for the briefest moment.

“Quite.” Havelock tensed.

“I am zorry.” She looked quite admonished. “It has only been decade and she vas a challenge to say ze least.”

“Nothing happened did it?” He asked nonplussed.

“No“ She looked into the contents of her glass, which were starting to congeal. “Zat is not to szay I did not try.”

She attempted to swirl the contents of the glass lost in thought for a moment. “Not to vorry, I got bubkes. Vimes at least thought it over for a second. She just smiled sveetly at me and showed me every kindness. If I didn’t know better, I might have zought her simple.”

Havelock shifted and she saw the glint of metal in his jacket. She pointed to it. “Still protective after all zese years?” He said nothing and she shrugged. “Zere is no need. Anyvay, I have more to fear from Vimes zan from you. He valked into our little tea party and I vas unsure I vould be valking out after vhat happened at ze Baron’s castle.”

Havelock was intrigued. Vimes had only given him a sketchy report of events, and Wolfgang and his thugs had killed most of his spies. “What happened exactly?”

“Oh zat, he just stormed a verevolf hold vith only a troll, a dwarf, a human and a verevolf. Most men vould have assembled an army.” She laughed. “He vas villing to face a castle full of monsters just to get her back.”

Havelock looked nonplussed by the story and decided to add to the Duke’s mythology. “Well, he did save her from a dragon.”

Margolotta raised an eyebrow. “Big vone or little vone?”

“Draco Noblis. She raises the little ones.” He said as if answering what time the next coach was due to arrive.

“She didn’t mention zat.” Margolotta replied nervously.“Ven she spoke of her husband, it vas how he and his Vatch vere making things better for Ankh-Morpork. She said zey vere good, gentle and noble people. Of course, zis vas a few minutes before Vimes burst in on our tea. Aftervards, she apologized and told me not to vorry because he vas mostly-harmless.”

“You would not agree with the description?” Havelock queried.

Havelock did his best not to smile as she gave an exasperated sigh. “Mostly harmless, my arsch. He killed a verevolf vith his barehands.”

“Not to mention, thirty bandits and a dog.” Havelock added in a chipper tone that made her snort.

Margolotta contemplated for a moment before choosing her next words. “Lady Sybil is different, Havelock. She sees ze good in people and reflects it back to zem.”

Relaxing a little he decided to be contrary. “She doesn’t see the good in everyone.”

“No, she doesn’t. She has no use for Seraphine and I do not blame her.” She paused and added thoughtfully. “Zough, I zink zat has more to do vith ze fact zat she cares so much for Delphine. Zat Volfgang going after Vimes didn’t help either.”

She finished her glass and made a face at the taste. “You are right. Her Grace is quite singular. I vasn’t a monster to her. She saw good in me and I vanted to be good. I vant to be vorthy of how she saw me. Zat sort of love is rare and addictive.” She gave him a knowing look. “Had Vimes not been in ze picture…”

“Lady Sybil?” He gave her a puzzled look.

“Vampyre.” She said raising her hand in an act of self-identification.

“I forgot.” He smirked at her. “How does the old joke go? Anything with a pulse?”

“I am far more discerning zan zat. Also, vy must humans make everyzing about szex? Companionship plays a role as vell as being with someone unique and interesting. Also depending on ze person, ze pulse can be optional.” She winked at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

“And I vouldn’t kick her out of ze coffin.” She said with mock exasperation.

He chuckled. “She is lovely but so are you.” He said causing her eyes to light up.

She chided him with her finger. “Ven you vere younger, you should have brought her to Ubervald. I vould have kept you both and Ubervald vould have been better for it.” She let out a playful laugh. “I vould have missed our political games zough. But Ankh-Morpork vould have made a lovely colony.”

Havelock laughed deeply causing her smile at him. He did miss that smile.

“So vy didn’t you marry her?” She looked at him intently.

“I didn’t believe I could be married to Lady Sybil and rule the City.” He said with a shrug.

She looked astonished. “Vith a voman like zat behind you, you could have ruled ze Disc.”

“No. As you said, she sees the good in people and makes them want to be better.” He said regret creeping into his voice.

“Vy did you let Vimes have her zen?” She asked. “Surely, she could have done better?”

“I prefer not to answer that question.” He stated, gracefully pouring more liquid into her goblet.

She took a sip. “Fine. Vy didn’t you bring her to Uberwald to share vith me? Ve could have started a second empire, Schatzi.” Margolotta said teasingly.

It wasn’t particularly funny, but he laughed in spite of himself. Why didn’t he want to talk about it? Who would be more appropriate to talk to? He thought and over the next hour, he explained his history with Sybil.

When he was done, the vampire smiled, “You ver such an ass. Vy did she put up vith you?” She flashed him a mischievous smile. “That vill be ze topic of my next letter to her. Thank you for ze coffee. Vy did you put up vith Havelock’s blodsinn for over twenty years?”

He laughed. “Her nature, I suppose.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Angelic?”

He was thoughtful for a moment and then smirked at her. “Only metaphorically, but she is married to Vimes. I think he would wear down anything less.”

She laughed. “I am sure he has his redeeming qualities. A man zat can take on a volf pack naked probably has a few tricks up his sleeves.”

“Naked? He managed to leave that out of his report.” A thought then dawned on him. “How did you know he was naked? “

“I vas just trying to help. Ze view vas not unpleasant zough.” She said with a wink. “I vouldn’t kick him out of ze coffin either.”

“You must have gotten a much larger coffin.” Havelock laughed and she looked entranced at the sight of him.

 “You haven’t aged a bit, my sveet fantastin. Du bist wunderschon.” She took his hand and kissed it. “I am proud of you, Havelock. You have accomplished a great deal, everyzing you vanted and more. It couldn’t have been easy letting her go.”

He chuckled. “What makes you think I let her go? I am the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, a ruthless tyrant. I could have him killed at any time.”

Margolotta gave him a knowing glance. “He’s too valuable to your City and you vouldn’t vant to disappoint her.”

He sighed and nodded. Looking across the table, he saw the first woman he ever fell in love with. If he was honest with himself, he still loved her. “She was the first person, I told about you.”

Margolotta smiled. “I know. She vas ze only one zat accepted me." He raised an eyebrow in response. “Schatzi, I had to know I read your letters.” She said coyly.

He chuckled. “I would have thought less of you if you hadn’t.”

She nodded. “She vants you to be happy. We have zat in common.”

They continued the evening with talk of politics, power, a few stolen kisses, and a promise to play a game of thud via the clacks in the coming weeks.

Chapter Text

It should have been raining. It wasn’t of course, but it should have been. It was a beautiful sunny May day in the Shires, which of course made it worse.

He was pacing in the hall outside their bedroom. He had sent the children down to the village with their governess when the doctors arrived.

If only I had been here sooner. He thought as he wore a hole in the carpet. He had arrived a few hours ago by broomstick, but things seemed to be too far gone by that point. I should never have left. I knew she was due any day. I knew that how sick she had been this time, how bad everything had been. He cursed under this breath and punched the wall.

Willikins cleared his throat. “Are you in need of anything, Sir?”

“No, Willikins,” Havelock replied as he stared at the wall.

“Any word from the doctors, Sir?” The butler asked tentatively.

Havelock sighed. “No.”

Willikins nodded and turned to leave but stopped. “She should be fine, Sir. Lady Sybil is only 42, and she favors her grandmother. Lady Olgivanna had her last child at 52 with no repercussions.”

“Yes, but her mother died at 47.” Havelock snapped.

“Sir?” Willikins replied. Havelock looked up at the butler. The man had been with the household off and on for almost 30 years. Havelock had never seen him shaken before.

“I just need time to myself,” Havelock said trying to remain calm. “Please let me know when the older children arrive.”

“Of course, Sir.” Willikins bowed and exited the hall.

Havelock went back to pacing. Why didn’t I say no? The question could be applied to a lot of things. Why didn’t I say no to another child? Why didn’t I say no when she wanted to keep her normal schedule? Why hadn’t I told the King no when he called me back to the City? It was the last one that was bothering him the most. Why do I feel so obligated to the City?

He punched the wall again. This time he managed to remove some of the plaster. He stared at the mark he left before striking it again. “Fucking Vimes.” He cursed under this breath.

Why did I say that? He thought. Because he is what started this. The damn man had to go and get himself killed. The King had to call counsel, and I had to be there otherwise Rust and De Worde would have chosen the new Watch Commander. And because of that, no one was here to listen to her when she said something was wrong. No one was here to insist on the right midwife or to question that two days was far too long for her to be in labor considering all the others were born in less than a day. All because I had to be at counsel because some damned drunken idiot was found floating in the Ankh. What business did the man have chasing murderers on the river at his age?

He had only met the man a handful of times. He was useful, but Havelock was not going to be grieving him. Havelock’s second thoughts chimed into the conversation. How much of that has to do with how he looked at Sybil?

There had been a ball to mark the first year of the new king. He and Sybil had attended of course. Vimes had been there with his wife, Mavis, who spent the majority of the evening far away from her husband. Vimes didn’t seem to mind and spent most of the event next to the drinks table looking angry at the world in general.

Until the King introduced him to Sybil. Sybil transformed him, though she had that effect on most people. However, this was different. There was energy between Sybil and Vimes that made him nervous. Vimes, a man that would scowl at a puppy for being too damn cheerful, smiled around her and even joked a little. The man seemed to be enraptured by her and hung on her every word. He stammered and blushed around her like a teenager.

Ever practical, Sybil didn’t seem to notice, but Havelock noticed. He hated to say it, but for the first time in their marriage, he felt threatened by another man. Most men didn’t notice Sybil. She was quite beautiful, but you had to be clever enough to realize it. Vimes had realized it, and Havelock had wanted to throttle him for doing so.

The door to the bedroom opened, and a dour-faced doctor entered the hall.

“Your Lordship, we were able to deliver your son. Unfortunately, your wife…”

Havelock sat up at his desk gasping for air and frantically looking around the Oblong Office. The early morning light was just filtering through the windows. He must have dozed off.

It was just a dream. Havelock laughed to himself. You aren’t even married to Sybil. Nothing is going to happen. The smell of lilacs permeated the room. Out of habit, Havelock checked the calendar. May the 25th. He looked at his desk and saw a note Drumknott must have left. He shuddered as he read it. Lady Sybil went into labor the morning of the 24th; Mrs. Content was called for at noon.

It was a little half-past eleven on the 25th when Drumknott entered the office with a fresh pot of tea. Havelock stood as Drumknott walked into the room. “Any more news?”

“No, Sir.” The secretary said trying not to make eye contact with the Patrician.

“Has word been sent to Sir Samuel?” Havelock asked calmly.

“No, Sir. He’s been misplaced at the University. They are trying to find him now.” Drumknott said trying not to sound concerned.

Havelock was at a loss. “Ready a messenger to send to the Watch House to fetch Igor.”

“Wouldn’t a doctor be more appropriate?” Drumknott asked.

The Patrician scowled. “If it comes to that, her chances are far better with an Igor. Please let me know if there are any changes in the situation.” Havelock replied. “And get me the file on the man Vimes was chasing when he disappeared.”

Havelock quickly walked from the palace to the house on Scoone Avenue. He had hoped to meet Igor there since as of 10 minutes ago Vimes was still missing. What he found was chaos.

After noting the fresh scorch marks and small fires in the front yard, Havelock went around to the tradesman’s entrance. Willikins met him there and let him into the house, which was filled with nervous Watchmen.

Havelock did his best not to gape. Who is guarding his City? Half the Watch must be here. He noticed the majority was off-duty and by the looks of it, had volunteered to be here. No, that wasn’t right, there was a tension that filled the air as if they were all waiting to hear news of a loved one.

A door opened and closed on the second floor, and a white haired man walked to the top of the staircase. The room fell silent, and everyone stared at the man on the landing. “Usually, the father makes this announcement but since nothing has been usual today. Not to mention, he is currently passed out on the floor. It falls to me I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “Mother and baby are fine.” There was a collective gasp as the breath that no one knew they were holding was released. The doctor looked around at the assembled Watchmen. “He’s a bonny lad, 10 pounds 4 ounces, and his mother wants it to be known that his name is Sam.”

A cheer went up amongst the assembled Watch, and backs were patted, money exchanged hands as wagers were paid out, and a general feeling of pride flowed through the room. The doctor answered all of this by holding up his hands and the room fell silent again. “Take your celebrating outside. They need quiet and rest. Also, I need one of you to help get the father off the floor and into bed.”

Captain Carrot moved to the top of the stairs. “Unless you are needed to keep watch for Carcer, please return to your respective patrols and homes. I will give Dr. Lawn a hand with the Commander.” He turned to the doctor and followed him down the hall.

Havelock took this as his cue to leave. She was safe and that was what had mattered. Now there was a new pressing matter that needed closure. Using the Watch Clacks system, Havelock relayed a message to the palace, and Drumknott sent a coach for him. He settled into the seat and waited.

As Dr. Lawn rounded the corner of Scoone Avenue on to the Kings Way, a black carriage pulled even with him and Lord Vetinari opened the door.

“Dr. John Lawn?” Havelock asked.

“Yes. Your Lordship.” Dr. Lawn said warily.

Havelock stepped out of the carriage onto the street. “Excellent. I wanted to shake your hand, Sir. You have done the City a great service in delivering the next Duke of Ankh.” He extended his hand to the older man.

Dr. Lawn took the hand and shook it respectfully. “How can I help, your Lordship?”

“I wanted to help you. I am sure you are tired after attending to her Grace. May I offer you a ride to your lodgings?” Havelock indicated the carriage.

Dr. Lawn swallowed hard and nodded. “That would be …kind of you.”

“Very good,” Havelock said with a smile and ushered the man ahead of him into the coach.

Dr. Lawn settled in across from the Patrician, whom promptly locked the doors. “Now on our ride, if you would care to tell me about John Keel and the naked man that came to your door asking for your services today. I would be most interested.”

Chapter Text

The air was thick with the scent of lilac when Lord Vetinari returned to his office a little before midnight. He had taken the time to escort Vimes and Carcer Dun to the Tanty. Not that he didn’t trust the Commander of the Watch, he just knew what he would have done if someone had threatened his wife and child. Hells, Havelock knew that the only thing keeping the hangman’s appointment was the fact that Vimes was there. If Sir Samuel had chosen to stay with his family, Carcer would have been taking up residency in Reg Shoe’s unoccupied grave for the next few months.

Havelock closed the door behind him. It had all started out so promising. After a friendly carriage ride, Dr. Lawn had been ever so helpful in filling in the gaps. Keel hadn’t quite looked like himself. His wounds were old and no longer bleeding. The man that showed up on the good doctor’s doorstep bore a striking resemblance to the Sergeant.

After nearly two hours lying in wait in the cemetery, the final pieces emerged and the big picture came together so nicely, so neatly he almost didn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out before. Vimes and Carcer had confirmed his suspicions; John Keel and Sam Vimes were one in the same. I should be celebrating this newfound knowledge, I have John Keel working for me for gods’ sakes but Vimes…that blasted man. Why couldn’t he just make sense for once? Why must everything be a contradiction? He actively contemplated kicking something.

“Vat ruffled your feathers?” A voice called out from behind his desk and he begrudgingly smiled as Margolotta turned the chair to face him.

Havelock schooled his expression and thoughtfully glanced about the room. “I believe you had to be invited in?”

“Only ze first time.” She chuckled. “I vas asked to speak at tonight’s meeting and zought I vould pop by to make sure you haven’t been tampering vith ze board.” She flashed a toothy grin and an ornate card at him. “I hear congratulations are in order. You are a godfazer.” Candlelight glinted off the gold foiling as she fanned herself with the announcement. “Don’t look at me like zat. It vas just lying on top of your desk.”

He nodded. Crossing to a file cabinet he pulled out a bottle and poured a small brandy. “Would you like one?”

“No, zankyou.” She cast him a concerned look. “Is Sybil alright? Ze Times said zat it vas a healzy baby boy.”

“Mother and babe are fine.” He said with a slight tremor to his voice.

The vampire rose from the chair. “Havelock? Vat aren’t you telling me?”

He looked lost for a moment. “It was close,” was all he said before crossing to her and placing a light kiss at her temple.

“Vatelse?” She said with a sigh.

“I cannot discuss that at this time.” He smirked at her. “You are still a foreign power.”

She chuckled. “Very vell.”

“I just wish I knew he was going to do the right thing by her. He doesn’t make any sense.”

Margolotta was confused. “Vho?”

“Vimes.” He huffed.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” She smiled wrily. “Vat about Vimes?”

“He …he just doesn’t make any bloody sense.” Havelock ran his hand through his hair. “He leaves his wife and child when they have barely escaped death’s door to capture a man, who could have been brought in by any of his officers. He has nostalgia for good men that gave their lives for the City but refuses to properly honor them. Then he says he wants time off to spend with his wife and child all the while insisting on delivering a prisoner to the hangman himself. And once he arrives at the Tanty, he informs me and the guards that he will be around tomorrow if we need him.” He paced behind the desk.

Margolotta raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “And?”

“It’s like they don’t matter. Men died for him and he won’t so much as agree to a plaque. She almost died for him and he …” The patrician took a deep breath and reinstated his façade. “I cannot determine where his priorities lie.”

Margolotta sighed. “Is zis about you or him?”

Havelock gave his most innocent look. “This is about Sir Samuel. His duties are important for the function and support of the City. He is not just some Watchman, his actions including those at home impact the City. His son is the future of Ankh-Morpork."

“You zink he is neutral towards her? Unfeeling? Zat he won’t do right by her?” She chuckled.

 Havelock broke his composure and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, his allegiances are not clear to me.”

“You’ve made him responsible for your city. Surely, he is loyal to it.” She wandered closer to the desk.

Havelock turned the card over in his hand.

“Surely you don’t believe?” Margolotta glared at him. “Vimes loves his vife very much. You know vat he did for her in Ubervald.” He looked owlishly and she shifted uncomfortably as if what she was giving away was privileged information. “From vat I have heard he is very affectionate towards her behind closed doors.” She gave him a playful smirk. “How do zink he vound up vith a son?”

He dropped the card as if it burned.

“Vy don’t you zink he is capable of caring for her?” She bristled. “Still hoping you can svoop in and save her?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” He said casually.

“Really? I am not ze von trying to shape legends.” Margolotta huffed.

She continued with all the warmth of a glacier. “You are so vapped up in zat story in your head zat you can’t see vhat is in front of you.”

“Lady Margolotta” He said curtly, a hint of warning in his voice. “This isn’t about stories, this is about the City.”

“No, schotsy, zis is about mythology, vich is far worse. You are deep in to ze narrativium." She walked over and straightened his lapels. "Funny, I am not ze von vho zinks I should vear dark dresses and encourages Sybil to vear zat horrid light blue."

"Blue flatters her." He said noncommittally sitting at his desk.

"No, dark blue, black, crimson, forest green flatter her." She said with a wave of her hand. Zis is somezing else." She gestured towards herself. “Death, power, history and control.” She lifted the card off the desk and flicked it. “Life, growth, transformation, and nurturing.” She placed the card on the desk. “Ze twilight and ze dawn.” She swept her hand in a grand gesture towards him. “Vith ze Master of ze City balancing ze two for ze benefit of all.”

Havelock’s jaw dropped. “When have I ever?”

“He feels it too.” She looked up at him through thick lashes. “Vat is it that Vimes says? Ze voman is a city?”

He adjusted the buttons on his frock coat. “I’ve never heard Sir Samuel say...”

“Zat is because he fights ze story. He doesn’t care for history, he vants to do ze task at hand.” She gently interrupted. “He doesn’t believe in stories. He knows vat stories do to people.”

He looked down at the desk averting his gaze, not noticing her until she lifted his chin. “I understand, but stories don’t care.” She smiled at him and he wrapped his arms around her.

For a split second, he looked vulnerable. “She’s….”

Margolotta smiled and quieted him by pressing her finger to his lips. “I know.” She gave him a gentle squeeze. “If you are so vorried about her, vait to see vat Sir Samuel does in the morning. Let him do ze job in front of him. Let him fuss over her and his son, I zink you vill discover he actually likes it far more zan he lets on.”

“I will take it under advisement.” Havelock released her from his embrace and settled into his chair. “Now, while you are here, what do you know about a group of deep downers called the Grags?”

The next morning, Havelock gave his secretary orders to notify him of Vimes’s movements. He then left to conduct the necessary business of ridding the world an unnecessary and problematic evil.