In Ankh-Morpork, a shadow flickered.

The shadow detached itself from the general gloom and slipped around the doorway, before slinking up the side of the building. It rippled across the rooftops and down drainpipes. The shadow swept across the city to the outer wall and onto it, before dropping neatly into the blacker-than-black hearse-style carriage on the other side.

"Nice entranthe, thir."

The shadow waved a hand impatiently and sunk into the seats, "Yes, yes, Igor. Let's go."

"I mutht thay, thir, I wath very imprethed by-"

"Igor."

"Yeth, thir. Of courthe, thir."

When the coach arrived in Uberwald, it was raining. It was also only three days later. The shadow prised itself out of the seats, out of the door, and staggered around a bit.

"…Igor?"

Igor hobbled down from his seat, "Yeth, thir?"

The shadow clutched its head, "What exactly are these…horses made from?"

"Bred from othtriches and cheetahth, thir."

"I'm not going to ask."

"Probably a good idea, thir."

The shadow swayed on the spot for a moment, before shaking it off and heading decisively up the castle steps. The door opened (with a creak, of course) as a fist was raised to knock, and, lo and behold, Igor was on the other side.

The shadow pushed past, just as Ladyship swept into the hallway. She smiled radiantly.

"You've got a little something…" she gestured to her cheek. The shadow scrubbed at its face, and became Havelock Vetinari.

"Igor's horses…" he began.

"Ah yes, I was very impressed - a return trip to Ankh-Morpork, completed within a week? Revolutionary work."

"Perhaps it is unwise to release them upon the world just yet. I think I may be the first person on the disc to experience a kind of…travel sickness."

"Ah. Perhaps a little less cheetah, then."

"Indeed." the word bordered on a groan and was accompanied by a touch to the temples.

"I trust, apart from that minor…discomfort, that it was a pleasant trip?"

"It was, thank you," he folded his arms, "I do hope you're not stalling, Madam?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Havelock," she purred, "This way, please."

She swept back across the hallway and lead their way up a winding staircase - spiral of course - adorned with various portraits of regally vampiric ancestors and predecessors. Ladyship examined each one idly as she passed them. Havelock did not.

"You're nervous," he pointed out, "You seek to distract your mind from the object of your anxiety by focusing on trivialities."

"You're terrified," she countered, "Facial expression, body language and voice control you have down to a fine art, but you still cannot stop that little heart from beating so fast."

"I cannot deny my…concern. Surely it is natural?"

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled widely at him, the moonlight glinting obligingly off her pointed incisors, despite the fact that it was pouring with rain and overcast. And that there were no windows in that particular passageway.

"I find it very endearing. I have never seen you scared before."

"It is a privilege known only to a few." he replied sarcastically.

The stairs met a long corridor, a distinctly more homely and practical looking section of the castle. She gently pushed open the first door; the interior was decorated in what Havelock, in his amusement, internally dubbed as 'nursery gothique', a style that somehow managed to combine cornflower blue, black, and assorted appropriately gothic spikes and swirls and bat-like patterns, without being tacky or dangerous. He was impressed.

A vast bassinet dwarfed one corner of the room in deep blue silks and drapes, lined by frills that carefully emphasized adorability, whilst still being distinctly masculine. It was a work of art that would make the most stern-hearted interior designer sob.

"Impressive décor, Madam."

"Ah, yes, a wonderful fellow from Quirm did it for me," she beamed, "Decorating is not his area of expertise, but he has such potential, I am sure he will go far in whatever he finally settles on doing."

"I should like to meet him."

"I shall certainly arrange for that."

There was a lull in the conversation. Both parties, of seemingly mutual spontaneity, crossed the room to the crib. At first glance, Havelock saw only neatly embroidered blankets and a small mountain of pillows and soft toys (all in cornflower blue, of course, with the black bat-like pattern), but a closer look revealed a small child curled between them. As if sensing their presence, he rolled onto his back and opened his startling crimson eyes, before waving his chubby fists and burbling fussily.

Havelock watched him, strangely fascinated, "He is a full vampire?"

"I haven't had long to ascertain, but yes, it appears so. With his dual heritage, his aging process will be…somewhat complicated."

"I thought so. It shall be interesting to observe." he nodded, peering down between the blankets.

She smiled, then bent over the cot, disentangling the child and passing him to Havelock in a single smooth movement, "Here."

Havelock hadn't encountered many babies in his lifetime; specifically, three, two of which he'd held, until the point that he made his speculations about their bouncibility public, after which they'd been hastily taken back. He'd always considered infants to be a somewhat fragile, temporary and rather dull distraction, as there was very little that one could do with them besides coo or complain.

This child, in comparison, seemed far more solid and resilient, lighter than he'd expected but soft and smelling of that baby-scent capable of turning the most stoic knees weak. The baby shifted and curled against his chest, regarding him coolly, as if to say, really, was this all you woke me up for?

To his horror, the best he could come up with to say was, "…Huh."

"Very eloquent, Havelock."

"If I'd known eloquence was what you wanted, I would have composed a sonnet," he retorted, concentration focused on moving his arms to a more comfortable position without dropping or maiming the baby, rather than coming up with witty retorts.

He'd read up what young men usually felt when presented with their first child; first, a flood of warm fuzzy feelings. Then a sudden a bolt of inspiration, of understanding of life, the universe and everything, and why toast always lands butter side down. And then, of course, they would go weak at the knees at the thought that this was their child.

He was rather relieved that worst he experienced was the insuppressible desire to grin. The corners of his lips curled up further as the child reached out to grasp one of his fingers in a chubby fist. "What's his name?"

"Bastian." Lightning forked just outside the window, in a rather impressive display of pathetic fallacy. Both Vetinari and Margolotta nodded appreciatively.

"Good name." He paused, glancing at the woman beside him, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for-"

She gave him a warm smile, "I exactly didn't give you much notice. It wasn't your fault."

Havelock looked back down Bastian, who had decided to go back to sleep, and his eye caught a bright crimson stain across the wooden floor, partly concealed by a rug. He kicked it aside and followed the trail back to the large four poster bed in the middle of the room. Margolotta observed his line of inquiry and grinned almost sheepishly when he turned back to arch an eyebrow at her.

"The maid." she explained, "In my defence, she attacked me first."

Havelock's eyes narrowed a little in thought, "What was her name?"

"Well done, Havelock, I see you haven't lost your touch," She folded her arms with a laugh, "She told me her name was Annette von Blintz, but anyone who knows their Uberwald genealogy would recognise a Harker nose when they saw it."

"A vampire hunter undercover; their little cult are starting to get more bold." Havelock shook his head, "I interrupted you - do carry on."

"I cannot condemn them - we have never treated their species very well either. It is only natural that they wish to fight back. Besides, it makes for good entertainment."

He could not restrain a small grin, "That's a new line of thought."

"But of course." She couldn't help preening a little under his praise, "Can you work out how she met her untimely demise?"

"Well, she was sent by her family to go incognito and assassinate you in your own castle. She must have been delighted to find out that she could get two birds with one stone, as it were, and would have written home right away - if it weren't for that coincidental succession of terrible Uberwaldean winter storms that lasted for several months, which stopped dead the already rather temperamental Uberwald post. But she decided to go on with the plan, and attacked you in your weakest moment…" he glanced down at the sleeping Bastian, "Which you were well prepared for, and you sent her back to her family as the ultimate example of tragic irony. Correct?"

"In all but the last; I was merciful and merely killed her."

"We really do have progress." And he smiled at her in a way that never ceased to make her unbeating heart soar.

"How long can you stay?" she asked quietly, stepping a little closer and playing with Bastian's fingers as he slept.

"Well, I am officially on a contract in the lovely little town of Kraße-Lügen for the eminent Lady Toga Mortal." he kept an admirable poker-face, "So, I will be stuck in deepest darkest Uberwald for as long as she should desire I stay…"

"Mein gott, Havelock! Sometimes your nerve shocks even me." She grinned, shaking her head, "You are very lucky that none of your little friends speak Uberwaldean."

"Also, that none of them are particularly adept at anagrams." he chuckled, "You know, I am tempted to write Aunt Roberta, just to see her reaction. She would kill me."

"Kill you? Hah! I would be the one waking up in the middle of the day with her standing over my coffin, sharpened stake and kukri knife in hand!"

"You two are old friends, though."

"That just makes it worse; I was warned to stay away from you! She is more protective of you than you realise."

"If she told you to leave me alone, why did you ignore her?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Brainy is the new sexy, darling," she winked and touched his cheek, "And you know I can't resist a pretty face. Now there are two of you to torment me."

Lord Havelock Vetinari shook his head with a smirk, glancing down at the child in his arms, "Bastian, son of an human assassin and a vampire, of both Ankh-Morpork and Uberwald; he has hardly been alive a week and already he has had an attempt on his life. I'd say that bodes well."

Lady Margolotta rested her head on his shoulder, "He has a bright future ahead of him."

"Yes, a bright future indeed." he agreed.

-x-x-x-

And overhead, the weather, ever obliging, cleared itself of the thunderclouds to show the brand new day dawning.