---

Bettina moved to her side of the bed. She exhaled loudly, sighed with satisfaction and relaxed on the cushion. Her lover rolled to kiss her. He did not expect it all in first place. Earlier in the evening, he went to bed expecting to sleep, not imagining finding someone there. She waited for him, her clothes off; wrapped with the soft Hershebian blanket he bought some weeks ago. She stood up on the mattress, moved to her feet and did some things he never expected to be done to him ever. He had many lovers in his life, but she was… Oh, she was the jewel in his collection. How could she have so many skills? She was so young…

He made love to her as never before, because he never had someone like her in his bed. Few hours later, he was breathless, he was forceless - she squeezed every drop of his body. Every drop of his sap… She made love like a libertine. She made love like a queen. A lecherous queen. He went to sleep, caressing her back, pressing her to his exhausted sweaty body, kissing her neck, her shoulder, her hands… She put her head on his breast, which was a sign of a full unity – in body and in soul. He had never imagined he would spend a night with such skilful Woman.

Bettina felt his breath calmer, his eyes dropping in a sleep. He was fatigued and she was the cause of his failing. She was prepared for this. She had a good educator - while she was an adolescent, her godmother – a woman with well-known practice – told her some strategic tips appropriate for the love game. She personally experienced them when she was sixteen, secretly giving herself up to a man she chose herself. He was not too young – she wanted a man, not a boy. Her mother was rabid; she did not talk to her for weeks. However, she had that experience, because she knew it would be important part of their future. She knew she had to make great sacrifice to obtain the end - she promised it to the Goddess, when she was a little girl. Better to sacrifice her virginity, than something she cannot live without.

She looked at her lover's face again. He was fast asleep. She smiled. Godmother was right, she thought, better to press out all his potency; he would be more than obliged. He would want for More. However, to receive that he had to Beg for it. He had to Merit it. He had to Earn it…

She rolled gently to the bed's end and slid down. She searched for her clothes, dressed in a hurry and rushed to the door. She turned back to see him and smiled. He was sleeping like a baby. A big lewd baby. She examined his body again. He was handsome, yes, he was… He made her feel a woman again. He knew how to make her cry in excitement.

She sighed with satisfaction and pressed the door handle. Lord Stephen twisted to her side of the bed in his sleep. Her plan was put into action. The door closed.

---

The dinner at the Vimes-Ramkin estate should start at seven, so Lady Antonia was in a hurry. She dressed her blue dress; the one Lord Vetinari presented her the same day. She was surprised, it was his first gift, unexpected and… well… she would not admit it, but she loved it. The package was on her bed when she went in her chambers. It was wrapped in green packing paper, tied with yellow band. She saw him earlier in order to tell him the last news, asking for his reply. He did not say anything. She was sure he already knew all the details, but he looked less interested than she thought. He did not allude to a present. What for? What did she do to deserve the dress? It was beautiful and, observing the fabric, quite expensive.

She let the chambermaid fasten her corset, it pressed her far tighter than she used to, but she could still breathe and that was the most important. The skirt was as light as a feather; it failed on her skin as nothing gentler she had the chance to ware before. She felt some kind… differently. The maid fastened the band on her slender waist and smiled with satisfaction. Her face was so pleased, which made Antonia walk closer to the mirror. Yes, she was nice; her hair was down, dropping on her shoulders, accurately tied on her neck scruff with an elegant emerald hairpin. She never used lipstick or any cosmetics, as far as she was educated, they were unnecessary tools, colouring her skin in false shades. When the maid came to help her prepare she proposed her some, they were put in several white and red bottles, their smell made her cough. The maid said it would make her even more beautiful. She refused. Then she changed her mind. What she saw in the mirror was she again, but coloured. She sighed with boredom.

Lord Vetinari waited in the hallway. He knew what time it was – the clock ticked nearby. The carriage should go through the evening crowd, stopping repeatedly for the tedious traffic, the bridge would be too crowdie because of the new speed limits the Transportation department of the Watch had put several weeks ago. It always happens so. If they wanted to be at the Vimes-Ramkin estate in time, she should appear in… let us see… seven seconds.

He sighed and turned his head to the clock, then to the stairway. He tottered back, speechless. Lady Antonia passed through in a hurry. 'Shall we go?' she hinted, allowing him lead her to the coach. He helped her lift then he sat by her side, gently sealing the door. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a second, exhaling with a boredom. She pressed his hand with an amiable gesture and whispered, fondling her dress: 'Thank you. So kind of you. I did not expect it.' She smiled at his stare and sighed, gazing into her window. Lord Vetinari leaned back and stared at his. 'I did not have a chance to give you my… uhum… wedding present' he answered, looking at the dispersing crowd, while the carriage was leaving the Palace gates. She smiled at him and tapped his hand again. He removed it from her reach and stared at her face. She blinked for a while, she had her attention gone. They travelled in silence until the yellowish frontage of the Scoon Avenue's most wanted real estate appeared at the distance.

---

Young Sam Vimes rushed into Antonia's hands.

'What does my little boy do?' hugged him the Amazon. He giggled in her tickling hands.

'Auntie, I am so happy to see you' laughed the boy. 'Why didn't you come to live with us?' His miffing face stared at the Patrician, observing their gathering with less interest than watching the rain. He stared at the boy. 'Is this because of him?' Little Sam pointed at Vetinari. 'Mom told me you got married. What for? Whom?' He pointed again. 'Is that him?' He miffed again. 'Dad used to say His Lordship is the permanent bachelor on the Disk. What did you do to deserve him?

Antonia burst into laughter. She stood up and glanced at the Patrician. He had no expression on his face. He gazed at the boy, who gazed at him in that way, saying: 'Don't make me, stupid! Just don't make me use it!' The Amazon turned his face at her and bent to face his eyes.

'Sam, how many times have I told you not to use these words against people?' The boy stared at her and bowed his head. 'Yes, yes…' Sam Jr. turned his eyes. '…Flatter them, not show them what you feel…'

'So, Sam, what do you think you should do now?' The boy stared at her, then looked at Vetinari's direction, bowed his head and pronounced slowly with a graduate voice: 'I beg your pardon, Sir. Please, accept my apology.' He bowed again and took Antonia's hand. They walked in silence through the hallway's opposite door. When they entered the parlour, Sam whispered in her ear. 'I still believe you waist your time with him.' Lord Vetinari smiled rapidly. Lady Antonia ruffled his hair. The boy sat in his chair close to her and whispered again: 'If you love him, then I should recommend you to get rid of your feelings. Dad said he is not worthy.'

Antonia looked at Vetinari's face. She knew he heard it all; although he had no expression as such. She felt her face redden, she put her hand on little Sam's head and twisted his eyes to hers. She whispered in his ear: 'Don't push your luck, young man. He might be your… uncle, but still is the Patrician. And I am also an Amazon, dear; don't forget who you are.'

The boy giggled at her threat, jumped from his seat and run across the room. When he run back, he put a paper in her hands. Antonia looked at him, asking for explanation. He jumped back in his chair and pointed the note:

'Cousin Bettina was here this morning. She asked mom to use her room for a minute. When she went out this thing fell out of her pocket. I thought you would see her before me, so I'm transferring you the pleasure.'

Vetinari observed Lady Antonia's face with interest. She unfolded the paper and started reading. Her eyes opened widely, she stood up in a hurry, almost jumping in the air. Her face was pale; her breath speeded; her lips became white, although the lipstick she put on. Her eyes watered, she turned her back to them, folded the paper and put it in her pocket. When she turned to them, she was smiling, although her eyes were wistful. She sat at her place.

'Won't you treat as, Sam? After all we are your guests.'

'Yes! Of course!' jumped little Sam. 'Blast! Mom told me when you come to tell her at once. Dad is still in the Yard. He should be here any minute! Oh, mom will be so…' He went out of the parlour, rushing upstairs. Antonia turned to Vetinari. She tried to smile; he tried to pretend she succeeded. 'I am sorry for my nephew's behaviour, sir. I hope you would understand him.'

'Yes, I would if I was a six year old boy with no respect of the elders.' Said Vetinari. Antonia moved closer. 'He is just a genuine boy; you can't make the world think as you do.'

'I can try.'

'And will fail.'

She smiled at his bewildered air, and then she pressed his hand. 'The world alters, Milord, time goes by, and people change. Get used to it. You are still young, you have time and chance to accept the changes you are to meet, don't waist your time fighting with the universe opposing your personal world. You will not succeed, I guarantee it. Do yourself a favour. Relax and have fun.'

She stood up and walked to the door, opened it and tried to exit, when she extracted the paper in her pocket. She red again, then she leaned against the door, certain in her intimacy. Lord Vetinari lifted slowly from his seat. He saw a strange reflection in the salver, resit on the wall over the heather. She was crying.

---

Bettina received the note. She rushed to the Palace. It was dark when she entered Lady Antonia's boudoir. She was brushing her hair in silence. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she stood up, came closer and slapped her face.

'How dare you!' cried the Amazon. 'How dare you? Who is he?'

Bettina stood silent, holding her reddish cheek. Antonia paced nervously around her. 'Answer, Bettina!' The young woman raised her head. She had tears in her eyes. Antonia stared at her for long time, and then she pressed her in a tight hug. 'Forgive me, my child. I am so sorry. I know you would not do this if you had other choice. Forgive me.'

Bettina answered the hug. 'I am sorry, mother' she said weeping. 'I thought I should forestall the events.'

'Which events, child?'

Bettina anxiously sat in the chair nearby. She was nervous, pressing her hands together. 'I heard Her Majesty talking with King Petromus. He wanted to get rid of Vetinari to fulfil the Treaty as it should be. He said the marriage was illegal. He wanted to ask her to annul the contract with the Patrician.'

Lady Antonia stared at her. She wiped her tears. 'You are not safe with him, mother. You should stay here; if you go to Smaiil they will kill you.'

Lady Vetinari buried her head in her hands. 'What do you think I am – blind and deft, Bettina? I knew it from the beginning, child. That's why I spin so long. I needed a time to make my plan into action. What the assassin did was a bonus. If he did not shoot him, I had to manage his execution myself.' She took the girls shoulders and shook her. 'What did you do, Bettina? Do you know what you did?' She stepped out of her reach, with her hands on her waist. 'If the man you gathered is the one I think, than even I can not safe you, Bettina. When you became his mistress, you became the woman, probably carrying his semen. How could I help you now? The Smaiil law is precise: if the man insists the woman - probably carrying his child - to marry him, even her parents could not save her… How did you…? Oh, Bettina… My baby…'

She put her hands over her eyes. Bettina jumped to soothe her. Lady Antonia drew back. She went to the window, pressed her forehead to the glass and sighed deeply. Bettina followed at some distance. She was ashamed enough to keep her eyes away from her sight.

'Why did you think I passed through this all?' she whispered. 'Do you really think I wanted to marry that man? Do you know how depressed I feel when I wake up each morning, knowing he will be there? Do you know how hard it is to smile at him? Do you think I am born hypocrite? I am not. I thought he would be disappointed and ask for a divorce sooner than those five years. Do you know what he did today? Gave me his wedding present. A dress, Bettina. Do you know what it means? He wants to make love with me… Presenting a woman a dress… Why don't men reed books? Why don't they know what these things mean?'

Lady Antonia moved to her daughter, put her hands over her neck and hugged her tight for a long time. When they separated, she kneeled down and put a head over her stomach. Bettina looked at her in a smile. 'I am not' she said. 'Yet.'

'Be cautious, Bettina. If he ever suspects you have his child, you will be doomed.'

Bettina smiled and lofted her eyebrows. 'What do you think I do, mother?' Lady Antonia gazed at her. She stepped back in anger. 'I had my little plan in action, mother' said Bettina. 'To make him have his Amazon. He would leave you alone. The King will have his Treaty done, he will have his victim, and it would not be You, mother… It would be… me.'

'Bettina!'

'No, mother' shouted the young Amazon and stepped back. 'I know what I am doing. I will be his, mother, but he would have to do some things in return.'

'Bettina, you are out of your senses!'

'No, mother, I told you already. I am clearly sane. I will be his wife, but he has to be more than a husband.'

Lady Antonia stared at her for longer than before. She bit her lips, turned over and sat at her writing table. She took the quill and penned in a hurry. When she finished she folded the paper and gave it to Bettina. She took it, considered to read it, but instead put it in her pocket.

'Do me a favour, deliver it to this address.' She put another note in her hand. The young Amazon fixed her eyes at her, and then she turned and walked to the door.

'I know what you want, Bettina' tiredly murmured Lady Antonia. 'I will give it to you. If everything goes right, you will be a very happy woman.'

---

Lord Vetinari moved out of his hiding place. So… the Amazons were in action. What kind of action - he didn't know by now, but he had many skilful agents in the city. They would smell a rat if there was some.

He went out of the darkness. Young Bettina and Lord Stephen… That's why she was so anxious during the dinner in Vimes-Ramkin house… Well, well, well… Those were fresh news. The way Lady Antonia reacted the situation was odd. She was too excited. Too… How was the word? Yes, motherish… The words she said about them living together were not very polite, but she had the right. She was not here willingly. He also had to stand her presence. She was not the best wife he would have. Well, she was quite pretty, and her presence coloured the Palace in unexpected light. He caught himself several times smiling while she was around. However, he used to smile before… Some times… Rarely…

Moreover, she said those allegations about his wedding present… Why did she think giving a woman a dress by all means would be taken as a sexual invitation? Well… he never thought about it before, meaning, he never had to present anything to his wife. Because he never had one. How would he know the dress means so equivocal?... Well, if he should be genuine, he had nothing against a future…

He slipped into his chambers with reddish face.

---

Bettina crossed the passage in silent move and burst into Lord Stephen's chamber. He waited for her. He stood up to welcome her, pressing a deep kiss in her lips. She relaxed in his hands. He lifted her up and put her on the bed, unbuttoning her coat, taking off her breastplate, her leather skirts, her red top. The steel cracked on the floor. She folded in her arms over his neck.

'I waited for you' he whispered in her ear, caressing her naked body. 'What delayed you so long?'

She moaned and let him lift her thighs, easing himself more comfortably over her waiting body. She bit his ear with satisfaction and groaned: 'You have me. Take me all. I am yours.'

He made his way into her and murmured. She sighed in his ear. He pushed and waited for her reaction. She looked at him in lust, watching him moving forward and backward, caressing her breasts, kissing her neck, breathing with difficulty and passion. She watched him with satisfaction, her hands tight fitting into the pillow edges. Her legs lifted higher and fixed around his moving body, closing him in her perimeter for as long as she wanted him. Soon his moans became louder, his pace vehement, and his movement unexpectedly rapid. She yelled with pleasure, letting him lead her to her end. He groaned soundly and relaxed over her body, trembling and shaking, breathing exhaustedly. He moved little more and stopped, putting his head over her breasts. He moistened her skin with his lips, removed his hands from the fixed position they were and tried to move up. She pressed his body to her with her crossed legs. 'Stay!' she cried. He obeyed, putting his adoring eyes over her face, staring at her for long time. She ogled him back with her genuine satisfaction, making him shimmer with desire. He kissed her deeply, hardly and long. He relaxed for a minute, then he caressed her, beginning his pace again. She moaned and answered his kiss.

Early in the morning, Lord Stephen leaned on the pillow, busy with the most pleasant job he had ever had – observing his mistress's sleep. She was quiet, reclining by his naked body, putting her palms under her head. What a picture, he thought, watching the woman, making him most pleased ever, in a relaxed sleep. She made him shimmer from the first time he saw her. She was still a teenager then, his future wife's daughter, far from the woman he made love with. When they danced, she put her hands over his shoulders the way that made him try to hide his front. She had the spirit of a seamstress, although she was not one. She made him wish he were not there, even in the area. She had the strange radiance the men receive by a way unknown for them all, but obeying her gravity. If he would ever know she would become his mistress, he would never believe. No one believes in the fiction.

He watched her moving in their bed, stretching herself, turning her head, opening her eyes. She fixed her sleepy watch at his worshiping face. She smiled at him, receiving his smile back. He watched her longer and staring, his face became earnest, he took her hand and put it on his breast. She watched him with interest. It was the fifth week since she started spending her nights in his bed. She pretended to know each inch of his body, each way his eyes stared at her, each tic of his mouth. He never held her hand so tight, he never looked at her with such daring and finality. He lifted her hand to his lips. She shimmered. His eyes fixed at hers, he bend over her and whispered:

'Bettina de Constar, would you do me the favour answering my question?'

She smiled anxiously. He pressed her hand with his lips.

'Would you consider making me an honest man, by giving me your hand and… marry me?'

---

The death of King Petromus was surprising, although he was a man with a lot of antagonism in his life. The heart attack was expected, actually, especially observing his way of life. He never ate something different from his most beloved fat hog chops, presenting himself as a smaiilian with soul and heart. Well, the heart had something to say and it did. His Majesty was found in his bed, early in the morning, in his Palace, when his attendant went to wake him up. He used to complain with a chest pain weeks ago, but nevertheless the doctor's insistence, he refused to listen. Although he was in Smaiil, he still thought he had to observe the doings in the city. Especially the one he thought as the most important task in his life. He could not brake Lord Stephen declare his protest against the marriage of Lady Antonia and Lord Vetinari. Stephen withstood all his persuasions, insults and threats. He fought against his will, with rage energy he never used to observe in his behaviour earlier. He fought as he had something to fight for. He had, indeed, as time showed. The only alternative was to make him stay in Ankh-Morpork as the newest war attaché of Smaiil. It was his penalty for marrying the wrong Amazon.

The news of his death came to Ankh-Morpork when the servants handed out the morning tea. His Lordship drank yellow Hershebian for breakfast, Her Ladyship preferred red Stomanian, which was the best choice for His Lordship's afternoon tea brake. The couple laughed at the morning newspapers, where Otto Crieck, the gifted vampire-photographer of the 'Gazette' put a shot of Lord Downey's slipping at the Bronze Bridge. He had to be lift from the river in a rush, although the Ankh's crust was tight enough to resist an elephant. But there is a rage stage people could not stand.

'Listen to this' smiled Lady Antonia. 'Dr. Downey (49) slipped at a banana peel late yesterday evening while returning home from audience with the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, His Lordship Lord Vetinari and Her Ladyship, Lady Antonia Vetinari, discussing important matters accorded with the city's being… Listen, Havelock, that was too much. I think you should talk to Mr. De Worde and advise him to change his sources. People will read this article and jump at conclusions that Mr. Downey has a role over the city rule. This is not true. If complaining of a carriage clamp by his Guild's building by Mr. Collon's department is a management act, so I should say I do much more such acts while composing the meal menu each day.'

'And you are very good at it, Milady' answered Lord Vetinari and pressed a kiss on her hand. 'This reminds me that soon we will have a year anniversary. We have to assemble some guests; so sorry Bettina would not come to Ankh-Morpork.'

'Yes, Havelock, she sends her regards in her last letter, says she would send us some presents. She rests at Stephen's domain near Quirm, remember? She has to keep her strength. The delivery will come soon, I promised to be there when it happens.'

Lord Vetinari exhaled profoundly. He remembered some months ago the births with Sybil. She was on the edge, while Dr. Loan urged to Pseudopolis, helping against the dreadful yellow fever. Sybil was in Death's door when Antonia came to help. She was a good nurse, using her special power to deliver the baby and to keep the mother's life. He still remembered Commander's face when the door opened and his sister came out to tell him the news. There was a shock on his face, such horror he had never seen in his life. Antonia rushed to hug her brother, whose eyes watered, expecting to meet the sorrowful reality. Then she smiled and congratulated him with the newest member of the family. It was a boy again. Sir Jonathan Vimes, an heir apparent of the Old Stoneface Jonathan Vimes. Then… she looked at him with that look. She never used to gaze him with such softness and delicacy. She smiled happily and put her head on Sam Vimes's shoulder.

Then the change began. She tried to be more yielding in her relation with her husband, accepting his presence at last. They played chess, they went on small voyages with the carriage, she even told him how to use a Quart crossbow when the Quart cultural week was at its end and she was free enough to turn any attention at him. He was embarrassed. She showed him she wanted his company, but she never made him feel she wanted something more.

'Of course you have to go, Milady' answered Lord Vetinari, sipping his tea. 'I would be waiting for the news from the clacks. And I will be keeping my fingers crossed.'

'Thank you, Havelock', she smiled at him in reply. Then she stared at him with a gentle look and bit her lips. 'By the way, may I ask you something personal?' He turned his outgoing attention to listen 'Why do you still call me Milady? I name you properly.'

He thought for a while and opened his mouth to answer, but then the servant put a salver in his reach. 'A message for you, Sir.' Vetinari opened the envelope and extracted the paper.

'My dear, King Petromus is dead.'

The Amazon stood rapidly and took the note from his hold. 'Gods! He is really… dead…'

'I guess you will be happy now?'

She put her eyes on his blue stare. He did not even blink. She stood up, then she started pacing through the room in a mixture of anxious and anger. His watch followed her through. She observed him for a minute, than she stopped at his front and sighed: 'How long do you know it?' He relaxed in his chair. 'Long enough to have the gallery reserved. I was introduced with the facts, I know every detail, according your actions, my dear. Especially the whole thing connected with Queen Balmola's accident. Yes, I know, but this is the official. After all, eating sward fish is not very harmless, especially when is served with a special yoghourt souse. I should admit, Mr. Sprat is very skilful assassin.'

She paced anxiously, her head down, thinking. She went to his front again and fixed her eyes on his following gaze. She winkled her face. 'What do you intend to do?' He sighed and stood up, coming closer. 'I intend to see what happens. I also intend to go to the funeral if my presence is necessary, which I totally doubt. I intend to shake the hand of the new king of Smaiil, apparently my son in law. And mostly I intend to answer your question.'

He stopped at her front, taking her hands in his. 'You asked me why I call you Milady… There is a science in the language we call Phonology. It has a long story, beginning with… bit this is not such important now. We shall discuss it later if you are interested… The science explains how the words are been pronounced braking them into their composites, which is the base of my answer. The word Milady is composed by two parts. The pronoun My and the noun Lady. I call you Milady because you apparently are a Lady…' He gently pulled her to himself, pressing her waist with his hand. He put the other hand's fingers on her face caressing it, then he sank them into her hair, unfolded the hairpin and let her auburn locks fall over her shoulders.

'…And you are definitely Mine.' He stared her eager eyes and pressed his lips on hers in a gentle kiss. She answered the kiss and put her arms around his neck, letting him press her tighter to him.

The Patrician moaned and lifted her in his hands, shoving the heavy door, leading to the staircase up. She smiled at him and put her head over his shoulder.

THE END

So. I finally finished. I hope you enjoyed the story the way I did. Soon will be the second part. Remember, Carrot is still lonely and in pain, which is it not fair.

I will see what happens to Lord and Lady Vetinari. Any suggestions?

Thank you for been with me during my journey. Have fun!