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therewasatale · 2 years

Text

the new member

On Ao3.

Summary: The Night Watch gets a new member, and Captain Vetinari has a headache.

A noisy, hot and stuffy weekday started in Ankh-Morpork. The streets were buzzing with people, the air filled with the sounds of vendors and moving carts. Everyone was dealing with their own business, which sometimes meant getting involved in the business of others. The fact that the city was thrumming with life could not be questioned, be it day or night.

Captain Vetinari of the Night Watch, happened to be off duty. But it didn't mean he wasn't always on watch.

Walking down a street he passed next to a couple of arguing figures. The cause of the dispute was the rise or stagnation of the price of wax. They did not notice the watchmen slipping through the shadows. Most of the people living in the city were the same in that regard. They never realized when the measured blue-eyed gaze of the man, who knew their names and so much more, focused on them.

And if he didn’t know everything about them and any and all of their relations yet, he was able to get the needed information in a very short time indeed.

Captain Vetinari adjusted the small bag over his shoulder and slipped through the crowd. He was heading home intending to have some sleep and, before his next shift check out around Elm Street.

Most of the nights he started his route in the Shades, since he was very well aware that neither Nobby. nor Colon would ever go there. And Vetinari knew if something would have happened to either of them, then the Patrician would be gravely disappointed.

And, truth to be told, he got used to having them around. The two of them was mostly occupied by their own ineffable affairs kept themselves far away from the captain's. It worked. They city finally seemed to work properly.

He rolled his eyes at his own thought.

His was about to arrive at the Seamstresses' Guild's main building, which was also his home. He will always be grateful to Mrs. Palm for accepting him. He was given a room years ago, and as the guild began to grow, he was able to appropriate a separate section at the back of the complex.

In return, the captain sometimes visited certain guests of ladies or gentlemen. Those guests who decided that paying for something meant they could do anything to the seamstresses. These visits happened after those aforementioned guests have gone to sleep in their homes behind locked doors. Which was hardly a challenge for him. If the guests were lucky, they were able to leave city as soon as possible, and in the rest of their lives, they could only fell asleep in very well-lit rooms.

Those who tried to leave the city by ship tended to arrive to places very different they originally intended to go.

The hapless few who stayed in the city didn’t get much sleep either. Every night dogs howled, shady looking drunks argued, or strange carts stopped under their windows. They experienced the true hospitality of Ankh-Morpork.

To Vetinarie's surprise there were two palace guards at the entrance of the building. He could make out their conversation even a few steps away.

"Well, he told us to get Vetinari."

"I'm not going in."

"But we need to, Frank."

His partner took a deep breath through his nose, but didn't move. It was as if the building itself was challenging. "I can't. Suzie is going to kick my butt, if she hears about me…going…in."

"I've already told you; she doesn't need to know about everything, and Suzie has never really held a grudge for a very long time."

There was a small pause.

"Would you say you would take me in if I needed?"

"Well…Listen, lad, we didn't want to make a big deal of it, but the fourth kid is on its way, and Emily might take it the wrong way if you're living with us again. We don't have much free place anyway."

"Maybe she is taking the wrong way because you are saying it weird. “

"What that supposed to mean?"

Vetinari was again amazed at how much information the average person revealed about themselves, if you just paid attention and carefully stored away the information.

"Can I help you?" He interjected. A satisfied smile appeared on his face as the two figures jerked nervously. The smile of course was nowhere to be seen by the time they turned towards him.

"Captain Vetinari?" Frank spoke up, and although he tried to look serious and professional in front of the captain, the feather bobbing on top of his head made it very hard. "You need to come with us."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Patrician is calling for you." His companion spoke. They straightened themselves out to make themselves a bit more confident.

Vetinari glanced at them, then glared at the bag that weighed on his shoulder. "Now?"

"Yeah, to quote him: ’Tell him I want to talk about the Night Watch. Go and try to find him. He's usually in the Seamstresses' Guild's.’"

The captain waited and nodded. "Well, if it's Patrician's order then, after you."

The Palace Guards seemed to breathe more freely after that and began walking.

Vetinari followed them without a word. He felt the gaze of the two men on him, but said nothing about it until they passed through two streets. Give enough uncomfortable silence, people tended to speak up without him prompting.

And the two of them did just that, about the time they could make out the silhouette of the Patricians Palace on the Horizon.

"How can you live there?" Asked Frank.

"There?" The captain blinked at him with apparent surprise.

"I mean, with all those noises."

"What kind of noises are we talking about exactly?"

Franks scoffed and turned even further. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Vetinari allowed himself a smile, it made most people uncomfortable. He knew very well how many rumors was circulating about him. After all, he himself started most of them. Living in the guild made those rumors a bit more believable.

"I can assure you that discretion is paramount in the guild, unless the guest there specifically asks otherwise."

The guard rolled his eyes and made the mistake. "Discretion, of course, as if those women would know the meaning of discretion."

The captain's tone changed. "Maybe you would like to elaborate about your opinion on them?" The cold voice belonged to a man who the guards not only suspected, but very well-known were able to get into anyone’s house for an unexpected nightly visit.

"Well, erm...they...they really...er..."

"Yes, I'm listening, Mr. Rosehead."

Frank had to swallow; he suddenly felt the need to adjust his collar. "Have we met before?" He slowed down involuntarily and so did his partner. The captain, on the other hand, walked through between them without slowing down.

"No, but Suzie, or I think Mrs. Rosehead, would be more appropriate, does a wonderful job at Miss Fuelly's restaurant. I've been there several times." He was aware of the footsteps stopped behind him. And also, the sword slowly sliding out of its sheet.

"Frank, don't try anything stupid."

After a few steps, he also slowed down but continued walking. "Everybody strives in this city, Mr. Rosehead. I advise you to take care of your family. I can assure you the ladies in the guild are in good hands."

While the Seamstresses' finally had a guild, it didn't mean that all of Ankh-Morpork would agree with it. The captain was well aware of who belonged to the half of the city who watched the development of the guild with clear disapproval.

Vetinari glared at the palace guards for a moment then made his way towards the Palace without a word.

Frank Rosehead felt his partner's hand on his shoulder and pulled himself together as much as he was able to. His sword slid back to its sheath and he began to walk again, keeping his head down. He knew the Night Watch was something else.

Something you don't ask too many questions about. Sometimes the other two members ambled trough the city, mostly just talking with each other, or mumbling something about ‘all is not well’. On the other hand, when the Captain showed up on a street, it became very, very quiet. It only happened very rarely. Most of the times you couldn't even tell where Vetinari was, or who he visited. The man started out as a well-trained assassin and no one really knew how he ended up in Night Watch. It was best if you didn’t even think about it.

They made their way to the Patrician Palace in complete silence.

Vetinari glanced up at the towering building. It wasn't nearly as huge as the University, but if the captain had to choose, he would have much rather stayed at the palace. At least the palaces secret paths did not disappear and change day to day, and one could learn the exact place of the traps.

He walked past the guards standing at the gate without looking back at his escort. He made his way up the wide stairs that led up to the Patrician's office alone. His legs walked on their own and in the meantime, he allowed himself to think.

It was unusual for Patrician to just send for him. He usually sends a message two, or at least one days before,

As he walked turning down a corner, he came face to face with Wonse.

"Captain Vetinari." The secretary glanced up at him and pursed his lips. "The Patrician is waiting for you." As he walked past the man, he added. "He has a guest." He did not see the captain looking after him with a certain look in his eye.

A conversation filtered out from the Patrician's office.

"Sir, I really don't know how to thank you."

"Come on, it's really nothing worth mentioning. It’s the least I could give to a new Guard member."

Vetinari's hand lingered over the doorknob for a moment, then opened the door.

"Good afternoon, sir. You sent for me."

Lord Vimes was not alone in the room. A young man stood beside the Patrician. At first glance, he was perfect palace guard material, except of course, for the friendly smile on his face. He towered above the ruler of the city by at least two heads. As soon as the door opened, he turned his head and saluted.

The captain raised an eyebrow questioningly as he glanced toward table of the ruler. He got a distinct feeling that he would need to significantly reorganize his day.

"Captain!" Vimes greeted him with such a cherry enthusiasm that made the side of Vetinari's mouth tremble. "Let me introduce you to Carrot Ironfoundersson. He arrived into our city recently."

"It's an honor to meet you, Captain."

Even Vetinari had to look up at the boy. "Is it?" Vetinari raised an eyebrow and waited.

"He wants to join the Night Watch. His parents even sent a recommendation letter after hearing about the well-deserved respect of the guard."

"From where did they hear about that, sir?"

"I've already brought him a few books about the laws of our city," said Vimes, ignoring Vetinari's words and gaze.

"I will start to study and learn all of them right away, sir."

For a moment, the boy's enthusiastic salute created a strange urge in Vetinari to return the gesture.

He stopped his hand in time.

"I see, well, Mr. Ironfoundersson," The captain didn't look at him, but he could almost feel the boy straightening himself even more. "Would you wait outside; while I have a word with the Patrician?"

"Yes, sir." The boy turned towards the Patrician. "I'm really grateful for the books, and as soon as I memorize everything in them, I'll bring them back, sir."

"I am sure about that." Said Vimes in a friendly way.

"Have a nice day, sir." Said Carrot and walked out of the room.

As the door closed, a brief silence settled between the two remaining occupants.

"He's a nice kid. He is actually a dwarf," Said Vimes and sat back behind his table. "Can I help you with anything, Captain?"

"Why didn't you put the kid in the Day Watch? He doesn't belong to the Night Watch; he doesn’t belong to us.

"So, you say, he belongs to Captain Quirke, who believes that a shiny breastplate and a plume in his helmet is what makes a watchman? Carrot wants to do what is right, captain."

"What is right," said Vetinari, not one muscle moving on his face. "And would he learn that from Fred or Nobby?"

Lord Vimes glanced down at the papers in front of him and intertwined his fingers before looking up again. "Maybe he can learn a few things from the assassin who left the guild behind because he didn't want to kill."

The captain closed his eyes for a few moments, taking a deep breath through his nose. During that he thought thousand and one reasons why it wasn't a good idea to put the dwarf in Night Watch.

The primary reason was of course, that the Night Watch worked, precisely the way the captain wanted. He could use the entirety of the night keep an eye on the city. No one expected much from the Night Watch. Day Watch dealt with the everyday inconveniences, and in the evening Vetinari kept an eye on who was worth keeping an eye on. There was no need for them to be in the public view.

Not only would an enthusiastic kid would end in the Ankh sooner or later, but worse, he would try to do the right thing and mess all that up.

However, he was fully aware that he would not be able to argue against the ruler of the city. The Patrician wanted the city to work too. But he wanted to do it within the law. And they should pursue justice.

In Ankh-Morpork.

The captain sighed softly once again looking at Lord Vimes. He who was waiting patiently.

"So? What am I supposed to do with the kid?"

"Teach him everything you know." The Patrician caught the captain's gaze. "I know you understand what I mean. He's a good dwarf, he wants to follow the law."

"Yes, just so it happens that no one else wants to do that, sir."

"Not yet."

Vetinari's mouth twitched. "Besides, if we had to arrest people following all the laws of the city, we will need a much bigger prison."

"In that case, I'll work something out. Don’t fret over that, Captain." Lord Vimes' wooden expression was betrayed by the smile in his eyes, after a second of silence he glanced down the papers in front of him. "Anyway, I'm sure the new member of the Nightwatch will be in good hands, captain. After all you're the one who said, the city is changing."

They looked at each other.

Vetinari raised his thin eyebrows, which carried to himself, 'You'll never forget me saying that, right?'

Vimes answered with a small smile. 'Of course not.'

Captain Vetinari nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do then, sir." He adjusted his bag over his shoulder.

"Carrot must be waiting. You may leave, Captain."

The meeting was concluded.

"Sir." Vetinari stepped out to the door. He was well aware that this day was beginning to stretch far longer than usual. He closed the door behind him with a silent motion.

"Captain? Where are we going?" Carrot immediately began to follow him.

"I'll take you to the Night Watch’s building."

"Where I can take the oath?" The young dwarf asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah. Exactly. And we have to talk over a few of the things that are in those books."

"Don't worry, sir. I'm going to learn and follow everything to the letter!"

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

Captain Vetinari glanced at the tattered books. The city is changing, I was really a fool to say, wasn't I?

#Discworld #discworld fanfiction #reverseAU #carrot ironfoundersson #vetinari #havelock vetinari #sam vimes #samuel vimes #lord vimes #captain vetinari #copper

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harocat · 4 months

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ooh, I am torn between "untitled document" and "reverseAU". Please pick one for me!

I only included untitled document because it's funny to me, so it's good you chose two.

This is the whole of untitled document. To this day I have no idea what it is.

'reverse AU' was a classic Yuri on Ice prompt that was essentially just a role reversal of canon. I really liked the way my idea played out, but I sadly never got around to finishing it.

Anyway it's a good chunk of words, and I'm pretty certain I'll never finish, so I'll just put it behind a read more. Yuri on Ice fans come get your food.

-------------------------------

Victor had slipped in after public ice time was over, after the last of the beginner skating lessons were done for the day, and kindly asked Yuuko Nishigori, the young woman who worked at the rink, if he could have some private ice time.

He was surprised when she recognized him, professing that it’s not every day a world-famous figure skater came into their rink out of the blue and asked to skate. Victor didn’t think he was particularly world famous, but he supposed, if you were a skating fan already, he might be recognizable.

“You can use the rink while we’re closing up. That should give you about forty-five minutes? If you want more ice time than that, you’ll have to schedule it with us and pay for it in advance.”

Victor nodded, pleased that the woman spoke English well, because he didn’t know more than the most basic of Japanese.

He was still feeling the effects of jet lag, so once he’d laced up his skates he spent a good ten or so minutes just skating around the rink, orienting himself with the setting and breathing in the crisp cool air of a rink well loved.

And then, he began to skate. It was a program he knew down to his very bones, better than his own programs from that year, which to be honest, considering his last experience in competition, he’d rather forget anyway.

When Yuuri Katsuki skated, it was like he made music with his body. Victor thought that, even if he went out there and skated a program with no music playing, it would hardly make a difference, would hardly diminish its beauty. Yuuri was the music itself; it flowed through him and was expelled from his fingertips, from the silver of his blades flashing and gliding across the ice.

It took Victor’s breath away, but he hardly cared. Even if Victor could no longer breathe, he was sure he could survive on Yuuri’s skating alone; on the serenity of his smile, on the grace and poise he moved with.

If Victor could skate like that, if he could skate even half as well as that, he would be happy. If he could stand on the podium with Yuuri Katsuki, know that Yuuri had watched him skate, had been impressed by it, then it would have all been worth it; the pain in his leg that occasionally still ached to this day, the years of recovery from an injury that could easily have been career ending, the biting commentary and the cynicism the media had had about him; ‘just give up, Victor Nikiforov is over’ for season upon season. The Russian skating federation would rather be done with him, he knew it. There were new stars on the rise; junior world champion Yuri Plisetsky for one. And even Georgi Popovich, his longtime rink mate, had managed a top six finish at worlds in Victor’s absence just days before.

There was no music as he began the program; Yuuri’s program, the one he’d just won his fifth world title with, his fifth grand prix final gold medal. It was the program that Victor skated every single day because he loved skating, and this was the one thing that could remind him of it.

He heard the piano in his head as he skated, listening to the sound of his blades across fresh ice, allowing it to soothe him as he ran through the elements of this ridiculously difficult program that he loved so much. His jumps were coming easily, and he breathed a sigh of relief at that. The tiny amount of pain in his leg, he knew, was because it was still stiff from the plane ride.

Victor knew that even at his best, he lacked Yuuri’s grace. He’d been told growing up, back when he was fresh from his second junior world title, back when he was on the trajectory to shake up the senior world, that he was an excellent all-around skater. But Yuuri, Yuuri was art. It could have been his ballet background, but Victor had known other skaters with a similar background, and none of them moved like Yuuri.

He let the imaginary music carry him through the second half of the program, making the decision to downgrade a quadruple loop into a triple (he’d never managed to master that jump), and closed his eyes as he launched into the step sequence, the element Yuuri was most famous for and the thing Victor was least confident in. It was almost too much for him, Yuuri moved quick as lightning during this part and Victor thought that perhaps, if the music were playing, he may have fallen behind. But…

The last jump was a quadruple flip, and Victor was still amazed at how Yuuri put it at the end of his program, but laboriously, because he was tired, and he was feeling the burn in his chest and his legs, he launched into it, landing it cleanly and with a flourish.

He ended the program, his hand over his chest and his other arm reaching out toward the edge

of the rink.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, imagining applause, imagining that he’d successfully skated a clean program in competition, and one as difficult as this.

When he opened them, there was no applause, but there was an audience.

Yuuri Katsuki stood at the edge of the rink, his eyes wide behind blue frames and his mouth wide open.

Victor almost fell over, only narrowly stopping himself from falling on his ass in front of Yuuri Katsuki himself. Sure, he knew this was Yuuri’s hometown. That’s why he’d come here. But Yuuri didn’t live in Hasetsu, he trained in Detroit, and how was he—to show up right now, of all times? Victor breathed heavily, exhausted and winded from the skate, as Yuuri made direct eye contact with him.

“You cut your hair,” Yuuri finally spoke, and that was what he’d said? Victor touched the back of his head, feeling the freshly shorn locks. It still felt strange to him. He’d had long hair since he was a preteen, but despite it being a big change, he didn’t think it was that high on the list of things Yuuri would want to comment on at the moment.

“I—I—yes?” Victor finally managed.

Yuuri let out a short laugh, and Victor swore that his cheeks pinked, just a little. “Sorry, I was surprised so I just… said the first thing that came to mind. That was weird.”

Victor felt his nerves, which had been taut as a bow string, loosen at that. “It’s okay. I just wanted a change, I guess.”

“I get that.” Yuuri paused and cleared his throat. “Victor Nikiforov.”

Victor nodded, a smile blooming on his face, because Yuuri had said his name, knew who he was.

“That was my program.” Yuuri’s grip tightened on the edge of the rink, and did he look nervous? He dropped his eyes to the ground. “You’re in my tiny hometown, which no one ever visits, and you’re skating my program?”

Victor grimaced inwardly. When he said it like that, it did sound like Victor was a bit of a weirdo. Victor just nodded, because what could he say now?

Yuuri lifted his hands from the barrier and squeezed them together, as if trying to stop himself from fidgeting. He let out a deep breath. “It was beautiful, Victor.”

He must have imagined the way that Yuuri’s eyes were shining when he lifted his head, must have been seeing things to think they looked like they were glittering with unshed tears.

“T-thank you,” Victor finally managed, breathless. He dared to skate closer to the edge of the rink, closer to Yuuri Katsuki, who was here and real and in front of him and thought he skated beautifully.

But Yuuri’s expression quickly shifted from one of amazement to one of--- irritation; anger?

Victor wasn’t sure, but his eyes grew wide and he skated a few steps backward.

“Why weren’t you at worlds?” Yuuri asked, and he sounded upset; angry even. It wasn’t like Yakov’s anger when he was shouting, or Yuri Plisetsky’s anger… pretty much all the time. This was something else entirely; anger edged with hurt, frustration, betrayal?

“I-I did badly at nationals and didn’t qualify,” Victor replied, confused. Why was he eliciting this reaction from Yuuri?

“If you’d gone and skated like that, you would have been on the podium!” he raised his voice. “If you’d landed the quad loop, you might have even been able to beat me.”

“I don’t think I---“

“I had no idea you could skate like that! Giacometti is good, but what you just did was,” Yuuri took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, “it was incredible.”

Victor gulped, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “You think so?” he asked, and it was quiet, but there was an edge of excitement to it.

Yuuri crossed his arms. “Sure, yeah. You would have placed above Chris and Otabek easily.”

“And you?”

Yuuri nodded, and there was something like a spark in his eye. Victor didn’t know what to think of it. “With a little bit of work, yeah.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re underestimating yourself, are you?” Victor let out a short laugh. He knew from years of experience, of watching interview upon interview and reading every magazine that he could get his hands on, that Yuuri could be modest to a fault. He skated to the edge of the rink, closing the distance between the two of them until he was only a foot or so from Yuuri Katsuki.

It’s not as if it was the first time he’d ever seen him. They’d competed against each other several times before; at worlds, at the Grand Prix final, and at a couple of Grand Prix events throughout the years. But Yuuri was reserved, choosing to surround himself with only a few close friends, and although in general other skaters liked him and found him friendly, he wasn’t close to many of them. Victor had exchanged a few short snatches of conversation with Yuuri, but nothing lengthy, and certainly nothing like this; where it was just the two of them, alone.

“I’m not,” Yuuri replied.

Victor took a deep breath and placed his hands on the barrier of the rink, right next to Yuuri Katsuki. Their fingers were only inches apart, and Victor took a moment to imagine…

“I um, came to Hasetsu because it was your hometown,” Victor began. “After what happened at nationals, skating was difficult for me. But then… I decided to practice with your free skate from this year, and it really helped.”

Yuuri blinked, confused. The rink was so quiet, just the two of them, their breathing, and the fans that kept it cool.

Victor let out a brief shudder. “My coach, Yakov, thought I was obsessed, but he didn’t understand that this program was what was keeping my skating alive.” His lips quirked up in a small smile. “He told me to take a vacation.”

“So you came to Hasetsu?” Yuuri leveled him a look.

“You’ve always inspired me, Yuuri, from the first time I saw you when I was a child. I thought, if I could visit the place my inspiration found his inspiration, maybe that would help me.” Victor felt his cheeks flush despite himself.

He must have imagined the way Yuuri’s cheeks pinked as well. “I inspire you that much?”

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” Victor let out a nervous laugh.

Yuuri shook his head in the negative. “No. It’s… nice, actually.”

Victor’s face brightened at that, his smile wide and beaming. “Yuuri!”

“But I didn’t expect this, that’s for certain.”

“Well I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you lived in Detroit.”

Yuuri pushed his glasses up and brushed a stray hair out of his face. “Oh I do, but since Worlds was in Tokyo this year, I decided to come back home afterward for the off season. I just got here, and I have a key to the rink so…” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I just can’t believe you visited Hasetsu just because I’m from here.”

“And memorized your program,” Victor muttered.

“That too.”

Victor reached up, hesitant, and placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “It shouldn’t be that surprising. Do you have any idea how much you’ve inspired people?”

#user: circumference pie #haro fic #meme #yuri on ice

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