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Vimes hated chess. He hated the way the pawns edged out onto the field and slaughtered one another while the king hung in the back. If the pawns got together, had a few meetings, talked around a couple of the rooks the whole place could be a republic by lunch. That being said when Lord Vetinari offers to teach you to play chess you don't say no, especially when your wife thinks 'it's a fabulous idea. You and Havelock really should spend more time together, you're really two sides of a coin I've always said and he's such an old dear friend of the family.'
Vimes squinted at the chess board. He knew he should be studying the game, trying to plan his strategy, but Vimes was a copper, his life long strategy had been chase until the bastard is caught and try not to get killed in the process. Vimes moved a pawn.
Vetinari gave a humm and took a breath. Vimes watched him study the board. He knew he should be studying the board as well but it was more interesting to watch Vetinari study the board.
Vetinari moved a piece and let out a breath. Vimes scowled. Something wasn't right. Vimes quickly moved a piece almost randomly. Vetinari's eyes quickly flicked to Vimes then to the board. Vimes watched as he took a breath and held it. He held it as he studied the board, he held it until he moved a piece, letting the breath from his lungs slowly and quietly.
Vimes looked quickly at the board and picked up a piece. Vetinari took a breath and held it, and held it some more. Vimes put the piece down and Vetinari exhaled before taking a deep breath and moving his own piece. Vimes looked carefully at the Patrician. The man had a complexion that made most vampires look tan and the amber light from the candles was the only thing that kept him from looking like a walking corpse but Vimes was willing to sware that a hint of color was beginning to grace Vetinari's cheeks.
Vimes plucked a pawn from the board without thought. Vetinari went still, his eyes locked with Vimes'. The clock on the wall ticked. Vimes knew how long it took to choke a man to death. He'd done in once in self defense. He had a good idea how long a man could hold his breath before the need for air became so great he'd try to suck in a lung full of the sludge of the Ankh. But how long would Vetinari do this?
The clock ticked past twenty seconds. Vimes put the pawn down, probably in the wrong place, probably an illegal move. Vetinari took a breath and made a move without even glancing at the board, his eyes still locked with Vimes'.
Vimes stood and walked around the board. There was definitely color in Vetinari's cheeks. It looked wrong and yet for the first time Vetinari looked human, mortal.
Vimes reached out and laid his fingertips along the veins on either side of the Patrician's neck. He could feel the blood pulse through them. Vimes knew on some level this was suicidally stupid. Vetinari was a trained Assassin and could probably strike out at Vimes in a way that would stop his heart in his chest. But something had changed. When Vimes had picked up that last pawn he knew he had control. Fleeting and given, easily revoked, but control.
Vimes crossed his thumbs under the Patrician's Adams-apple. Vetinari rested his hands on the arms of his chair and drew a breath in through his nose, inflating his thin chest. Vimes pushed down and listened to the clock tick on the wall. Ten seconds and he loosened his grip, Vetinari's pulse throbbing beneath his fingers though his face looked cool, impassive.
Vimes allowed two full breaths. On the third inhale Vimes pushed down again. Vetinari's eyes, normally cold had calculating had gone wide, large and dark. Fifteen seconds this time, another two breaths. Vimes pressed down again. This time Vetinari moved. It was only the smallest twitch, a slight sift of the hips, perhaps a slight lean into Vimes grasp. Vimes pressed a little harder and held until the seconds of the clock ticked past twenty.
He let up slowly this time making Vetinari work to drag that first gasp into his lungs. Vimes wanted to drop his gaze, wanted to take a quick peek down to confirm what he knew to be true. You weren't a copper in Ankh-Morpork for long before you encountered things even girls of the Seamstress Guild wouldn't do. And yet Vimes dare not risk it. He felt like a Klatchian snake charmer. Drop your gaze for a moment and you're a dead man. Vetinari took a deep breath and Vimes squeezed. He counted the seconds by on the clock. Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five.
Vimes allowed Vetinari to breathe. The breaths were sharper, more ragged. Vimes squeezed, only allowing a half breath, he held for thirty. Vetinari twitched ever so slightly. In a less controlled man Vimes knew these would be wild throngs of passion, a desperate battle between fight or flight. Vimes could still feel the pulse under his fingers strong but rapid.
Vimes let go. The Patrician breathed deep lung fulls of air through gently parted lips that for the first time in probably decades had color. Vetinari took one deep breath and Vimes squeezed and held.
And held.
And held.
Vetinari twitched, twitched again, his head lowered slowly then snapped back violently, eyes fluttering shut.
Vimes let go of Vetinari's airway. Vetinari took long slow breaths and Vimes felt the pulse beneath his fingers begin to slow and the saw the cold creep back into the Patrician's eyes.
Vimes removed his hands, walked back around the small table, took his seat, and after a brief study of the board, moved a pawn.