A/N: Heee...I do apologize for the appalling amount of time it took me to update--RL, original works, and assorted other duties kept me from this fic for far too long. In answer to TrisakAminawn's question, I can't see how I'd get the Pyramids cast in here and still have it make sense, but if I do figure it out I'll give it a shot. When I set out to include everyone, I didn't quite stop to think just what exactly that would entail.

Also, to all who are wondering, I haven't yet read Thud, so any new characters introduced therein won't be in here until I have. (I'm hoping to get it soon, but hardbound books are expensive, and I'm poor). You may also recognize Delirium, whose persona I have borrowed from Neil Gaiman's Sandman. That said, I warn you all in advance that this chapter is nuttier than a fruitcake, and may just break your brain a little. (I know it broke mine a little, writing it). Susan is going to be a bit out of character in places, but given her pact with Vetinari (which you'll find out about eventually), she's meant to be, so don't kill me on that score. ;)

------

BOOM

On the swiftly-darkening field outside the castle, what for lack of a better term must be called the army waited. Torches flickered and danced, bonfires flared high, and the Nac mac Feegle sent up a weird, unearthly keening until Granny gave them a Look, whereupon they all shut up and sulked.

Most of them were sitting on their...contraption, a creation of wood and stone and wire whose function even Leonard wouldn't have been able to guess. He hadn't yet returned from Ankh-Morpork, but the walls were nearly down and the ragtag army couldn't wait for him.

They stood without any apparent order, but a keen (if slightly neurotic) observer would have been able to see that there was some thought to their arrangement. Bookending the horde on either side were the wizards, who were still industriously hurling their chicken-bombs, and the witches, all of whom save Granny were still assiduously stirring their cauldron. Granny sat beside Albert on a log, a grim little smile playing about her lips--they hadn't told the others just what they'd done with the cupid, but to Granny it was more than poetic justice. If she noticed the acid glares Ridcully was shooting her from across the meadow, she gave no sign, nor did her ramrod posture change.

War had attempted to organize the personifications into battle formation, but had run up against their natural stubbornness and disinclination to cooperate with absolutely anything, including, occasionally, gravity. Only the other four Horsemen were paying him any attention; the rest were bickering among themselves like spoiled children. Lobsang, who had said hardly a word over the last day, stood with his arms crossed, glaring at the castle as though willing it to explode, and Life, who had found a patch of spotted mushrooms and become, if possible, even more incoherent, was dancing about singing to herself in gibberish. It probably hadn't helped that she'd run across Delirium, who had been dancing with her until she fell over and started a conversation with a likely-looking rock.

Carrot and Angua had joined the wizards by the catapult, mainly to keep them out of trouble, while Colon was attempting to slap (fortunately not literally) some sense into Vimes. The latter had gotten over the worst of his drunken bender, but had the kind of hangover that is the stuff of legends, and unless he snapped out of it soon was going to be next to useless in combat.

"All right, when that wall goes down, you and you move around in the classic Pincer formation, while you--I say, old boy, are you listening?" War glanced at Death, who was scowling fixedly at something to his left. That something turned out to be Rincewind, who had brought Life a bouquet of dandelions. It shouldn't have been possible for a skull to scowl, but Death was managing it, and War snapped his fingers, more than a little amused in spite of everything. "Later," he said. "Now, as I was saying, you--"

He never got to finish the sentence, for, with one final, massive BOOM, the curtain-wall finally collapsed.

------

Inside the castle, Susan was not happy. And when Susan wasn't happy, she tended to spread it around with a big shovel, which was why half the maids were on the verge of nervous breakdowns.

Teatime had summoned her half an hour before, giggling like a lunatic, and had then locked her in a room full of terrified ladies' maids and directed them to, "You know, get her ready, or whatever it is you people do." Susan hadn't like the sound of that at all, and once she found out just what the maids were meant to be getting her ready for, she'd sat down, crossed her arms, and flatly refused to budge, no matter how they begged and pleaded.

"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "Not a chance in the seven hells."

"Please, miss," begged a maid--Molly, or Polly, or Dolly; Susan couldn't keep them straight. "Just put it on, there's a good lass."

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" Susan asked, exasperated.

The 'it' in question was a wedding dress. Most definitely a wedding dress. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, and Susan would shave her head before she'd get anywhere near it.

"But miss, please, if you don't, he'll get...upset," pleaded another maid.

"Let him," Susan snorted. In her current mood, she felt more than capable of handling anything Teatime could dish out. Should he be unwise enough to get within three feet of her, he was going to wind up crippled for the rest of his life, which would be about three seconds.

"But miss...he won't let us out until you put it on." Dolly gave Susan a desperate smile, holding up one satin sleeve. No doubt visions of eventual cannibalism had already crossed her mind--she knew Teatime meant what he said, though if they took too long he would probably just break the door down and deal out sharp pointies on a democratic basis.

"Good," Susan retorted, and scowled so blackly that the maid winced.

A knock sounded at the door, and a relieved Polly went to answer it, hoping it was someone who could talk some sense into Susan.

Much to her surprise, it was Lord Vetinari, who took one look at furious Susan and arched a sardonic eyebrow. "I thought you might be a bit...displeased," he said, stepping in around the maid's curtsey. "And while I agree with the sentiment, you're not going to do any good if you're stuck in here."

Susan opened her mouth, ready to tear the Patrician to pieces, but he held up a hand. "No, wait," he said. "You can attack me all you like once I've finished, but pray let me finish."

To her surprise, Susan's mouth shut with a snap. "All right," she growled. "You've got one minute, and I'm timing you."

Vetinari smiled slightly, the smile of someone who just knows that something truly awful is going to happen to someone who desperately deserves it, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. Susan's expression changed from wrathful to shocked to horribly amused, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a shriek of laughter.

"So you see," Vetinari said, in more normal tones, "it would behoove us all if you were to cooperate, at least as much as you are able, because I would truly appreciate your presence in the hall."

The maids looked at Susan and shuddered in unison. Her face looked as though Hogswatch had just come early, and had contained enough explosives to level half of Ankh-Morpork.

"Just think of it as...a play," Vetinari continued. "You must act the part, at least until intermission, at which time you can throw off the chains of your oppressors and, quite possibly, chain up the oppressors instead."

Susan considered this for a moment. Much as she didn't want to put the loathsome garment on, what Vetinari had told her was just too rich to pass up--she supposed it would be worth the loss of dignity, just to see what happened.

"All right," she said at last. "But I'm warning you now, if what you've told me is wrong, I'll do to you what I did to that kindling."

"I shall consider myself duly warned," Vetinari said, and with another of his disturbing little smiles, he bowed himself out.

Molly looked at Dolly. "I don't want to know what he said to her," she murmured, low.

"Me neither. But if it gets her into that dress and saves all our necks, it's worth it."

Get Susan into 'that dress' and consequently save their necks it did. However, within half an hour, Dolly would certainly be questioning whether or not anything was worth it.

------

The curtain-wall's collapse was, as even War had to admit, truly impressive. It didn't just fall over, it seemed to implode, shooting clouds of dust and debris into the darkening sky, and it went on for a long, long time. He held up a hand, restraining his troops from simply rushing forward, and sat to wait until the dust had cleared a little. He knew full well they'd be facing zombies, but between the lot of them, zombies wouldn't be much obstacle.

He glanced down his assembled line of...men. He'd been quite impressed by the Piecemaker, which Detritus was busily loading, and with some of the contraptions Leonard had come up with. Most of the assembled horde bore some weapon or other devised by him, and War, looking at them, couldn't help but feel supremely sorry for the zombies.

At the end of the line stood Vimes. He'd sobered up remarkably well, aided by a potion given him by Granny Weatherwax, and he was looking reflectively at the castle. Sybil, when she'd arrived, hadn't given him the tongue-lashing he'd expected; she'd looked sad, which had been immeasurably worse. It never occurred to him to realize that Sybil, who knew him far better than anyone, would know that her sadness would be more effective than any tirade, but she did, and had outdone herself in making him realize the error of his ways. Consequently he'd made what had to be the most heartfelt apology of his life, and stood now waiting to face an army of zombies with the knowledge that he'd rather cut his own head off than touch any alcohol again.

It was with this in mind that he found himself confronted by Nanny Ogg, trailed as ever by the faithful Nobby. She had a large copper contraption on her back, and was offering some of its contents to anyone who would take it. Everybody who knew Nanny had (wisely) declined, but a few of the personifications had unwarily partaken, and were now swaying slightly like trees in a stiff breeze.

"No thanks," Vimes said, as a haze of alcohol that was almost solid hit him. "I'm off the stuff."

"Your loss," Nanny said cheerfully, moving on to the next unsuspecting victim, who turned out to be Life.

"Hair of the dog?" she offered, holding out a wooden tankard.

Life took it, sniffed at it, and promptly went cross-eyed. "What's in it?" she asked.

"Apples. Well, mainly apples."

"Oh, so it's a fruit drink. Okay." She promptly downed the mug's contents in one gulp, belched, and passed it back. "Not bad."

Nanny stared at her. Quite apart from the fact that anyone, immortal or not, who drank scumble that fast should be horizontal, Life wasn't even swaying.

It must be all them mushrooms, she thought, shaking her head.

Death had sidled up to Life, scythe in one hand and a bouquet of dead daisies in the other.

ER...I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE THESEhe said, shifting from foot to bony foot. It took a minute for Life's eyes to focus on them, but when they did, she beamed.

"Awww," she said. "Thank you." She took the flowers, which promptly un-wilted and burst into bloom, and stuck them here and there in her wild hair.

If a skull could have blushed, Death would have, but he was saved from any further embarrassment by the untimely arrival of Rincewind, who'd apparently had the same idea. Rincewind took one look at Death, however, and dove behind Ridcully, who had his crossbow in one hand and a fully-charged staff in the other.

"Say, you haven't seen that Albert chap around, have you?" he asked, a glint in his eyes that boded no good for the object of his search.

"Over there," Life said, pointing. "But those won't do any good, you know."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Ridcully muttered, wandering off and leaving Rincewind as exposed as a limpet out of its shell.

"Er, hahaha," Rincewind said, positively pop-eyed with terror. "I was just...er...leaving." He raced off so quickly he tripped over his own feet.

THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT, Death said, with some satisfaction. Before he could do anything more, however, the zombies charged.

------

The castle's Great Hall, which more than lived up to its name, had until now been a dark, grim, and forbidding place. It wasn't anymore--it seemed that among the people the Auditors had plucked for Teatime's use, one of them had been an interior decorator. Dark stone was softened with woven tapestries and festooned with garlands of flowers, while the tables were laid with white linen and silver plate. Candles blazed from every available nook and cranny, glittering off the gilt and crystal. It looked like a little girl's dream wedding, if that little girl was the sort who dreamed about that kind of thing.

Susan, needless to say, had not been. She'd seen the Hall, briefly, before the maids had led her to the antechamber where she was meant to wait. They'd gotten her into the dress, but her hair, mirroring her mood, had stubbornly refused to cooperate, and stood about her head like an angry cloud. She'd also retained her boots--they weren't quite as sturdy as witch's boots, but they would be more than adequate to kick Teatime where the sun didn't shine, should the opportunity provide itself. The poker was tucked into one of them, hiding safely under her dress, though she was finding it more than a bit difficult to walk without revealing it.

Brief though her vision had been, it had been enough to assure her that something was decidedly wrong. Much of the staff was mooning at one another, too busy making calf's eyes to pay proper attention to their tasks, oblivious to almost all save the object of their gaze. The butler was so distracted he managed to set his sleeve afire, and from the look of things the whole situation was only going to get worse--it could only be a matter of time before some abstracted swain set the entire building alight.

Susan wanted to watch. No, that wasn't quite accurate--Susan wanted to help.

She could still hear the sound of the wall being bombarded by…whatever the hell it was being bombarded by; it sounded like chickens, but she couldn't be sure. It couldn't take that much longer, and she devoutly hoped it would collapse before this farce of a ceremony progressed too far.

One of the maids--it might have been Polly--caught up with her, dragging her off into a small anteroom because, "Well, you know, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony." It would certainly be bad luck for Teatime, but Susan followed the maid anyway, knowledge of Vetinari's plan resting in her mind like a Hogswatch present.

She wasn't there very long--after perhaps twenty minutes a rather over-enthusiastic wedding march commenced, and she found herself being ushered out into the main hall. There was nothing for it--she had to at least make it up the aisle, preferably without killing anyone, so she ground her teeth and marched. Actually, that wasn't quite accurate--she stalked, a far stalkier stalk than Death himself could have managed, glaring at all and sundry as though daring them to breathe wrong.

There being no priest in the castle, Vetinari had been tagged to officiate. He stood now behind the altar, hands folded, utterly composed, watching Susan with well-concealed amusement. Such a very angry young woman…she reminded him of a more intellectual Vimes, and his practice with Vimes was all that allowed him to exercise any influence over her at all.

Susan marched up to the dais and, unable to resist, kicked Teatime in the shin. He winced slightly, but his rather manic grin didn't falter--not that Susan noticed, as she was scrupulously avoiding looking at him, lest she haul off and smash his face in. She might have done so anyway had not Vetinari, with a gravity and solemnity not to be described in words, tipped her a wink.

She glared at him, a glare that said all too clearly, This had better be worth it.

And he gave her a small smile that said, Oh, it will be.

"Brethren and, ah, Sistren, we are gathered here today in the sight of one another to join these two in holy…oh, dear, what is this word? Ah, yes, holy mattress-money." Vetinari made a show of squinting at the missal's small print, ignoring the brief titter that ran through the crowd. "Before we begin, if anyone has any reason why these two should not be joined in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Every eye in the hall zeroed in on Susan, whose teeth were grinding audibly from the effort of refraining from screaming her own objections. Teatime alone seemed oblivious, or else he simply didn't care--it was difficult to tell, with him.

BOOM.

The sound of the barrage that had been pelting the curtain-wall reached a particularly invasive level, and outside some bit of masonry crumbled. Susan glanced to the tall windows, unable and unwilling to wait much longer--if they didn't have the wall down within the next five minutes, she was throwing the whole plan to hell and impale Teatime with the poker.

"Marriage is a solemn state, not to be entered into lightly," Vetinari went on. "It is a commitment that is meant to last forever, or at least until death--" here both Susan and Teatime choked on a laugh, though for vastly different reasons "--and should therefore be a union cemented only by those who are ready to shoulder the load of such responsibility."

How in all the gods' names he was keeping a straight face through this, Susan didn't know, but he was putting on a damned good show. Not that anybody was paying more than cursory attention--most of the guests and servants were casting cow-eyes at one another, and the more adventurous were going for surreptitious groping.

"Yes, yes, get on with it," Teatime said, his good eye darting to the windows as well; he clearly wanted to be outside, killing something.

Vetinari fixed him with a beady eye. "Young man, do you want this done properly or not?"

Teatime did a small jig of impatience. "I--well, yes, of course I do," he said. "But you can do it properly and quickly, can't you?"

"Not if you keep interrupting, he can't," Susan snapped, unable to resist. Vetinari had told her to help him stall things, but she hadn't counted on Teatime holding everything up as well. "At this rate we'll never get to eat."

Teatime looked at her. "All you can think of is the food?" he demanded. That wasn't how a prospective queen was supposed to think on her wedding day--he should know, he'd read all about it.

"Well, what else am I supposed to think about, you twit?" she retorted. "I certainly didn't ask to be here, now did I? This was all your idea, Mr. I'm Going To Be King Of The Bloody World!"

"You can't talk to me like that!" Teatime said, waving a finger in her face. "I'm going to be your husband!"

Susan considered and rejected the idea of biting his finger off. "Says WHO?" she nearly snarled. "I didn't volunteer for this…this…this mess, nor did anyone else here. Even if I wasn't already--" She stopped, realizing what she'd been about to say. "Even if I wasn't already tied up by a career, you are the last person on the whole of the Disc I would even consider being in the same room with, let alone marrying. You're a spoiled, crazy, evil little sod--Vetinari would make a better husband than you, and he throws people into scorpion pits!"

"Thank you," Vetinari interjected dryly.

Teatime blinked, clearly twitching his train of thought onto another line. He cast Vetinari a suspicious look. "Is that what this is all about?" he said, turning away from Susan to face the Patrician. "You're trying to steal my queen, aren't you?" he demanded shrilly.

"This isn't chess, you twit!" Susan snapped. "You can't steal people!"

"We'll see about that," Teatime said brightly, drawing one of his ornamental knives.

"Oh, good grief," Vetinari sighed. Much as Susan was clearly enjoying herself, this couldn't go on. Before he could stop it, however, several things happened at once: the curtain wall collapsed, Susan gave in and slugged Teatime, and the plush red carpet leading up to the altar burst into flames.

"Weddings certainly bring out the best in people," Vetinari mused, shaking his head. And then, as he had fully expected, everything went straight to hell.

------

The front flank of the zombies came racing out of the curtain wall's ruins like rockets, waving various weapons and screaming like banshees. They were prepared for anything--except for the Piecemaker, which went off with a deafening boom and took out not only the first wave of zombies, but half the second wave, several birds overhead, and a luckless badger a dozen yards behind Detritus. Bits of flaming wood rained down, pattering gently onto the grass as Detritus rewound the great bow.

"Ooo, pretty lights," Life said happily, batting at one.

The wizards didn't give up on their chicken-machine simply because the wall had fallen--they were having far too much fun with it. Otto Chriek had wound up next to them, and was snapping iconographs like mad, murmuring about lighting and speed and occasionally screaming at them to hold still for a moment. William and Sacharissa were both scribbling like mad, while Killer von Lipwig puffed away at a cigarette and remarked that they'd have to issue a stamp for this one.

The personifications squared up, ready to make a run for it as soon as the supply of zombies was exhausted. Even without the wall, they wouldn't be able to get through to the castle until the witches had done their bit; Magrat and Agnes were hurriedly ladling their potion into bottles, which Nanny was distributing to the wizards. Granny and Albert, both of whom were still looking insufferably pleased with themselves, sat off to one side and watched the whole process with smug satisfaction.

The Watch edged in behind the personifications, ready to act as the middle flank. Colon and Nobby were looking distinctly nervous--they'd seen battles, but generally from the back, and never against anything this…weird. Carrot, Angua, and Vimes were calm enough, though none of them looked overly pleased to have Foul Ole Ron standing off to their right; his Smell was perming their nose hairs.

Death seized the dancing Life by the back of her dressing-gown, picked her up, and handed her to Delirium.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE WAYhe said. SHE'S THE ONE THEY'RE AFTER. THE REST OF US ARE JUST…OBSTACLES.

"Right-O," Delirium said happily. "Oh, look, mushrooms."

"All right, you lot, it's now or never," Nanny said, handing off the last of the bottled potion. "Go on and lob it already."

Ponder accordingly turned the winch, releasing the catch that held the arms that flung the bottles high, high into the air. They didn't even reach the castle before they exploded, showering the meadow with nauseatingly glittery bubbles. The air seemed to shudder, sucking in on itself like a reverse thunderclap, and the image of the castle flickered for a moment.

"That's your cue, boys," Granny said, nodding to War. "Have at it."

They needed no further urging. The personifications surged forward, followed by the Watch, followed by the Nac mac Feegle, who were wheeling their strange contraption along with cries of, "Hup! Hup! Bigjobs!" Last of all came the wizards, staffs at the ready, and Nanny Ogg, who still bore her portable still.

The whole cavalcade crashed into what remained of the zombies, attacking indiscriminately, and managed to hack and beat and kick a path straight to the castle proper, where another blast from the Piecemaker reduced the great front doors to matchwood.

Once inside the castle they scattered, hurrying hither and yon through the hallways, not knowing where they were going nor, in most cases, what they were even looking for. It might have taken them longer to find out, but at that fortuitous moment the doors of the Great Hall burst open and emitted a confused, milling press of humanity, who were either pummeling or snogging one another (and, in some cases, both). Smoke billowed out, dousing the castle's denizens and invaders alike in a thick, choking fog.

"Windows!" Ridcully yelled, and at once every window in the castle blasted outward in a glittering, tinkling rain of glass. Some of the smoke was sucked outside, but a good deal of it remained, and the brawling mass could still hardly tell friend from foe.

Through it all Death strode, occasionally pausing to swing his scythe at some luckless individual, until he'd pushed his way into the Great Hall. The chaos was little less in here, but that didn't matter--he was only interested in two people, and after scarcely a second of looking he found them.

The first was Teatime, who came careening through the hall like a rogue billiard ball. He was giggling madly, as though the whole mess were nothing more than a colossal joke, and he skidded past Death with scarcely a glance. Next came Susan, in the ridiculous white fairy-tale dress, wielding a brass fireplace poker and bearing down on Teatime like an avenging fate.

"Get back here, you little twerp!" she cried, whacking at anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way. "I killed you once, and by gods I'll--oh, hullo, Grandfather." She skidded to a halt in mid-flight, nearly impaling one of the maids with the poker. "Took you long enough."

I SEE YOU'VE MADE SOME FRIENDSDeath mused. WHAT WERE YOU INTENDING TO DO WITH THAT?

Susan glanced down at the poker. "Make history repeat itself," she said. "Did you see where he went?"

UP TO THE ROOF, I BELIEVE.

She raised the poker, examining it closely. "This isn't going to do it," she said. "I need the sword."

ARE YOU SURE-- Death started, but she held up a hand.

"I want to make sure he stays dead this time," she said, dropping the poker and holding out her hand. "Look, I'll give it back--this just requires a…personal touch. After all," she said, and smiled grimly, "didn't you tell Father the sword was reserved for kings?"

Death considered this. WELL, he said, WHEN YOU PUT IT THAT WAY…. He drew the sword and handed it to her. NOW BE CAREFUL, he admonished. YOU KNOW IT'S DANGEROUS.

Susan eyed the sword with satisfaction. "Good," she said grimly, and disappeared into the mayhem.

------

Teatime had not, in fact, gone to the roof. He had fled instead to his rooms, where he discarded his useless ornamental knives and replaced them with plain, fully functional ones. These bastards were ruining his wedding--someone was going to pay for this. He'd just got all his assorted tools together when a knock sounded at his door, and two women--females, at least--lurched drunkenly through it.

"It's a party," said one, the taller one, her mismatched eyes darting to and fro and finally crossing.

"And nobody invited us," said the other, shaking her head.

Teatime stared. He couldn't believe his luck--no job, no contract had ever been this easy. The Auditors had told him what--who--he was looking for, and now she was standing in front of him, munching on a spotted mushroom and beaming at him with the cheerful grin of one who is clearly drugged to the eyeballs.

He raised his sword, the dying sunlight that streamed through the window turning the blade red.

"Hello, Life," he said, and grinned at her. "I've been looking for you."

----

A/N: Heehee! I'd say there's two, maybe three more chapters of this, and then it'll be over and done with.